Routledge Handbook

of Politics in Asia

The Routledge Handbook of Politics in Asia is designed to serve as a comprehensive reference

guide to politics in Asia. Covering East, South, Southeast, and Central Asia, this handbook
brings together the work of leading international academics to cover the political histories,
institutions, economies, and cultures of the region. Taking a comparative approach, it is
divided into four parts, including:

• A thorough introduction to the politics of the four regions of Asia from the perspec-
tives of democratization, foreign policy, political economy, and political culture.
• An examination of the “Big Three” of Asia – China, India, and Japan – focusing on
issues including post-Mao reform, China’s new world outlook, Indian democracy,
and Japanese foreign policy.
• A discussion of important contemporary issues, such as human rights, the politics of
the internet, security, nationalism, and geopolitics.
• An analysis of the relationship between politics and certain theoretical ideas, such as
Confucianism, Hinduism, socialist constitutionalism, and gender norms.

As an invaluable and all-inclusive resource, this handbook will be useful for students, schol-
ars, researchers, and practitioners of Asian politics and comparative politics.

Shiping Hua is the Calvin and Helen Lang Distinguished Chair in Asian Studies, Professor
of Political Science, and Director of Asian Studies Program at the University of Louisville,
USA.
Professor Shiping Hua has done a superb job in editing this major reference volume. The
Routledge Handbook of Politics in Asia is encyclopedic in coverage. It offers in-depth discussions
of a broad range of topics and themes for major countries and sub-regions of Asia. This is a
must-have volume for every research library.
Professor Dali L. Yang, The University of Chicago, USA

The chapters of this handbook are brilliantly organized. They first provide full and sys-
tematic coverage, in East, Southeast, South, and Central Asia, of all regime types, foreign
policies, development plans, and political cultures. Then they shift to interpretations of na-
tionalism, regionalism, reforms, and diplomacy in three large states: China, India, and Japan.
Pre-modern cultures are shown to have current effects. Anyone interested in Asia absolutely
needs this book.
Professor Lynn T. White III, Princeton University, USA

This handbook, capably edited by Professor Shiping Hua, makes a major contribution to
filling the gap in the general education curriculum. With informative chapters on every-
thing from multilateral trade agreements to gender politics or internet management, all
supplemented by rich graphic data, this book is ideal for courses in comparative politics or
international relations or indeed for all interested readers.
Professor Lowell Dittmer, University of California Berkeley, USA
Routledge Handbook
of Politics in Asia

Edited by Shiping Hua

First published 2018
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2018 selection and editorial matter, Shiping Hua; individual chapters,
the contributors
The right of Shiping Hua to be identified as the author of the editorial
material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been
asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced
or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other
means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and
recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks
or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and
explanation without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hua, Shiping, 1956-editor.
Title: Routledge handbook of politics in Asia / edited by Shiping Hua.
Description: Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon; New York: Routledge,
2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017049653 | ISBN 9781138639041 (hardback) |
ISBN 9781315627670 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Asia—Politics and government—1945—Handbooks,
manuals, etc. | Politics, Practical—Asia—Handbooks, manuals, etc. |
Political culture—Asia—Handbooks, manuals, etc.
Classification: LCC JS6950 .R68 2018 | DDC 320.95—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017049653

ISBN: 978-1-138-63904-1 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-315-62767-0 (ebk)
Typeset in Bembo
by codeMantra
 Contents

List of illustrations ix
Acknowledgments xi
List of abbreviations xii
Notes on contributors xv

1 Introduction to Routledge Handbook of Politics in Asia 1

Shiping Hua

Part I
A comprehensive introduction to comparative Asian politics 13
Democratization: political institutions and processes 14

2 Democratization in East Asia 15

Brian Woodall

3 Democratization and the lack thereof in Southeast Asia 26

Ehito Kimura

4 The state of ­democracy in South Asia 40

Maya Chadda

5 The fault lines of democratization in Central Asia 61

Mariya Y. Omelicheva

Foreign policy: Asia and the world 75

6 Foreign policies of East Asia 76

Dennis V. Hickey and Dean P. Chen

7 Southeast Asia: Unity in ASEAN 98

Shane J. Barter and Amanda Boralessa

v
Contents

8 The international ­relations of South Asia 110

Arndt Michael

9 Balancing interests and perceptions: foreign policy in Central Asia 123

Roger Kangas

The developmental state: political economic considerations 140

10 The political economy of East Asian regionalism 141

Linjun Wu

11 Southeast Asian political economy 154

Sarah Y. Tong

12 Political economy of South Asia: commonalities overshadowed

by conflict 171
Amita Batra

13 Central Asia: the political economy of resource dependency 183

Luca Anceschi

The Asian way: political culture and tradition 195

14 Is there still an Asian way? The changing nature of ­political culture

in East Asia 196
Yu-tzung Chang, Yun-han Chu, and Mark Weatherall

15 Political culture in Southeast Asia: the myth or reality of

authoritarianism? 211
Bridget Welsh and Kai-Ping Huang

16 Political culture and ­social change in South Asia 224

Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha

17 Political culture and ­traditions in Central Asia:

the “logic” of patrimony 238
Nalin Kumar Mohapatra

Part II
Introducing the major powers in Asia: China, India, and Japan 253

18 China’s post-Mao reforms 255

Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

vi
 Contents

19 China’s foreign policy 273

Baohui Zhang

20 Huaxiaism: a new world view by Mainland China’s political science 283

Ye Zicheng and Zhu Xiaolue; translated by Steven Levine

21 China’s foreign energy policy: from realism to idealism 297

Qinhua Xu

22 India’s democratic ­adaptations and experiments 307

Ajay K. Mehra

23 India’s foreign policy 330

Shibashis Chatterjee

24 Japan’s foreign policy 344

Sebastian Maslow

Part III
Issues and problems 357

25 Multilateral institutional ­development in Asia: competing pathways

to regional order 359
Yong Deng

26 Human rights in Asia 373

Li-ann Thio

27 The politics of the Internet and social media in Asia: mobilization,

participation, and retrenchment? 390
Jason P. Abbott

28 The military and politics in Asia 415

Aurel Croissant and David Kuehn

29 The state of democracy in Asia 432

Amy L. Freedman

30 Security in Asian states: theory, practice, and the regional

security landscape 447
Kenneth Boutin

vii
Contents

31 Nationalism in the Asia-Pacific: prejudice and rationality 461

Kam-yee Law

32 Geopolitics and geo-economics in Eurasia and the Indo-Pacific Rim 472

Peter J. Rimmer

33 Structures and solutions: explaining ethnic conflict in

Southeast Asia 490
Joel Selway

34 New regionalism and Eurasia 506

Mikhail A. Molchanov

Part IV
Explaining Asia: theoretical discussions 523

35 Confucianism and the rise of East Asia 525

Jinghao Zhou

36 Is Confucian culture c­ ompatible with democracy? 537

John Fuh-sheng Hsieh

37 Hinduism and democracy: religion and politicized

religion in India 548
Rina Verma Williams and Nandini Deo

38 Constitutional socialism 562

Yuxin Ma

39 Gender and politics of South Asia 576

Vidyamali Samarasinghe

Conclusion 587

40 The future of Asian ­political development 588

Peter Moody

Index 605

viii
 Illustrations

Figures
14.1 The mean factor score of East Asia 206
15.1 Authoritarian orientation (% of disapproval) 217
15.2 Emphasis of harmony in different spheres 217
15.3 Allocentric orientation of self-interest 218
15.4 Paternalism 219
15.5 Respect for authority 219
15.6 Support for government intervention on equality 220
15.7 Correlation between authoritarian values and level of democracy 220
18.1 Total output values of state-owned enterprises vs. private
enterprises (1998–2010) 260
18.2 Number of state-owned enterprises vs. private enterprises (1998–2010) 261
18.3 Number of persons employed by state-owned enterprises vs. private
enterprises (1998–2010) 261
18.4 Importance of democracy among the Chinese public 266
18.5 Subjective democraticness in own country (China) 267
28.1 Number of military coups in Asia: 1950–2014 420
33.1 Ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia since independence 491
37.1 Lok Sabha seats won by Hindu nationalist political parties in
national elections 550

Maps
32.1 One Belt One Road Initiative 473
32.2  ajor economic corridors
M 475
32.3 Economic corridors 476
32.4 China’s port investments 479
32.5 Indo-Pacific naval ports 480
32.6 South China Sea 482

Tables
11.1 Countries of East, Southeast, and South Asia by income group
(1987–2015) 156
11.2 Gross national income per capita of economies in East, Southeast, and
South Asia (1965–2015) 157
ix
Illustrations

11.3 GDP growth of East and Southeast Asian economies (1960–2015) 158
11.4 GDP per capita of economies in East, Southeast, and South Asia
(1960–2015) 159
11.5 Exports of goods and services as a ratio to GDP (1960–2015) 161
11.6 Export structure of ASEAN countries (1962–2015) 162
11.7 Agriculture and industry in GDP of East Asian countries (1965–2015) 164
11.8 Intra-ASEAN trade and ASEAN’s trade with China, Japan, and
the United States (2000–2015) 166
14.1 Measurement of traditionalism 203
14.2 Political culture in East Asia 204
14.3 Confirmatory IRT model for East Asian data 205
14.4 Multilevel analysis result 207
18.1 Gross industrial output in China, 1952–1999 259
18.2 If you had to choose, which one of the things on this card would you say is
most important? 264
18.3 How proud are you to be Chinese? 265
18.4 Of course, we all hope that there will not be another war, if it were to
come to that, would you be willing to fight for your country? 265
18.5 Would you say having a democratic political system is a very good, fairly
good, fairly bad or very bad way of governing this country? 266
25.1 Approaches to regional institutional development: China, Japan, and the
United States (2001–) 364
26.1 ASEAN state parties to major UN human rights treaties 381
27.1 Asian countries by Internet population (over 20 million) 393
27.2 Facebook visitor reach as a percentage of Internet users. Top 15 countries
1st quarter 2015 393
27.3 Top 15 social networking applications worldwide 394
28.1 Regime types in Asia, 1950–2012 418
28.2 Types of political-military relations in Asia, 1950–2012 420
31.1 China’s favorability trends, 2002–2014 465
32.1 Membership of institutional frameworks and regional
development banks, 2016 481
33.1 Ethnic fractionalization and ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia 493
33.2 Ethno-religious crosscuttingness and ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia 494
33.3 Ethno-income equality and ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia 496
33.4 Ethnogeographic intermixing and ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia 497
33.5 Religious legal incorporation and government practice in Southeast Asia 500
36.1 Preference for dictatorship or democracy in one’s own country 539
36.2 Choice between economic development and democracy 540
40.1 Birth rates and sex ratios at birth for selected Asian states 601

x
 Acknowledgments

This handbook has been edited while I am the Calvin and Helen Lang Endowed Chair
in Asian Studies at the University of Louisville, USA. This endowment provides valuable
support for my research. My Research Assistant Kendra Sheehan helped with some of the
editorial work. Professor Zhangfeng Yang, Xi’an International Studies University, who has
been invited to visit the University of Louisville as a Visiting Fellow during the 2017–2018
academic year, helped with the abbreviations and figures/tables. As the editor of the hand-
book, I am responsible for errors and oversights.

xi
 Abbreviations

AAP the Aam Aadmi Party

AICHR the ASEAN Inter-Governmental Commission on Human Rights
AIIB Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank
AIML All India Muslim League
AL the Awami League
AMF Asian Monetary Fund
APF the Asia Pacific Forum
APHC the All Parties Hurriyat Conference
APSC ASEAN Political Security Community
ARF ASEAN Regional Forum
ASEAN the Association of Southeast Asian Nations
BAKSAL Bangladesh Krishak Sramik Awami League
BIFF Bangsamoro Islamic Freedom Fighters
BJP the Bharatiya Janata Party
BJS Bharatiya Jana Sangh
BNP Bangladesh Nationalist Party
CCP Chinese Communist Party
CEPEA Comprehensive Economic Partnership for East Asia
CFRD Collective Forces of Rapid Deployment
CMEA Council for Mutual Economic Assistance
CMI Chiang Mai Initiative
CNPC China National Petroleum Corporation
CPC Caspian Pipeline Consortium
CPEC China-Pakistan Economic Corridor
CRRF Collective Rapid Reaction Force
CSTO the Collective Security Treaty Organization
DLP the Democratic Liberal Party
DPJ the Japan Democratic Party
DPP the Democratic Progressive Party
EAS the East Asian Summit
EDB Eurasian Development Bank
EEU Eurasian Economic Union
FIDH the International Federation for Human Rights
FN the National Front

xii
 Abbreviations

GCBA the General Council of Burmese Association

GMS Greater Mekong Subregion
HMS the Hindu Maha Sabha
IEF International Energy Forum
IMU Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan
INC the Indian National Congress
IRP Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan
JDA Japan Defense Agency
JKLF Jammu Kashmir Liberation Front
JP the Jatiya Party
LDP Liberal Democratic Party
LPRP Lao People’s Revolutionary Party
LTTE the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam
MDG Military Defense Guidelines
MILF Mindanao Islamic Liberation Front
ML the Muslim League
MNHRC Myanmar National Human Rights Commission
MSDF Maritime Self-Defense Forces
NADS National Academy of Development and Strategy
NAM Non-Aligned Movement
NCP Nepali Congress Party
NCPO National Council for Peace and Order
NDA National Democratic Alliance
NDPO National Defense Program Outline
NDRC National Development and Reform Commission
NIEs Newly Industrialized Economies
NPPCC National People’s Political Consultative Conference
NRC National Reform Council
NSG Nuclear Suppliers Group
NSRF New Silk Road Fund
OBOR One Belt One Road
OCAC Organization of Central Asian Cooperation
OIC Organization of Islamic Conference
PAP People’s Action Party
PBEC Pacific Basin Economic Council
PCA Permanent Court of Arbitration
PDP People’s Democratic Party
PECC Pacific Economic Cooperation Council
PLA People’s Liberation Army
PML Pakistan Muslim League
PPM Progressive Party of Maldives
PPP Pakistan People’s Party
RSS Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh
SAARC South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation
SAF Singaporean Armed Forces
SEATO the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization
UDHR Universal Declaration of Human Rights

xiii
Abbreviations

UF the United Front

UPA United Progressive Alliance
UTO the United Tajik Opposition
WANA West Asia-North Africa
WEC World Energy Council
YMBA Young Men’s Buddhist Association

xiv
 Contributors

Jason P. Abbott is the Aung San Suu Kyi Endowed Chair in Asian Democracy and the
Director of the Center for Asian Democracy at the University of Louisville. Dr Abbott pre-
viously held positions at the University of Surrey, the School of Oriental and African Studies
at the University of London, and the Department of International Studies, Nottingham
Trent University. He is the author/editor of 5 books and over 20 articles and book chapters
on issues of democratization, economic development, political economy, and regional se-
curity in Southeast Asia (Malaysia in particular). His work has appeared in, among others,
Asian Affairs: An American Review, Contemporary Politics, The Journal of Contemporary Asia, The
Journal of East Asian Studies, Globalizations, South East Asia Research, and Third World Quarterly.

Luca Anceschi is Lecturer in Central Asian Studies at the University of Glasgow, where
he also coedits Europe-Asia Studies. Educated in Napoli and Melbourne, his research agenda
has mostly focused on the politics and international relations of post-Soviet Central Asia,
with particular reference to Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan – the region’s key hydrocarbon
exporters. Dr Anceschi is the author of Turkmenistan’s Foreign Policy: Positive Neutrality and the
Consolidation of the Turkmen Regime (Routledge, 2008) and coeditor of Energy Security in the
Era of Climate Change: The Asia Pacific Experience (2012).

Shane J. Barter is Associate Professor at Soka University of America, where he is the As-
sociate Director of the Pacific Basin Research Center. He has published various books and
articles related to secessionist conflict in Southeast Asia, including Civilian Strategy in Civil
War (2014). His new project focuses on territorial autonomy and its effects on regional ethnic
minorities.

Amita Batra is Professor of Economics in the Centre for South Asian Studies, School of
International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. She was earlier Senior Fel-
low at the Indian Council for Research on International Economic Relations (ICRIER),
New Delhi, and prior to that Reader in the University of Delhi. Professor Batra was the first
holder of the Indian Council for Cultural Relations Professorial Chair in Contemporary In-
dian Studies at the Centre for South Asian Studies & Edinburgh-India Institute, University
of Edinburgh during January–May 2013. In 2008, she was visiting professor at the Indian
Institute of Management – Ahmedabad where she taught a course on “International Eco-
nomic and Political Environment.” She has worked extensively in the area of regional trade
and economic integration, with a special focus on Asia, and has published on the subject in
national and international journals and books. Her most recent book on the subject is titled
Regional Economic Integration in South Asia: Trapped in Conflict? (Routledge, 2013). Professor

xv
Contributors

Batra holds an M.A., a M.Phil., and a Ph.D. in Economics from the Delhi School of Eco-
nomics, University of Delhi, India.

Amanda Boralessa is a student at Soka University of America, where she has won numer-
ous academic awards. Her research interests include regional and ethnic politics in Asia, with
a specific focus on ethnic tensions in Sri Lanka.

Kenneth Boutin is a Senior Lecturer in International Relations at Deakin University in

Geelong, Australia. He earned a Ph.D. in Political Science from York University in Canada
and served as Senior Arms Control and Disarmament Researcher at the Verification Re-
search, Training and Information Centre in London prior to joining Deakin. His primary
research interests are in security, including the political economy of security, security resil-
ience, and arms control. He focuses on these issues in the context of the Asia-Pacific region
and the United States.

Maya Chadda is Professor of Political Science at William Paterson University of New

Jersey and is a member of the Council on Foreign Relations. She is the author of Indo-Soviet
Relations; Paradox of Power: The United States Policy in Southwest Asia; Ethnicity Security and
Separatism in South Asia; Building Democracy in South Asia: India, Pakistan and Nepal; and Why
India Matters. She is a member of the Council on Foreign Relations and has served on its
Task Forces as well as on the review board of the Wilson Center, United Institute for Peace,
and the Fulbright Foundation. Chadda is currently completing a volume on India’s regional
policy in the Asia-Pacific.

Yu-tzung Chang is Associate Dean of the College of Social Sciences and Professor of Po-
litical Science at National Taiwan University. He is currently the co-principal investigator
of the Asian Barometer Survey (ABS). He studies democratization, electoral politics, and the
political economy of East Asia. His research has appeared in journals such as the Journal of
Democracy, Democratization, Electoral Studies, International Political Science Review, Journal of East
Asian Studies, Journal of Contemporary China, International Journal of Public Opinion Research,
Issues & Studies, and Taiwan Journal of Democracy.

Shibashis Chatterjee is Professor at the Department of International Relations at ­Jadavpur

University in Kolkata. He specializes in international relations theory. Recipient of the
­Fulbright Professional Excellence Fellowship at Yale University (2016–2017) and the ­SEPHIS-­
CODESRIA Fellowship to Makerere University, Kampala (2010), he was also F ­ ulbright-Nehru
Visiting Lecturer, Indiana University, Bloomington, in 2011. He was Hull University Con-
ference Fellow in August 2011 and a Fellow at McGill/University of Montreal Center for
International Peace and Security Studies (CIPSS) in 2014. He is the author of Nuclear Non-­
Proliferation and the Problem of Threshold States (1999), and coeditor of Understanding Global Pol-
itics (2004); Anatomy of Fear (2004); Indian Foreign Policy (2009); Power, Commerce and Influence
(2009); and Democracy and Democratization in the 21st Century: The South Asian Experience (2011).
He has published extensively in national and international journals and edited volumes.

Dean P. Chen (陳鼎) is Associate Professor of Political Science at the Ramapo College of
New Jersey, USA. He is the author of US-Taiwan Strait Policy: The Origins of Strategic Ambi-
guity (2012) and US-China Rivalry and Taiwan’s Mainland Policy: Security, Nationalism, and the
1992 Consensus (2017).

xvi
 Contributors

Yun-han Chu is Distinguished Research Fellow of the Institute of Political Science at Aca-
demia Sinica and Professor of Political Science at National Taiwan University. He specializes
in the politics of Greater China, East Asian political economy, and democratization. He
has been the Coordinator of the Asian Barometer Survey, a regional network of survey on
democracy, governance, and development, covering more than seventeen Asian countries.
He currently serves on the editorial board of the Journal of Democracy, China Review, Journal of
Contemporary China, International Studies Perspectives, Journal of Chinese Political Science, China
Perspective, China: An International Journal, and Journal of East Asian Studies. He is the author,
coauthor, editor, and coeditor of sixteen books.

Aurel Croissant is Professor at the Institute of Political Science at Heidelberg Univer-

sity, Germany. His research focuses on democracy and democratization, comparative au-
thoritarianism, civil-military relations, and Asian politics. He is the coeditor of the journal
Democratization and is the lead researcher in several ongoing projects on policy diffusion in
democracies and autocracies; military responses to non-violent mass revolts; and populism
and transformation in the early twenty-first century. He is currently working on books
about civilian control and democracy in the third wave of democratization (with David
Kuehn) and civil-military relations in Southeast Asia as well as a textbook on civil-military
relations (with Tom Bruneau).

Yong Deng is Professor of Political Science at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis,
Maryland. He is the author and coeditor of four books on Asian international relations and
Chinese foreign policy, including China’s Struggle for Status: The Realignment of International
Relations (2008). He is currently engaged in research projects focused on China’s ambitions
to become a complete global power and the political economy of its Belt and Road Initiative.

Nandini Deo (Ph.D. Yale; A.B Bryn Mawr College) is Associate Professor of Political Sci-
ence at Lehigh University. Her research interests are in social movements, gender, religion,
and transnational civil society. She is the author of Mobilizing Gender and Religion in India
(Routledge) and coauthor of The Politics of Collective Advocacy in India. She is currently editing
a volume on postsecular feminisms.

Amy L. Freedman is an adjunct associate research scholar at the Weatherhead East Asian
Institute, Columbia University, and she is department chair and professor of political science
and international studies at LIU Post. Dr Freedman’s work looks at Southeast Asia, with a
particular focus on Indonesia and Malaysia. Recent articles include “Progress and Caution:
Indonesia’s Democracy” coauthored with Robert Tiburzi, Asian Affairs: an American Review,
2013; “Food Security in Southeast Asia: Beggar Thy Neighbor or Cooperation?” Pacific Af-
fairs, fall 2013. Her most recent book is Threatening the State: the Internationalization of Internal
Conflicts (Routledge, 2013). Previous books include Political Change and Consolidation: Democ-
racy’s Rocky Road in Thailand, Indonesia, South Korea and Malaysia (Palgrave Macmillan, 2006),
and Political Participation and Ethnic Minorities (Routledge, 2000). She is a coeditor of Asian
Security and the author of numerous other articles relating to political economy questions,
minority politics, and questions about political Islam. Her work appears in Journal of Civil
Society, Religion and Politics, World Affairs, and elsewhere.

Dennis V. Hickey (Dr) is the James F. Morris Endowed Professor of Political Science, Dis-
tinguished Professor, and Director of the Graduate Program in Global Studies at Missouri

xvii
Contributors

State University. He is the sole author of four books and coeditor of three books. He has also
published over fifty scholarly articles and book chapters. In addition to these publications,
he has contributed dozens of op-ed pieces to newspapers, including The China Daily, The
Wall Street Journal, The Los Angeles Times, The Chicago Tribune, and The Kansas City Star. He
has also been interviewed by electronic media outlets, including China Central Television
(CCTV), Cable News Network (CNN), and The Voice of America (VOA); quoted by print
media organizations, including the Associated Press (AP), Agence France Presse (AFP), Peo-
ple’s Daily, China Times, China News Service, China Review News Agency of Hong Kong,
Central News Agency (Taiwan), and the Singapore Straits Times. Dr Hickey’s most recent
publications include “In the Eye of the Typhoon: Taiwan and the Growing Dispute in the
South China Sea,” Asian Perspective, October–December 2016, and “Taiwan in 2016: A New
Era?” Asian Survey, January–February 2017 (coauthored with Emerson M.S. Niou).

John Fuh-sheng Hsieh is currently Professor of Political Science at the University of

South Carolina. His teaching and research interests include rational choice theory, consti-
tutional choice, electoral systems, electoral behavior, political parties, democratization, and
foreign policy. His works have appeared in many journals and as chapters in a number of
books. He is the author of Positive Political Theory [in Chinese] and editor and coeditor of
Confucian Culture and Democracy and How Asia Votes, respectively.

Shiping Hua is the Calvin and Helen Lang Distinguished Chair in Asian Studies, Director of
the Asian Studies Program, and Professor of Political Science at the University of ­Louisville,
USA. He is also “100-Plan Scholar” with Xi’an International Studies University in China.
His single-authored books are Scientism and Humanism: Two Cultures in Post-Mao China
(The State University of New York Press, 1996); Chinese Utopianism: A Comparative Study
of Reformist Thought with Japan and Russia (Stanford University Press-Wilson Center Press,
2009); and China’s Strive for a Constitutional Order: Law, Culture and Politics (forthcoming). He
is editing three book series, including “Asian in the New Millennium” with University Press
of Kentucky, “Comparative Asian Politics” with Routledge, and “Contemporary World’s
Classics: Political Science Series (translations)” with Renmin University Press in China.

Kai-Ping Huang (Ph.D. UT-Austin) is an Assistant Professor at the National Taiwan Uni-
versity. Her research interests include party systems, formal institutions, and democratization
with a focus on East and Southeast Asia. Her work has appeared in the Journal of Democracy and
several edited volumes. Her current project is to compare opposition parties in Cambodia,
Myanmar, and Taiwan.

Roger Kangas is the Academic Dean of the Near East South Asia Center for Strategic Stud-
ies, located at National Defense University, Washington, D.C. He specializes in the political
and security issues of Eurasia, specifically Russia and the states of Central Asia. He previ-
ously was a Professor at the George C. Marshall Center for European Security in Garmisch-­
Partenkirchen, Germany; the Deputy Director of the Central Asian Institute at Johns Hopkins
University SAIS; a Research Analyst at the Open Media Research Institute (OMRI) in Prague,
Czech Republic; and an Assistant Professor of Political Science at the University of Mississippi,
among others. He is also currently an Adjunct Professor at Georgetown University. Dr Kangas
received his B.S.F.S. in Comparative Politics from the Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign
Service, Georgetown University, and his Ph.D. in Political Science from Indiana University.

xviii
 Contributors

Ehito Kimura is Associate Professor in the Department of Political Science at the University
of Hawai’i at Mānoa. He received his Ph.D. from the Department of Political Science at the
University of Wisconsin Madison in 2006. Prior to joining the University of Hawai’i, he was
a postdoctoral fellow at Stanford University’s Walter H. Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research
Center. His research interests are at the nexus of Indonesian and Southeast Asian politics,
comparative politics, and political change. He is the author of Political Change and Territoriality
on the Indonesian Archipelago (Routledge, 2012) and has also published in Asian Survey, Asia
Pacific Viewpoint, and Indonesia, among others. His current research explores the politics of
transitional justice in Southeast Asia.

David Kuehn is a Senior Research Fellow at the GIGA Institute of Asian Studies in
­Hamburg, Germany. He is the Coordinator of the Working Group “Civilian Control of the
Military” of the European Research Groups on Military and Society (ERGOMAS) and the
editor in charge of book reviews for the journal Democratization. His research focuses on de-
mocratization and authoritarianism, civil-military relations, and social science methodology.
He has published widely on the military and politics of East Asia.

Kam-yee Law is Associate Professor in the Department of Social Sciences and Codirector
of the Centre for Greater China Studies at the Education University of Hong Kong. He is
also Editor of the Hong Kong Journal of Social Sciences. His recent works on nationalism include
an edited volume Nations, National Narratives and Communities in the Asia-Pacific, published by
Routledge in 2016.

Steven Levine is a long-time student and scholar of East Asian affairs. He was educated
at Brandeis and Harvard Universities and is fluent in Russian and Chinese. He has written
and co-edited several books on Chinese history and politics, published scores of chapters,
articles, and review essays, and translated several books on china from Russian and Chinese
into English. His latest book, The Arc of Empire: America’s War in Eastern Asia, 1899–1973,
co-authored with Michael H. Hunt, was published by the University of North C ­ arolina Press
in 2012. His co-edited translation from Chinese of Ye Zicheng, Inside China’s Grand Strategy:
The Perspective From the People’s Republic, was published by the University Press of Kentucky
in 2010.

Thio Li-ann, B.A. (Hons)(Oxford), LLM (Harvard), Ph.D. (Cambridge), is Provost Chair
Professor at the National University of Singapore, where she teaches and researches inter-
national human rights law, constitutional and administrative law, and comparative public
law. She is a Barrister (Gray’s Inn, UK) and was a Nominated Member of the Singapore
Parliament (2007–2009). She is currently Chief Editor of Singapore Journal of Legal Studies
and formerly General Editor of the Asian Yearbook of International Law and Chief Editor of
Singapore Journal of International & Comparative Law. A prolific scholar, she has published more
than 100 law review articles/book chapters and several books.

Chunlong Lu is currently Professor of Political Science and Dean of Academic Affairs

Office at the China University of Political Science and Law, Beijing, People’s Republic of
China. He received his Ph.D. in International Studies from Old Dominion University in
2007. His research interests include Chinese politics, particularly the middle class; political
participation; and Chinese foreign policy. He has recently published articles in peer-­reviewed

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Contributors

journals, such as Japanese Journal of Political Science, Political Science Quarterly, Modern China,
Middle East Journal, Social Science Quarterly, and International Political Science Review.

Yuxin Ma is Associate Professor of East Asian History at the University of Louisville. Her
research interests include women and gender issues in East Asia, Japanese imperialism, and
cultural modernity. She has authored the book Women Journalists and Feminism in China
1898–1937 and many articles, book chapters, and book reviews.

Sebastian Maslow is Project Assistant Professor at the Graduate School of International

Cooperation Studies, Kobe University, Japan. His research focuses on Japan’s foreign and
national security policies. His recent work has appeared in Asian Survey and Japan Focus,
among other journals. He is a coeditor of Risk State Japan’s Foreign Policy in Age of Uncertainty,
published by Routledge in 2015.

Ajay K. Mehra is a Political Scientist in the University of Delhi and coordinates the ac-
tivities of the Centre for Public Affairs, a network institution of public intellectuals. He has
researched, written, and published widely – books (authored and edited), research papers (in
journals and as book chapters), and media articles – in a career spanning four decades. The
Politics of Urban Redevelopment (1991), The Indian Cabinet: A Study in Governance (Konark,
1997), and Political Parties and Party Systems (Ed., 2003) are some of his publications that have
been widely appreciated. He has focused on institutions and governance, political processes,
public security, terrorism, and the politics of urbanization. He has also been a member of
the Task Force on “Criminal Justice, National Security and Centre-State Cooperation” of
India’s Second Centre State Relations Commission and a member of the Expert Group on
Diversity Index, both constituted by the Government of India.

Arndt Michael is currently a Senior Lecturer at the Department of Political Science, Uni-
versity of Freiburg, and Program Coordinator of the Colloquium politicum. His research inter-
ests include India’s foreign and security policy, regional cooperation in South Asia, political
systems in South Asia, and international relations theory. He has published widely, with
books, journal articles, and book chapters, and has contributed, inter alia, to Harvard Asia
Quarterly, India Review, and India Quarterly. He is the author of the multi-award-winning
book India’s Foreign Policy and Regional Multilateralism (Basingstoke, 2013) as well as coeditor
of the book Indien Verstehen – Thesen, Reflexionen und Annäherungen an Religion, Gesellschaft
und Politik (Wiesbaden, 2016).

Subrata Kumar Mitra, Ph.D. (Rochester), is Director, Institute of South Asian ­Studies
(ISAS); Visiting Research Professor, National University of Singapore, Singapore; and
­Emeritus Professor, Heidelberg University in Germany. The dynamic interaction of culture
and rationality has deeply influenced his research profile, which focuses on governance and ad-
ministration, citizenship, hybridity and reuse, the evolution of the Indian state from classical to
modern times, the transition to democracy and its consolidation, and the security and foreign
affairs of South Asia. He has published widely, with numerous books, journal articles, and
chapter contributions in each of these areas, contributing both to the theory of political science
as well as to comparative politics and South Asian area studies. Culture and Rationality (Sage,
1999), The Puzzle of India’s Governance (Routledge, 2005), Re-Use the Art and Politics of Integra-
tion and Anxiety (2008), Politics in India (Routledge 2011; 2nd edition, 2017), and Kautilya’s Ar-
thashastra Classical Roots of Modern Politics in India (2016) represent different facets of his oeuvre.

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 Contributors

Nalin Kumar Mohapatra (Dr) is working as an Assistant Professor in the Centre for Russian
and Central Asian Studies, School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University.
He has done his Ph.D. from the Centre for Russian and Central Asian Studies (formerly
the Centre for Russian, Central Asian and East European Studies), School of International
Studies, JNU. Mohapatra has also worked as a Project Fellow in Maulana Abul Kalam Azad
Institute of Asian Studies, Kolkata. He is the author of the book titled Political Culture and
Democratic Development in Central Asia (MAKAIAS, Bookwell: New Delhi, 2006). At pres-
ent, he is teaching courses titled “Politics and Society in Modern Central Asia” (SE 619,
M.Phil. Core Course (Shared), Monsoon Semester) and an optional course titled “Geo-
politics, Security and Democratisation in the Caspian Region” (SE 633, Winter Semester,
M.Phil. Optional Course) in the Centre for Russian and Central Asian Studies. At the post-
graduate level, he is teaching “Globalisation, Democracy and Civil Society in Contemporary
Central Asia” (IS 528 N, Monsoon Semester, M.A. Optional (PIS)) and “Energy Security
and International Relations” (EG 602) in the Energy Studies program for Ph.D. students in
the School of International Studies.

Mikhail A. Molchanov is an independent researcher and international relations scholar

based in Canada. He has worked as Senior Policy Analyst for the Government of Canada
and as Professor of Political Science at several Canadian universities. His research focuses
on international relations in Eurasia. Dr Molchanov’s projects have been supported by the
United Nations University, the United States Institute of Peace, the Social Sciences and
Humanities Research Council of Canada, North Atlantic Treaty Organization, and the
Canadian International Development Agency. In 2011, he was awarded the Japan Foun-
dation’s prestigious Japanese Studies Fellowship, and in 2012, he was elected as Foreign
Member of the National Academy of Educational Sciences of Ukraine. He is the winner of
the inaugural Robert H. Donaldson prize of the International Studies Association (ISA) for
the best paper written on the postcommunist region. Dr Molchanov has authored and coau-
thored 7 books and nearly 120 articles and book chapters, including, most recently, Eurasian
Regionalisms and Russian Foreign Policy (Routledge, 2015). He is Section Program Chair for
the Postcommunist States (POSTCOMM) Section of the International Studies Association;
leads the Working Group on International Political Sociology for the International Political
Science Association; and sits on the Executive Council of the International Studies Associa-
tion’s Interdisciplinary Studies Section, the Advisory Board of the University of Salamanca
Global, and International Studies Program’s Think Tank.

Peter Moody (AB, Vanderbilt, Ph.D., Yale) is Emeritus Professor of Political Science at
the University of Notre Dame. He specializes in the study of Chinese politics, East Asian
international politics, and Chinese political thought.

Mariya Y. Omelicheva is an Associate Professor in the Department of Political Science,

University of Kansas. She holds a Ph.D. (2007) in Political Science from Purdue University
and JD in International Law (2000) from Moscow National Law Academy. Her research and
teaching interests include international and Eurasian security, counterterrorism and human
rights, democracy promotion in the post-Soviet territory, Russia’s foreign and security pol-
icy, and terrorism/crime nexus in Eurasia. She has published on these subjects in Terrorism
and Political Violence, Europe-Asia Studies, International Journal of Human Rights, Central Asia
Survey, Cambridge Review of International Relations, and other journals. She is the author of
Counterterrorism Policies in Central Asia (Routledge, 2011), which received an Outstanding

xxi
Contributors

Academic Title award by Choice, and Democracy in Central Asia: Competing Perspectives and
Alternate Strategies (2015). She is the editor of Nationalism and Identity Construction in Central
Asia: Dimensions, Dynamics, and Directions (2015).

Peter J. Rimmer, AM, is an Emeritus Professor in the School of History, Culture, and Lan-
guage, ANU College of Asia & the Pacific, the Australian National University. He is a grad-
uate of Manchester, Canterbury (New Zealand), and the Australian National Universities,
and a Fellow of the Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia (FASSA). His publications
include Asian-Pacific Rim Logistics (2014); “The Power of Geography” with Gerard Ward
in Desmond Ball & Sheryn Lee (eds), Geography, Power, Strategy and Defence Policy: Essays in
Honour of Paul Dibb (2016); and Consumer Logistics: The Digital Wave (2018) with Booi Kam.

Vidyamali Samarasinghe is a Professor in the International Development Program of the

School of International Service (SIS), American University, Washington, D.C. She earned
her B.A. (honors) in Geography from the University of Peradeniya, Sri Lanka, and her Ph.D.
from Cambridge University, England, in Economic Geography. Within the discourse of
gender and development, her research is focused on different aspects of female sex trafficking,
women’s work in tea plantations, the impact of globalization on women’s work, the impact
of conflict on women, women and politics, and feminist methodology. Her regional focus
is on South and Southeast Asia. She is the author of Female Sex Trafficking in Asia: Resilience
of Patriarchy in a Changing World (Routledge, 2007/2009), a study based on ethnographic
research in Nepal, Cambodia, and the Philippines. She is the coauthor and coeditor of sev-
eral academic books. Her publications also include numerous refereed journal articles and
book chapters. She is currently engaged in researching and writing a scholarly book on the
Demand Dimension of Female Sex Trafficking in Asia (Routledge). She identifies herself as a
scholar/teacher and a practitioner.

Joel Selway (Ph.D. 2009) is an Associate Professor of Political Science at Brigham Young
University and Director of the Politics, Economics, and Development Lab (PEDL). He is also
the chair of the board for the Southeast Asia Research Group (SEAREG). His research in-
terests focus on ethnically divided societies, especially on how to design democratic institu-
tions to prevent conflict and enhance coordination over public goods provision. He recently
published Coalitions of the Well-being: How Electoral Rules and Ethnic Politics Shape Health Policy
in Developing Countries. He has conducted fieldwork in Thailand, Laos, India, and Mauritius.
His publications have appeared in World Politics, Political Analysis, Comparative Political Studies,
British Journal of Political Science, and Journal of Conflict Resolution, among others.

Sarah Y. Tong is a Senior Research Fellow at the East Asian Institute. She obtained her Ph.D.
in Economics from the University of California at San Diego and held an academic position in
the University of Hong Kong before joining NUS. Her research interests include international
trade, foreign direct investment, economic reforms, and industrial restructuring. Her publi-
cations have appeared in journals such as China: An International Journal, China and the World
Economy, China Economic Review, Global Economic Review, Journal of International Economics, and
Review of Development Economics. In addition to contributing over dozens of book chapters, she
coedited several book volumes, including, most recently, China’s Great Urbanization (2017) and
China’s Evolving Industrial Policy (2014) by Routledge, and China’s Economy in Transformation
under the New Normal (2017) by World Scientific. She was the editor of Trade, Investment and
Economic Integration (Globalization, Development, and Security in Asia, Volume 2) in 2014.

xxii
 Contributors

La Toya Waha, M.A., is Doctoral Researcher at the Department of Political Science at the
South Asia Institute, Heidelberg University. She has studied South Asian Studies and Psy-
chology at Heidelberg University and has been Visiting Researcher at the Centre d’Études
de l’Inde et de l’Asie du Sud (CEIAS) in Paris as well as at the Social Policy Analysis and Re-
search Centre (SPARC) at the University of Colombo. The interest in the motivation behind
political violence has influenced her research profile. She has specialized in the state formation
in Sri Lanka, Buddhist fundamentalism, and the emergence of suicide attacks in South Asia.

Mark Weatherall is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow of the Center for East Asia Democratic
Studies at National Taiwan University. His research interests include political parties, de-
mocratization, and democratic consolidation, with a focus on the East Asia region.

Bridget Welsh is a Visiting Professor of Political Science at John Cabot University. She
specializes in Southeast Asian politics, with particular focus on Malaysia, Myanmar, and
Singapore. She received her doctorate in political science from Columbia University, her
language training at Cornell University (Full Year Language Concentration), and bachelor’s
degree from Colgate University. She is also a Senior Research Associate of the Center for
East Asia Democratic Studies of National Taiwan University, a Senior Associate Fellow of
The Habibie Center, a University Fellow of Charles Darwin University, a Senior Advisor
for Freedom House, and a member of the International Research Council of the National
Endowment for Democracy.

Rina Verma Williams (Ph.D. Harvard; B.A., B.S. University of California at ­Irvine) is
Associate Professor of Political Science at the University of Cincinnati, where she is also
Affiliate Faculty in Asian Studies and Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies. Her research
focuses on comparative Indian politics, religion and nationalism, and gender and identity
politics. She is the author of Postcolonial Politics and Personal Laws: Colonial Legal Legacies and
the Indian State (Oxford), as well as several articles, book chapters, and book reviews on these
topics. Her current book project examines the role of women in religious nationalism in
Indian democracy and political parties.

Brian Woodall is Professor in Georgia Tech’s Sam Nunn School of International Affairs.
After completing a doctorate in political science from UC-Berkeley, he held faculty po-
sitions at UC-Irvine and Harvard University and visiting appointments at the University
of Tokyo, Tokyo Institute of Technology, and Tōhoku University. His major publications
include Growing Democracy in Japan: The Parliamentary Cabinet System Since 1868; Elections in
Japan, Korea, and Taiwan under the Single Non-Transferable Vote (coeditor); Japan under Con-
struction: Corruption, Politics, and Public Works; and Japan’s Changing World Role. His current
research explores issues related to East Asian sustainable development, with a focus on energy
and environmental security.

Linjun Wu is a Faculty Fellow in the Division of Social Science at Pacific Lutheran Uni-
versity. Prior to this position, she was a Research Fellow at the Institute of International
Relations and a Professor in the International Doctoral Program in Asia-Pacific Studies
(IDAS) at the National Chengchi University in Taipei, Taiwan. Dr Wu received her Ph.D.
in International Relations from the University of South Carolina, her M.A. in International
Studies from the University of Oregon, and her B.A. in Diplomacy Studies from National
Chengchi University. Her research interests are in the areas of the political implications of

xxiii
Contributors

economic cooperation in East and Southeast Asia. Her most recent publications include a
book titled Turning Up Asia Pacific Regional Economic Integration and an article “AIIB, OBOR
and Taiwan’s AIIB BID” published in Prospect Journal, Taiwan Forum.

Zhu Xiaolue is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow of diplomacy in the School of International

Studies, Peking University, who majors in Chinese traditional political thoughts, China’s
diplomacy, and philosophy.

Qinhua Xu is a Professor of Strategy and Energy in the School of International Studies

(SIS) and the Director of the Center for International Energy and Environment Strategy
Studies (CIEESS); a senior associate of the National Academy of Development and Strategy
(NADS), Renmin University of China; a policy consultant of National Energy Adminis-
tration, China; a committee member of the China Petroleum Economics Commission; and
was a senior researcher of Asia Pacific Energy Research Center and committee member of
WEC. Dr Xu is the chief editor of the annual report China Energy International Cooperation
Asia Pacific Energy Research Center and the author of 15 books, including China Energy
Policy in National and International Perspectives: The Energy Revolution and One Belt One Road
Initiative (2016 in English); China International Energy Strategy Studies (2014); China Energy Pol-
icy in National and International Perspectives: A Study Fore-and-Aft 18th National Congress (2014
in English); International Comparative Study on Clean Energy Development in the Low Carbon Era
(2013); An Introduction of Energy Diplomacy (2012); New Geopolitics: Central Asia Energy and
China (2007); and more than 100 papers and academic articles, such as China’s Global Energy
Strategy: from Energy Strength to Energy Power (2017).

Ting Yan is currently Associate Professor of Political Science in the School of Political Sci-
ence and Public Administration of the China University of Political Science and Law. He
received his Ph.D. in Political Science from the University of Missouri-Columbia in 2011.
His research interests lie in political culture and quantitative IR research. His works include
the book Source of Chinese Peasants’ Political Trust: Culture, Institution and Communication (­w ith
Chunlong Lu, 2016) and several peer-reviewed articles.

Baohui Zhang is Professor of Political Science and Director of the Centre for Asian Pacific
Studies at Lingnan University in Hong Kong. His research interests include China’s grand
strategy, nuclear deterrence, Sino-US relations, and the international relations of East Asia.
He is the author of China’s Assertive Nuclear Posture: State Security in an Anarchic International
Order (Routledge, 2015) and Revolutions as Organizational Change: the Communist Party and
Peasant Communities in South China, 1926–1934 (2015).

Jinghao Zhou is an Associate Professor of Asian Studies at Hobart and William Smith
Colleges in New York. He is the author of four books: Chinese vs. Western Perspectives: Under-
standing Contemporary China (2014/2016); China’s Peaceful Rise in a Global Context: A Domestic
Aspect of China’s Road Map to Democratization (2010/2012); Remaking China’s Public Philosophy
and Chinese Women’s Liberation: The Volatile Mixing of Confucianism, Marxism, and Feminism
(2006); and Remaking China’s Public Philosophy for the Twenty-first Century (2003). His thirty
plus articles in English appear in various journals and newspapers, such as The Journal of
Comparative Asian Development, American Journal of Chinese Studies, Journal of China: An Inter-
national Journal, International Journal of China Studies, American Review of China Studies, Asian
Perspective, Journal of International Women’s Studies, In the National Interests, International Journal

xxiv
 Contributors

of China Studies, China Review International, Asia Times, Contemporary Chinese Political Economy
and Strategic Relations: An International Journal, and ASIANetwork Exchange.

Ye Zicheng is the political professor at Peking University, belongs to the School of Interna-
tional Studies (SIS PKU), and spares major study interests in diplomacy theory, Sino-Russia
relation study, China’s geopolitics, and Chinese traditional political philosophy. He is the
current Chairperson of the SIS academic board and recently finished another new book on
Laotzu’s political philosophy in Chinese. His last English book is Inside China’s Grand Strat-
egy: The Perspective from the People’s Republic (University Press of Kentucky, 2010)

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 1
Introduction to Routledge
Handbook of Politics in Asia
Shiping Hua

Why Asia?
This is a comprehensive survey of the politics of Asia, with a focus on contemporary times.
With a population of 4.5 billion, Asia constitutes 59.69 percent of the world’s population.1
Geographically, it is divided into East Asia, Southeast Asia, South Asia, Central Asia, and
West Asia, according to the United Nations’ designation.2 This classification is more for
convenience than it is set in stone. For instance, conceptually, West Asia coincides with the
Middle East, a region that has distinct features of its own. Therefore, this handbook deals
with East, Southeast, South, and Central Asia, not West Asia.
Comparatively speaking, Asia is still a poor continent. Its gross domestic product (GDP)
per capita is about half of the world’s average.3 But Asia leads the world’s growth at 5.3 p­ ercent,
compared with the 3.4 percent of the world’s average it represented in 2016 according
to the International Monetary Fund (IMF).4 The US economy expanded about 3.5 percent
in 2016. According to the predication of Asian Development Bank (ADB), if the current
trend continues, by 2050, the GDP per capita of Asia will reach the current level of Europe.
The impressive economic performance of Asia in the last few decades made experts call the
21st century “The Pacific Century” (Pilling, 2011).
Culturally, Asia is highly diverse. It has all the major religions of the world: Chinese in
most of the East Asian countries; Islam, mostly in South and Southeast Asia, with Indonesia
the largest Islam country in the world; Hinduism, mostly in India; and Christianity in coun-
tries such as South Korea and the Philippines.

The scholarly studies of Asia: theory and methods

The study of the politics of Asia often falls into the scholarly domain of “comparative poli-
tics.” “Comparative politics” is among the half a dozen major subfields within “political sci-
ence,” e.g., “international relations”; “political theory”; “public administration”; and, in the
United States, “American government and politics.” The subfield that is closest to “compar-
ative politics” is “international relations,” with the former emphasizing the domestic politics
of foreign countries and the latter focusing on country-to-country relations. The difference

1
Shiping Hua

is a matter of emphasis, not a difference in nature. This handbook, although it focuses on

“comparative Asian politics,” also discusses the foreign policies of those regions and coun-
tries covered.
Knowledge is comparative by definition. Referring to the well-known book Democracy in
America, Alex de Tocqueville remarked, “Although I very rarely spoke of France in my book, I
did not write one page of it without having her, so to speak, before my eyes.”5 He also remarked,
“Without comparisons to make, the mind does not know how to proceed” (Pierson, 1938).
Comparative politics as a subfield in political science was established in the late 19th
and early 20th centuries in the United States. At the beginning, it focused on the study of
Europe. Traditionally, it was also noted for formal legalism, focusing on such things as con-
stitutions and cabinets, and conservativism, focusing on those areas that were unchanging.
It lacked theoretical rigor and sensitivity to methods. In recent decades, comparative politics
has moved toward behaviorism and become more sensitive to the formulation of concepts,
hypotheses, and explanations in systematic terms. It has also become more empirical in terms
of research methods as well as more interdisciplinary, e.g., including political economy and
political culture (Bill and Hardgrave, 1981, 2–20). This handbook reflects the more recent
trends in comparative politics.
Most of the authors in this handbook were trained and are largely located now in the
West. Most of them have used comparative politics research methods in a selective and flex-
ible way. This was demonstrated, for instance, in the study of political culture. In studying
democracy in Asia, Amy Freedman used data from Freedom House, which is a major data-
base for freedom in the West. The analytical method she used is also a mainstream Western
political culture analysis. Similarly, Yun-han Chu et al. studied East Asian political culture
based on data from Asian Barometer. John Fuh-sheng Hsieh adopted a similar method in
the study of the compatibility of Confucianism and democracy. Survey research in political
culture is the dominant method in the West.
Many authors, however, view the politics of Asia as rather special to the area and believe
that researchers should adopt different theories and methods. Commenting on China’s rise
in economic power in the last few decades, Jinghao Zhou was actually against the mod-
ernization theory (Przeworski and Limongi, 1997, 155–183) in the West that believes that
individualism, as a cultural attribute, provides a powerful push toward modernity. Zhou
argued that the collectively oriented Confucian culture is equally, if not more, powerful in
promoting productivity.
Rina Verma Williams and Nandini Deo argued that Indian religious study on Hinduism
is different from study on Christianity in the West. Hinduism is not based on text, congre-
gation, etc. It is practiced mostly at home. Mikhail A. Molchanov also talks about the dif-
ference between Asia and Europe when discussing regionalism: In Asia, the focus is on the
state; in Europe, it is more on the social setting.
In discussing Asian security, Kenneth Boutin remarked that researchers cannot use secu-
rity theories about Europe to analyze the situation in Asia. For Europe, security is largely
between states; for Asia, security issues are broader, covering such areas as economy and
demography. Also, Asian security is not a zero-sum game, as Qinhua Xu shares in her dis-
cussion about China’s energy security.
Even within Asia, scholars have taken different methodological approaches. For instance,
Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha, in discussing South Asian political culture, take
a different approach from Chu et al., who studied East Asia. East Asian countries are rela-
tively similar in religion and language, i.e., East Asian societies are predominantly atheist
and until about a century ago used the Chinese writing system. South Asia demonstrates

2
 Introduction

more religious, ethnic, and linguistic diversity. Instead of relying on surveys, Mitra and
­Waha’s study is more interpretative. They believed that political transformation was achieved
through identities: hierarchical, caste, ethnicity, religion, language, and ideology. The prac-
tice of using different methods to study political culture in different areas is productive.
Because of the complexity in the area, similar social phenomena may have different causes
in the Asian context. For instance, authoritarianism in East Asia is generally believed to be
rooted in the Confucian tradition. But current authoritarianism in Southeast Asia is believed
by Bridget Welch et al. to be more of a result of institutions, not an authoritarian tradition.
Williams et al. believe that although Hinduism has authoritarian elements, “(politicized)
Hinduism as a religion may have little or no impact on the functioning of democracy.”
Similarly, looking at the democratization process of East Asia, Brian Woodall noted that the
most important factor contributing to democracy was external influence. The persistence of
authoritarianism in Central Asia is partly due to the rich energy resources that enable the
authoritarian regimes in the area to stay in power without political reform.
Jason (Chunlong) Lu and Ting Yan believe that China will have its own form of democ-
racy, different from the Western model. Similarly, Ajay K. Mehra believes that the Indian
democracy is a social democracy, not the American-style liberal democracy. Actually, with
the exception of four countries under strong Western political influence, Japan, South Korea,
Taiwan, and India, no Asian country has a political system resembling closely that of the
Western liberal democracy.
Some political leaders in Asia, such as Lee Kuan Yew, former Prime Minister of S­ ingapore,
and Mahathir Mohamad, former Prime Minister of Malaysia, also emphasized the conti-
nent’s uniqueness. They refer to this as “Asian values,” which are different from Western
values (Subramaniam, 2000). The perseverance of the Asian cultural tradition was also noted
by Peter Moody in the conclusion.
Because of the uniqueness of Asia, for the part on the “Three Big Powers,” all the authors
selected are currently based in Asia.

The format
The handbook is divided into four parts: The first part is a comprehensive introduction to
the four regions of Asia from the perspectives of “democratization,” “foreign policy,” “po-
litical economy,” and “political culture.”
Democratization: The studies of democratization gradually developed into a prominent topic
in political science following the early “third-wave” transitions of Southern Europe in the 1970s
and Latin America in the 1980s. Then a few East Asian countries, such as South Korea and
­Taiwan, became democratic. A major question in democratization studies is whether democrati-
zation processes across the nations are comparable or not. Some believe that the democratization
process is similar, and therefore, it is comparable across regions. But this is not at all beyond con-
troversy. Scholars have also noted the relations between political culture and democracy as well
as the connection between economic development and democracy (Grugel, 2003, 491–501).
Foreign policy: Domestic forces often cannot be explained without discussing external
forces. For instance, authors in this handbook suggest that those Asian political systems
resembling Western democracies the most are those that were influenced by external forces
the most. The Central Asian countries have not made significant progress toward democra-
tization largely because the two major powers, China and Russia, allowed it.
Political economy: The most well-known figure who noted the relations between politics
and economies was Karl Marx in the mid-19th century (Marx and Engels, 1988). Economists

3
Shiping Hua

study how people make decisions optimizing their material well-being and are concerned
with production, distribution, and consumption of goods and services within markets. Polit-
ical scientists study how people choose rules and policies that guide the behavior of people,
with a focus on power. The overlap of the two areas is that the vast majority of govern-
ment decisions involve the production, distribution, and consumption of goods. Govern-
ments regulate businesses, tax goods, and services, and make sure market functions properly
(Gill, 2002, 83).
Political culture: Political culture is a set of attitudes, values, and knowledge widely shared
within a society and passed from generation to generation. It is believed that a prodemocratic
set of attitudes is conducive to democratic institutions (Inglehart and Welzel, 2002).
The second part of this handbook is to introduce the “Big Three” of Asia: China, India,
and Japan. China is the world’s largest country in terms of population. The Chinese econ-
omy is the second largest in terms of GDP and the largest in terms of purchasing power
parity (PPP).6 China’s economy is the fastest in the world in the last three decades. India’s
population is the second largest, and its economy has been developing well in the last two
decades. Although experiencing stagnation in economic growth in the last two decades,
Japan’s economy is the third largest, following the United States and China.7
The third part of this handbook discusses some of the most important issues that Asia
is confronted with, such as “institutional developments,” “human rights,” “the impact of
internet on politics,” “military,” “security,” “democracy,” “nationalism,” “geopolitics and
geo-economics,” “ethnicity,” and “soft-power.” These issues often transcend the subregions
of East, Southeast, South, and Central Asia.
The fourth part tries to explain some critical issues that the continent is faced with, such
as “Why has East Asian growth been so fast in recent decades?”; “Is it possible to have liberal
democracy in Asia that has drastically different cultural traditions compared with the West?”;
“Is Confucianism compatible with democracy?”; “Is Hinduism compatible with democ-
racy?”; “Is it possible for socialist countries such as China and Vietnam to establish constitu-
tionalism, which is rooted in the West?”; and “What has hindered women’s participation in
politics, and how can the situation be improved?”
The difference between “Issues and Problems” and “Theories” is not set in stone, with
the former focusing on the empirical narrative of the social phenomena, while the latter em-
phasizes explanation (Chilcote, 1994). Some of the articles under the heading of “Issues and
Problems” are theoretical as well, e.g., the studies by Aurel Croissant and David Kuehn on
the military and by Boutin on security. Some chapters that focus on regional politics, such
as that by Chu et al. on the East Asian political culture, are highly theoretical as well. The
categorization is more for convenience.
In conclusion, Moody looks into the future development of Asian political development.

Content analysis
In the following, I will comment on each of the chapters in this handbook, following the
order of the table of contents.

Asia: democracy, foreign policy, development, and political culture

In the section on the democratization in Asia, the four authors looked at the process from
the perspectives of cultural traditions, ethnicity, religion, linguistics, recent history, and the
area’s relationships with outside powers, especially the United States and Russia.

4
 Introduction

Democratization
Commenting on East Asia, Woodall identified three waves of democratization in the area,
Japan coming with the first wave, followed by the second wave, which brought South Korea
to democratization, and the third wave, which brought Taiwan. In addition to the influence
of the United States and a favorable international environment, an important factor is that
all three of these countries had export-oriented economies, thus depending on the external
forces very much for economic benefits.
Looking at the democratization of Southeast Asia, Ehito Kimura’s approach is different
from Woodall’s: While Woodall seems to believe that external forces are the key to democ-
ratization in East Asia, Kimura seems to believe that democratization is a dynamic process
in which all major forces are in play: democracy and development, democracy and class, de-
mocracy and cultural tradition, democracy and religion, and democracy and the institutions.
There is no single force that is decisive. Unlike East Asia, external force is not the main factor
for democratization in this area.
Commenting on the democratization of South Asia through five key countries in the
area, India, Nepal, Sir Lanka, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, Maya Chadda believes that nation
building is the most important factor contributing to the unstable situation in the democrati-
zation process in South Asia. Pakistan’s democracy was not stable, largely because the nation
was created after World War II (WWII), with many discrepancies, most notably religious
and ethnic conflicts. Bangladesh’s situation was similar: The partition with India created
many religious and ethnic conflicts as well. India was more stable among these countries
because it was created earlier.
On Central Asia’s democratization process, Mariya Y. Omelicheva remarked that al-
though the five countries proclaimed to want democracy, little progress was made. Causal
factors include the authoritarian cultural traditions and external factors. Unlike the case with
East Asia in which the United States pressured Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan to democ-
ratize, Russia and China themselves were not democratic and therefore did not put pressure
on these Central Asian states for political change. In addition, Central Asian countries have
energy resources that made them confident in not changing.

Foreign policy
The next four chapters focus on the foreign policies of the four subregions of Asia. Dennis
V. Hickey and Dean P. Chen cover the foreign policy evolvement of China, Taiwan, Japan,
South Korea, and North Korea from a historical perspective. They believe that China’s for-
eign policy was rooted in a hundred years of humiliation by Western countries. The authors
discuss the evolvement of China’s foreign policy under five generations of Chinese leaders:
Mao, Deng, Jiang, Hu, and Xi. The foreign policies of Japan, the Koreas, and Taiwan were
influenced profoundly by WWII, the Cold War, and recent-decade US-China relations.
Focusing on the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), Shane J. Barter and
Amanda Boralessa discuss the foreign policies of those Southeast Asian nations. The authors
have found that in spite of diversity, Southeast Asian nations have similar foreign policies in
recent years. Besides the European Union (EU), ASEAN is the most enduring regional orga-
nization. This is impressive because of the diversity of the Southeast Asian region, compared
with the largely Christian Europe.
In contrast with Southeast Asia, as Arndt Michael found, the foreign policies of South
Asian countries demonstrated more diversity in terms of interest and perceptions, with India

5
Shiping Hua

acting as the dominant power in the area. Regionalization is poor with extra-regional pow-
ers, such as the United States, China, and Russia playing significant roles. South Asian coun-
tries don’t trade with each other well. The rivalry between India and Pakistan is the most
serious conflict in the region.
For Central Asia, Roger Kangas believes that foreign policies developed immediately
after the founding of the five countries following the collapse of the former Soviet Union
did not seem to be as important as domestic policies. Therefore, these newly independent
states relied on the Foreign Ministry of Russia. However, with the increasing demand for
energy and the “September 11 US Anti-Terrorist war,” the five countries’ foreign policies
became increasingly independent, one reason being the United States’ need for their sup-
port in the war against terrorism. Currently, energy is still very important in the shaping
of the foreign polices of these countries – so is trade with those outside of the region.
Security issues both inside and outside of the region are low, i.e., the countries don’t feel
threatened by countries inside or outside of the region. Culturally, this region, although
formerly part of the Soviet Union, which was largely a European nation, has become in-
creasingly Asian.

Political economy
The following four chapters focus on the political economy of Asia. The first chapter by
­Linjun Wu focuses on the regionalism in East Asia. The first organization of East Asian
regionalism was the creation of Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) in 1989. This
was the result of the United States’ promotion and was in accordance with neoliberal global-
ization to break the trade barriers of the member states. The United States was against East
Asian regionalism for fear that it would become exclusive against its own national interest.
The 1997 economic crisis turned the interest of East Asian countries from Asia Pacific to-
ward East Asia because they could not count on the US-led liberal globalization. Therefore,
there emerged the ASEAN-plus-Three, followed by China’s rise.
Southeast Asia’s development in the last century has been remarkable, as Yueting Tong re-
marked. The success was largely due to the countries’ strong commitment toward economic
development, the endorsement of liberal policies, a generally export-oriented development
pattern, and regional cooperation through ASEAN. As the recent global ties against glo-
balization indicate, the region needs to reduce its reliance on the export-led economies and
enhance intra-regional collaboration.
In contrast to the overall positive evaluation of Southeast Asia, Amita Batra presented a
gloomy picture of South Asia’s development in the last few decades. The region has been
noted for its countries’ inability to collaborate with one another. Instead, most of the coun-
tries have sought to collaborate with countries outside of the area, e.g., Pakistan has had close
cooperation with China, and India, the dominant power in the region, has tried to work
closely with East Asian countries as well as ASEAN.
On Central Asia, Luca Anceschi elaborated on the two major resources that the area is
rich in: energy resources and water resources. In other words, the political economy of the
area is the political economy of the natural resources. The authoritarian governments in the
area resorted to rentierism, and it is questionable whether this kind of development model
can be sustained. The essential model of production after the collapse of the Soviet Union
(USSR) has not changed: exporting natural resources, such as energy and cotton, to outside
of the regime. These central Asian countries have made more profits because the price is no
longer controlled.

6
 Introduction

Political culture
Based on survey data, Yu-tzung Chang, Yun-han Chu, and Mark Weatherall tried to shed
light on people’s orientation toward authority and the definition of self-interest in East Asia.
For the first question, the study found significant differences between East Asian countries.
Modernization more effectively impacted people’s attitudes toward authority. For the second
question, East Asian nations demonstrated strong collective tendencies in contrast to ­Western
individualism. The discussion on political culture theory is very detailed.
On the political culture of Southeast Asia, Bridget Welsh and Kai-ping Huang recalled
the earlier political culture studies by scholars like Lucian Pye, whose findings include the
Southeast Asians’ respect of authority and a strong preference for harmony. Welch and Huang
also recalled the 1990s debate about “Asian Values.” Based largely on survey, they found that
authoritarian attitudes still dominated in Southeast Asia. Changes in political culture are
the result of a combination of factors, such as economic development level, education, and
especially institutions.
On the political culture of South Asia, Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha tried
to answer two questions: “How do people acquire their political identities in different cir-
cumstances?” and “How do they differ from each other in socialization?” It was found that
hierarchy, caste, ethnicity, religion, language, and ideology all contributed to the shaping of
political identities. India was more successful in the socialization than Pakistan because of
the former’s longer period of independence. For Bangladesh, it was more difficult because in
addition to the problem of religion, there was also the problem of separation from the former
India. Nepal was a kingdom.
The political culture of Central Asia was noted for informal social relations, kinship
ties, and religion, which are not part of what is understood as “civic culture” in the West.
According to Nalin Kumar Mohapatra, these characteristics of the Central Asian political
culture were not only the result of local tradition but also the legacies of the Mongols, which
were noted for unqualified loyalty to the ruler and the Russian Tsars.

Major powers: China, India, and Japan

The second part of this handbook focuses on the three big powers of Asia – China, India, and
Japan – with all the authors being based in these three countries. Four chapters have been
selected about China on the country’s post-Mao reforms, foreign policy, energy strategy, and
the new world outlook.

China
Jason (Chunlong) Lu and Ting Yan discussed the evolvement of China’s post-Mao reform
in the last four decades. Important topics covered include the relationships between the state
and the market, civil organizations, and political culture. Lu and Yan argue that China’s
development model may be good for its own sake: economic liberalization without political
reform.
On China’s foreign policy, Baohui Zhang covered the last four decades chronologically
from the Deng era, known for the famous “Hide one’s capacities and bide one’s time.” This
policy orientation was largely continued for the next more than two decades under Jiang
Zemin and Hu Jintao. A major turning point was that under Xi Jinping, China officially
gave up the foreign policy formulated during the Deng era. Its foreign policy has become

7
Shiping Hua

increasingly more assertive on the issues of the Diaoyu Island with Japan, the South China
Sea with the United States, and its ambitious “One Belt, One Road” initiative.
Ye Zicheng, Zhu Xiaolue, and Steven Levine discussed China’s new world outlook by
drawing on inspirations from its historical and philosophical perspectives. Huaxia refers to
China as a civilization, not merely a nation-state. The authors tried to use the Chinese phil-
osophical outlook regarding conflicts among states more than 2,500 years ago to interpret
the current international relations. In their view, Huaxiaism was based on the complementary
system of three schools of thought in premodern times: the Confucian model, the Shang
Yang model, and the Laozi model. In international relations, a fundamental difference be-
tween the Chinese view and the Western view is that while the latter largely views inter-
national relations as a zero-sum game, the former views it as a mutually inclusive system.
Although they did not mention Sun Tzu’s name, their international relations theory is very
consistent with his.
On China’s energy strategy, Qinhua Xu first discussed China’s energy strategy situation
in the last four decades. Then she interpreted some different perceptions of its energy strat-
egy. She focused on its strategy’s changing from what she called “realism,” which means
that the country’s foreign energy strategy was a zero-sum game, to “idealism,” which views
foreign energy strategy as a win-win situation.

India
The next two chapters cover India’s democratization process in the last two centuries and
the country’s foreign policy.
On India’s striving for democratization following the French Revolution, Ajay K. Mehra
believes that generally speaking, India’s political orientation is social democracy. In the
1950s, the parliament, the Congress party, and the government formed a triangle. The Con-
gress was at the center of the democratization from the early 20th century through the 1980s,
when it lost control in the parliament. The democratization process was not smooth because
of religious, ethnic, and linguistic diversity as well as political partition with Pakistan and
Bangladesh. Although the political system that India has established resembled more of the
parliamentary system, there were voices calling for a presidential system. Indian democracy
stands for secularism and is against discrimination based on ethnicity, religion, and gender.
The old caste system was abolished.
On India’s foreign policy, Shibashis Chatterjee’s approach is also chorological. The author
first discussed India’s foreign policy evolvement from the postcolonial period through the
1990s, which was characterized by the country’s nonalignment, i.e., refusing to form alli-
ance with either the US-led North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) or the Soviet-led
Warsaw Pact. Then the author deals with India’s post-Cold War era, when an increasing
liberal domestic policy went hand in hand with the growing ties with the United States. The
current Indian foreign policy is noted for its close ties with the United States and Japan, its
strategic approach to China, and its maintaining friendly ties with other Asian and African
states. India’s relationship with Pakistan is still tense.

Japan
On Japan’s foreign policy, Sebastian Maslow surveys the formation and the process of
­Japanese foreign policy after WWII. He noted that the few decades following the war were
noted for Japan’s pro-US stance and its focus on economics. In recent decades, as Asia has

8
 Introduction

become increasingly important in the international arena, Japanese foreign policy was noted
for the dichotomy: Asian regionalism combined with pro-US approach. This is different
from Japan’s foreign policy of “escaping from Asia” immediately after the Meiji Restoration.
Recently, proactive Japanese foreign policy responded to the United States’ pivot to Asia. In
the last few decades, Japan’s move was also noted for its orientation toward a “normal coun-
try.” Japan also wanted to hedge China’s rise in the last three decades and have closer ties
with South Korea and the United States.

Issues and problems

On institutional development of Asia, Yong Deng discussed the major regional institutions
in Asia, such as the ASEAN, APEC, ADB, Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO),
and BRICS, i.e., Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa. New regionalism differs
from the premodern tribute system in the sense that the modern nation-states are sovereign.
It also differs from the old regionalism of Europe in the sense that while the latter usually
emerged out of wars, new regionalism, such as ASEAN, grew out of cultural, commercial,
and security reasons.
On human rights in Asia, Thio Li-ann, a law professor in Singapore, first traced the his-
torical development of human rights in Asia since the 1940s and noted the milestones, such
as the Bandung Conference in the 1950s and the Bangkok Declaration in the 1990s. The sec-
ond part of the chapter discusses the implementation of human rights from the international,
national, and subregional levels. In a tone slightly different from the mainstream Western
human rights discourse that focuses on civil rights, the author insisted that the advocacy of
human rights needs to be supplemented by socioeconomic measures.
Jason P. Abbott discussed the internet’s emerging impact on politics in Asia, with a focus
on Malaysia, Thailand, and China. Abbott found that in those societies that were already
open, the impact of the internet was not as big as in closed societies. But the government also
learned more sophisticated ways to deal with the impact of the internet on politics, such as
legal means. In addition, the political effectiveness of the internet cannot be overestimated,
e.g., internet protests often lack a central coordination.
On the relationship between the military and politics in Asia, Aurel Croissant and David
Kuehn observed that in the early stage of nation building, the role played by the military
was much needed because of its organization capabilities. However, due largely to the three
waves of democratization in Asia after WWII, the role played by the military in politics was
in decline in the last half a century. Military coups were in decline as well. Nevertheless,
there were noticeable exceptions in which the military consistently played an important role,
such as in Pakistan.
Commenting on democratization in Asia, Amy L. Freedman’s study is largely empirical
and quantitative based on the data by Freedom House. She categorized the Asian countries
into four groups: status quo or free, including Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, and India; partly
free, regressed; not free; and those making progress. Freedman’s general evaluation of the
democratization process covered the period since 2006, when there was anti-democracy
momentum worldwide. In Asia, this was demonstrated by China’s increasing assertiveness
in its authoritarian control. Although Freedman attributed this regress partly to the 2008
economic crisis, economic factors alone can’t explain why some countries democratize, but
others do not.
On the issue of security, Kenneth Boutin first observed that the Asian states were more
heterogeneous compared with the European states. In addition, most of these Asian states

9
Shiping Hua

were still in the process of nation building. The most salient feature of Asian security com-
pared with Europe was that Asian security covered broader areas, including intra- as well
as international, while in Europe, it was about security of the state. Interstate rivalry in
­Northeast Asia was the most intense. Southeast Asia was slightly better.
On nationalism, Kam-yee Law noted that traditionally, nationalism, based on the
­nation-state, was a phenomenon of Europe. Asia was noted for culturalism. Since the
­Western incursion to Asia, nationalism became a tool used by some Asian governments to le-
gitimize their dominance. The surges of nationalism in Asia became intense after WWII and
after the Cold War. In recent years, the disputes in the South China Sea also demonstrated
nationalism. However, the government’s manipulation of nationalism was challenged first
of all by its negative effect for stability. For instance, the Diaoyu Island issue for China was
a double-edged sword: It cannot only legitimize the rule of the Chinese Communist Party
but also destabilize the society. In addition, globalization made it harder for the governments
to manipulate nationalist sentiments.
On the geopolitics and geo-economics of the Asia Pacific, Peter J. Rimmer took a broad
look at the Asia Pacific region. He noted that Asia’s changing political order reflects “the nexus
between the scripting of a new geopolitics and the framing of the geo-economics of an inter-
dependent world.” As an established power, the United States intends to adopt such strategies
as “pivot to Asia” and Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) to keep its dominant position in the
world. As a rising power, China intends to use its “One Belt, One Road” to defend its national
interest and to expand its already significant global power status. Other powers in the region,
such as Russia, Japan, India, and Indonesia, all play their own roles in the changing landscape.
On ethnicity in Southeast Asia, Joel Selway tried to answer the question “Which coun-
tries in Southeast Asia have more ethnic-based violence and why?” The author analyzed this
from the perspectives of level of ethnic fractionalization, ethno-religious crosscutingness,
ethnic income inequality, and ethnogeographic intermixing. He also discussed how the gov-
ernments in different countries tried to resolve ethnic conflicts by using different strategies
in accordance with the countries’ special circumstance. For instance, for Singapore, ghettos
are the most serious problem; for Malaysia and the Philippines, language and religion seem
to be the key issue related to ethnic violence.
On Euro-Asian regionalism, Mikhail A. Molchanov noted that unlike in Europe, re-
gionalism in Asia focuses on the state but not on social setting, and often, as a latecomer,
regionalism was intended to protect against neoliberal globalization. Focusing on Ukraine
and Kazakhstan as case studies, he argued that the former USSR’s way of coordinating
interstate activities was passed. China started to play an active role in this area through
SCOs, but it does not claim to be the leader. Regionalism will continue to develop as the
­neoliberalism-oriented world order cannot fully serve the needs of those countries involved.

Making sense of Asia: theoretical considerations

Jinghao Zhou tried to explore the question of whether Confucianism was conducive to eco-
nomic development. He first defined what Confucianism was and the so-called Four Books
and Five Classics (si shu wu jing). He then discussed the development periods of Confucian-
ism. He concluded that the role played by Confucianism in the East Asian economic devel-
opment was not decisive. One of the reasons was because there is no single interpretation of
Confucianism. Like the Bible, it is a living document.
John Fuh-sheng Hsieh’s chapter tries to answer the question “Is Confucianism compatible
with democracy?” Hsieh noted that Confucianism has elements of both the democratic and

10
 Introduction

the undemocratic. Some Confucian societies are authoritarian, such as China and Vietnam;
others are democratic, such as Taiwan, South Korea, and Japan. Confucianism functions
very much like religion, although it is secular. Taking an empirical approach, especially sur-
vey research, Hsieh found that sometimes, democratic societies want material improvement
more than undemocratic societies. Conceptually, the Chinese equal populism with democ-
racy, thus taking a position detached from Western liberal democracy. As in the previous
chapter, Hsieh does not feel that cultural factor is decisive enough to determine whether a
society can become democratic or not. In other words, an authoritarian culture does not
prevent a society from becoming democratic.
Rina Verma Williams and Nandini Deo tried to answer the question “Is Hinduism com-
patible with democracy?” They seemed to agree with Hsieh that the relations between religion
and politics are not “hard” but “soft.” They argued that Hinduism can have different interpre-
tations, and therefore, its relationships with democracy were not decisive. Williams and Deo
also criticize some Western theories’ interpretation of the relationships between religion and
politics, such as those developed by Samuel Huntington, who focused on Abrahamic religions,
such as Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, that are text-based. Hinduism is not text-based.
Yuxin Ma tried to answer the question “Is it possible to have constitutionalism under
state socialism led by the Communist Party?” Although she mainly talked about China, she
also discussed other socialist countries, such as Vietnam and Laos. Constitutionalism is an
essential part of the Western political system, but Chinese government’s alleged advocacy of
“rule of law” sometimes became rule by law. Some Chinese intellectuals tried to figure out
whether it is possible to have constitutionalism without challenging the existing dominance
of the Communist Party. They advocated elections, civil society, and rule of law, which can
constrain but not overthrow the party. The answer is unclear.
On gender and politics in South Asia, Vidyamali Samarasinghe addressed the question of
how successful had women functioned in male-dominated South Asian societies and why.
She found that in spite of a few high-profile women national leaders who became prominent
through family ties, such as Indira Gandhi, women were still in a very weak position in
politics. Through such means as legislations and statutes, reluctance to enact public policies
that would empower women politically, and preaching traditions and customs, males were
able to prevent women from effectively participating in politics. The gender quota system in
elections produced mixed results.

Conclusion
Peter Moody’s conclusion has two parts: The first part talks about those areas that are not
predictable, mostly in the areas of politics, economics, and military. For instance, the West
predicted that the fall of Vietnam to communism would cause a domino effect. This did
not happen. Many in the West also predicted that communism and poverty will go hand
in hand. Again, China’s economic success in the last four decades proved this wrong. For
Moody, those areas that are predictable are the cultural traditions. Modernization won’t be
able to wash away ethnic differences, cultural values, and religious preferences.

Notes
1 www.worldometers.info/world-population/asia-population/.
2 According to the designation of the United Nations: East Asia: China (includes both the People’s
Republic of China and Taiwan), Hong Kong, Japan, Macau, Mongolia, North Korea, and South

11
Shiping Hua

Korea (population 1,624,853,705); South Asia: Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Iran, the
Maldives, Nepal, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka (population 1,870,460,803); Southeast Asia: Brunei
Darussalam, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand,
Timor-Leste, and Vietnam (population 647,589,953); Central Asia: Kazakhstan, ­Kyrgyzstan,
­Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan (population 69,241,030); Western Asia: Armenia,
­A zerbaijan, Bahrain, Cyprus, Georgia (country), Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Oman, Q
­ atar,
Saudi Arabia, State of Palestine, Syria, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, and Yemen.
3 http://statisticstimes.com/economy/asian-countries-by-gdp-per-capita.php.
4 www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/survey/so/2016/CAR050316B.htm.
5 “Alexis de Tocqueville to Ernest de Chabrol,” October 7, 1831, and “Louisville de Kergolay,”
October 18, 1847, Roger Boesche, ed., Alexis de Tocaueville: Selected Letters on Politics and Society
(Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1985), pp. 59 and 191.
6 For China’s GDP, please refer to http://data.worldbank.org/data-catalog/GDP-PPP-based-table.
7 http://data.worldbank.org/country/japan.

References
Bill, James A., Hardgrave, Robert L., Jr, (1981). Comparative Politics: Quest for Theory (Lanham, MD:
University Press of America).
Boesche, Roger, ed., (1985). Alexis de Tocaueville: Selected Letters on Politics and Society (Berkeley, CA:
University of California Press).
Chilcote, Ronald, H. (1994). Theories of Comparative Politics (Boulder, CO: Westview).
Gill, Anthony (2002). “Comparative Political Economy,” in Wiarda, Howard J. ed., New Directions in
Comparative Politics: Third Edition (Boulder, CO: Westview).
Grugel, Jean, (2003). “Democratization,” in Hawkesworth Mary, Kogan, Maurice eds., Encyclopedia of
Government and Politics, 2nd edition (London: Routledge), pp. 491–501.
Inglehart, Ronald, Welzel, Christian, (2002). “Political Culture and Democracy,” in Wiarda, Howard
J., ed., New Directions in Comparative Politics: Third Edition (Boulder, CO: Westview).
Marx, Karl, and Engels, Frederick (1988). The Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844 and the Com-
munist Manifesto (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books).
Pierson, George Wilson, (1938). Tocqueville and Beaumont in America (New York: Oxford University
Press).
Pilling, David, (16 November 2011). “How America should adjust to the Pacific century.” FT.com.
Retrieved 2 May 2012.
Przeworski, Adam, and Limongi, Fernando ( January 1997). “Modernization: Theories and Facts,”
World Politics, Vol. 49, No. 2, pp. 155–183.
Subramaniam, S. (March 2000). “The Asian Values Debate: Implications for the Spread of Liberal
Democracy,” Asian Affairs. Vol. 27, pp. 19–35.

12
 Part I
A comprehensive introduction
to comparative Asian politics
Democratization: political
institutions and processes
 2
Democratization in East Asia
Brian Woodall1

Three waves of East Asian democratization

Three great waves of democratization have washed across the modern world, and each has
brought change to East Asia. In Samuel P. Huntington’s oft-cited words, a political system
is democratic “to the extent that its most powerful collective decision-makers are selected
through fair, honest, and periodic elections in which candidates freely compete for votes
and in which virtually all the adult population is eligible to vote” (1991, 7). The “first
wave” (1828–1926) brought nascent democracy to Japan, while the “second” (1943–1962)
and “third” (1974–2001) waves carried it to South Korea and Taiwan, respectively. Inter-
estingly, the three waves left behind a parliamentary system in Japan, a presidential republic
in South Korea, and a semi-presidential republic in Taiwan. While these dissimilar institu-
tional arrangements currently exist within thriving democracies, it is important to recall that
“reverse waves” washed away the first two attempts at East Asian democratization. Indeed,
the “first reverse wave” (1922–1942) obliterated Japan’s initial experiment with democracy,
while the “second reverse wave” (1958–1975) led to the failure of South Korea’s initial at-
tempt (ibid, 14). It remains to be seen whether or not Taiwanese democracy will succumb to
an as yet unseen “third reverse wave” or if a possible “fourth wave” will bring democracy to
China or, perhaps, even North Korea.
This chapter surveys the evolving political institutions and processes of democratization
of East Asia, focusing intensively on the cases of Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. Although
Mongolia democratized almost simultaneously with Taiwan, for the purposes of this survey,
the Taiwanese case will be used to exemplify that of a “third-wave” democratizer. In re-
counting these dissimilarly similar narratives, the focus is trained on the watershed moments
that opened the door to democratizing reform, the actions of the principal proponents and
opponents of change, and the manner in which democratic institutions evolved and grew
roots. In other words, the analysis in this chapter focuses on a pair of processes – the transition
to democracy and its consolidation. The critical point in the transition process is the replace-
ment of a government that was not chosen democratically with one that is “selected in a
free, open, and fair election” (ibid, 9). As for consolidation, it assumes concrete form with
“the turnover of government control from one party to another as the result of elections.”

15
Brian Woodall

The litmus test for further consolidation is the “two-turnover test,” which occurs when the
party that took control in the first turnover turns control over to another party (ibid, 237,
266–267). An understanding of the processes of democratic transition and consolidation in
Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan offers critical insights into the prospects for political stability
in East Asia, an important, dynamic, and often misunderstood region of the world.
In the sections that follow, the story of East Asian democratization is recounted in the
historical sequence in which it unfolded, beginning with the case of Japan and followed by
that of South Korea and then Taiwan. The central findings and their broad implications are
summarized in a brief conclusion. In addition, consideration is given to the possibility of a
“fourth wave” that might bring democracy to China and North Korea, which remain under
the tight control of nondemocratic regimes.

The first wave – Japan

Establishing a democratic order in Japan was an unintended consequence of the modernizing
reforms that came to be known as the “Meiji Restoration” of 1868. In fact, the oligarchy of
ex-samurai who led the charge that toppled the Tokugawa Shōgun was at pains to erect an
institutional infrastructure that kept the forces of popular democracy in check. Yet strains
within the Meiji Government that began to appear in the early 1870s led to the emergence
of anti-government protest groups that morphed into the country’s first “people’s parties”
(mintō). Those parties played a leading role in a “freedom and popular rights movement” that
eventually forced the oligarchs to grant a constitution that created a bicameral parliament
known as the “Diet” after the Prussian institution in whose likeness its was modeled. Mem-
bers of the Diet’s House of Representatives were elected by a razor-thin franchise composed
of tax-paying male voters, and additional obstacles to a democratic breakout included an
equipotent unelected House of Peers; unaccountable military branches; and a Privy Council,
senior statesmen, and imperial court officials who advised a sovereign emperor. Nevertheless,
with their penchant for squabbling over the government’s budget proposals and, on occasion,
passing symbolic but annoying nonconfidence motions, the people’s parties became a per-
petual thorn in the heel of the Meiji oligarchs.
When, in 1898, the two largest people’s parties merged to form the Constitutional Gov-
ernment Party – which controlled an overwhelming number of seats in the Diet’s lower
house – the oligarchs gave in and allowed its leader to establish the country’s first “party
cabinet.” Over the course of the next thirty-four years, party cabinets would alternate with
“transcendental cabinets” – whose ministers included few, if any, elected politicians – until,
at last, the appointment of the leader of the largest party to prime minister became the “nor-
mal course of constitutional governance” (Duus 1998, 178–179; Woodall 2014, 62). Because
many key developments – e.g., the appointment of a popularly elected party leader as prime
minister in 1918 and the passage of the 1925 universal male suffrage bill – occurred during
the reign of Emperor Taishō (1912–1926), Japan’s initial experiment with democracy bears
his name. Although the period of Taishō Democracy failed to grow into full-fledged demo-
cratic governance, the period witnessed the expansion of popular rights, the enhancement
of powers for elected representatives, and the adoption of Keynesian-esque fiscal policies and
liberal diplomacy. It also saw the evolution of parliamentary institutions to such a degree
that “the collective responsibility of the Cabinet [was] almost established” (Kitazawa 1929,
54; italics added).
Japan’s first attempt at democracy abruptly ended on May 15, 1932, when a group of
naval cadets assassinated Prime Minister Inukai Tsuyoshi. Inukai was the last in a trio of

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elected politicians to head a prewar cabinet, and, for the next decade and a half, the pre-
miership would be monopolized by a succession of generals and admirals and the occasional
right-wing ideologue. While ultranationalists in the armed forces and civil society engaged
in an orgy of bloodshed aptly dubbed “government by assassination,” the real agents of
change proved to be techno-fascists who purposefully set about destroying the institutions
of democracy and market capitalism (Byas 1942). Their leaders were “reform bureaucrats”
and “control officers” – men such as Kishi Nobusuke (Ministry of Commerce), General
Tōjō Hideki, and Ayukawa Yoshisuke (Nissan zaibatsu) – who believed in the virtues of
central state planning that mobilized all the resources of an expanding empire. In addition
to replacing the pusillanimous diplomacy of the previous era with an aggressively forged
“New Order” in East Asia, these authoritarian rulers recast domestic institutions through a
“New Structure” movement. Although national elections continued to be held until 1942,
the House of Representatives was a hollow shell of its former self, and political parties had
meekly dissolved and melded into the monolithic Imperial Rule Assistance Political Asso-
ciation (Woodall 2014, 77). When the expansionist policies pursued by these techno-fascist
leaders crashed into the interests of Western colonial powers, the techno-fascists took the
risky gamble of launching a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor and establishing a vast empire
across East Asia and the Pacific. Less than four years later, the Japanese war machine and most
of the country’s major cities had been reduced to smoldering rubble.
A second wave of democratization made landfall in September 1945 when General ­Douglas
MacArthur assumed command of the U.S. military occupation of a defeated Japan. When
the occupation began, few could have imagined the remarkable progress toward erecting
democratic institutions that would be achieved in a relatively brief period of time. In this
regard, the democratic achievements of the occupation and domestic leaders, such as long-
time premier Yoshida Shigeru, were owed to a pair of factors – the support of a citizenry
that ached for peace and an end to authoritarian rule, and the experience gained during the
brief Taishō Democracy era. Perhaps, therefore, as Huntington observes, once the body politic
becomes “infected with the democratic virus,” the society comes to believe that “a truly
legitimate government had to be based on democratic practices” (Huntington 1991, 47).
Whatever the case, the institutional reconfiguration brought forth under the occupation was
every bit as sweeping as that erected by the Meiji oligarchs. Its pièce de résistance was the
1947 Constitution, which transformed the emperor into a “symbol,” established universal
suffrage and the trappings of Westminster-style parliamentary democracy, renounced the
sovereign right to wage war, and guaranteed an impressive array of civil liberties. Despite
the fact that the Constitution was, in large measure, ghostwritten by occupation officials, the
vast majority of Japanese citizens continue to embrace it.
Technically, postwar Japan became “democratic” on April 10, 1946, when, for the first
time, all eligible men and women voted in honest and fair elections to select the country’s
most powerful collective decision-makers. Yet even though periodic democratic elections for
both houses of the postwar Diet became the rule, Japan’s sovereignty was not formally restored
until April 1952. This makes it tricky to assess the process of democratic consolidation. Tak-
ing the restoration of sovereign as the starting point, Japan passed the “turnover test” in the
aftermath of the general elections of February 1955, in which Yoshida’s Liberal Party turned
over control to Hatoyama Ichirō’s Democratic Party. But, soon thereafter, the Liberal and
Democratic Parties merged to form the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), which proceeded to
monopolize control of parliament through the next thirteen lower house elections held over
the course of thirty-eight years. Viewed in the context of nearly four decades of uninterrupted
LDP rule in what Masumi Junnosuke dubbed the “1955 system,” therefore, Japan did not

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pass the “two-turnover test” until August 1993 (Masumi 1964). During this period, each of
the fifteen prime ministers and ninety-nine percent of cabinet ministers were LDP-affiliated
members of parliament (Woodall 2014, 118–124, 146–152). Under a lower house electoral
system based upon the single nontransferable vote (SNTV) in multimember constituencies,
the LDP remained a “federation of factions,” while the party’s supportive coalition of special
interests – e.g., farmers, big and small businesspeople, doctors, postmasters, and construction
contractors – swilled from a brimming barrel of government subsidies, targeted tax breaks,
public works, and other forms of political pork (Grofman 1999, 379–393; Woodall 1996,
8–14). Meanwhile, a consequence of protracted LDP rule was the systematic exclusion of or-
ganized labor and environmental, women’s rights, antinuclear, taxpayers and consumers, and
other interest groups that tended to support the opposition (Woodall 2014, 20).
Japan’s democratic evolution entered a new stage in August of 1993, when an eight-party
coalition temporarily seized the reins of power from a scandal-ridden LDP. The most palpa-
ble contribution of this non-LDP coalition government was the replacement of the SNTV
system in lower house elections with a parallel voting system that combined single-member
and proportional representation constituencies. For the most part, however, coalition gov-
ernment became the rule, even after the LDP returned to power in June 1994, initially in
partnership with the Japan Socialist Party, its nemesis under the “1955 system.” Because of
the LDP’s inability to restore economic growth and extricate itself from a seemingly intermi-
nable succession of corruption scandals, the appeals of the Japan Democratic Party (DPJ) and
other opposition parties began to resonate with voters. Yet this became a major problem in
July 2007, when the opposition seized a majority of upper house seats. From July 2007 until
December 2012, “twisted Diets” (nejire kokkai) – in which the governing party in the lower
house confronted an opposition-controlled upper house – produced policy gridlock and a
succession of short-lived governments (ibid, 201–202). In the midst of this, in August 2009,
the DPJ became the party of power but struggled to deliver on platform promises because of
ongoing economic malaise, bureaucratic resistance, and the daunting leadership challenges
posed by the March 2011 earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear catastrophe. The LDP returned
to power with the December 2012 lower house elections, which untwisted the Diet.

The second wave – South Korea

South Korean democracy was forged in a crucible of postcolonialism and Cold War real-
politik. For more than two millennia, Korea was seen by China as a “tributary state” that
was expected to kowtow to culturally superior benefactors in the Chinese imperial court.
By the late nineteenth century, China’s Qing Dynasty (1644–1912) was in eclipse, and the
Empire of Japan was bent on expansion. Its modern military forces easily prevailed in the
Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895, which was sparked by rivalry over Korea. Similarly, Great
Power rivalry on the Korean Peninsula touched off the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905,
which relegated Korea to the status of a protectorate – and, five years later, a colony – in what
would become Japan’s Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere. Although Korean indepen-
dence demanded some democratizing changes – e.g., in the 1918 “March First Movement”
(sam-il undong) – no significant progress was made toward establishing democratic institu-
tions (Cumings 2005, 154–162). Japan’s defeat in World War II resulted in a peninsula par-
titioned along the 38th Parallel, with the Soviet Union exercising dominion over the north
and the United States exercising dominion over the south. Under this arrangement, civil war
was inevitable, and the inevitable became reality on June 25, 1950. Three bloody years later,
an armistice brought a ceasefire but no peace treaty.

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The Republic of Korea (ROK) of the late 1940s and early 1950s was one of the world’s
poorest countries, deeply dependent on American economic aid and military protection.
While South Koreans rejoiced at Japan’s defeat, for the next three years, the U.S. Army
Military Government in Korea ruled the country. In the meantime, Rhee Syngman – a long-
exiled leader of the Korean independence movement – was flown to Seoul on General
MacArthur’s private airplane shortly after Japan’s surrender (ibid, 195). The fact that Rhee
was Christian, U.S.-educated, and staunchly anti-communist stood him in good stead
with Washington’s power elite. On July 20, 1948, the National Assembly elected Rhee as
the ROK’s first president, and he proceeded to surround himself with a “kitchen cabinet”
composed mostly of Americans or Koreans who had spent many years in the United States
(ibid, 214). He also lavished benefits on business world cronies and repeatedly vowed to
“March North” (bukjin tongil) to reunify the peninsula (Heo and Roehrig 2014, 29). While
­Washington worried that his saber rattling could drag the United States into an unwanted
war, the corruption put on display by the Rhee regime brought forth a student-led protest
movement (Haggard 1990, 60). In reality, the First Republic (1948–1960) never amounted
to anything more than a “semidemocratic civilian regime” (Huntington 1991, 73), and, in
1956, Rhee, then eighty-one years old, further augmented his executive powers by cajoling
the National Assembly into removing the three-term presidential limit.
South Korea’s first attempt at democratic governance was fleeting, and yet a pretense of
democracy continued under semidemocratic institutional arrangements. Essentially running
unopposed, Rhee easily was elected to a fourth term on March 15, 1960. While accusations of
corruption in the presidential election led to protests, allegations of ballot box-stuffing in the
election of Lee Ki-poong, Rhee’s protégé and vice-presidential running mate, proved to be
the spark that detonated the powder keg. Student-led protests spread across the country, and,
on April 19th, police fired into a crowd of 100,000 protestors gathered in front of the pres-
idential residence, killing at least 115 people (Cumings 2005, 349). This was the final straw
for Washington, and, on April 26th, Rhee flew into Hawaiian exile aboard a CIA-operated
aircraft, while Vice President Lee, his wife, and their two sons carried out a suicide pact.
The “April Revolution” opened the door to “Korea’s first democratic regime,” the
ephemeral Second Republic (1960–1961), with a prime minister and “responsible cabinet,” a
robust bicameral National Assembly, and a president who played the largely ceremonial role
of “head of state” (ibid, 351). But this all changed on May 16, 1961, when a group of military
officers led by General Park Chung-hee decided that the government of Prime Minister
Chang Myon had had more than enough time to rein in inflation, crime, and social protest.
Naturally, Park claimed that the seizure of power by his military junta was a temporary
expediency to maintain order, while the armed services rectified the social and economic
problems (Chang 2015, 16).
Although the May 16 coup d’état placed power in the hands of the Supreme Council
for National Reconstruction, Park soon became the leading figure in a “semidemocratic
­m ilitary regime” (Huntington 1991, 73). Unlike Rhee, who believed that economic plan-
ning is what communists do, Park had no qualms in directing a forced-draft program of
export-led industrialization under successive five-year plans (Korea Times, April 18, 2010).
Having seen how government and private industry can work hand in hand during his days
as an army officer in the Japanese puppet state of Manchukuo, Park offered strategic rewards
to the major chaebol – large industrial groups, such as Hyundai and Samsung – that sup-
ported his economic plans (Woo 1991, 169). In addition, he created strong state institutions,
such as the Economic Planning Board and the Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA),
which devolved into a “complete rogue institution” that brutally suppressed any perceived

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threat to the regime (Cumings 2005, 368–372; Oberdorfer and Carlin 2014, 34–36). Under
the “Third Republic” (1963–1972), Park turned in his army uniform for civilian attire to
narrowly defeat Yun Boseon in the 1963 presidential election. Park won by a wider margin
in 1967 and then forced the National Assembly to scrap the two-term presidential limit,
clearing a path to a third term in 1971. In fact, between 1967 and 1971, the National Assem-
bly dutifully rubber-stamped each and every one of the 306 administration-sponsored bills
submitted for its consideration (Cumings 2005, 361). Then, in 1972, Park abruptly declared
a state of emergency, dissolved the National Assembly, and suspended the Constitution in
response to U.S. President Richard M. Nixon’s announcement that America’s Asian allies
would have to bear a greater burden for their own defense. Park proceeded to call a public
referendum to approve the “Yushin Constitution,” which, in essence, made him dictator for
life under the Fourth Republic (1972–1981).
And so it was that the “second reverse wave” washed away the institutional foundation of
the ROK’s brief experiment with democracy. Park ran unopposed in 1972 and 1978, while
the KCIA rabidly thrashed about, punishing the regime’s enemies, including opposition
leader Kim Dae-jung. Meanwhile, Christian churches became havens for Park’s critics, and
labor unrest mounted as the economy slowed in the wake of the 1979 “oil shock.” Domestic
tensions crested in August 1979 after police brutally broke up a strike by female workers at
the YH Trading Company, a maker of wigs for export. When some of the striking workers
fled to the headquarters of an opposition party, hundreds of policemen stormed the building,
killing one worker and injuring many others (ibid, 378). This ignited protests in the south-
eastern industrial cities of Masan and Busan. In the midst of this tense situation, on October
26, Kim Chae-gyu, the head of the KCIA, assassinated Park at a dinner held on the grounds
of the presidential compound. Prime Minister Choi Kyu-hah assumed the mantle of acting
president, but General Chun Doo-hwan and members of a military faction composed largely
of alumni of the Korea Military Academy’s Class of 1955 seized power in a December 12
coup d’état. Chun then had himself appointed KCIA Director, declared nationwide martial
law, dissolved political parties, and ordered the closing of universities and the arrest of dis-
sidents. He installed General Roh Tae-woo, his protégé, and other allies – a large number
of whom hailed from his home region of Daegu and Gyeongsang – in key government and
military posts (Kil 2010, 28, 59).
The draconian measures employed by the Chun regime under the Fifth Republic
­(1981–1987) differed little from those of the Park regime. Yet an expanding middle class
was growing weary of authoritarian rule, and, on May 18, 1980, the regime sent troops to
brutally suppress protests that had erupted in the southern city of Gwangju. After hundreds
of protestors were slaughtered, the people of Gwangju managed to temporarily drive out the
soldiers. But the Chun regime dispatched a larger, better-disciplined army division, which
arrived on May 27th and spared no mercy in retaking the city (Cumings 2005, 382–383).
The carnage of Gwangju would create an enduring crisis of legitimacy for Chun, who,
nevertheless, had himself elected president (with a 99.99 percent Electoral College vote!) in
August 1980. Student-led protests now drew in discontented workers, Christians, and ordi-
nary middle-class citizens. The U.S. Government pressured Chun to mend his authoritarian
ways, and, with the 1988 Seoul Olympics on the horizon, the regime’s leaders understood
that they could ill afford the fallout from another Gwangju Massacre. But Chun’s decision
to pass the presidential baton to Roh – which became public knowledge in the spring of
1987 – touched off nationwide protests. As Bruce Cumings explains, Roh astutely saved the
day in a June 29th television broadcast by promising to permit the direct popular presidential
elections, respect civil liberties and human rights, and release political prisoners (ibid, 392).

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As a result of the December 16th election – the freest and fairest in ROK history up until that
time – Roh narrowly prevailed over the two main opposition candidates, the “two Kims”
(i.e., Kim Dae-jung and Kim Young-sam), who were unable to join forces. With this, a wave
of enduring democratic reform arrived on South Korean shores.
Under the Sixth Republic (1987 to present), South Korean democracy has steadily pro-
gressed toward consolidation. In January 1990, President Roh and the “two Kims” melded
their respective parties into the Democratic Liberal Party (DLP). The ROK passed the
“turnover test” in December 1997, when the DLP’s Kim Young-sam (who had been elected
president five years earlier) passed the presidential baton to Kim Dae-jung and his National
Congress Party. The depoliticization of the military became reality during Kim Young-sam’s
presidential term, while a “Sunshine Policy” that brought a temporary thaw to inter-Korean
relations became the trademark of Kim Dae-jung’s presidency. In 1996, the ROK was ad-
mitted to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development – the “rich man’s
club” of industrialized democracies – and managed to nimbly bounce back from the “Asian
financial crisis” that struck the following year. Since the inception of the Sixth Republic,
the National Assembly has grown into a meaningful legislative organ, civil liberties have
expanded, and a robust civil society has emerged. Despite North Korea’s repeated nuclear
weapons detonations, ballistic missile tests, and other provocative acts, there is no evidence
to suggest that South Korean democracy is on anything other than solid ground. Moreover,
the impeachment of President Park Geun-hye – whose embroilment in an expansive cor-
ruption scandal led to her removal from office in peaceful compliance with a March 2017
ruling by the Constitutional Court – further attests to the deepening institutionalization of
democracy.

The third wave – Taiwan

Taiwan – like South Korea and many other late developing countries – did not inherit any
meaningful democratic institutions or structures. But unlike South Korea and also Japan –
both of which were briefly exposed to democracy before falling prey to “reverse waves” –
Taiwan had never been “infected with the democratic virus.” Consequently, whatever degree
of democratization Taiwan has thus far attained is an almost wholly new development.
Historically, Taiwan, with its aboriginal population augmented by waves of immigrants
from the mainland, was seen by the rulers of Qing China as an unruly island territory that
produced “every three years an uprising, every five years a revolution.” Along the way, the
Dutch got treated to a taste of this unruliness, as did the Japanese, who, in 1895, acquired
Taiwan as the spoils of victory in the Sino-Japanese War. Nevertheless, as Shelly Rigger
explains, “Japan viewed the island as an opportunity to prove its bona fides as a rival to im-
perialist powers in Europe,” and, despite having to brutally suppress some local uprisings,
the Japanese endeavored to render Taiwan into a showcase colony (Rigger 2011, 3). To the
extent that Taiwan entered the postwar era with any sort of democratic legacy, it was the
SNTV system for electing local assembly members that was installed in 1935 under Japanese
colonial rule.
Unfortunately, Taiwan’s pathway to democracy proved to be steep, treacherous, and un-
certain. Following Japan’s surrender in September 1945, the U.S. placed Taiwan under the
administrative control of Nationalist Party (Kuomintang or KMT) government of Chiang
Kai-shek’s Republic of China, which was locked in civil war with Mao Zedong’s Commu-
nist forces. Nationalist Party forces began arriving in Taiwan in October 1945, and immedi-
ately alarmed the local population with their rag-tag appearance and fondness for pillaging.

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Chen Yi, Chiang’s crony, was appointed Governor General, overseeing an administration
that excelled at corruption, incompetence, and an inability to rein in crime and inflation.
On February 27, 1947 – with local Taiwanese discontent toward rule by KMT mainland-
ers already running high – Monopoly Bureau agents manhandled a widow trying to sell
cigarettes from a portable stand in a Taipei park (Kerr 1965, 254–255). 2 A bystander was
shot and killed, sparking protests that had, by the next day, spread across the island. Un-
able to restore order, Chen imposed martial law – which, as it turned out, would not be
lifted for thirty-eight years – while reinforcements dispatched from the mainland arrived to
slaughter numerous protestors and imprisoned thousands more. The “228 Massacre” and the
decades-long “white terror” suppression of dissidents that followed would feed an already
“deep reservoir of Taiwanese discontent” toward authoritarian rule by a mainlander regime
(Roy 2003, 67). Nevertheless, the KMT did allow local elections that were “competitive,
real, and local interests-based,” which, as time would tell, gave the Taiwanese a taste of de-
mocracy (Cheng 1989, 478).
On December 10, 1949, Chiang Kai-shek transported his KMT government – with two
million refugees in tow – to Taiwan as China “fell” to Communist forces. Because the KMT
regime clung to the claim that it was the legitimate government of all of China, it foisted an
additional “China-wide” administrative apparatus on top of “Island-wide” provincial ad-
ministrative institutions, such as the Taiwan Provincial Assembly (Rigger 1999, 6). Decades
later, this would become a bone of contention for democratizing forces. In the meantime, the
KMT erected an institutional infrastructure inspired by the ideas of Dr Sun Yat Sen with five
branches of government in the form of Administrative, Control, Examination, Executive,
Judicial, and Legislative “yuan.” The KMT ruled Taiwan through a Soviet Union-inspired
“Leninist regime” that, as T.J. Cheng explains, utilized mass organizations “to mobilize
support from large segments of the population for the national tasks that the regime imposed
on society” (1989, 477). The KMT justified its authoritarian single-party rule – indeed, only
two minor “opposition” parties were permitted to exist – by pointing to an incessant threat
from the mainland and the need to “tutor” the Taiwanese masses in the ways of democracy,
a necessary evil suggested in Sun’s writings. From the 1950s through the mid-1970s, Chiang
played the part of dictator, and the hardline views of the KMT’s ultra-rightist conservative
wing steered government policy (ibid, 497). As export-driven growth transformed society,
however, middle-class intellectuals became the vanguard of a growing movement for liberal
democracy (ibid, 483). The United Nations’ expulsion of Taiwan in 1971 and Chiang’s death
four years later added additional impetus to an opening for change.
Taiwan’s democratic transition unfolded haltingly over the course of the next two de-
cades. It surprised many when Chiang Ching-kuo (whose resume suggested a conservative
hardliner), who succeeded his father, initiated a process of liberalizing reform, which ele-
vated many native Taiwanese to positions of authority (ibid, 485; Roy 2003, 157). In 1977,
an opposition movement known as the “Tangwai” (outside the party) prevailed over the
KMT for the first time ever in local elections. Two years later, the KMT regime brutally
silenced pro-democracy protestors in the southern city of Kaohsiung, drawing condemna-
tion from the world community. Then, in 1986, the regime allowed the Democratic Pro-
gressive Party (DPP) to organize and to field candidates in elections. The following year,
Chiang brought an end to nearly four decades of martial law and allowed citizens to make
family visits to the mainland. After Chiang passed away in 1988, his protégé, Taiwan-born
Lee Tung-hui, launched a “Taiwanization” policy that dismantled many KMT-imposed
structures and allowed civilian authorities to gain the upper hand over the military (Rigger
2011, 10). Direct elections for the National Assembly in 1991 finally brought an end to the

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infamous “long parliament,” whose members had been elected on the mainland in the 1940s
but had held their seats ever since because the constituents that had elected them were now
in areas under Beijing’s control.
A wave of democratic change crashed onto Taiwan’s shoreline on March 23, 1996, when
KMT candidate and incumbent president Lee Teng-hui defeated the DPP’s Peng Min-ming
in the freest, fairest, and cleanest presidential election in the Island’s history. In November
1997, the DPP outpolled the KMT in elections for county and city representatives, marking
the first time that opposition party candidates prevailed in a nationwide contest (ibid, 2).
Taiwan passed the “turnover test” with the March 2000 presidential election, which saw the
KMT hand over control of the presidency to the DPP’s Chen Shui-bian, and, in so doing,
brought down the curtain on a half-century of KMT rule (ibid, 12). In November 2001,
Taiwan relaxed trade relations with the mainland, and, in elections held the following year,
the KMT lost its parliamentary majority for the first time. Taiwan passed the “two turnover
test” on March 22, 2008, when the opposition KMT’s Ma Ying-jeou defeated the DPP’s
candidate in the presidential election. Four months later, President Ma apologized for the
KMT’s authoritarian abuses during the “white terror” period. In November 2015, President
Ma met with China’s President Xi Jinping in Singapore, the first-ever summit between the
two country’s heads of state. But even this was not enough to stave off defeat for the KMT,
as DPP candidate Tsai Ing-wen emerged victorious in the January 2016 presidential election.
President Tsai became East Asia’s second female head of state, following in the footsteps of
South Korea’s Park Geun-hye, who was elected in December 2012.

East Asian democratization – why and whither?

Having explored the how of East Asian democratization, it is possible now to briefly con-
template the why and whither. Why did Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan – three East Asian
neighbors – democratize? Did common factors propel the processes of democratic transition
and democratic consolidation? Or were sui generis contextual forces responsible for bringing
forth democracy? The answers to these why questions prompt consideration of whither. What
is the future of East Asian democracy? To what extent have democratic institutions and
structures become established in Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan? Is democracy in any or all
of these countries vulnerable to reverse waves of the kind that washed away the first attempts
at democratization in Japan and South Korea? And, finally, what are the prospects for a fourth
wave, one that might bring democracy to China or even North Korea?
The East Asian story attests to the fact that there is no one single cause of democratization.
Rather, a central lesson of the three cases scrutinized in this chapter is that common forces
combine with sui generis contextual forces to produce democratic transition and consoli-
dation. A sui generis feature of the Japanese case was the conscious effort put forth by the
Meiji oligarchy to demonstrate civility to secure revision of “unequal treaties” – with fixed
tariff rates, extraterritoriality, and “treaty ports” – imposed by the Western powers in the
latter half of the nineteenth century. Even though the 1890 Meiji Constitution was pains-
takingly crafted to keep the democratic genie inside the bottle, the fact that elections were
allowed at all created a lever for disadvantaged groups to press their grievances. In the case of
South Korea, U.S. pressure to improve human rights and the existence of a sizable number
of Christian citizens – indeed, even the military juntas feared to molest the churches for
fear of alienating Western allies – gave added impetus to calls for democratic reform, espe-
cially with the eyes of the world trained upon the approaching 1988 Seoul Olympics. And
the resentment of citizens born and raised in Taiwan toward an oppressive, condescending

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mainlander KMT regime created fertile ground from which demands for democracy would
burst forth.
East Asian democratization has been spurred by three common causes. First, in each coun-
try, occupation by a foreign power established at least a façade of democracy, granting elections
that provided pulpits from which disadvantaged interests could voice their displeasure with
the status quo. In the Japanese and South Korean cases, a U.S. military occupation played this
role, while, in the case of Taiwan, the mainlander KMT regime was compelled to establish a
democratic veneer to justify its claim to represent “Free China.” Second, export-led growth
raised living standards, expanded educational attainment, and otherwise nurtured a growing
middle class that desired the freedoms enjoyed by middle-class citizens in other democratic
nations. In other words, there was a “snowballing” or bandwagon effect whereby Japanese,
South Korean, and Taiwanese citizens came to covet the lifestyles and civil liberties enjoyed
by their counterparts elsewhere. Third, regimes in each of the three East Asian countries
confronted expanding challenges to their legitimacy. By the early 1990s, Japan’s perpetually
ruling LDP was teetering amidst a succession of corruption scandals and media criticism of its
ineffective economic policies. Meanwhile, the legitimacy of both the South Korean military
junta and Taiwan’s Leninist KMT regime was vulnerable to domestic backlash from the insti-
tutional memory of events such as the Gwangju Massacre and the “white terror.”
In sum, each of the three waves of democratization brought democratic change to East
Asia. The first wave ushered in Japan’s initial attempt at democracy, the second brought
South Korea’s maiden experiment, while the third opened the door to Taiwan’s democ-
ratization. While none of these three states are invulnerable to a reverse wave, in each of
them, democratic institutions and structures have become sufficiently institutionalized as to
require something akin to a perfect storm to wash them away. Perhaps the greatest threat
to democracy in East Asia is posed by rising regional tensions over disputed islands and
maritime routes and the possibility that these tensions will generate revanchist populism.
Then what are the prospects that a “fourth wave” will bring democracy to China and North
­Korea? While it appeared for a time that the Arab Spring might be a harbinger of meaning-
ful change, it now seems that the democratic awakening has, for the most part, given way
to slumber – although developments in Myanmar give reason for hope. Although China
has experienced some democratic foment over the years – e.g., the May Fourth Movement,
pseudo-democracy under Nationalist rule, and the Democracy Wall, Tiananmen Square,
and the “Umbrella Revolution” protests in Hong Kong – Beijing’s current antidemocratic
Communist regime appears to be firmly in control. Meanwhile, North Korea’s authoritarian
rulers seem to have deftly muted any and all pleading for democratic reform.
Yet, as Huntington argues, “time is on the side of democracy” (1991, 316). Indeed, while
history does not move in a straight line, its ratchet-like trajectory has, in the longue duree,
tended to lead toward a democratic future. This has been the plot line in the unfolding
drama that has been – and continues to be – East Asian democratization. While it is impos-
sible to deny the possibility of a reverse wave, this seems unlikely at least in the near term.
What cannot be denied, though, is that the degree to which democracy has taken hold in
East Asia is greater today than at any time in the region’s lengthy history.

Notes
1 At the time this chapter was written, the author was Visiting Professor in the Department of
Transdisciplinary Science and Engineering at the Tokyo Institute of Technology. He gratefully
acknowledges the support of Dean Kishimoto Kikuo and Professor Abe Naoya.

24
 Democratization in East Asia

2 There are parallels between the case of the Taiwanese widow and Mohamed Bouazizi, the Tunisian
fruit vendor whose self-immolation after being humiliated by local authorities is credited with
sparking the Arab Spring.

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 3
Democratization and the lack
thereof in Southeast Asia
Ehito Kimura

Despite the “Third Wave” of democracy in the late 20th century, Southeast Asia has been
“recalcitrant” to global democratic trends (Emmerson 1995). Only two countries in the
region today, Indonesia and the Philippines, are generally considered to be electorally dem-
ocratic, and even they are labeled only as “partly free” by Freedom House’s democracy index
(“Freedom House” 2015). Other countries in the region include states with varying forms
of authoritarianism, including those led by single parties, military rule, and even sultanates.
This is not to suggest that Southeast Asia is politically inert. Nearly every country in the
region has faced existential turmoil, and several have alternated between democracy and au-
thoritarianism over the past several decades. Today, the wealthiest two countries in the re-
gion (Singapore and Brunei) are not considered democratic, challenging the established link
between economic development and democratization. Of the region’s two middle-income
countries, the Philippines is a perennial “low-quality” democracy, and Thailand has faced civil
strife and is currently under military rule. Arguably, the most democratic country in the re-
gion, Indonesia, has a population that is ninety percent Muslim, confounding popular discourse
about the incompatibility of Islam and democratization (Huntington 1996). And the region’s
most entrenched authoritarian regime, Myanmar, has suddenly and unexpectedly begun to
make significant moves toward political liberalization and electoral democracy (Turnell 2012).
Southeast Asia’s experiences thus historically and comparatively force us to confront the
region’s variety and variability. This, in turn, upends some of the common theories in com-
parative politics about political change and democratization. The region’s overall pattern of
democratic recalcitrance also forces us to pay closer attention to political continuity in addi-
tion to political change (Slater 2006) and the increasingly blurred lines between democratic
and authoritarian rule (Diamond 2002). This chapter offers an overview of the historical ex-
periences and how economic, cultural, and institutional perspectives have helped to explain
political change, democratization, and authoritarian durability in the region.

Political change in Southeast Asia

Despite Southeast Asia’s immense diversity, the region also shares elements of a common
political history. Changing patterns of state formation, colonization, nationalism, and

26
 Democratization and the lack thereof

revolution have all helped to forge the states that make up contemporary Southeast Asia.
After independence, states grappled with key issues, including how to organize their central
political institutions. Constitutional democracy was a popular option but only one of several,
and states in the region would experience political systems ranging from liberal democracies
to closed and opaque authoritarian regimes.
Like some other world regions, political organization in Southeast Asia has its roots in
classical agrarian kingdoms, including the temple-building kingdoms of Angkor, Pagan, and
Java (Tarling 1999). However, expanding trade, changes in technology, and demographic
shifts around the 14th and 15th centuries led to the gradual decline of these larger classical
states in favor of the smaller port city-states dotting much of maritime Southeast Asia, such
as Melaka, Makassar, and Pattani (Reid 1988). Political authority in this early period was
overwhelmingly grounded in absolutism; leaders of these polities usually claimed supernat-
ural authority through older models of sublime kingship or manifested through the newer
religious cosmologies of Buddhism, Hinduism, and Islam (Reid 1988). However, given that
absolutism in the region emerged without an underlying ideology and because it had sub-
stantial limitations in actual practice, it would come under pressure, especially with the
arrival of colonialism.
The arrival of European colonialism transformed the regional economy and both frag-
mented and consolidated political power in the region. While some local states were ini-
tially able to ally with, stave off, or negotiate some measure of autonomy vis-à-vis colonial
rule, by the 18th and 19th centuries, virtually the entire region had fallen under European
colonial power, with the notable exception of Siam, contemporary Thailand. More to the
point, colonial consolidation shaped what would become the region’s states. By the early
20th century, the Dutch had secured the East Indies; the British were in Burma and Malaya,
including Singapore; the French held Indochina; the Portuguese occupied East Timor; and
the Spanish and later the Americans colonized the Philippines.
Colonial policy also transformed the political elites and institutions throughout the re-
gion. In the East Indies, for example, the Dutch colonial state ruled indirectly through
the Javanese aristocratic elite called the priyai, transforming them into a bureaucratic elite
(Sutherland 1979). In the Philippines, wealthy landowning mestizos also became political
elites due to the combined legacies of Spanish and American rule (Hutchcroft 2000). Colo-
nial rule also shifted the demographic character in much of the region, producing a Chinese
capitalist class and also importing labor from South Asia and producing “plural societies”
(Furnivall 1956). America’s bicameral legislatures, British parliamentarianism, the Dutch
volksraad, and other Western institutions were all introduced in their respective colonial sys-
tems and became sites and symbols of contestation. They formed avenues for politicization,
including those for anti-colonial movements, and also often helped to shape political institu-
tions that would emerge after independence.
By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, nationalism and anti-colonialism spread
throughout much of the region, threatening colonial rule. Nationalism manifested itself in
different kinds of organizations and mobilizations. Some groups sought to emulate Western
nationalism, while others incorporated indigenous and religious ideas into their nationalist
organizations. Sarekat Islam in Indonesia, for example, promoted nationalism and Islamic
modernism, and produced many of Indonesia’s top nationalist leaders, including its first pres-
ident, Sukarno (Ricklefs 1993). Other groups, such as Burma’s Young Men’s Buddhist As-
sociation, the YMBA, debated how politicized they should become and eventually split off
into a secular organization, the General Council of Burmese Association (GCBA). And while
some groups operated openly, nationalist mobilization in many cases went underground and

27
Ehito Kimura

became revolutionary. Communism would also become a potent political ideology, mobi-
lizing anti-colonial and nationalist movements in much of the region, including in Burma,
Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Thailand, and French Indochina.
Even as these movements gained ground, World War II and the Japanese invasion and
colonization of the region proved a decisive and transformative period. Japan proclaimed an
“Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere,” but their brutality, including forced labor, forced prostitu-
tion, and summary executions, dispelled any notions of common brotherhood and alienated
those who initially embraced them as liberators. At the same time, when it became increas-
ingly clear that they would lose the war, the Japanese began to support nationalist move-
ments in Burma, Indonesia, and some other parts of the region. More broadly, the Japanese
occupation arguably shattered any myth of European invulnerability in the region.
When the European colonizers sought to return, they would find fierce resistance and
fervent movements for national independence. In the Philippines, the Americans followed
through on their promise to leave in 1946. Burma too would achieve independence from
the British relatively quickly and without heavy violence by 1948. In contrast, the Dutch
sought to take back the East Indies, fighting for five years before capitulating to Indonesia’s
nationalist resistance and the international community in 1950. The British also retook
Malaysia and Singapore but eventually allowed self-governance and independence by 1957.
The French became mired in their attempts to return to Indochina for nearly a decade before
withdrawing in 1954 and relinquishing the fight to the Americans.
As the colonies in Southeast Asia became independent states one by one, several forged
constitutions that reflected democratic values. They called for the establishment of legisla-
tures and elections, and developed political parties. Some also institutionalized the freedom
of religion and other fundamental rights. In Indonesia, Sukarno led a country that would
have a vibrant and competitive presidential system with parliamentary characteristics, in-
cluding fiercely contested elections in 1955. Newly independent Burma adopted a consti-
tution in 1947 and held elections for a legislative assembly in 1951 and 1956, though it was
mired in civil strife for much of this time. Malaysia and Singapore too would introduce par-
liamentary democracy and hold a series of competitive and free elections. Singapore would
vote to join the Malay Union but ultimately be ousted and forced to hold its own national
elections in 1963.
For those countries that experimented with democracy after independence, a variety of
factors led to democratic unraveling and the adoption of military or one-party systems. In
Burma, General Ne Win cited instability and turmoil, and led a military takeover of the
government in 1962. In Indonesia, President Sukarno, frustrated by political deadlock and
internal conflict, declared “Guided Democracy,” suspending the constitution, in 1957. He
would be succeeded in 1965 by Suharto, who would draw the reins even tighter under the
authoritarian “New Order” regime. In the Philippines, President Marcos declared martial
law in 1972, citing civil strife and the threat of communism. And Malaysia and Singapore’s
dominant one-party systems also emerged, citing communal tensions after a series of ethnic
riots in the 1960s. Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia eventually emerged from conflict and ul-
timately led to single-party-based communist regimes. And Thailand’s experience proved
confounding as it technically remained a constitutional monarchy but was ruled mostly
through the military during the early postwar years.
The region’s authoritarian leaders often justified their rule through the experience of the
Cold War. Suharto founded his regime based on conflict with the communists, and sim-
ilar concerns would be echoed by virtually all the leaders in the region. Marcos cited the
communist threat, including the New People’s Army and several bombings in Manila, for

28
 Democratization and the lack thereof

his decision to impose martial law. State parties in Singapore and Malaysia also consistently
warned about the threat of leftist parties. Not surprisingly, the communist states in Indo-
china would cite imperialism and capitalism as threats.
But as the logic of the Cold War waned, and the region grew more prosperous in the late
1980s and 1990s, increasing pressures for political change would also begin to emerge. In 1986,
much of the Filipino populace rose up in the EDSA revolution, ousting President ­Marcos
from power. The end of the 1980s would also see the United Nations take an active role
in rebuilding Cambodia after the devastating rule of the Khmer Rouge. In 1997, the Asian
Financial Crisis struck, and several regimes would also come under pressure. Suharto buckled
under major protests, and Indonesia eventually democratized, while the Malaysian govern-
ment, coming under similar stress, ultimately rode through the storm and remained in power.
To be sure, even as some states experienced pressure for political change after the Cold
War, other states remained firmly authoritarian. Vietnam, for example, undertook signifi-
cant economic reforms from the mid-1980s but only limited political reforms. Singapore too
remained a hegemonic party state dominated by the PAP, which has never lost an election
since the country’s founding. The Malaysian protests led by Anwar Ibrahim were ultimately
silenced as the regime removed him as a threat by accusing him of sodomy. And despite the
UN and the international community’s central role, Cambodia has largely fallen under the
strongman rule of Hun Sen. And since becoming an independent state in 1983, Brunei has
remained a sultanate with limited political change.
Two additional developments toward democratization in contemporary Southeast Asia
are worth highlighting. In the wake of Suharto’s fall in Indonesia, the international commu-
nity called for East Timor’s independence after Indonesian occupation for over two decades.
In a referendum in 1999, the Timorese ultimately did vote for independence and developed
a semi-presidential representative system, which has remained in place, despite instability
and violence in ensuing years. Also, Myanmar has begun an unexpected series of political
reforms, including competitive elections, since 2010. While the military still retains a great
deal of control, the elections in 2010 and more recently in 2015 have been deemed genuine,
free, and fair.
Southeast Asia’s historical legacy highlights the complex and shifting nature of political
change in the region. As a whole, it remains recalcitrant to democratization but has expe-
rienced extensive political change, including developments supporting and undermining
political reform. Given this, how have scholars tried to explain and theorize democratization
and political change in the region more generally? The next sections put forth competing
approaches to understanding regional politics, highlighting economic, cultural, and institu-
tional approaches.

Southeast Asian democratization in context

This chapter uses three different lenses to understand the region’s democratization or lack
thereof. Economic approaches highlight the materialist dimensions of political change,
whether through development or class-based politics. Cultural approaches explore the roles
of identity and how they help shape political outcomes. Institutions show us how the rules
and norms of political organization can also have a critical impact on political change and
continuity. In weighing each approach, this chapter looks to concrete cases in the region that
highlight the promise and limitations of each approach. The point here is not to embrace any
one approach as superior but to highlight how different lenses help us to see different aspects
of political change, democratization, and authoritarian durability.

29
Ehito Kimura

Development and democracy

Modernization theory is one of the earliest and most influential theories in comparative poli-
tics generally and also influenced early studies of Southeast Asian politics. Arguments around
modernization emerged in the 1950s and 1960s as scholars and policy makers faced a new
global terrain shaped by the aftermath of World War II. Decolonization proceeded apace,
and as new states emerged on the world map, new questions emerged about how these new
states would fare politically and economically.
Less a single theory than a general approach, the basic idea behind modernization is that
as states move from “traditional” to modern societies through economic development, they
will undergo rapid change in their social, political, and economic structures. From this ba-
sic premise, modernization has several flavors. Some argue that economic growth and the
embrace of capitalism would lead through a series of stages to democratization. As famously
noted, “the more well-to-do a nation, the greater the chances that it will sustain democ-
racy” (Lipset 1959, 75). Others cautioned that modernization could also have destabilizing
effects without proper institutions to guide political agendas (Huntington 1968). Yet others
explored the dilemmas traditional societies had as they moved from traditional to modern
systems.
In the 1950s and 1960s, as Southeast Asian studies itself began developing into a coherent
field of study, policy makers and scholars argued that modernization could lead to stable
democratic national states in Southeast Asia. Scholars saw communist insurgency in the
region as a function of those alienated by modernization and thus drawn to the communist
ideology as a way to cope with that vacuum (Pye 1981). Much of this scholarship came to be
tied in with policies to fight communism in the region through US government initiatives,
such as counterinsurgency and strategic hamletting (Berger 2003).
Other less explicitly politicized versions of a modernization approach focused on the di-
lemmas of modernization by exploring the role of political elites. These elites straddled the
line between “traditional” and modern institutions, while much of the rest of the society
remained much more deeply “traditional,” thereby producing what scholars would call an
“elite-mass gap” (Weiner 1965, 2). In Thailand, for example, Fred Riggs (1966) observed
the workings of what he called a “bureaucratic polity” where modern bureaucratic ad-
ministration emerged disproportionate to other institutions a concept also applied later to
­Indonesia ( Jackson and Pye 1978, 4). In these kinds of polities, the weakening or destruction of
traditional bases of power left states in an institutional limbo that was neither traditional nor
modern, and at the mercy of a “parasitic office holding class” (Riggs 1966).
Addressing the challenges of modernization in Malaysia, Scott (1968) argued that elites
tended to compete for resources under the assumption of a “constant pie” and therefore
tended to think in terms of distributive justice than in more liberal notions of democratic
ideal. In Indonesia, Emmerson (1976) explored the backgrounds and ideologies of bureau-
cratic and legislative elites to find the ascendance of a more powerful bureaucracy within the
context of an authoritarian state.
Later studies on the politics of modernization moved away from the emphasis on the elites
and the bureaucracy, and paid more attention to other institutions. These works cautioned
about the instability that could form under processes of modernization. In the Philippines
where a strong bureaucracy never developed, the imbalance between exclusive access to elite
decision-making and a relatively open participatory political system led to the constitutional
crisis in 1972 (Wurfel, 1991). Similar patterns emerged in Thailand where a series of coups
in the 1970s and 1980s illustrated the emergence and fraying of an alliance between the

30
 Democratization and the lack thereof

bureaucracy and the military. As the power of bureaucracy declined, the role of business
associations emerged and began to influence policy making (Laothamatas 1994).
By the late 1980s and early 1990s, significant economic growth ushered in a revival of
the modernization approaches of the 1950s and 1960s. Under economic growth in Southeast
Asia, Kearney argued that economic, technological, and social changes lead to processes such
as the growth of literacy, increased exposure to mass communications, increased territorial
mobility, the emergence of new occupations, and the emergence and spread of wage labor
and production for the market (Kearney 1975, 5).
Southeast Asian states, including the Philippines, Thailand, and Indonesia, experienced
these kinds of changes, but in an important revision, the relationship between economic
growth and democratization is not linear but curvilinear (Morley and Crouch 1999). Eco-
nomic growth does not lead states to give up power as social forces grow stronger; rather,
it causes them to hold on to power as long as possible, and only at higher levels of growth,
when the balance has finally tipped, they argue, does democratization succeed (Morley and
Crouch 1999, 327). Furthermore, they acknowledge that their theory is ultimately only
probabilistic and that other factors will also play a role in political change.
Modernization approaches have had an ineffable imprint on the study of political change
and democratization in the region. Its locus of attention has shifted from the elite-mass
gap to the implications of economic growth on the general populace. But modernization’s
version of political change contrasts with another economic approach, namely Marxist class-
based explanations.

Class-based approaches
In addition to modernization approaches, a second economic approach adopted class as an
analytic framework to understand political change. At first glance, class-centered approaches
resemble modernization theory in their shared materialist foundations. But while modern-
ization theory emerged from the idea of transforming “traditional” societies to “modern”
ones, Marxist approaches highlight the role classes play in promoting their own material
interests and how they align with other classes in that context.
Historians have argued extensively about the rise of the capitalist class in the region, in-
cluding in Thailand, Indonesia, and the Philippines. In Thailand, the integration in world
markets and industrialization that led to the emergence of the capitalist class by the late 1950s
(Hewison, 1989). In Indonesia, the capitalist class emerged in the 1970s though policies of
import substitution industrialization (Robison, 1986). In the Philippines, an older agricul-
tural elite effectively controlled much of state economic policy even under Marcos’s regime
in the 1960s and 1970s (Hawes, 1987).
More recently, scholars have argued that these capitalist classes have effectively formed
oligarchies despite political change, and even under democratization, state power remains
monopolized by economic elites (Winters 2011). For example, although Indonesia trans-
formed from an authoritarian state to an electoral democracy after 1998, the economic elites
nurtured under the Suharto regime survived Suharto and adjusted to operate in a democratic
context (Robison and Hadiz, 2004). The Philippines is the classic case where after the fall of
Marcos, the political system reverted to a “cacique democracy” where political power con-
tinued to be held by large landowning families who rotate political power in the presidency
and the legislature (Anderson 1988).
Oligarchic theories of power tend to suggest continuity of an economic class despite
change in political structures, but they say less about how political systems change and the

31
Ehito Kimura

role economic classes play in that context. In comparative politics, Barrington Moore (1966)
famously argued that it was the interaction between landed aristocracy and an emerging
capitalist class led to varying political and economic outcomes in Britain, France, Germany,
Russia, and China (Moore 1966). John Sidel transposes Moore’s argument to Southeast Asia
by arguing that the emerging bourgeois class as represented by ethnic Chinese, and their
relationship to the state explain the region’s variation in democratization. Specifically, Sidel
argues that states in the region need to be understood in terms of “the degree of vigor and
independence enjoyed by a given country’s bourgeoisie” (Sidel 2008, 29). Where the ethnic
Chinese capitalist class has been assimilated (the Philippines and Thailand), democracy is al-
legedly strongest. Where the Chinese were considered “pariah capitalists,” authoritarianism
continued. The other countries in the region are discounted for lacking a strong domestic
bourgeois, either due to slow industrial growth (Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam) or
the strength of foreign and state capital (Brunei and Singapore) (Sidel 2008, 134).
The Philippines at first glance seems to provide a robust case of the middle-class instru-
mentalism in the process of democratization especially with the overthrow of the Marcos
regime (Rivera 2011). Though the EDSA revolution involved a broad coalition including the
Catholic Church, broad factions of the left, and ultimately, reformist wings of the military,
the ousting of Marcos in 1986 suggests how the middle class could spur and embody a People
Power revolution.
Thailand too has been cited as a place where the rising capitalist classes have had a marked
impact on democratization. Anderson argues in “Murder and Progress” “that most of the
echelons of the bourgeoisie—from the multimillionaire bankers of Bangkok to the am-
bitious small entrepreneurs of the provincial towns—have decided that the parliamentary
system is the system that suits them best” while acknowledging that there are still challenges
to this system in the provincial areas of Thailand in particular (Anderson 1990, 46).
However, in both Thailand and the Philippines, the middle-class argument has also come
under scrutiny. In 2001, the middle class also mobilized again in the streets, this time to oust
a sitting president, Estrada (Labrador 2001). To that end, the middle class demonstrated a
fickleness about what kind of leader they wanted to support and what kind they would not.
Middle classes in Thailand have been adamantly antidemocratic forces, pushing for constitu-
tional revisions that would restrict rather than expand the franchise (Hewison 2014).
In fact, some scholars warned in the early 1990s that the robust growth in Southeast Asian
economies would not necessarily translate to democratic change (Hewison, Robison, and
Rodan 1993). Scholars thus have explored the cases recognizing that middle and working
classes may very well support democracy when it suits their interests but tend to be “contin-
gent” depending on varied factors. For example, middle classes tend to weigh state depen-
dence and “fear,” and so in places like Indonesia, high levels of state dependence and fear
effectively meant that middle classes preferred authoritarianism to democracy (Bellin, 2000).
Overall, class-based arguments about the process of democratization or the lack thereof in
much of the region do have a great deal of sway. The lack of a vibrant middle class likewise
has often been used to argue against the emergence of democracy in the likes of Myanmar,
Laos, and Vietnam. However, like modernization theory, there is also stark variation in the
region. The role of the middle class while providing strong evidence for democratization
in some places is complicated by examples in other places where they have been divided,
weak, or even unwilling advocates for democracy, for example, in the Philippines, Thailand,
­Singapore, and even Malaysia.
Both modernization and class-based approaches are materialist explanations of political
change. Though they differ in their inherent logic, they both rely heavily on economic

32
 Democratization and the lack thereof

factors in explaining democratization. But materialist explanations have run into the em-
pirical reality of Southeast Asia, which contradicts some of the expected findings, especially
around the reality that some of the places with the highest development tend to be much
less democratic than other regions. The next section explores noneconomic factors, namely
culture as a way to understand democratization and political processes in the region.

Cultural explanations
In contrast to economic approaches, cultural approaches emphasize the importance of shared
values, traditions, beliefs, and behaviors as a way of understanding how political change and
continuity occur. Scholars of politics and democracy have sometimes been uncomfortable
addressing the relationship between culture and politics in part because of the history of rac-
ism and colonialism and the risk of essentializing and othering complex groups and societies.
This holds true in Southeast Asia as much as any other part of the non-Western world. In the
region, three strands of cultural arguments can be distinguished; the idea of “Asian Values,”
arguments around “civic culture,” and ethno-religious politics.
Asian Values, as articulated by its proponents, consist of a set of foundational social and
cultural values supposedly distinctive to the region and contrasted with “Western” values.
These values included loyalty to the family, community over individual, development and
security over individual rights, consensus over majority rule, and the importance of social
harmony (Robison 1996). These values then reflect political practices that are characterized
by patron-client communitarianism, personalism, authority, and strong parties and states
(Neher 1994).
There is both an intellectual and political context to the rise of the “Asian Values” debate.
Politically, the concept emerged in tandem with the rise of the “Asian Tigers” in the 1990s when
the region was growing at a rapid pace. As global and domestic pressures for political change
began to emerge, leaders such as Lee Kwan Yew of Singapore and Mohammad Mahathir of
Malaysia defended their authoritarian regimes on cultural grounds (Zakaria 1994). Leaders also
grasped the mantle of nationalism by criticizing what they saw as the declining West character-
ized by majoritarian, individualistic, materialistic, and morally questionable social values.
Aside from Asian Values, there have been any number of other permutations of democ-
racy labeled variously by regional leaders or scholars as the “Burmese Way,” “Guided De-
mocracy,” “Thai-Style Democracy,” or “Confucian Democracy.” What makes the Asian
Values thesis distinctive is its overt political agenda but also the way that it implies a fairly
uniform set of values in a large and diverse region. In fact, one of the key challenges to the
Asian Values perspective has to do with the question of what exactly constitutes Asia. While
some aspects of East Asian culture may indeed reflect a more cultural inclination toward hi-
erarchical rule, painting the whole region as such defies the lived experience of large swaths
of populations in the region.
On the other hand, more specific kinds of cultural approaches have sought to understand
politics in the region without painting the region with a broad brush. In Bali, Geertz (1980)
saw kingship as a performative spectacle infused with local cultural practices or a “theater
state.” In Indonesia, “Javanese” notions of power contrast starkly with Western notions and
are conceptualized as “concrete, homogeneous, constant in total quantity, and without in-
herent moral implications as such” (Anderson 1972, 18). The collapse of constitutional de-
mocracy in Indonesia could only be understood “by taking into account the deep roots, the
longevity as well as the remarkable resilience of that Hindu-Javanese world to foreign, e.g.
Islamic and Western, influences” (Benda 1964, 454).

33
Ehito Kimura

Furthermore, there are what we might call “indigenous” roots of antiauthoritarianism

and practices of proto-democratic ideas in Southeast Asia as well (Thompson 2015, 876).
Key figures in the region refer to religious traditions, including Islam and Buddhism to
defend democracy, rejecting that it is purely an outside perspective (Bstan-dzin-rgya-­mtsho
1999, 3). Historically, in Southeast Asia, there has been evidence of accountability and
­pluralism, including systems of “dual monarchs” or “second kings” in some parts of mainland
­Southeast Asia and the Malay world (Reid 1988, 264). As Kim Dae Jung noted, accountabil-
ity, ­meritocracy, freedom of speech, and “people-based politics” made appearances in Asia
“long before Locke” ( Jung 1994).
The idea of Asian Values as a concept seems to have lost its sway since the late 1990s,
perhaps in part due to the Asian Financial Crisis and the end of rapid growth in the region.
Some of the key proponents of this view are no longer influential leaders in the region, Lee
Kwan Yew, the key spokesman for Asia Values died in 2015. This is not to suggest that cul-
ture does not matter, only that the Asian Values thesis ignored the variety and multiplicity
of culture and the way that it can interact with politics.

Civic culture and democracy

In addition to Asian or more localized ethnic or religious culture, scholars have also looked
at “civic culture” and the role that this plays in democracy. Influenced by the work of Alexis
de Tocqueville, who argued that American’s civic life explained the robustness of its democ-
racy, more recent scholars have taken up the mantle (Putnam, Leonardi, and Nanetti 1993).
While initial studies such as this have been conducted in Europe and the United States,
scholars have also begun to look at the role of civic culture and social capital in other places
around the world, including Asia.
In Indonesia for example, scholars have explored how Muslims and Muslim organiza-
tions helped to usher Suharto out and democracy in. Democracy “depends heavily on local
cultural resources” (Hefner 2000, 5), and Indonesia’s “rich civic precedents” helped to usher
along the “world’s largest movement for a democratic and pluralist Islam” (Hefner 2000, 6).
In essence, there is an equivalent Habermasian “public sphere” in the Muslim world con-
sistent with and drawing on religious ideas and practices. “Civil pluralist Islam,” which af-
firms democracy, voluntarism, and a balance of countervailing powers in a state and society
(­Hefner 2000, 13).
In the same vein, Indonesia’s democracy arguably “punches above its socio-economic
weight” due to the flourishing associational life (Lussier and Fish, 2012). Through survey
research, the authors show that Indonesians report being members of civic associations at
a significantly higher rate than their counterparts in the region. In particular, Indonesians
are part of neighborhood associations as well as religious groups at very high rates, and the
authors argue that this cultivates democracy by cultivating a sense of efficacy, developing
and transferring civic skills, and offering recruitment mechanisms for political participation
(Lussier and Fish 2012).
In the Philippines, a contrasting argument is made, namely that although there is a social
capital of shared norms, those values and networks tend to act as barriers rather than catalysts
for democracy and economic development (Putzel 1999, 217). Social capital that emerges
from familial relations is distinct from those that accrue out of civic associations, and the
Philippines is characterized by the former (Putzel 1999, 203).
Arguments about civic culture and social capital draw in and build upon the earlier no-
tions of culture and highlight how discussions about civic culture and social capital and their

34
 Democratization and the lack thereof

role in the process of democratization and political change have generated some interest,
but there has yet to be a deep and systematic study of “civic culture” and democratization
throughout the region.

Ethnic and religious diversity and democracy

A third area where cultural arguments have emerged in relation to democracy and politics in
the region has less to do with the values of a particular culture but rather about how different
ethnic and religious groups coexist amidst what Furnivall called “plural societies” (Furnivall
1956). Some approaches in comparative politics have taken this approach quite literally by
simply measuring the number of ethnic groups in a particular state and measuring the corre-
sponding level of democracy in that state. However, the findings have never been thoroughly
convincing. Some have argued that the more ethnic fractionalization in a country, the less
likely for democracy to succeed (Rabushka and Shepsle 1972). Others have argued that eth-
nic diversity may enhance democracy or have no effect at all (Crouch 1993).
In Southeast Asia, empirically there does not seem to be a consistent pattern. It is on the one
hand regionally one of the most diverse places in the world in terms of culture, language, and
religion. Indonesia has a very high level of ethnic diversity and has had its fair share of ethnic
conflict, but it is currently also a leading democracy in the region. Cambodia tends to be more
homogenous but cannot be characterized as democratic. That said, the issue of ethnicity and
identity within the state is an important factor in understanding political processes in the region.
To cite one example, ethnic and communal politics and the concern of racial instability
form part of the justification for the hegemonic party state systems in Singapore and M ­ alaysia.
Both countries have faced a history of race riots particularly between the Malays and the
Chinese, which resulted in Singapore’s expulsion from Malaysia and the rise in Malaysia of
racialized coalition politics. In Malaysia today, Islam and politics play a more complicated
role as well. The Islamic Party of Malaysia (PAS) has moved more to the political center in
that country, while to counter the strength of the pro-democracy movements the United
Malay Nationalist Organization (UMNO), the main government party, has initiated coun-
termobilization of religious and political elites (Hefner 2015, 177).
Ethnic tensions and conflict have plagued Indonesia in a variety of ways, including vi-
olence against ethnic Chinese but also between ethnic groups in Maluku and Ambon,
­K alimantan, Sulawesi, and other regions. Regional and territorial conflicts from Aceh, East
Timor, to Papua have also been characterized in ethnic and religious terms as well. Myanmar
too has had a long history of state conflict with ethnic groups and continues to face pressure
and international criticism for treatment of religious and ethnic minorities (Kipgen 2013).
In fact, even as Civil Islam was a force for democratization, a variety of strains of Islam in
the region have included some that have tended toward of illiberal policies as well. Indonesia
has been criticized for the treatment of Achmadiyah, a small fringe sect in Islam criticized
by other Muslim organizations (Crisisgroup 2008), and it has also faced a number of terror
attacks by groups, such as Jemaah Islamiyah, that have sought to promote a regional caliphate
in place of Indonesia’s pluralist democracy. Insurgent groups in Thailand’s southern region as
well as in the Philippines have also posed tensions with the government labeling the groups
as terrorists, while critics point to heavy-handed tactics of the government as well under-
mining their ostensible commitment to human rights (Thompson 2015).
Without dismissing the role of culture in politics, the literature seems to suggest that it
does not form a uniform obstacle to democratization as some have suggested. Instead, it is
clear that culture has shaped the political process in the region in a number of different ways

35
Ehito Kimura

that have been both supportive of democracy and also a hindrance. Furthermore, culture
seems to play a wide variety of roles depending on how it is conceptualized.

Institutions
As scholars of comparative politics became more critical of materialist and culturalist kinds of
explanations, they began to shift their attention toward the role of institutions. Broadly, insti-
tutions are the “rules of the game” in which the rules, norms, and practices of governing affect
key political outcomes. The central political institution in comparative politics is the state, but
also important are militaries, political parties, legislatures, and electoral institutions.
States in Southeast Asia have been variously described as patrimonial, sultanistic, pre-­
bendal, and personalistic. Borrowing from Max Weber, these terms represent the ways
in which political leaders mobilize resources for personal and political gain. For example,
in ­Indonesia, Suharto used the patrimonial distribution of the spoils of office as a means
of maintaining political authority and stability, a process dubbed “neo-patrimonialism”
(Crouch 1978). In the Philippines, the Marcos regime was referred to as a sultanistic regime,
a highly personalized and uninstitutionalized form of rule where the ruler extracts resources
for personal gain (Thompson 1995). Even after Marcos, the country continues to be character-
ized by its weak state, which the political and economic elite routinely plunder (Anderson 1988).
The difference between the Philippines and Indonesia appears to be that while power was
almost exclusively personalized under Marcos in the Philippines, the Indonesian state was
strengthened and supported by other institutions, such as the military and political parties.
In fact, experiences in Southeast Asia suggest varied roles for militaries. In both the
Philippines and in Thailand, the military played a key role in enforcing authoritarian rule.
Ferdinand Marcos, for example, imposed martial law and began arresting political enemies
and putting down social unrest with the military. In Thailand, the military periodically has
also stepped in to put down social and political unrest and frequently engaged in coups to
overthrow the democratically elected regime. But in neither of the countries did the military
become a cohesive and institutional apparatus of the state.
In contrast, Indonesia’s and Myanmar’s authoritarian regimes can be characterized as
military dictatorships par excellence. In Burma, the tatmadaw’s focus on internal rather than
external enemies helped to consolidate and to cohere the military into a durable state insti-
tution (Callahan 2004). Indonesian General Suharto gained the reigns of the military in the
wake of the alleged coup attempt in 1965, deftly outmaneuvering President Sukarno and
placing the military at the center of state power over the next thirty years.
Another key institution scholars have explored is the role of political parties. Single party or
hegemonic party states, as exemplified by Singapore, Malaysia, Vietnam, and even Laos, suggest
that one party is able to dominate the politics in that country and that they are able to retain
power for a significant amount of time. Taking the argument a step further, Slater argues that
“strong parties might effectively forestall democratization when they are combined with strong
states” (Slater 2006, 17). Slater shows that in Singapore, Vietnam, Laos, and even Cambodia,
parties and states are effectively fused together, and the party is able to control the economic,
political, and human resources to keep firm command over the state apparatus (Slater 2006, 17).
Parties, of course, operate in the context of legislatures, yet another key institution that
scholars have pointed out that helps explain democratic change and authoritarian durability.
The way the legislatures are designed, the rules of the game, and where key obstacles lie can
all have a dramatic effect on political outcomes. Politics in the Philippines, Thailand, and
Indonesia in the wake of the Asian Financial Crisis in 1997 and shows how institutions with

36
 Democratization and the lack thereof

more veto players tended to have more policy stability than places with fewer veto players
(MacIntyre 2003). Others have argued that hybrid regimes tend to have stronger legislatures
more willing to hold the executive accountable, than new democracies, ironically helping to
sustain the undemocratic aspects of hybrid regimes as well (Case 2015).
Finally, scholars have also identified the importance of electoral institutions. Despite
the relative lack of democracies in Southeast Asia, it is notable that most of the states in the
region do hold elections. Elections are constitutional ways that democracies seek to ensure
accountability of their leaders. They are also ways that authoritarian or semi-­authoritarian
leaders gain legitimacy. In fact, the electoral institutions in the region differ markedly,
and scholars have pointed out their potential problems. In Singapore for example, the PAP
has a systematic advantage that is embedded in the rules. The government draws electoral
district boundaries, the government regularly intimidates and prosecutes opposition can-
didates, and it punishes districts and neighborhoods that don’t vote for the PAP by with-
holding government services and delaying upgrades. In other countries, elections are also
accompanied by patronage and also different kinds of violence that damage the credibility
of the elections. In Thailand’s 2014 election, supporters of the yellow shirt movement dis-
rupted elections eventually leading to a renewed military coup in 2014 (Kongkirati 2016).
Overall, institutional approaches have added a great deal of richness to the study of political
change and continuity. The earlier discussion is not meant to offer a comprehensive overview
but is instead intended to show the variety of ways in which different scholars have considered
institutions as a way of thinking about democratization and political changes in the region.

Conclusion
Given the varied approaches that we have explored in this chapter, how should we think about
the experience of democratization in the region? Is there any one theory or approach that fits to
explain the region as a whole? Or do we need to understand democratization as something that
is simply un-theorizable and ungeneralizable? These are two starkly different ways of concep-
tualizing how to understand politics in the region. What is more likely true is that conceptual
approaches and theories help us to highlight important engines of change and continuity, but
they need to be understood in the context of complex realities on the ground.
To the degree that theories of democratization can help us explain empirical reality, they
will be partial at best. Each case of democratization will have several different factors at
play and depend on the particular historical, social, political, and economic circumstances.
All-encompassing explanations of democratization are probably futile, but studies do help to
identify key and important factors that are at play.
There can be little doubt that economic development and economic classes matter, but
their dynamics will probably interact with cultural and institutional factors as well. To that
end, the scholarship of democratization in Southeast Asia complicates previous theories but
also helps to tease out these experiences. It also makes sense that this scholarship is for the
most part dealing in probabilistic tendencies rather than clear-cut finalities. Agency and
happenstance cannot be eliminated from our understanding of the region.

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 4
The state of ­democracy
in South Asia
Maya Chadda

Home to a quarter of the world’s population, South Asia represents a unique and grand ex-
periment in economy and democracy. The story of democracy begins at different points in
the history of the seven states that make up South Asia. Its path has been, however, far from
smooth. Everywhere, democratic development has been interrupted by strife, civil wars,
and illegitimate usurpation of power by illiberal forces. Even in India, which is generally
acknowledged to be a unique and enduring example of a stable democracy among postco-
lonial developing countries, state elections have been deferred time and again awaiting the
return of law and order. In 1975, India was under a proclamation of national emergency, and
scheduled national elections were postponed until 1977. Still, derailed democracies are not
unusual in postcolonial countries that embarked as independent nations following the end of
World War II. Even among these, the South Asian experience is arguably special.
What makes it so? To begin with, the region has been home to the Indus Valley Civili-
zation, one of the oldest civilizations in the world, going back to 3000 b.c. It expanded and
changed by absorbing a multiplicity of local and extra-regional influences and ideas over the
passage of the centuries. This civilizational motif was shaped by and, in turn, shaped the his-
tories of regions that make up the individual countries of South Asia. Second, South Asia has
been subject to many invasions from beyond its natural geographical boundaries and has as a
result witnessed the rise and fall of several great empires. The last such empire was the British
India, which included what we today know as the countries of India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka,
and Bangladesh. These parallel strands of indigenous and foreign cultures have been woven
together to create South Asia’s third special characteristic: namely, its astounding diversity of
religion, language, ethnicity, and endogamous caste groups. These divisions have produced a
social structure that was segmented in which each segment was identified with some combi-
nation of language, location, and lifestyles. For example, West Bengal in India and adjoining
Bangladesh are primary locations for the Bengali-speaking ethnic community that is dis-
tinguishable by language, food habits, and lifestyles from the Tamils in the region of Tamil
Nadu. The latter was home to the kingdom of the Pandyas, Pallavas, and the Cholas at one
time and gave the people living in these parts a definitive cultural identify. The same is true
of Bengal. But no one associates Bengalis with the Tamil region in South India. However,
the most ubiquitous identities in South Asia are the endogamous extended family grouping

40
 The state of ­democracy in South Asia

called Jatis, roughly translated as castes. These are quite unique to the region, although the
divisions they have created are not uniformly rigid across the region.
Fourth, the British colonized almost all the countries in South Asia, except Nepal. The
Colonial rule brought in Western ideologies and political structures. These were gradually
grafted on to a partially reformed social and economic order that the colonial rule created
over the roughly 150 years of expanding colonization. When the British colonial occupation
ended in 1947, it left behind a mixed legacy. Several parts of the region had been incorporated
in the British global trade and hence were relatively more modernized than other parts that
formed a part of the British India. The British had introduced Western education, built a
fairly efficient system of administration, and established several legal and political institutions
that were modern in contrast to the other parts they did not directly rule, namely the princely
kingdoms, the border zones, and a lot of the rural areas. In these parts, modernization re-
mained at a rudimentary level. While these developments were arguably a ‘good thing’, other
British legacies were indisputably damaging. On the eve of their departure, they had parti-
tioned the subcontinent on the basis of religion and consigned it thereby to a permanent his-
tory of internecine warfare and civil violence. They had also left behind ill-defined borders.
The partition of the British India in 1947 led to wars between the newly created nations of
India and Pakistan and over the years poisoned all efforts at regional cooperation. The costs
in blood and treasure, not to mention distorted national priorities, that these conflicts pro-
duced have diverted resources from national integration, reduction of poverty, and building
a stable and robust democracy.
Nations of South Asia have aspired but found daunting challenges of national integration
and political consolidation that frequently set back their efforts to move from independence
to a stable democracy. This is largely because the Western colonial notions of a liberal de-
mocracy have presumed a state that is fully consolidated, politically well integrated, and in
possession of a stable market economy. The countries in South Asia hardly resembled this
ideal when they embarked on their path to democracy. That they have failed in this en-
deavor is not then surprising. What is surprising is that democracy succeeded in the largest
subcontinental country among them, which accounts for close to 75 percent of population.
Democracy took roots and endured in India, despite wars, poverty, and setbacks.
South Asia also inherited porous boundaries and contested ethno-national identities that
frequently spilled over across the disputed borders. The Bengalis in India’s state of West
Bengal share more in common with the neighboring Bangladesh than with the neighbor-
ing province of Bihar. Punjabis on both sides of the India-Pakistan border speak the same
language and share a common ethnic history. Any notion of a greater Punjab, presumably
combining the Punjabi-speaking areas on both sides of the border, will threaten the na-
tional unity of both India and Pakistan. Turmoil and insurgency on one side of the border –
let us say in Nepal – can easily spill over into Bihar, Madhya Pradesh, and other adjoining
areas of India and jeopardize the principle state function of the Indian central government,
namely maintaining law and order. The goals of building a European-style Westphalian
state have therefore eluded the leaders in South Asia. But that has not dampened their ardor
to build one.
It is against this background that the story of South Asia’s democracy has slowly un-
folded. This chapter provides an overview of the region’s journey to democracy and the
kind of challenges the five contiguous countries of the subcontinent have faced. These are
India, ­Pakistan, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka. The last shares territorial waters with
India. And while India and Pakistan were created out of the first division of British India in
1947, Sri Lanka was granted independence in 1948, and Bangladesh became a separate state

41
Maya Chadda

twenty-five years later in 1972, well past the division of 1947. Nepal was never colonized and
has remained a separate entity since the mid-18th century.
I will outline how and why state consolidation has undermined democracy, although the
obverse is not true in every instance. In India and Sri Lanka, and even in Pakistan, democ-
racy has contributed to the nation-building project. It is nevertheless worthy of note that
competitive elections have been a cause of instability as well. The first section of this chapter
delineates the story of democracy around key developments; the second examines the main
causes for its failure, followed by a brief commentary on South Asia’s democratic future in
the third section.

Democratization in South Asia

India
With the achievement of independence in 1947, India declared itself a democracy. As a new
nation, it had to first establish an independent sovereign government, free from colonial
domination. This task was achieved by transition of the Indian National Congress (INC)
party, which since 1855 had led the movement for India’s political freedom, to become even-
tually the majority political party in a Constituent Assembly set up by the British colonial
authority in 1935. At the time of independence, the Congress party formed an interim gov-
ernment, with its leader, Jawaharlal Nehru, serving as prime minister. With the adoption of
the constitution in January 1950, the Republic of India became a democratic secular nation.1
It was able to make this transition fairly smoothly, despite the devastating consequences of the
partition that had plunged the country into a religious bloodbath and war with Pakistan.2 There
were at least three key reasons for India’s rapid turnaround to stability: availability of a capable
and well-educated leadership that was committed not only to the country’s unity, indepen-
dence, and development but also rich in experience of the democratic governance, albeit at the
provincial level. The British Raj had accommodated to the Congress party’s demand to contest
elections at the local level and participate in the management of provincial governance. This
experience, not to mention the technique of popular mobilization and management learnt while
negotiating with the British authorities on all manner of public interest issues, proved invaluable
when the Congress assumed the mantle of power following the first national election in 1952.
Second, India was fortunate to inherit from the British Raj the bulk of the all-India civil
service and armed forces.3 These organizations were disciplined and had gathered a rich
body of experience in administration and management under the British. The Indian armed
forces remained subservient to the civilian authority and, unlike those in Pakistan, harbored
no political ambitions of their own.
Last but not least, India’s prominent Congress leaders were steeped in the ideas of liberal de-
mocracy, and their personal prestige and popularity provided the leverage they needed to side-
line or crush any opposition to it.4 The INC5 dominated the political space in these early years,
while the extreme left (the communist party of India) and extreme right (the Hindu nationalists)
lost popular support. These three elements were important in stabilizing India after the wrench-
ing partition of 1947. Its subsequent political story can be divided into four broad periods.

The first phase: 1947–1967

The early challenge created by the partition and the communal holocaust was followed in
the early 1950s by a clamor by India’s ethnic communities to reorganize its union along

42
 The state of ­democracy in South Asia

ethnolinguistic lines. It was the first test of the Congress party’s ability to cope with the
demands of ethnic nationalism and the first pan-Indian challenge to achieve national inte-
gration within a democratic framework.6 The government of Nehru created a State Reorga-
nization Commission, an autonomous and independent body to carry out an impartial study
and come up with recommendations of a federal design best suited to India. This could have
been a highly partisan exercise, but it was saved from being so because of the leadership’s
adherence to democratic process and transparency demanded of the Commission. Based on
the Commission’s recommendation, the Indian union was federated in 1956 along the eth-
nolinguistic lines.
Had the Congress government of Prime Minister Nehru failed to meet the challenge of
ethnic nationalism, India could have broken apart into many separate entities. The Indian
leaders had not only transformed a unitary India into a federal state but had done so by
evolving a standard criterion that was acceptable to the majority in the nation. It did leave
out decisions on the Sikh, Naga, and Telangana demands for separate states, but in each
instance, the central government was able to offer persuasive reasons for the postponement.
The Sikh demand was based on religion, and that could not be countenanced in a secular
India. The Nagas had declared a war against the Indian state, and the Indian army was
engaged in subduing the separatist movement. In any event, it would have been difficult
to draw a provincial line that included all the various Naga subcommunities within a pro-
posed ­Nagaland. A separate Telangana could not be created since there were no linguistic
or cultural distinctions between the Telugu-speaking populations of Andhra and Telangana.
The latter was a part of the Andhra Pradesh at that time. Thus, resolving the fiercely fought
battles over ethnic demarcations over culture and ethnicity within a democratic framework
not only deepened Indian democracy but arguably made it more stable.
There was also the challenge of extreme poverty, destitution, and widespread hunger.
These required a comprehensive economic strategy for rural and urban development. India
opted for a quasi-socialist, mixed economy model and placed the state at the center of all the
nation-building efforts.7 The private sector could operate but strictly within a space regu-
lated by the state. The lead role of the state in the production and regulation of the nation’s
economic life reinforced and augmented the power of the central state and the Congress
party that dominated India’s political life. The concentration of administrative and regula-
tory power bloated the bureaucracy and adversely affected efficiency. Accumulated regula-
tory power led to widespread corruption among its ranks. But in the early 1950s and 1960s,
the state was the great provider of law and order, democratic choice, and a stable nation.
Developments beyond India’s border posed yet another challenge. India wished to keep
the Cold War at bay, but in 1955, Pakistan entered into a defense pact with the US. This
aggravated India-Pakistan animosities immensely and led to two wars in the following two
decades. Dispute over the border with China added to India’s defense burden and made its
entire northeast potentially vulnerable to Chinese attacks. Observers within and outside
India began to predict that it was likely to break up under these converging pressures from
within and without.8
This did not happen. The state survived all the difficulties, the partition, poverty, wars,
droughts, and famines. So did democracy. India continued to routinely return elected gov-
ernment to power. There were no coups or military takeovers, and it did not turn to a dicta-
torship. The key reason for this early success was the dominance of the Congress party, which
functioned both as a vehicle of popular sentiments and mechanism to reconcile ideological
and policy differences. The party’s dominance was derived from the lead role it had played in
the nationalist struggle for independence. The INC stood for a broad national consensus that

43
Maya Chadda

defused potential conflicts and permitted the nation to accumulate the experience of dem-
ocratic governance. In fact, as an umbrella party, the Congress contained many adversarial
and opposite opinions and factions within its body, but its centralized structure prevented
fragmentation until the death of the first prime minister. Other developing nations that
achieved independence after World War II are generally less fortunate in this regard.
Rapid establishment of economic and political institutions was the second reason why
­Indian democracy was sustained.9 It is difficult to exaggerate the institution-building achieve-
ments of these early years and the organizational frame and ideological coherence the INC
provided. Each was a factor in making India stable and its nation increasingly compatible
with its state.

The second phase: Indira era

But what had worked in the first phase became counterproductive in the second. As democ-
racy expanded, Congress faced challenges to its electoral dominance, especially at the state
level. It had hoped that the federal reorganization of 1956 would contain ethnic aspirations
for self-rule and autonomy. But this did not happen. The INC splintered as many leaders left
to create new state-level political formation that was more in line with the subunit’s ethnic
makeup.10 The Indira Gandhi period (from 1968 to 1977 and then again from 1980 to 1984)
witnessed the birth of many state-level parties that became the voice of regional, caste, and
ethnic nationalism. The Akalis in Punjab and Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam and All In-
dia Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK and AIDMK) in Tamil Nadu are cases in point.
While democracy expanded, the goals of poverty reduction and rapid growth remained
beyond reach. India’s rural poor, who constituted its vast majority, suffered from hunger and
malnourishment.
Indira Gandhi responded to these challenges by tightening the central state’s control over
the economy: nationalizing the Banks and tightening bureaucratic control over the market,
industry, and commerce. Control over industry and commerce was complimented with
subsidies to the poor and the creation of quotas popularly known as ‘reservations’ for the
backward castes and untouchables, who constituted the bulk of India’s poor. But there was
no visible reduction in poverty over these years. The bureaucracies at the center and state
levels, however, expanded enormously during Indira Gandhi’s tenure.11
The INC continued to lose voter bases to local parties. The creeping authoritarian ten-
dencies attributed to the Indira Gandhi years can be traced to the erosion of the Congress
party beginning in the late 1960s. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi arbitrarily dismissed state-
level opposition governments to preserve the INC’s dominance, which initially led to pro-
tests and resistance. But resistance soon morphed into violent insurgencies in the border
regions of India, namely Punjab, Kashmir, Assam, and Nagaland.12 The Congress’ quest for
monopolizing power, albeit within the limits of the constitution, undermined national in-
tegration and provided adjacent countries, Pakistan in particular, an opportunity to meddle
in India’s domestic conflicts.
The period of the 1980s coincided with the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan and
US-­supported insurgency to defeat and evict them. Pakistan played as a proxy to US interests
and a conduit to the Afghan mujahedeen fighting the Soviet troops. Many among the five
million Afghan refugees who fled to Pakistan were trained, armed, and sent across the bor-
der into Afghanistan to wage a Jihad, but similar tactics also brought Pakistan-based infiltra-
tion into the Indian Kashmir and to a lesser extent into Punjab.13 The Pakistan connection
hardened the central government against ethnic demands for political autonomy. The Sikh

44
 The state of ­democracy in South Asia

insurgency in Punjab therefore led to the ‘Operation Blue Star’, meant to clear the Sikh holy
shrine in Amritsar of the Sikh extremists. Similarly, the demand for independence led to the
deployment of the armed forces in the Indian Kashmir.14 The ‘Operation Blue Star’ led to
revenge killing of Indira Gandhi in November 1984, which unleashed first ever Hindu-Sikh
riots and death of thousands of innocent Sikhs all over India. The Indian Kashmir has ever
since slipped into periodic violence and mass protests that has the Indian state turn Kashmir
valley into a military camp.
Rajiv Gandhi, son and heir to Indira Gandhi, followed with a landslide majority in the
1985 elections, but the sympathy wave that brought him the victory did not stem the erosion
of the Congress’s hold over India. The INC lost the 1989 elections to a coalition govern-
ment. This coalition government, the second since 1947, dissolved within a few months,
but it signaled the end to the era of single-party dominance in India. While campaigning
for elections, Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated by the Sri Lankan Tamil terrorists who were
seeking revenge for deploying the Indian peacekeeping forces in northern Sri Lanka. South
Asia’s ethnic extremists had murdered two Indian prime ministers within seven years be-
tween 1984 and 1991.15

The third phase: weak coalition governments

Following Rajiv Gandhi’s assassination in 1991, the INC had returned to power on a sym-
pathy vote but only as a minority party in a coalition of several state-level parties. While the
INC was thus shrinking, the decade of the 1990s brought cataclysmic international change –
the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War – and equally dangerous
domestic change within India: dispersal of power away from the central state to its regions
and subunits; severe balance of payment crisis that exposed the failure of state-led economic
strategy; the rise of powerful ethnic- and caste-based groups (demanding state protection in
jobs and education); and, last but not least, the rise of Hindu nationalism, led by the ­Bharatiya
Janata Party (BJP) and its affiliates, which were determined to replace the INC and its sec-
ular and quasi-socialist ideology with their own brand of Hindutva ideology. Each devel-
opment had the potential to derail the Indian democracy. The collapse of the Soviet Union
had cast India adrift in foreign policy; the destabilization of Afghanistan had unleashed rad-
icalized Islamic groups aided and abated by Pakistan’s intelligence agencies that had targeted
India, especially its hold over the Indian Kashmir. The economic crisis raised fears of total
collapse. Rise of Hindu cultural nationalism threatened to tear India’s social fabric to shreds.
Between 1989 and 1999, several coalition governments were elected. India went to polls
three times to change seven governments within those ten years.16 The transition from a
single-party-dominant democracy to weak coalition rule was tumultuous to say the least
but instability produced no coup, no rise of a single-party dictatorship, and no strongman
to replace the established electoral democracy in India. The coalition governments ushered
in a steady dispersal of power away from the central state to its federal subunits, which was
arguably a deepened democracy.
Despite short-lived coalition governments, India dismantled the regulatory regime and
initiated market-based reforms, redefined its foreign policy, abandoned nuclear reticence to
conduct nuclear weapons tests, signed a border agreement to maintain a status quo on border
with China, and initiated a ‘look east’ policy to build new security and trade partnerships
with Southeast Asia. Democracy had not only transformed India, but it had created a state
able to carry forward adjustment and reform in response to global development. Although
political uncertainty and short-tenured governments did not permit these policy initiatives

45
Maya Chadda

to fully fructify, the dispersal of power had expanded and deepened India’s democratic ex-
periment. In the 1999 elections, the largest democratic exercise ever, 350 million Indians
went to polls and gave a plurality of votes to the BJP-led coalition of non-Congress parties.17

The fourth phase: stable coalition governments

The BJP-led coalition retained office until 2004 elections, followed by the Congress-led
coalition for two consecutive terms until 2014. In the May 2014 election, over 540 million
Indians went to polls to elect the BJP once again, but this time, it was led by Narendra Modi,
who had built his political career as a commissar of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (the
RSS), a hyper-nationalist organization that envisions India as a nation of ‘Hindus first’.
There were other visible signs of change: The Indian voters were no longer content to base
their vote on ethnic and cast identity; they demanded performance and good governance.18
This was more than evident in the way in which the second term of the INC under Prime
Minister Man Mohan Singh (2004–2009 and then again 2009–2014) became paralyzed by
nationwide anti-corruption movement led by a new political party that sought no caste or
ethnic affiliation. India was slowly moving away from identity politics to class-based politics.
The fourth phase had shown signs of India settling into a two-party system alternating
between two broad coalitions led by the Congress and the BJP. But the humiliating decline of
the Congress in the 2014 elections and its continued erosion raised the possibility of returning
again to a single-party dominance led by the BJP that was committed to the agenda of one
country, one culture, and one people. This trend was reconfirmed in the March 2017 state
elections in India. In almost all five states, save Punjab, the BJP under Narendra Modi’s leader-
ship swept the polls. While the imperatives of governing a multiethnic nation may constraint
the Hindu nationalists, Indian democracy is in the process of working through a new ideo-
logical frame – one informed by Hindutva – that has the potential to divide the nation and
undermine the individual liberties and human rights especially for its non-Hindu minorities.
Close to seven decades of democracy has, however, made elections the only avenue to political
office. But this procedural democracy hides a multiplicity of structural flaws and weaknesses
that makes it so very different from the template established by Western democracies in E ­ urope
and North America, a subject to which I will return for comment in the second section.

Nepal
Nepal was never colonized and had therefore remained trapped in traditional modes of
feudal and monarchic rule. The bulk of its population survived by subsistence agriculture,
and the court and the Hindu upper castes of Tagadharis (such as the Khatris and Brahmins)
exercised power.19 Ruled by Rana dynasty before 1946, Nepal retained its sovereign inde-
pendence by cooperating with the British in India. Sushila Tyagi describes it as a policy of
“friendly isolation”.20 Only after the abolition of the Rana rule in 1951 and restoration of
monarchy, with help from the first government of independent India, did Nepal open up
to the outside world. The government of Prime Minister Nehru, however, insisted that the
king should allow political parties and the Nepali Congress in particular to move the ­country
toward democracy. Chadda observes, “Leaders of Independent India played a key role in
these events and persuaded the king to sign an agreement …king, Rana and NC (Nepali
Congress party) agreed to share power by democratic mandate”.21 But King Tribhuvan made
only half-hearted efforts. These then failed not only because they were perfunctory but also
because of Nepal’s feudal and underdeveloped society was ill-suited to installing democracy.

46
 The state of ­democracy in South Asia

King Mahendra succeeded King Tribhuvan in 1955. Although Mahendra drew up a

new constitution that envisaged a popularly elected legislature, he insisted on retaining far-­
reaching powers, including the right to declare national emergency. In the first ever elections
of 1959 under the new constitution, the Nepali Congress won a majority, and its leader,
B. P. Koirala, became the prime minister. But the king refused the parliament’s bid to carry
out land reforms, since land ownership was the primary basis of the feudal classes supporting
the monarchy.22 In December 1960, King Mahendra dismissed the government and arrested
Prime Minster Koirala. Two years later, he replaced the nascent democratic system with
a ‘Panchayat’ system, which resembled the guided democracy instituted around the same
time by the military rulers in Pakistan. An indirectly elected national-level council stood at
the apex of the Panchayat system whose roughly one hundred members pledged loyalty to
the king. Criticism of the king was outlawed. Party leaders ran for office but only in their
individual capacity.
Democracy got a second chance in 1980 when the king called for a referendum on the
Panchayat system. Unable to forge a united front against the monarchy, Nepal’s political
parties lost the chance to reinstate democracy. Disillusionment with the rampant corruption
within the Panchayat was, however, growing. This led to protests, especially in Nepal’s
urban centers. The political impasse between the king and the people came to a head in
1989–1990, which coincided with India’s trade embargo.23 The economic hardships swelled
the ranks of the protesters and led to a mass movement – the Jan Andolan – that demanded
return to a democracy and end to the Panchayat system. Unable to stem the tide of popular
protests, the king ultimately yielded to the people and declared Nepal a parliamentary de-
mocracy with a constitutional monarchy.24
The years between 1990 and 2005, Nepal witnessed many upheavals and protests, short-
lived governments and an effort to build stable political coalition at the center, but each new
beginning ended in a dismal failure or was aborted midpoint. There were two broad reasons
for these failures: the power struggle between political parties and the monarchy, and conflict
among and within political parties. A stable government could not be formed. Ambitious
leaders broke away to form new parties or bring down elected governments. For instance,
the political left in Nepal split three ways, each giving birth to more and more extreme left
parties. The centrist parties, such as the Nepali Congress, could not deliver on any of the
promises it made and got bogged down in struggle for the office of the prime minister. Impa-
tient with the nonperformance and broken promises of the centrist parties, people in Nepal
increasingly turned to the extremist left, which had launched an insurgency to do away with
the monarchy and make Nepal a republic. By November 1999, the extreme left – Maoist –
controlled thirty-one of Nepal’s seventy-five districts and the violence they had unleashed
led to the death of more than a 1,000 people. The number of the Maoists was estimated to
be about 5,000–6,000 strong, but they had won many sympathizers.25
The Nepali Congress Party (NCP), which formed the government in 1999, offered to
negotiate with the Maoists, but nothing came of these talks. Violence escalated in 2000 when
insurgents began to attack the police and other agencies of the state. The NCP government
called in the army since the police were unable to cope with the Maoists. While the civilian
governments were thus besieged, Nepal was thrown into one of the worse political crises since
its transformation in 1990. In a fit of drug-induced rage, Prince Dipendra murdered nine
members of the royal family, including the king, and then committed suicide in June 2001.
The sole surviving member was the unpopular Gyanendra, the brother of the diseased king.26
The Maoists rapidly moved to take advantage of the political disarray. Violence increased
several fold, while Nepal’s cities and towns shut down with mass protests and demonstrations.

47
Maya Chadda

The Maoists wanted the constitution dissolved and monarchy abolished. Dipendra’s fratri-
cidal violence strengthened their arguments. Violence escalated across Nepal in the following
two years. Thousands of civilians died or were injured in the clashes giving King Gyanendra
an excuse to declare a state of emergency. Gyanendra’s actions threw the political parties into
confusion, since the emergency was an open bid to reclaim power to the monarchy. Democ-
racy suffered a further blow in 2004 when the Communist Party of Nepal (CPN-Maoist)
announced the formation of an autonomous people’s government in ten districts under their
control. In the three-way struggle between political parties, the monarchy, and the Maoists,
Nepal’s democracy seemed forever lost.
The tumult during the subsequent five years – between 2005 and 2011 – altered it even
more. The monarchy was abolished; Nepal became a secular republic; and the Maoists signed
a peace accord in 2006, contested elections, and formed a government in 2008. But the
inclusion of the extreme left into the democratic process was difficult. Most importantly,
Nepal’s armed forces refused to accommodate the Maoist cadres in the ranks of the military.
The political mobilization of Nepal had now gripped its ethnic minorities in the Terai region
and western Nepal. They threatened to derail the constitutional assembly unless it reworked
the federal division of power and autonomy along ethnic lines. Charged with drawing up the
constitution, the Constituent Assembly had to be dissolved in 2011 and reelected in 2013,
but even then, it took them two additional years of negotiations to produce the first draft in
2015. Nepal’s Terai region and hill communities have since then launched an agitation to
demand greater share of both federal power and state revenue.
A quarter century after the Jan Andolan in 1990, both stability and democracy elude
­Nepal. The continuous churning has created new avenues for popular expression, but ab-
sence of political consensus on fundamental questions, not to mention lack of institutions to
stabilize the consensus, has led to disarray and violence. Nepal’s ideological divide – ­between
the left and the right – is compounded by personal ambitions and party factionalism. De-
mands of the Madhesis in Terai and tribes in the hills regions have to be accommodated for
the constitutions to work and the center to hold.27 Nepal is yet to create a stable center.

Bangladesh
Present-day Bangladesh was one of the five provinces of Pakistan following the partition in
1947. Over 1,000 miles of Indian territory divided eastern and the four western provinces of
Pakistan. Beyond the common bond of Islam however, Pakistan’s five provinces share little
in common culture, history, ethnicity, or language. From the very beginning, Pakistan’s two
halves were at odds: first, over making Urdu (spoken mostly in West Pakistan) the common
national language while neglecting the Bengali spoken by the majority in its eastern half.28
East Pakistan felt exploited and politically subjugated to the Urdu-speaking elites in West
Pakistan.29 These grievances came to a head when the 1969 elections gave the Awami League
(AL), the dominant party in East Pakistan, an electoral majority. The impending possibility
of an AL government for Pakistan as a whole was anathema to the power elites in the western
half. Pakistan’s military rejected the verdict; AL immediately launched a movement for inde-
pendence. Pakistan’s military leaders ordered the armed forces to crush the rebellion, which
plunged the country into a civil war. The outcome was another partition in South Asia, this
time of Pakistan, and the birth of the new nation of Bangladesh.
AL’s top leaders, like Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, who became the first prime minister,
speedily moved to adopt a new constitution and proceeded to hold the first democratic
election in March 1973. Under the 1973 constitution, Bangladesh became a secular republic,

48
 The state of ­democracy in South Asia

a unitary state and a parliamentary democracy along the Westminster model. Political sta-
bility, however, eluded the government of Prime Minister Mujibur Rahman. He therefore
sought to gather the reins of power by moving to a presidential form and establishing vir-
tually a single-party government in Bangladesh. But even that experiment failed.30 Calf
Dowlah comments, “the nation had never experienced such a level and magnitude of un-
restrained bribery, cronyism, political patronage, favoritism, or nepotism ever before”. He
goes on to say,

The worst of the regime, however, came with the launching of the one-party-­one-
man monolithic rule under BAKSAL (Bangladesh Krishik Sramik Awami League) in
­January 1975, which not only bulldozed the last vestiges of democracy … but also left
no “resistance to” dictatorship without getting rid of Mujibur himself.31

In 1975, Mujibur and his family were assassinated in a military coup led by a group of
­Islamist army officers. Martial law was declared and political parties banned. A series of ­palace
coups took place in the following five years. Between 1977 and 1981, Ziaur Rahman, the
army chief of staff, ruled Bangladesh as a military dictator; in March 1982, Chief of Army
Staff, Lt-Gen. Hussain Muhammad Ershad, seized power in a bloodless coup. While initial
years provided a modicum of support under President Ershad, by 1983, demand for democ-
racy rapidly gained ground. Opposition to the military emerged from two distinct clusters
of political parties: one comprising of eight parties led by the AL headed by Sheikh Hassina
(the daughter of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman) and the second a seven-party alliance called the
Bangladesh Nationalist party (BNP) led by Begum Khalida Zia (General Zia’s widow).
As public pressure mounted, President Ershad was forced to concede that elections would
be held in April 1985. These were, however, postponed to allow Ershad to form the Jatiya
Party ( JP), a new political party representing his supporters in the armed forces. Elections
were finally held a year later in May 1986. The BNP, however, boycotted the elections.
This gave the JP to score a pyrrhic victory, but its image was tarnished by charges of fraud
and voter intimidation. Anti-government strikes and mass demonstrations immediately fol-
lowed, which gave the new government the justification to declare a national emergency
and detain over 6,000 political dissidents.32 Even the AL that had actually contested the 1986
elections walked out of the parliament, which dealt a body blow to the Ershad government.
Martial law was again imposed with orders to shoot protesters on sight. But even this dra-
conian order failed to stem the tide of popular protests. Ershad resigned in December 1990,
bringing to an end fifteen years of military rule in Bangladesh.
The return to electoral politics, however, proved rough as the two rival clusters of parties –
one led by Sheikh Hasina and the other its nemesis, led by Begum Zia – bent their energies
to destroying each other instead of building national consensus on the outstanding problems
facing the nation. Little effort was made to create democratic institutions or to make good on
the promises made to the people. Instead, each engaged in obstructing the business of govern-
ment by refusing to cooperate in the parliament, while the party in power ignored the rule of
law and democratic conventions in anxiety to consolidate its hold on power. The BNP won
the first 1991 elections and passed a constitutional amendment to move back to a parliamen-
tary form making the president a titular head of the government. The AL immediately took
to streets entirely ignoring the parliament. Unable to function, the Khalida Zia government
dissolved the parliament and called for new elections in the hope that the BNP would win.
The 1996 elections brought the AL to power with a plurality. It moved with alacrity
to form a government in coalition with the JP. Sheikh Hasina became the new prime

49
Maya Chadda

minister. Since then, democracy in Bangladesh has remained locked between these two
intensely hostile parties bent on undoing each other. They have used a whole gamut
of extra-parliamentary ploys to this purpose: boycotts, mass demonstration, and mass
strikes. 33 These have certainly politicized the public but produced no national agree-
ment on the fundamental rules and conduct for a peaceful transfer of power. Although
­B angladesh is several steps ahead of Nepal, which has very recently – in 2015 – produced
a constitution and is yet to implement it, the former is far from producing a stable de-
mocracy. Almost all elections in Bangladesh since the 1990s have been highly conten-
tious. The governments they have produced are far from stable. The key prerequisite for
this to occur, namely a constructive and responsible opposition, has tragically eluded
­B angladesh since the then.
In fact, Bangladesh is besieged by waves of crime and violence. The Bureau of Human
Rights in Bangladesh had reported that political turmoil claimed nearly 3,000 deaths in
separate occurrences between 1996 and 2003. The statistics on violence get worse beyond
that.34 The government of Khalida Zia admitted in 2005 that Islamist groups were largely
responsible for much of this violence, which included indiscriminate bombings, and attacks
on police and civilians. Her government cracked down hard on the extremists; hundreds
were jailed and many executed, but that did not eliminate the sources of extremism. This
was because the Jamaat-e-Islami and its sympathizers were aided and abated by Begaum Zia’s
party activists and local political leaders.35
In 2008, the AL and Sheikh Hasina returned to power with a thumping majority in a
70 percent voter turnout. Almost immediately she faced revolts and attempted coups, not
to mention total noncooperation, from the opposition led by the BNP. Sheikh Hasina came
under additional fire when she established an International Crimes Tribunal (ICI) to try the
army personnel involved in Mujibur Rahman’s assassination in 1975. Twelve Islamic parties
staged a thirty-hour, nationwide strike in early July 2011 to protest the legislation to make
Bangladesh a secular state, although Islam was to retain its preeminence.36 In January 2012,
the army announced that it had foiled an attempted coup by some of its officers. Charges and
countercharges of large-scale corruption and bribery flew fast and furious between the BNP
and the AL in the parliament and in the media.
Two interrelated developments between 2012 and 2015 threaten the future of democracy
in Bangladesh: the paralyzing rivalry between the BNP and AL. The BNP and AL also har-
bor distinctly different visions for Bangladesh. The AL generally favors secularism, a welfare
state and believes its interests lie in adopting a pro-India stance. The BNP wants Bangladesh
to be an Islamic state; favors close ties to Islamic countries, particularly Pakistan; and prefers
a market-oriented economy. But these policy differences pale before the personal nature of
rivalry between its top leaders.
Rise of virulent and violent Islam poses the second threat to Bangladesh’s democracy. In
the past decade, religious extremism has taken a violent turn with moral policing by self-­
appointed protectors of Islam, acid attacks on women, rioting, bombings, and rejection of
the AL’s secular ideology.37 The Jamaat frequently works at tandem with the BNP, but it has
seen its fortunes reverse because of arrests and trials carried out by the Hasina government
for having committed war crimes and treasonous action in assassinating Prime Minister
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Additionally, the BNP and AL bitterly disagree over the provision
of appointing caretaker government in-between elections. Sheikh Hasina argues that the
parliamentary form of government makes this provision redundant; Begum Khalida argues
that a caretaker government is necessary to ensure fair elections. Democracy in Bangladesh
has become hostage to extra-constitutional politics of protests.

50
 The state of ­democracy in South Asia

Pakistan
It is fair to argue that the partition of Pakistan and birth of Bangladesh was a consequence of
military rule that has strangulated democracy in Pakistan. Unlike India, Pakistan inherited a
meager civil administration and fewer economic resources in the 1947 partition. The ­­Muslim
League, which had led the fight for partition, lacked a popular base in the provinces that
emerged as the nation-state of Pakistan.38 What is more, while the 1948 war over Kashmir
made India a permanent enemy, Pakistan gained little in territory from this gamble. The
fear of the larger and more powerful India, in fact, led to damaging consequences for its
civil/military balance and democratic prospects. Obsession with external threat strength-
ened the military. Democratic prospects dimmed even more when Mohammad Ali Jinnah,
the founding father of Pakistan, died within a year of its emergence as a new nation. De-
mocracy in Pakistan foundered therefore as the bureaucracy and military, the two unelected
institutions, took control of politics. The Punjabis and Muhajirs (those who has migrated
from India to Pakistan) dominated these institutions, while the civilian government that
might have provided some representation to other nationalities of Pakistan – the Bengalis,
Siddhis, and Baluchistan – never found purchase in the formation of governments during
the early decades.39
Islam and ethnicity were the competing poles of identity in Pakistan. Ethnically diverse
Pakistan required a constitutionally ordered mechanism for sharing power among its na-
tionalities. Such a design would have weakened the pull of Islam as a basis for Pakistan’s
identity. But prominence of the unelected elements in these early years crushed not only
popular aspirations in Pakistan but also aggravated the tensions among its nationalities. As
new states, both India and Pakistan had to struggle to unify their nations. This effort took
Pakistan in the opposite direction from India. Military became the primary contender for
power in Pakistan.
The story of Pakistan – from the late 1950s to the early 1970s – is one of repeated demo-
cratic failures. General Mohammad Ayub Khan, the commander-in-chief of Pakistan’s armed
forces, took control of the country and declared martial law in 1958. This formal assumption
of power by the military was simply an admission of what had been true since the death of
Liaquat Ali Khan, Pakistan’s first prime minister in 1951. Ayub Khan aligned Pakistan with
the US in the Cold War. That ushered in a symbiotic relationship between the Pakistan
military and the US, which has had the most detrimental effect on Pakistan’s democratic as-
pirations. Ayub Khan introduced a party-less “basic democracy”, but when popular protests
rose at the blatant usurpation of power and wealth by a handful of Pakistani families close to
the military, Ayub Khan had to cede power to a civilian government.40 But in the years be-
tween 1965, when he lost power, and 1973, when the first popularly elected government was
formed under Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, Pakistan seesawed between war, partition, and civil war.
Political events had catapulted into public life two leaders who were to change ­Pakistan’s des-
tiny: Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in East Pakistan and Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, a Western educated
diplomat from a large landholding family in West Pakistan. Each led a popular revolt against
the praetorian rule. Bhutto rode high on the economic discontent created by the concentra-
tion of wealth and income during the Ayub regime; Mujibur Rahman rode to power on the
demand for political autonomy for the Bengali nationality in East Pakistan.
The Bhutto-led movement created the second opening to democracy in Pakistan, but
the AL’s electoral victory and the subsequent civil war postponed the democratic moment.
Between 1969 and 1973, Pakistan was again ruled by the military, although the latter stood
discredited after the defeat in 1971. Military’s weakening following its defeat allowed Bhutto

51
Maya Chadda

to press for a new constitution that would dedicate Pakistan to a parliamentary democracy.
This first genuine experience with democracy lasted four years, but the military was actively
seeking a return to power. In 1977, Zia Mohammad Ul Haq, the chief of army staff, seized
power, arrested Bhutto, declared martial law, and established military rule in Pakistan.
The Zia years (1977–1988) transformed the state and nation of Pakistan. He banned polit-
ical parties, censored the press, and declared himself and his administration beyond judicial
review. He Islamized Pakistan by making the Koranic law and Muslim clergy pivotal in the
public sphere. These ten years coincided with the onset of the second Cold War triggered
by the December 1979 Soviet intervention in Afghanistan. Zia promptly made Pakistan the
conduit for US arms to Afghan mujahedeen fighting the Soviet troops. This new devel-
opment had two unintended consequences: The US support against the Soviet occupation
prolonged the military rule and gave Zia the time to entrench the military and Islam more
deeply in Pakistan’s political life.41 The second consequence followed from the first. Under
Zia, Pakistan witnessed the rise of extremist Islam. Over the years, extremism not only set
back democratic aspirations, weakened the civilian governments when they were elected
(1990–1999) but also threatened the existence of the state. Pakistan’s military and intelli-
gence services coopted the jihadi groups to further their foreign and domestic agenda.
Zia’s unexpected death in a plane crash in 1988 created the third democratic opportunity
for Pakistan. This third opening lasted for about ten years, during which five elected govern-
ments assumed power. Each was, however, dismissed by the military long before its tenure in
office was completed. Each elected government – alternating between the Pakistan People’s
Party (PPP) led by Benazir Bhutto and the Pakistan Muslim League (PML) led by Nawaz
Sharif was dismissed on charges of rampant corruption and incompetence. Whether this was
an excuse or the genuine reason, Pakistan’s political parties could not evolve a democratic
transfer of power under the sword of the armed forces. On its part, the military was able to
winnow away aspiring leaders and break any unified front that challenged its political role
and ambitions. In wrecking the political system by factional fights and personalized rivalries,
Pakistan’s political parties resembled the patterns created by the parties in Bangladesh. The
difference was the political heft of the armed forces. After 1990s, they appeared to have taken
a decisive backseat in Bangladesh. Pakistan’s civilian governments attempted to expand their
elbow room by repealing provisions that had granted the military legal immunity from pros-
ecution, but these attempts almost immediately triggered summary dismissals.42
In 1999, General Pervez Musharraf seized power and ended the decade-long experi-
ment with weak civilian governments. The immediate trigger for the coup was the clash
between India and Pakistan over the latter’s insertion of infiltrators in the Kargil region of
Kashmir. These infiltrations violated the 1948 cease-fire line between India and Pakistan.
When Prime Minister Sharif agreed to withdraw the infiltrators under US pressure, General
Musharraf dismissed the Sharif government and seized control of the state. History seemed
to repeat itself following the Al-Qaeda attack on the twin towers in New York in 2001.
Arms and money poured into Pakistan in the wake of the attack. The US had again found
Pakistan indispensable in the fight against its global enemy, this time the Islamic interna-
tional led by Osama bin Laden. Military assistance strengthened Musharraf and emboldened
him to intensify Zia’s ‘Jihadi strategy’ to weaken India.
As in earlier phases of martial law, popular clamor to restore democracy steadily gained
ground throughout 2007 and 2008. The lawyer’s protest over suspension of Pakistan’s chief
justice finally forced Musharraf to resign. The February 2008 elections brought the PPP and
Asif Ali Zardari, Benazir’s widowed husband, to power. Benazir had been assassinated while
campaigning for elections. In some ways, the 2009 parliamentary election was a turning

52
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point in Pakistan’s history. It produced the first democratic government that completed its
term in office and transferred power peacefully in 2013 to the PML led by Nawaz Sharif.
Pakistan’s democracy, however, remains besieged on many fronts. The military
is a constant threat to weak civilian governments.43 The military refuses to give up
­decision-making over relations with the US, India, and Afghanistan, key appointments
in defense and intelligence agencies and control of military budgets. The second threat is
from the proliferating Islamic terrorist groups that have become emboldened to attack the
military and seek to capture the Pakistani state. The number of Pakistani civilians killed
in the terrorist attacks and suicide bombings, not to mention the Shia-Sunni conflict, has
grown exponentially. The mayhem created by the Islamic extremists is so threatening
that Pakistan armed forces launched an attack on the Tribal areas in the North Frontier
Agency that have sheltered them. Elements in the armed forces and intelligence agencies,
however, continue to sympathize with the extremists. As Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif ’s
government entered its second year, clashes between him and the Army Chief Ashraf
­Pervez Kayani sharpened. The military opposes a conciliatory stance toward India and
India’s presence in Afghanistan. The current civilian government knows that it must defer
to the military or risk a coup.

Sri Lanka
While military dominance had permitted Pakistan to be only a partial democracy, Sri Lanka
began as a fairly stable parliamentary democracy and remained so for fifteen years after
­independence.44 Tensions began to surface between its majority Sinhala and minority Tamil
communities in the 1970s and culminated into a civil war that can be traced to the killing
of thirteen Sri Lankan soldiers in 1983 by the organization of Tamil militants that have
demanded a separate Tamil state. Sri Lanka moved from a parliamentary to a presidential
democracy in the 1980s. This did signal shift of power to the executive, but the change did
not derail the electoral commitment. Elections were held regularly, and people went to the
polls free of fear. The quality of democracy suffered hugely, however, as the war unleashed
terrorism, and counterviolence by the state. These years have left a deep sense of distrust and
animosity between Sri Lanka’s majority Sinhala and minority Tamils. Not surprisingly, Sri
Lanka steadily succumbed to authoritarian compulsions and became increasingly indifferent
to human rights abuses by the state.45
While the Sinhala and Tamils speak different languages and follow different culture and
religion, they have routinely intermarried and lived in harmony for long periods in history.
The rise of Sinhala exclusivism and hyper-nationalism, however, destroyed this harmony
and transformed Tamil demands for fair treatment and equal opportunities into a demand for
a separate Tamil state.46 Political outbidding over which party represents the true interests of
the Sinhala majority added fuel to the fire of ethnic conflict.
The Sinhala leaders argue that the British had favored the Tamils and hence given them
a head start in public life. In contrast, the Sinhala majority, they argue, remained propor-
tionally underrepresented in jobs and education. Elected governments in Sri Lanka have
therefore introduced legislations that have sought to advance the cause of the Sinhala at the
expense of the Tamils since the 1950s. Second, Sri Lanka was declared a unitary state at its
inception and has remained so for much of its postindependence history. As noted in the case
of Nepal, India, and Pakistan, unitary states are ill-suited to the task of national integration,
particularly when culture, language, and religion divide its people. Unitary Sri Lanka denied
the Tamil aspirations to self-rule and autonomy.

53
Maya Chadda

While numerous small parties contest elections, two national parties – the Sri Lanka
Freedom party (SLFP) and the United National Party (UNP) – have dominated Sri Lankan
politics. Each has sought to occupy the political center to capture the majority. The SLFP has
generally a history of closer ties to Tamil leaders than the UNP. The latter is closely identi-
fied with the idea of establishing Sinhala dominance. The rise of hyper-nationalism within
a unitary state structure has made doubly difficult for Sri Lanka to resolve the nationality
question via the ballot box.
The ethnic conflict of the 1980s escalated into a civil war in the subsequent decades.
Largely ceremonial in origin, the Sri Lankan army could not match the better-motivated
and well-trained Tamil militants. Fighting spread from Jaffna in the north to the eastern
provinces in the 1990s. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) boldly attacked army
bases and state facilities, killed hundreds of civilians, engaged Sri Lankan forces in ­regular
warfare, and murdered scores of Sri Lankan officials and leaders, including the Prime
­M inister Premadasa and even the Indian Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi. The latter killing
was in revenge for India’s role in supporting the Sri Lankan government’s effort to disarm the
LTTE. Unable to complete its mission and ordered to leave the country, India withdrew its
peacekeeping forces in 1990, although the war continued.47 It took another nine years before
it ended. Vast quantities of weapons purchases and military expansion made the Sri Lankan
armed forces a better match to the LTTE. The military decapitated the insurgency and killed
its leader, V. Prabhakaran, in May 2009.
The thirty years of civil war had unleashed forces that threatened the liberties Sri Lankans
had enjoyed in the first decade and a half of independence.48 Close to 100,000 people were
killed in the civil war between 1983 and 2009.49 More than half of the dead were civilians.
The human rights abuses had become pervasive, while the civil/military balance had tilted
sharply in favor of a strong president and powerful military. Both these institutions had
accumulated extraordinary powers. Censoring the press and media became common, as
the imprisoning of citizens on a mere suspicion. These tactics were also employed routinely
against the opposition and political dissent. The war for a separate Tamil Eelam had failed,
but the canker of ethnic distrust had struck deep roots in Sri Lanka. What is more, Tamil
grievances remain unresolved.
Against this grim history, defeat of Mahinda Rajapaksa and election of Sirisena in 2015
raised a ray of hope that perhaps Sri Lankans have turned away from the authoritarian path
advocated by Rajapaksa. The latter favored greater ethnic and political accommodation,
which if implemented could reinforce democracy in Sri Lanka.50

Summary
In 1990, as the third wave of democracy swept the globe, every state in South Asia was either
ruled by a popular mandate or was moving toward one. This included Pakistan and B­ angladesh,
where military had dominated political life. Since then, democracy has advanced in
some states and retreated elsewhere in South Asia. But everywhere popular aspirations for
democracy remain high. In Nepal, democratic beginnings failed to establish a stable central
state; the battle between the king and the parliament did not resolve in a manner it had re-
solved in England two and a half centuries ago. While popular uprising (the Jan Andolan)
ushered in a parliamentary government, it did not create the institutions necessary to sustain
it. After a contentious debate spanning two Constituent Assemblies and a decade, Nepal has
produced a constitutional draft, but its ethnic communities – the Madhesis and hills people –
remain profoundly unhappy.

54
 The state of ­democracy in South Asia

Although Bangladesh is arguably steps ahead of Nepal in establishing a democracy, it is

unable to settle its political conflicts within the halls of parliament. Instead, these are fought
out in the streets with mass strikes, demonstrations, and inter-party violence. Bangladesh
does not face an acute problem of ethnic diversity but is besieged by the rise of violent orga-
nizations of Wahhabi extremist that seek the rule of the Sharia as the law of the land.
Extremist jihadi are even more active in Pakistan. In both Pakistan and Bangladesh,
Islam’s role in the construction of national identity remains muddled. The problem is com-
pounded by political sponsorship of such groups by ambitious leaders and political entre-
preneurs who disguise their appetite for power behind the façade of religious correctness.
The Maoists in Nepal have similarly sought to reshape the state. They too have committed
large-scale violence in the name of the poor and downtrodden in Nepal. The thirty years
of Tamil-Sinhala conflict destroyed Sri Lanka’s social fabric. While elections were regularly
held, elected governments failed to produce a formula that would meet the Tamil aspirations.
In fact, the cycle of violence seemed to take on a life of its own with little regard for the
plight of the Tamil community. Exhaustion and defeat finally ended the war, but there is no
guarantee that peace will prevail. Ethnic discontent can once again spark ethnic violence.
Hailed as a successful democracy, even India is increasingly besieged by a growing distrust
between its majority Hindu and minority Muslim and Christian communities. In the post-
1990 years, parties championing the cause of ‘Hindu culture’ (as distinct from Muslim or
Christian) have assumed the mantle of nationalism and won elections to form governments.
Any attempt to realize their “one country, one nationality” vision is likely to destroy India’s
unity and derail democracy.
Pakistan is not immune to the pressures of democracy as evident in the decade between
1990 and 2000 and again since 2008 to the present. But several surveys show considerable
popular support for the military. This does not bode well for Pakistan’s democracy, which
faces a difficult dilemma: Its military will not allow a civilian government to take full con-
trol, and its elected governments are not powerful enough to force the military back to the
barracks. The Pakistani state must battle religious extremist to preserve its nation, but its
security establishment, the intelligence agencies, and military support these same extremists.
It is a state at war with itself.
The experience of democratization in South Asia shows that

1 Competitive party contest has increasingly become the avenue to power. Ironically, however, elec-
tions do not displace violence.
2 South Asia’s democratic experience does not tell us with any certainty whether a strong or its ob-
verse, a weak state provides greater scope to democratization. The only example of a sustained
democracy is India, which journeyed into independent nationhood with a strong and
commanding central state, legitimized by a popular mandate. It pursued national inte-
gration based on accommodation of diverse ethnic nationalities. However, subsequent
democratization occurred because power devolved away from the central state. This oc-
curred following the demise of the single-party dominance of the INC and beginning
of coalition governments in 1990s. Elsewhere in South Asia, a strong centralized state
has prevented democracy. This is evident in Nepal under the monarchy (1950–2006),
and Pakistan and Bangladesh under a series of military regimes.
3 To sustain democracy, South Asian states must be willing to and capable of meeting the aspirations
of diverse ethnic, cultural, and regional communities. A single one-time accord is not sufficient;
agreements need to be revised as social and economic circumstances change. Failure to
do so is likely to pit the state against the nation or a part of its nation. This was the case

55
Maya Chadda

as the conflicts in Punjab, Kashmir, and Nagaland in India show; the thirty years of civil
war in Sri Lanka demonstrates; disaffection and growing militancy among Madhesis
and hill communities of Nepal indicate; and Bengali (1970) and Baloch insurgencies
in Pakistan prove. Unmet ethnic aspirations turn into protest and eventually into an
insurgency.
4 Electoral democracy has largely failed to guarantee rule of law, political accountability, honest gov-
ernment, or economic equity. These features require the creation of impartial institutions that can
survive the changes in governments. Unfortunately, elections have become occasions for
flagrant violation of law, corruption, irresponsible and unprincipled political deals, or-
chestrated violence, and unconstitutional use of state power to fix the outcome. All over
South Asia, political parties and governments have coopted police and judiciary, armed
forces, bureaucracy and civil service, and even educational and monitoring bodies that
should have been left to function as independent agencies.
5 South Asia’s political parties fight to finish their opponents instead of fighting over policy and mak-
ing constructive counterproposals as evident in the confrontational politics of the Bangladesh
political parties. Although in India and Sri Lanka, political parties wait to take their turn
in office, they have also succumbed to confrontational tactics when in the opposition.
The result is a paralyzed parliament and state assemblies that become incapable of per-
forming the function for which they were elected in the first place.
6 Although in India and Sri Lanka and recently in Bangladesh, the military is under civilian con-
trol, democracy in the latter two countries has had to contend with preponderant executive power.
Pakistan is virtually a diarchy with a dominant military and a weak civilian govern-
ment. Military is preponderant in Pakistan because of perceived external threats but
also because of the contentious pulls of Pakistan’s segmented nationalities. These have
demanded recognition of their distinctive identity. Authoritarian formations – monarchies
and military dictatorships – are ill-suited to the task of negotiated inclusion. What is more, they
have left behind a legacy of undemocratic practices, which have been readily adopted by
current political actors. Emergence of top-heavy executives is the most obvious legacy
of colonial rule, traditional monarchies, and military regimes.
7 The principle of public accountability is underdeveloped or absent in South Asia. This is largely
because the watchdog agencies and institutions are weak or prevented from performing their stated
function. The opposition frequently fails to perform the role it is meant to perform;
parliaments do not act as arena for policy making; media and press have an urban bias
and focus largely on the sensational at the expense of serious national issues; and last if
not least, civil society – the lifeblood of a healthy democracy – lacks influence. These
problems are compounded by poverty and illiteracy, low levels of education, and inat-
tention to the vast masses of rural poor. Although each country is at a different level of
economic and political development, all South Asian states display in some combination
the characteristics described earlier.

South Asia’s democratic future

What then is the future of democracy in South Asia? Clearly, Nepal and Pakistan have to
traverse a long distance before they can stabilize even a procedural democracy, one that
provides a modicum of democratic rights. It will take even longer to establish the rule
of law, impartial institutions, culture of accountability, and intra-party democracy. But,
there are hopeful signs. Nepal has produced the most comprehensive and equitable con-
stitution in South Asia. The public expectations are high, and all stakeholders are aware

56
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of the dangers from insurgencies and absence of a coherent state. Electoral defeat of an
­authoritarian-minded Mahinda Rajapaksa raises the hope that Sri Lankans may want to put
the civil war behind them and open a new chapter of democracy. The current government
of Sirisena appears open to accommodation of Tamil sentiments. Success of democracy in
Bangladesh has ­s ignificance far beyond South Asia. It will prove that a predominantly
­Islamic nation can create and sustain a parliamentary democracy. But for that to happen,
political parties in Bangladesh need to drop the confrontational tactics and stop using the
Jamaat-e-Islami and similar radical groups as instrument against their opponents.
Similarly, India’s political parties must refrain from using religious appeal to expand their
vote base or to undermine their opponents. Such shortsighted practices exacerbate ethnic
prejudice, jeopardize national unity, and pit the nation against itself. What is more, Indian
electorate show decided signs of voting for their pockets. Identity politics is less and less a
determinant of who wins and who loses in Indian elections. This slow but definite move
toward class politics amidst resurgence of BJP’s cultural politics is likely to shape India’s
democracy. Its resilience has been amply demonstrated over the past seventy years during
which it endured with one exception. The emergence of the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP)
(loosely translated as common man’s party) and its widespread appeal is a case in point. The
AAP does not draw on conventional identity politics of caste, religion, and region. The most
recent state elections in the five states in India at once reaffirm popular faith in democracy
but also the dangers of majoritarian rule that will threaten India’s secular, federal democracy.
This is largely because the opposition parties stand hopelessly divided, while the victorious
BJP is committed to the Hindu nationalist agenda.
Democracy is not a new idea in South Asia as the progressively growing number of
parties and electoral contests indicate. But it still presents a mixed picture. Modernization,
rapid urbanization, the spread of education and media, and growing participation in national
life have unleashed a powerful desire for democratic rule. Wherever a democracy has sur-
vived, as in India and Sri Lanka, the public has increasingly pushed for expanding individual
and collective rights, economic equity, and honest and efficient government. Spread of cell
phone and Internet and social media has, in fact, created a virtual public square in which
South Asians express their doubts and criticize their governments. Political leaders are now
increasingly under public scrutiny, and the press and media regularly subject politicians to
scrutiny for criminal and illegal activities, taking bribes and even uncivil behavior. The
growing awareness of political rights under a democratic dispensation is the most hopeful
development in South Asia.

Notes
1 For some of the best accounts of these early years of India’s state formation, see Krishan Bhatia,
pp. 66–125.
2 Tan and Kudaisya, pp. 78–101. V. P. Menon, pp. 484–494.
3 Husain Haqqani, p. 26.
4 D. R. SarDesai, p. 318, argues that had Nehru chosen, he could have been a dictator. His popu-
larity gave him that option. In fact, Nehru feared that he could easily slip into dictatorship out of
sheer frustration and impatience to transform India. But he remained conscientiously a democrat
and a Fabian socialist.
5 In this chapter, I have used the Congress party as a short nomenclature to refer to the Congress
party of India, which went through several metamorphoses and even split twice to produce two
instead of one unified Indian National Congress. Here, the reference is always to the Congress
party that formed a government.
6 Louise Tillin, p. 34.

57
Maya Chadda

7 Uma Kapila, pp. 32–44.

8 Selig Harrison, India: The Most Dangerous Decades, reissued in 2015.
9 See Rajni Kothari, pp. 100–152.
10 Kothari, op. cit., p. 175.
11 For Indira Gandhi’s policies, see Stuart Corbridge and John Harriss, pp. 67–93.
12 Maya Chadda, pp. 77–102.
13 Ibid., pp. 175–200.
14 Ibid., pp. 123–145.
15 For Sri Lankan Tamil insurgency and India’s role, particularly Rajiv Gandhi’s policies toward the
ethnic crisis, see Maya Chadda, Ethnicity, Security and Separatism, pp. 145–175.
16 For a detailed account of this entire decade and a half, see Maya Chadda, pp. 61–99.
17 Bob Hardgrave, For statistics on eligible voters, actual voting, and election outcome, see www.
laits.utexas.edu/solvyns-project/Elections1999.html (3/14/17).
18 Milan Vaishnav, Understanding the Indian Voter, June 23, 2015, www.laits.utexas.edu/solvyns-­
project/Elections1999.html (3/14/17).
19 Rajendra Pradhan, “Negotiating Multiculturalism in Nepal: Law, Hegemony, Contestation and
Paradox,” www.unibielefeld.de/midea/pdf/Rajendra.pdf (3/14/17).
20 Sushila Tyagi, p. 108.
21 Maya Chadda, Building Democracy in South Asia: India, Nepal and Pakistan, p. 54.
22 Ibid., p. 56.
23 Ibid.
24 Ibid., p. 113; Lok Raj Baral, p. 22.
25 Nepal: Introductory Survey, p. 3244, www.europaworld.com (3/14/17).
26 This section is largely based on Yogendra Malik et al., pp. 394–399.
27 Pratim Ranjan Bose, May 2, 2016, www.thehindubusinessline.com/news/return-of-the-madhesi-
agitation-with-demand-for-statehood-for-22-terai-districts/article8548096.ece (3/17/17).
28 On the question of cultural and political identity of Bangladesh, see Meghna Guhathakurta and
Willem van Schendel, Bangladesh Reader: History, Culture, Politics. Duke University Press, 2013.
29 For short summary of Ali Riaz’s account of Bangladesh’s early history, see Fowler, Peter. Rev.
of “Bangladesh: A Political History since Independence.” By Ali Riaz. Asian Affairs 48.1 (2017):
159–161.
30 For a detailed account of its independence and immediate postindependence history, see Ali
Riaz, Meghna Guhathakurta, and Willem Van Schendel (eds.), pp. 157–288; Salahuddin Ahmed,
pp. 1–23; Calf Dowlah, pp. 1–71.
31 Calf Dowlah, op. cit., p. 172.
32 Global Non-violent Action database, “Bangladeshis Bring Down Ershad Regime,” http://­nvdatabase.
swarthmore.edu/content/bangladeshis-bring-down-ershad-regime-1987-1990 (3/16/17).
33 Gholam Hossain, p. 198.
34 Bert Suykens and Mohammad Aynul Islam, “Distribution of Political Violence in ­Bangladesh:
2002–2013,” Conflict Research Group, Ghent, Belgium, 2015, www.psw.ugent.be/crg/­
Publications/The%20Distribution%20of %20Political%20Violence%20in%20Bangladesh.pdf
(3/16/17).
35 For the rise of extremist Islam and complicity of politics parties, see Ali Riaz, “Politics of Ven-
geance and Erosion of Democracy,” p. 110.
36 Ahrar Ahmad. “Bangladesh in 2012: Economic Growth, Political Under-Development,” Asian
Survey, pp. 76–80, www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/as.2013.53.1.73 (3/16/17).
37 Ali Riaz and C. Christine Fair (eds.), Political Islam and Governance in Bangladesh.
38 Yasmin Khan, The Great Partition. p. 43.
39 For the early history of Pakistan, see Balraj Puri, pp. 834–835, www.jstor.org/stable/4411806;
Ayesha Jalal, Struggle for Pakistan; Pervez Hoodbhoy, “Jinnah and the Islamic State: Setting the
Record Straight,” pp. 3300–3303, www.jstor.org/stable/4419894 (3/17/17).
40 Hasan Askari Rizvi, pp. 88–100, www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt2jbj1g.11 (3/17/17).
41 Mumtaz Ahmad, “The Crescent and the Sword: Islam, the Military, and Political Legitimacy in
Pakistan, 1977–1985,” pp. 372–386.
42 For this entire decade of quasi-democracy, see Maya Chadda, Building Democracy in South Asia,
pp. 71–86. Also see Yogendra Malik et al., op. cit., pp. 216–221.

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43 Maya Tudor, “Nationalist Origins of Political Order”, p. 59.

44 For postindependence politics in early years, see R. W. Kearney, The Politics of Ceylon.
45 Neil DeVotta. “A Win for Democracy in Sri Lanka,” pp. 152–166; Alfred Stepan, pp. 128–140.
Upul Abeyrathne, Upali Pannilage, and Nelum Ranawaka, pp. 6–12.
46 S. J. Tambiah, Sri Lanka: Ethnic Fratricide and the Dismantling of Democracy; also see Neil DeVotta
for centralization of power argument. Blowback: Linguistic Nationalism, Institutional Decay and Ethnic
Conflict.
47 N. Manoharan and Priyama Chakravarty, pp. 253–266.
48 For an interesting comparative perspective, see Muttukrishn Sarvanantha 01-07-2015. “Con-
trasting Post-Civil War Development Trajectories in Nepal and Sri Lanka,” Groundviews, http://
groundviews.org/2015/01/07/contrasting-post-civil-war-development-trajectories-in-­nepal-
and-sri-lanka/ (3/18/17).
49 The Crisis group, Sri Lanka’s dead and missing: the need for an accounting, February 27, 2012,
www.crisisgroup.org/asia/south-asia/sri-lanka/sri-lankas-dead-and-missing-need-accounting
(3/18/17). According to Indian Express of December 13, 2016, cited estimates by India’s National
Security Adviser and the architect of UPA policy Shiv Shankar Menon, Sri Lanka spent over $200
billion for the war, while between 1983 and 2009 close to 100,000 people were killed. These
are rough estimates and are denied by the government in Sri Lanka. Indian Express, December
13, 2016, www.newindianexpress.com/world/2016/dec/13/sri-lankas-internal-war-cost-us-200-­
billion-1548433.html (3/18/17).
50 “Democracy in Post-war Sri Lanka,” Center for Policy Alternatives, Colombo, Sri Lanka,
­December 17, 2015, www.cpalanka.org/democracy-in-post-war-sri-lanka-dec2015/ (3/18/17).

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 5
The fault lines of democratization
in Central Asia
Mariya Y. Omelicheva

The two decades following the fall of Communism in East and Central Europe and breakup
of the Soviet Union saw the emergence of political regimes, which effectively combine
authoritarian characteristics with ostensibly democratic elements. These regimes hold reg-
ular multiparty elections but stifle real political competition. They permit the existence of
formal democratic institutions that, nonetheless, remain under the strict executive’s control.
They combine the rhetorical acceptance of democracy with other essentially authoritarian
features.
The post-Soviet republics of Central Asia – Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan,
­Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan – exemplify this trend. Over the period of national indepen-
dence, these states have introduced and reformed the entire set of formal institutions associated
with democracy – general elections, constitutional “checks and balances”, and multiparty
­systems – and passed legislation in support of human rights, media freedoms, and civil so-
ciety. While different patterns of patronage politics, political leadership, natural resource
endowment, and international engagement have produced variation in the nature of state
power and autocratic stability across the region, all Central Asian governments have en-
trenched authoritarian rule to a greater or lesser extent (Turker 2014).
Initially, the study of democracy and dictatorship in Central Asia had been approached
using democratization theories developed in comparative politics and its area of analysis
known as “transitology”. Focusing on the processes of change from one regime to another,
transitology portrays democratization as a linear process furthered by civil society actors and
political elites. From this standpoint, the Central Asian leaders, who perceive democracy
as the gravest threat to their personal political survival, have been held responsible for the
democratic stalemate in their states. It has also been argued that these countries’ political cul-
tures and historical legacies, compounded by acute socioeconomic conditions, have served as
roadblocks to democratization.
Recent scholarship has seen a shift away from characterizing these states through the lens
of democratization theory. Influenced by the rise of authoritarianism studies in compara-
tive politics and international relations, the new analyses of Central Asian politics approach
these regimes as durable authoritarianisms with their own internal logics. Since the Central
Asian governments are examples of authoritarianism “by design” rather than “by default”

61
Mariya Y. Omelicheva

(Mayer 2001), democratization theories focusing on the obstacles to and preconditions for
a successful democratic transformation are limited in explaining their persistence. The fact
that these regimes enjoy a degree of popular support suggests that their governments do
not stay in power exclusively through repression. Therefore, authoritarian legitimacy and
rhetorical persuasion have become subjects of increasing scholarly attention in the study of
Central Asian authoritarianism. In addition, an international dimension has been ­introduced
to the study of regimes in Central Asia, centered on the idea that various international
­actors – including the United States, the European Union (EU), Russia, China, and others –
play an active and, at times, decisive role in the success of democratic reforms or derailment
of democratization.
The goal of this chapter is to critically engage the extant scholarship on political institu-
tions and processes in postindependence Central Asia. The chapter begins by taking stock
of democratic reforms in the Central Asian states, following with a discussion of the main
explanations of the obstacles to democratization in Central Asia. Next, this same question
is approached through the lens of persistent authoritarianism. The last section of the chapter
assesses international efforts at promoting democracy and autocracy in Central Asia.

Overview of democratic reforms in Central Asia

The democratizatsiya movement launched by the General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev
during the last years of the Soviet Union had little resonance in Central Asia. The leadership
of the Central Asian republics was either quiescent in the face of a looming change or loyal
to the Kremlin administration. Yet when the “parade of sovereignties”, a secessionist
movement undertaken by the ethnically distinct republics of the Union of Soviet Socialist
­Republics (USSR), tore the Soviet Union apart, the Central Asian governments too embraced
their suddenly acquired independence and freedom to pursue democratization. As years
went by, none of the Central Asian states fulfilled the promises of democratic consolidation.
Today, as twenty years ago, the Central Asian regimes sit along a continuum of autocracy
rather than democracy. In all of these republics but Kyrgyzstan, the power and authority are
firmly entrenched in the office of the president and maintained through a combination of
repression, co-option of civil society institutions, and constraints on the exercise of politi-
cal freedoms. Presidential and parliamentary elections are held regularly in these republics,
but they are typically deficient in meeting the basic democratic benchmarks. Additionally,
political authority in Central Asian states has been personalized and conceived in traditional
ways. Patronage networks continue playing an important role in the relations of power in
Central Asia with respect to determining access to authority and keeping important politi-
cal decisions hostage to particularistic orientations and interests of the ruling elites (Collins
2006; Omelicheva 2015; Schatz 2004).

Kazakhstan
Kazakhstan exemplifies a durable nondemocratic regime, effectively combining authori-
tarian features with formal democratic elements. Nursultan Nazarbayev, who has ruled the
country since 1989, flaunts the official title of “the Father of the Nation”. Using a combina-
tion of public referendums and constitutional reforms, he has run almost uncontested in five
consecutive presidential elections, claiming the margin of victory greater than 90 percent
in each of them. According to Kazakhstan’s constitution, the president has de jure control
over the legislature, judiciary, and local governments. Nazarbayev, however, has a de facto

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 The fault lines of democratization

presidential authority in virtually every aspect of public policy, thanks to the dominance of
Kazakhstan’s politics by the pro-presidential ruling party, Nur Otan. In 2010, the ruling
party carried out a campaign to make Nazarbayev a lifelong president. Although this en-
deavor did not bear fruit, he and his family received a lifelong immunity from any prosecu-
tion. A law adopted by the parliament in 2010 ensured that the property of the presidential
family was inviolable as well (The International Federation for Human Rights 2012a).
Kazakhstan has held regular parliamentary elections criticized for the use of administra-
tive resources in support of pro-presidential candidates, the politically motivated disqual-
ification of the opposition, and electoral fraud (The International Federation for Human
Rights 2012a). For many years, a requirement to pass a 7 percent threshold to enter the
Mazhlis – the lower house of the Kazakh parliament – had effectively disenfranchised the
smaller parties. In response to the criticisms of a single-party rule, the Kazakh parliament
approved changes to electoral law that allow at least one of the parties challenging Nur Otan
to have representation in the parliament, even if it failed to pass the 7 percent threshold.
Following the early parliamentary election held in January 2012 and March 2016, two other
parties – Ak Zhol and the Communist People’s Party – barely passed the required electoral
threshold and received seven seats each in the lower chamber of the parliament. Both par-
ties are sympathetic to the president and, therefore, represent no genuine opposition in the
parliament.
Despite the country’s lack of civil and political freedoms, Kazakhstan evinces several
areas of more liberal politics. It, for example, has one of the better human rights records in
Central Asia. Its citizens enjoy freedom of movement, access to a fairly diverse media, more
educational and employment opportunities, and greater individual freedoms. Kazakhstan’s
standards of living are the highest in the region. Under Nazarbayev’s leadership, it imple-
mented extensive market reforms and integrated the country into the global economy. The
government of Kazakhstan has invested wisely into the training and education of the coun-
try’s managers, engineers, and bureaucrats.
President Nazarbayev has sought favorable international reputation by positioning his
state as a regional leader and model for development in the Central Asian region. To qualify
for this prestigious role, Kazakhstan pledged to rectify the frailty of its democratic institu-
tions. Its promises to establish a genuine democratic rule won support for its 2010 Orga-
nization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) chairmanship bid from several
democratic states and the U.S. administration. However, the expectations that the chair-
manship would provide impetus for Kazakhstan’s deeper democratization were not fulfilled,
and the critics of the Kazakh government dubbed the liberalization efforts of the Nazarbayev
administration merely “cosmetic”.
The global financial crisis, especially the fall of oil market prices, had a dampening
­effect on Kazakhstan’s economy. The republic’s political situation has deteriorated as well.
­K azakhstan, which had never experienced political turmoil and prided itself on being a
model of stability and interethnic harmony, experienced a series of terrorist attacks in 2011,
which were blamed on religious extremists. The new legislation enacted immediately fol-
lowing the bombings gave the government unprecedented authority to regulate and control
religious communities. The government’s repression culminated in clashes between the oil
workers protesting in the western city of Zhanaozen and police in December 2011, which
left 16 people dead. The emergency powers assumed by the government in the wake of the
violence in Zhanaozen were used to severely constrain the freedom of expression across the
country. The government harassed, detained, and prosecuted outspoken civil society activ-
ities and journalists attempting to report on the aftermath of violence. Mass protests broke

63
Mariya Y. Omelicheva

out again in spring 2016, triggered by the announcement of land reforms in the republic,
although some analysts claim that many Kazakhs attended the demonstrations to express
their general discontent. A spate of shootings on civilian and military targets in Aktobe in
June 2016 had further undermined the republic’s acclaimed stability, revealing the growing
public discontent and socioeconomic hardship.

Kyrgyzstan
In the early 1990s, Kyrgyzstan earned a reputation as an “island of democracy” in the ocean
of authoritarianism due to its rapid economic and political liberalization, assisted by democ-
racy promoters and donors from the West. Kyrgyzstan had a vocal, if poorly organized, po-
litical opposition, which was neither banned nor prosecuted. The media enjoyed the greatest
freedom in the region, and the “third sector”, while struggling financially, encountered no
constraints or repression from the ruling regime (Bingol 2004).
By the end of the first decade of independence, Kyrgyzstan showed many signs of the
reversal of these early democratic trends. The parliamentary and presidential elections held
in 2000 revealed an array of irregularities, ranging from ballot stuffing and intimidation of
the media to the exclusion of serious opponents. The speedy privatization of the state-owned
property resulted in the monopolization of ownership and control over Kyrgyzstan’s strate-
gic sectors by the members of the presidential administration. Access to economic resources
became enmeshed with political authority, giving rise to the growing nepotism of the first
Kyrgyz president Askar Akayev. As the country sank deeper into economic crisis, people
showed increasing dissatisfaction with the president. Under the pretext of electoral fraud
during the 2005 parliamentary election, the disgruntled opposition staged a series of protests
that spread across the Kyrgyz capital, leading to the resignation of President Akayev in a
series of events that became known as the Tulip Revolution.
Kurmanbek Bakiyev, who led the 2005 revolt, came to power on popular pledges of
fighting corruption, improving public welfare, and furthering democratic reforms. Despite
the promises of democratization, in less than two years, he managed to consolidate all power
in the office of the president and his administration. A new constitution pushed through
the public referendum in 2007, endorsed presidential dominance over other brunches of
power, and eliminated local self-governance. The same year, the parliamentary elections,
widely deemed to lack transparency, established a parliament completely controlled by a
pro-­presidential party.
President Bakiyev’s regime was overthrown by mass anti-government protests in April
2010. The forcible ejection of the president was accompanied by widespread disturbances in
the Kyrgyz capital and interethnic violence in the southern Osh and Jalalabad regions in June
2010, which left hundreds dead and thousands injured (The International Federation for
Human Rights 2012b). Although unable to halt violence and provide protective measures
and humanitarian aid to the population affected by ethnic clashes, the interim government
led by Roza Otunbayeva, a prominent political figure and a leader of the democratic op-
position, called for the public referendum that approved a new Kyrgyz constitution in June
2010. The new constitutional law removed extensive presidential powers and, in effect,
institutionalized a parliamentary democracy in Kyrgyzstan. The presidential election held
in 2011 was judged to be generally free and fair by the OSCE. Almazbek Atambayev, the
former prime minister of Kyrgyzstan and a chairperson of the Social Democratic Party, won
the majority of votes, claiming the presidential seat. The parliamentary elections of 2010
and 2015 were also described as “lively and competitive” and “unique in the region” but

64
 The fault lines of democratization

demonstrated another worrisome trend of wealthy politicians and businessmen interested in

economic gains and political leverage effectively hijacking Kyrgyzstan’s political process. As
a result, a high degree of political participation and contestation in Kyrgyzstan has not been
matched by political cohesion and consolidation within its political parties ( Juraev 2015).

Tajikistan
Shortly after becoming independent, Tajikistan plunged into a prolonged violent conflict
between the United Tajik Opposition (UTO), a coalition of new nationalist and Islamic
groups, and the Russian-backed Popular Front, uniting communists with ties to the former
Soviet regime led by Emomali Rakhmonov. Since the Tajik government was dominated
by the natives of Leninabad and supported by people from Kuliab, a district in the southern
Khatlon province, while the opposition coalition drew its forces mainly from the “Gharmis”
and “Pamiris” residing in the northeast parts of Tajikistan, the conflict took on a regional
dimension of power struggle among regional and local identity groups. In the end, the six-
year civil war devastated the country, crippled its economy, and took a disastrous toll on the
civilian population, leaving at least 50,000 dead and displacing some 800,000 people. The
peace accord signed in June 1997 officially halted the hostilities, but intermittent fighting
and skirmishes between the former UTO fighters and security forces of the Tajik govern-
ment persisted for years after the end of the war, the shadow of which continues to linger
over Tajikistan’s political situation, affecting the country’s prospects for democratization
(Akiner 2001; Jonson 2009).
Rakhmonov, who changed his surname to Rakhmon in 2007 in an effort to return to
his Persian roots, and the ruling People’s Democratic Party (PDP) have dominated political
life of Tajikistan since the early 1990s. Glaring electoral machinations and widespread elec-
toral fraud during the presidential and parliamentary elections allowed President Rakhmon
and his supporters drawn from one region of the country to retain political control over
­Tajikistan. First elected to the newly created post of president of Tajikistan in 1994, Emomali
Rakhmon ran almost uncontested in 1999 securing another seven-year term as Tajikistan’s
president. A highly controversial public referendum held in 2003 allowed Rakhmon to run
for two more consecutive seven-year terms. The incumbent president won the November
2006 and 2013 elections, which were characterized by a marked absence of competition and
substantial electoral violations.
As in the presidential elections, the run-up to the parliamentary vote has been consis-
tently marred by intimidation of opposition candidates, exclusion or obstruction of op-
position parties, biased media coverage of electoral campaigns, and grave irregularities on
election days to ensure victories for the PDP members. As a consequence, the representatives
of the ruling party, pro-government independents, and government-affiliated political par-
ties dominate Tajikistan’s bicameral parliament. The two opposition parties – Islamic Re-
naissance Party of Tajikistan (IRP) and Communist Party of Tajikistan – won two seats each
in the parliament following the 2010 election. Only the Communist Party was able to retain
the seats following the recent 2015 legislative election, whereas the IRP failed to surpass the
5 percent vote barrier.
Until 2015, Tajikistan was the only Central Asian republic that allowed religious parties
to legally operate in the state. The legalization of political movements of a religious character
was one of the major concessions made by the Tajik government to the UTO during the
1997 peace negations. A peace accord that ended the war also provided for the allocation of
30 percent of all government posts to the representatives of the UTO, including members

65
Mariya Y. Omelicheva

of the IRP. Despite this agreement, the IRP had been increasingly marginalized in state
politics. The IRP leadership reported a wide-ranging official campaign to tarnish the party’s
public image and bar its candidates from entering the 2015 parliamentary election campaign.
In August 2015, the Tajik government announced that IRP could not legally continue its
­activities, effectively placing a ban on the party. A month later, a high court in Tajikistan
placed the IRP on a list of extremist and terrorist organizations, clearing the way for author-
ities to crack down on its leadership and members.

Turkmenistan
During the fifteen-year reign of Saparmurat Niyazov, popularly known as Turkmenbashi,
or “the father of all Turkmen”, Turkmenistan earned the reputation of one of the most re-
pressive states in the world with the worst human rights record in the region. A home to
considerable hydrocarbon resources, Turkmenistan failed to capitalize on its endowments
with the natural wealth and attract foreign capital. The erratic foreign policy of the Niyazov
government, pervasive cult of personality, and police state tactics rendered the country a vir-
tual pariah status in both regional and international affairs (Olcott 2005, 37–41). At the end
of Niyazov’s rule, Turkmenistan was known to the outsiders for all the wrong reasons: Phar-
aonic architectural projects of the president, his book of spiritual guidance Ruhnama, and
Niyazov’s egomaniacal personality most visibly defined by the golden statues of the president
built across the country using resources from the sales of its energy wealth (Anceschi 2008).
Niyazov’s successor, Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov, held out some hope that the oppres-
sive regime that he inherited in the wake of the sudden death of Turkmenbashi in December
2006 would be eased. Following the 2007 presidential election, the Berdymukhamedov
government abolished the Halk Maslahaty (People’s Council), which was the highest legis-
lative and deliberative body of Turkmenistan consisting of about 2,500 members, some of
whom were elected, transferring its powers to the president and the Turkmen parliament
(Majlis). The size of the parliament was expanded from 65 to 125 members, and the president
assumed a new prerogative of appointing the governors as well as judges, members of the
National Security Council, and National Electoral Commission. The revised version of the
constitution also established the right of any individual to own private property, including
land and real estate, and form small- and medium-sized businesses (Kangas and Todd 2010).
In 2012, President Berdymukhamedov announced the creation of a new political party –
the Party of Industrialists and Entrepreneurs – to move away from a single-party rule. The
new party was officially registered in August 2012 and took part in the special elections for
five vacant parliamentary seats the following summer. This landmark event in the political
history of Turkmenistan resulted in the election of the chairman of the party – Ovezmammed
Mammedov – who was not a member of the ruling Democratic Party of Turkmenistan to
the Turkmen parliament (ITAR-TASS 2012).
Although some observers noted “modest improvements” in Turkmenistan’s political and
human rights situation (U.S. Department of State 2011), the country’s regime is profoundly
authoritarian one. The Turkmen authorities keep a tight lid on the independent scrutiny of
the republic’s politics and social relations. The press and Internet are tightly controlled. The
access to social media is banned, and the government tolerates no dissent. The ruling Dem-
ocratic Party exercises control over state politics and institutions. All political dissidents and
challengers of the ruling administration fled the country. Those who stayed back in
­Turkmenistan have been imprisoned on fabricated charges or placed in the psychiatric facil-
ities (Human Rights Watch 2013).

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 The fault lines of democratization

Uzbekistan
Shortly after the declaration of Uzbekistan’s independence in August 1991, the government
of President Karimov established an authoritarian regime shored up in the pervasive net-
work of highly intrusive and repressive security institutions that keep a watchful eye over
the population and effectively root out any dissent. Islam Karimov has been reelected as the
republic’s president three times without any meaningful opposition in the elections (Ismailov
and Jarabik 2009). Despite the creation of a bicameral legislature – Oliy Majlis – in 2002, and
a post of the prime minister the following year, president dominates all branches of power
(Nichol 2008; Spechler 2007). There is no parliamentary oversight over the president who
makes decisions about all the most important political appointments and uses presidential
decree as a means to devise and implement public policy. The judiciary in Uzbekistan is also
heavily dependent upon the executive power, including the appointment and dismissal of
judges, and is seriously afflicted by high levels of corruption.
Although the Karimov government likes to point out the existence of a multiparty sys-
tem in the republic, only openly pro-Karimov government parties can operate legally in
Uzbekistan. As of 2012, Uzbekistan’s party spectrum encompassed the People’s Demo-
cratic Party, founded by Islam Karimov, the Adolat ( Justice) Social Democratic Party, the
­Liberal-Democratic Party, consisting of government-connected businessmen, and the Milliy
Tiklanish (National Revival) Party, consisting of state-supported intellectuals. In 2008, the
National Revival Party absorbed the Fidokorlar (Self-Sacrifice) National Democracy Party,
created by Karimov as a youth party. There is also the Ecological Movement of Uzbekistan.
Differences in these parties’ programs appeared to be minor, with all registered parties sup-
porting government policies (OSCE/ODIHR 2010). Obviously, popular elections held in
Uzbekistan are by no means competitive or democratic.
Like its neighbor, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan is one of the worst human rights offenders
in the world. The Uzbekistan section of the annual human rights report published by the
U.S. Department of States catalogs every type of human rights violation observed by the
U.S. monitors ranging from torture, arbitrary arrests and detention, attacks on journalists
and human rights defenders to restrictions on freedoms of speech, press, assembly, and asso-
ciation (U.S. Department of State 2012). Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan are the only Central
Asian states designated as the countries of particular concern engage in “systematic, ongoing
and egregious violations of religious freedom” (U.S. Commission on International Religious
Freedom 2012).
Ostracized by the Western governments and isolated in its international relations, the
Karimov regime took multiple, if largely ceremonial, measures for rebuilding its interna-
tional reputation in the years following the 2005 Andijan massacre. Notable attention was
given to electoral processes in the context of a “step-by-step” approach toward further de-
mocratization declared by the president in 2008. The same year Uzbekistan overhauled the
pre-trail detention process and instituted new habeas corpus regulations into domestic law
requiring a judge to review arrests within 72 hours. Specific provisions were introduced
to its criminal and criminal procedure codes banning the practice of torture and attaining
evidence under duress. The government also initiated the digitization of police records in
an effort to curb corruption in the law-enforcement agencies (Ismailov and Jarabik 2009).
Some of the changes in the legal frameworks for elections were noted and commended by
the OSCE, which, nonetheless, concluded that Uzbekistan’s election legislation continues
to fall short of OSCE commitments and, more importantly, the good faith implementation
of the new measures remains indispensable to ameliorate electoral practices in Uzbekistan

67
Mariya Y. Omelicheva

(OSCE/ODIHR 2010). The lack of genuine political freedoms, including political plural-
ism, and low respect for human rights remain the weakest spot in the rule of the Karimov
administration.

Obstacles to democratization in Central Asia

The Central Asian republics’ democratic trials were not altogether unexpected. Many ex-
perts on the region have noted a lingering impact of the Soviet-era authoritarian practices
and a weak and deferential civil society that has been unable to push for democratic reforms
(Zhovtis 1999). Others pointed out that these countries’ traditional culture and institutions
revived in the postindependence context continue supporting authoritarian forms of rule
(Cummings 2002; Ismailov and Jarabik 2009; Matveeva 1999).
Indeed, the patriarchal streak has been an enduring feature of the Central Asian societies
(Gleason 1997). In the public realm, the acceptance of age and gender hierarchies, respect
for authority, and loyalty to one’s family and kin have found expression in a distinct political
culture that privileges strong leadership and state paternalism. The gravitation to collectivist
values encouraged during the Soviet time has reinforced the “passive-traditional” attitudes in
the people who look to the state as an instrument of protection from frightening changes in the
social and political realms. Furthermore, the networks of traditional ethnic, clan, and family
ties have resulted in the creation of the so-called “fourth branch of government”, i.e., a dense
and pervasive system of informal politics and institutions (Ilkhamov 2007). These informal
structures engage in a variety of nondemocratic practices, such as clientelism and patronage,
which also undermine civil and political rights (Collins 2006; McGlinchey 2011; Schatz 2004).
It has also been argued that certain levels of socioeconomic development have served
as the roadblocks to democratization in Central Asia (Blank 2005; Collins 2006). The
­democratization prospects of the two poorest states of Central Asia – Tajikistan and
­Kyrgyzstan – have been dimmed by their dire economic situation, whereas in the ­energy-rich
­republics – Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan – the natural wealth turned into a resource “curse”
(Franke, Gawrich, and Alakbarov 2009). Turkmenistan sits on top of one of the world’s larg-
est natural gas fields, while Kazakhstan’s Tengiz oil field has been ranked among the world’s
ten largest. The weaknesses of institutions responsible for the management of these resources
have brought about fierce competition among the ruling elites accompanied by rampant
corruption and disregard for democratic norms (Luong and Weinthal 2010). Furthermore,
the opportunity of private enrichment from the external capital flows has served as a pow-
erful disincentive for democratizing their political systems or furthering market reforms
(Bayulgen 2005).
Following the upsurge of global interest in Islam and Muslim societies, Central Asian
Islam, too, has attracted considerable academic attention. Scholars began addressing the po-
litical significance and impact of Islam on post-Communist Central Asian states and as-
sessing whether it has been necessarily a political factor incompatible with and inimical to
democracy. These essentialist views on the Central Asian Islam have been dispelled in the
subsequent scholarship, which showed how modern-day Islam in Central Asia has retained
its largely apolitical nature and strong ethno-national association (Haghayeghi 1996, Khalid
2007; Louw 2007; Rasanayagam 2010). When radicalization of Islam did take place, it was
a consequence of authoritarianism but not a deterrent to democratization (Hann and ­Pelkmans
2009; Ro’i 2004).
All in all, the dominant mode of analysis in the scholarship focusing on the obstacles
to democratization in the region has been drawn from the work of democratic theorists

68
 The fault lines of democratization

(Melvin 2004). Premised on the assumption that a transition to democracy is a desired (if
not inevitable) step, democratization theories have applied the knowledge of democratic
change and consolidation derived primarily from the experience of Latin American states
and countries in southern Europe in the 1970s and 1980s (Posusney 2004). Central Asian
regimes call for a rethinking of assumptions about the spread of democracy and democ-
ratization. These are deliberately organized and durable authoritarian regimes that have
adopted the formal trapping of democracy. The leadership of these states has been deter-
mined to hold on their power under the guise of democracy without exposing themselves
to the political risks of competition for power (Ottaway 2003). Since these regimes are
deliberately authoritarian, rather than imperfectly democratic (Mayer 2001), democrati-
zation theories focusing on the obstacles to and preconditions for a successful democratic
transformation overlook a host of factors associated with a new phenomenon of durable
authoritarianism.

From democratic breakdown to authoritarian persistence:

what accounts for durability of authoritarian regimes?
The renaissance of authoritarianism studies in the 1990s gave rise to a number of works ex-
amining Central Asian authoritarian politics on its own right, rather than as an opposite of
democracy. Initially, the scholarship has focused on the role of leadership and various institu-
tional factors for explaining the outcomes of authoritarian rule. The strength of authoritarian
institutions, for example, has been linked to three sources: a highly institutionalized ruling
party, robust coercive apparatus, and state control over wealth (Way 2010). When a space has
opened for democratic activities in any of the Central Asian republics but ­Kyrgyzstan, it has
usually occurred “by default”, as an unintended consequence of the choices made by their
leaders. Kazakhstan’s government led by President Nazarbayev, for example, made a choice
of claiming its legitimacy on the basis of its commitment to international engagement, and
these claims had an unintended but consequential impact on opening access to the republic’s
civil society by international actors (Schatz 2006).
Neither repression nor economic stability acquired through the control of national wealth
offers a complete explanation for the durability of nondemocratic regimes. The high costs of
compliance based on the naked coercion make repression an ineffective method of the au-
thoritarian rule. The risks associated with economic downturns threaten its socioeconomic
foundations. Authoritarian governments, like their democratic counterparts, must have pop-
ular support to continue their rule, and this support can be elicited using ideological and
rhetorical strategies of power legitimation.
As discussed throughout this chapter, all Central Asian governments have embraced dem-
ocratic ideas, if only rhetorically, but defended alternative visions of democracy and democ-
ratization for justifying their authoritarian rule. In Kazakhstan, President Nazarbayev has
defended a model of “presidential democracy” with the “visionary leadership”. The ousted
President Bakiyev of Kyrgyzstan proposed a model of “consultative democracy”, while the
current government of President Atambayev has been experimenting with the model of par-
liamentary democracy. In Uzbekistan, an “Uzbek path” and “Uzbek model” of development
and democratization has been central to the new state ideology of national independence
developed by President Karimov. While there are important differences distinguishing these
models of democracy, all of these alternatives to liberal democracy are premised on a belief
in the strong state led by a strong leader, or a narrow circle of political and business elite,
typically championing the interests of their clans. All of these models prioritize the goals of

69
Mariya Y. Omelicheva

economic development over political liberalization, and security and order – over democ-
ratization. Gradualism has been defended as a key principle of the post-Soviet sociopolitical
transformation, while the idea of universal democracy has been rejected by these states. The
liberal democratic model has been presented as unsuitable and dangerous for the republics
characterized by the unique history and potentially explosive socioeconomic and political
situation (Omelicheva 2015).
To convince the domestic and foreign audiences in the appropriateness of the devised
models of governance, all Central Asian states defended their “paths” to democracy by the
unique circumstances of post-Soviet transition. The Central Asian governments have relied
on the strategies of indigenization of their models by presenting them as compatible with
their nations’ historical trajectories and political culture and delegitimizing the Western con-
ceptions of democracy and efforts at international democratization. Presenting their regimes
as effective in economic growth, security provision, and meeting other citizens’ needs has
also been a functional way of legitimizing their governance (Omelicheva 2013).

International influences on political regimes in Central Asia

For a long time, the study of democratization in Central Asia and other parts of the world
had been approached from the standpoint of comparative politics focusing on the impact
of a wide range of domestic factors in explaining the trials of democratic transformation
or persistence of authoritarian regimes. It is only recently that international dimension was
introduced into the study of democratization giving rise to the burgeoning literature on de-
mocracy and autocracy promotion in transitioning states (Burnell and Schlumberger 2010).
The latter perspective is centered on the idea that various international actors play an active
and, at times, decisive role in the processes of democratization by fostering a democratic
opening in the target states, or hampering political transformation.
The United States has been one of the largest donors of democracy assistance and de-
velopment aid in Central Asia disbursing $1,802,000,000 to Central Asian republics over
1992–2006 based on the Freedom for Russia and Emerging Eurasian Democracies and Open
Markets (FREEDOM) Support Act (FSA) passed by the U.S. Congress in 1992 (Omelicheva
2015; Roberts 2009). The U.S. democracy assistance programs in the region have been
matched, if not surpassed, by democracy aid of the EU. Notwithstanding the sheer size and
variety of democracy assistance programs in Central Asia, they, on the whole, have been
ineffective in producing sustainable changes in people’s attitudes, institutions, and political
processes in Central Asian states (Omelicheva 2015). Furthermore, international pressures
for democratization have inadvertently had a reverse effect. The Central Asian authoritarian
leaders have chosen to curtail the activities of international donors and intensify repression
to protect their stronghold on power from external threats.
Part of the answer to the failed democratization efforts carried out by the United States
and EU in the Central Asian states lies in the conflict of their short-term strategic interests
and normative commitments in the region (Crawford 2008; Warkotsch 2010). The U.S. gov-
ernment’s relationship with the Central Asian countries that are hosting U.S. military bases
or otherwise important to U.S. national interest has been routinely politicized. The United
States has been criticized for neglecting democratic backsliding in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan,
and Uzbekistan in the effort to remain strategically engaged in Central Asia, especially on
the backdrop of the growing influence of Russia and China in these states (Cooley 2008,
2012; Crosston 2006). By playing the United States off Russia, and China, Central Asian re-
gimes have been able to set their own terms for foreign presence in the region. Furthermore,

70
 The fault lines of democratization

by focusing on short-term security assistance in authoritarian regimes, the U.S. govern-

ment has unwittingly created propitious conditions for extremism and anti-Americanism
­(Crosston 2006).
The EU, too, has demonstrated the lack of strong commitment to democracy promotion in
favor of other competing priorities, such as the reforms within the EU, dealing with the con-
sequences of the 2008 global financial crisis, the development assistance to Afghanistan and
other goals (Boonstra 2011; Crawford 2008). Its diverse programs appearing under the broad
rubrics of “technical assistance”, “development”, and “good governance” have shown little
cultural resonance with political and social experiences of the target states (Warkotsch 2008).
The neglect of historical and cultural factors affecting the region’s engagement with democ-
racy has been a feature of the US-led democracy assistance programs in Central Asia as well
(Roberts 2009). Taken together, all of these elements of the Western democracy a­ ssistance –
cultural incompatibility, low attention to national priorities, and frequent inconsistencies of
the stated goals – tarnished the image of the Western model for democracy and strategy for
democratization and diminished the credibility of democracy promoters from the West.
What has further complicated the situation with democratization in Central Asia is the
presence of external actors offering alternative perspectives on democracy that find greater
resonance with Central Asian states. Russia and China in particular, using their cultural
and strategic power, have tried to counteract the Western efforts of democratization with
their own ideological conceptions of the proper forms of governance and arguments
about the ills and merits of democratization (Ambrosio 2008; Jackson 2010). The Central
Asian authorities have been able to benefit from the “ideological cushion” provided by
the like-minded states, such as Russia and China, and regional organizations, such as the
­K remlin-led Collective Security Treaty Organizations (CSTO) and ­Shanghai Cooperation
Organization (SCO). The authoritarian governments have utilized these o ­ rganizations’
norms and values, which run counter to democratic principles, for preserving their p­ olitical
power. With the backing of Moscow and Beijing, the Central Asian leadership has effec-
tively discounted the universal notion of democracy and redefined d­ emocracy promotion
agents as emissaries of Western influence and regional security threats (­A mbrosio 2008;
Omelicheva 2013, 2015).

Conclusion
Despite their promises of democratization, the Central Asian governments have showed little
inclination toward implementing meaningful democratic reforms. While there are marked
differences in the levels of political freedoms in these countries, none can be labeled a de-
mocracy or even claim to have made substantial progress toward democratic practices and
norms. Kyrgyzstan continues to be recognized as the most open regime in Central Asia, but
its political parties are poorly organized, lacking ideological cohesion, and unrepresentative
of ethnic minority groups. Kazakhstan, too, has yet to hold completely free and competitive
elections as serious cases of fraud continue accompanying each election cycle. Civil society
groups are proliferating in Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan, but they lack resources and political
clout, and are subject to various legal constraints and harassment by the state authorities.
Both republics feature greater freedoms of movement as well as the press, and the Inter-
net. Kazakhstan’s human rights record, however, has deteriorated since 2011 following the
government’s enforcement of strict measures aimed at stamping out political opposition,
exercising greater surveillance over media and civil society, and controlling religious groups.
In Kyrgyzstan, too, serious human rights violations persist, especially in the south of the

71
Mariya Y. Omelicheva

country recovering from the mass interethnic riots in Osh and Jalalabad that took place in
summer 2011.
Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, on the other hand, are the most repressive countries in the
world. Basic civil and political rights are regularly circumvented in these countries, which
tolerate no political dissent. Torture and other abuses of personal integrity rights are, report-
edly, widespread. Recent developments in Tajikistan have also raised concerns about the
deteriorating political situation there as the government of President Rakhmon has imposed
restriction on the freedom of information, religious freedoms, and activities of civil society
groups in addition to increased prosecution of political challengers of the president.
The sources of nondemocratic practices in Central Asia have been found in these coun-
tries’ traditions and history that is filled with authoritarian practices and recent totalitarian-
ism. By revitalizing certain national and historical traditions, such as the strong leadership
and paternalistic state, the Central Asian governments and societies have embraced those
aspects of their political culture, which have been deemed as the key obstacles to meaningful
democratization.
Like other authoritarian regimes, the Central Asian leadership has manipulated demo-
cratic rhetoric to disguise the suppression of political liberties that are perceived as threat-
ening to their enduring rule. The governments of Central Asian republics have advocated
for the strong state and strong leadership as the guarantors of stability, order, and successful
democratization. All Central Asian leaders procured support for their rule by presenting
their models of governance as highly effective in delivering on the basic security and devel-
opmental agendas. These agendas, in turn, were connected to the demands of their people.
In addition to providing an ideological rationalization for their rule, the authoritarian
regimes of Central Asia have employed several other rhetorical strategies to increase the ef-
fectiveness of their ideological persuasion. All Central Asian governments have framed their
“models” of development as consistent with their countries’ traditions and national values.
Concurrently to framing their national expressions of democracy as culturally authentic and
sensitive to changing national needs, the Central Asian leadership has attempted to down-
grade the democratic practices of Western nations.
Another key factor in Central Asia’s poor democracy record is their strategic location,
­especially in the case of the hydrocarbon exporters – Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, and
­Uzbekistan – that gives these countries sufficient leverage in geopolitical maneuvers with
the United States, Russia, China, and major international organizations and multinational
corporations. Furthermore, the Central Asian authorities have been able to benefit from the
political backing provided by other like-minded states, such as Russia and China, which
offered support for the Central Asian regimes.

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Foreign policy: Asia and the world
 6
Foreign policies of East Asia
Dennis V. Hickey and Dean P. Chen

This chapter seeks to shed light on the foreign policies of several key states in the ­Western
­Pacific. It examines the foreign policies of the People’s Republic of China (PRC or China),
the Republic of China (ROC or Taiwan), Japan, the Democratic Republic of Korea (DPRK)
and the Republic of Korea (ROK). Readers are provided with a brief historical overview of
each state’s foreign policy and an analysis of their current approaches to foreign relations. In
conclusion, the authors outline some of the common trends and characteristics shared by the
governments examined.

The People’s Republic of China

The People’s Republic of China (PRC or China) matters, and it matters a lot. When one
considers that China is now the world’s second-largest economy, third-largest military power
and the single largest foreign holder of US government debt, it is clear that the country is
important. At the same time, China’s cooperation is essential if the international commu-
nity hopes to cope with a wide range of pressing global problems, including the worldwide
economic tsunami, terrorism, the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (WMD),
­environmental degradation, health issues, dwindling energy supplies and the continuing
crises on the Korean Peninsula, to name just a few.
Given the country’s importance, it comes as little surprise that numerous studies provide
detailed analyses of the foreign relations of the PRC (Swaine and Tellis 2001; Goldstein
2005; Zheng 2005; Foot 2006; Gill 2010; Hickey and Guo 2010; Wang 2005; Nathan and
Scobell, 2012; Sutter 2016). The following discussion provides only an overview of Beijing’s
fundamental foreign policy priorities and grand strategic postures.

Historical overview
To understand China’s present foreign policy orientation, one must begin with the nation’s
“century of humiliation” (Hickey 2002). This began in the nineteenth century, when the
Western powers and Japan forced China to open up and began to dismember it. Since that
time, China has often viewed itself as a victim of external aggression. In fact, throughout

76
 Foreign policies of East Asia

most of the twentieth century, Chinese schools taught history as a series of guo chi or national
humiliations. This era of humiliation came to an end when Chairman Mao Zedong unified
the mainland under the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and established the PRC in 1949.
As Mao declared on October 1, 1949, “China has stood up!”
The legacy of wounded national pride has left a deeply ingrained perception among the
Chinese that in order to be secure and avoid potential infringements on China’s sovereignty
and territorial unity, it must be strong, both at home and abroad. This sense of insecurity
or vulnerability has also empowered the CCP and bolstered its ruling legitimacy. The party
claims that it will protect China from foreign domination, subversion and Westernization
(Medeiros 2009, 10; Nathan and Scobell 2012, 33).
During the first half of the Cold War era (1949–1969), Mao considered the US-led
capitalist camp to be China’s most dangerous enemy. Initially, the country aligned itself
with the Soviet Union, but this came to an end in the mid-1950s. During this stage in its
­foreign ­relations, Beijing also attempted to forge closer ties with the Non-Aligned states by
­espousing, in the 1954 Bandung Conference, the Five Principles of Peaceful Coexistence:
(1) mutual respect for sovereignty and territorial integrity, (2) mutual nonaggression, (3) non-
interference in internal affairs, (4) equality and mutual benefit and (5) peaceful coexistence
(Goldstein 2005, 21–22).
During the latter half of the Cold War (1969–1989), Beijing normalized relations
with Washington, and Soviet “hegemony” was viewed as the principal threat to
China’s national security interests. The United States and PRC teamed up to devise
anti-­S oviet strategies, and President Ronald Reagan even cleared the way for direct
­g overnment-to-government arms sales to China in 1984, when he declared, as required
by law, that such sales would “strengthen the security of the US and promote world
peace” (Hickey 1997, 62).
In sum, China’s Cold War policy position was predicated upon the Maoist “united-front”
strategy, which called for teaming up with all the possible coalitions of allies, irrespective of
their ideological differences, in order to fight against a principal adversary. And if the nature
of the primary foe changes, so should the cast of the alliance (Goldstein 2005, 20). This has
been described as a “weak-state” approach, in which the

Chinese state relied for the most part upon a security strategy keyed to external balanc-
ing through shifting strategic relationships with the United States and Soviet Union,
combined with the maintenance of a strong yet technologically unsophisticated defen-
sive force designed to deter attacks on Chinese territory, not to project Chinese influ-
ence and presence beyond the heartland.
(Swaine and Tellis 2001, 78)

When Deng Xiaoping launched China’s economic reforms and internationalist foreign pol-
icy in the 1980s, he believed that “any country that closes its door to the outside world cannot
achieve progress” (quoted in Harding 1987, 133). In addition to maintaining China’s internal
political stability, preserving sovereignty and territorial integrity, and revitalizing interna-
tional status and respect, economic development became a major foreign policy priority for
Beijing. Indeed, Deng’s 1992 claim that “only development has real meaning” c­ ontinues to
serve as a major influence on China’s foreign policy (Medeiros 2009, 15). Economic growth
and prosperity not only enhance domestic stability (thereby buttressing CCP’s popular sup-
port and monopoly on political power) but also provide the basis for strengthening China’s
international prestige and influence.

77
Dennis V. Hickey and Dean P. Chen

The PRC’s foreign policy

During the immediate post-Cold War era, Chinese elites hoped to transform the US-­
dominated unipolar system into a multipolar world order in which China would be one of
many great powers. Given the United States’ military, economic and technological power,
however, ­Beijing came to the conclusion that it would be a long period of transition (perhaps
several decades or longer) before this happened. By the mid-1990s, the Jiang Zemin adminis-
tration, in the wake of the 1995–1996 Taiwan Strait crises and the South China Sea disputes,
believed that China should embark upon a grand strategy that would embrace multilateral-
ism. This move would reassure its Asian neighbors that its rising power would not jeopardize
their interests while continuing China’s economic and military modernization in order to
counter any possible constraining or containing acts by the United States and other great pow-
ers (­Goldstein 2005). Consequently, post-Deng leaders have ramped up China’s multilateral
diplomacy and engagement in a myriad of international and regional (economic and strategic)
regimes and forums. Some examples include the Asian Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC)
forum, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations Regional Forum (ARF), the East Asian
Summit (EAS), the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO), the Comprehensive Test Ban
Treaty, United Nations (UN) peacekeeping missions, the World Trade Organization (WTO)
and the Six-Party Talks on North Korea’s nuclear ambitions (Medeiros 2009, 77–82; Gill 2010).
Given the fact that American hegemonic power is unlikely to decline soon and that the US-
led liberal international order is conducive to China’s economic development, Beijing has toned
down its drive to create a multipolar system and focused on stabilizing and improving its strategic
partnership with the United States (Schweller and Yu 2011; Ikenberry 2013). The deepening of
economic and strategic interdependence and competition between Beijing and Washington has
led one analyst to characterize the US-PRC relationship as “an extremely complex and highly
paradoxical unity of opposites” (Wang 2005, 46). Although they view the United States as a
challenge to China’s national security and domestic stability, Chinese elites also view “America’s
long-standing presence in the [Asia Pacific] region as a stabilizing factor” (Foot 2006, 89). In spite
of Washington’s close alliance with Tokyo, it is believed that the United States will rein in Japan if
it oversteps on China’s security interests. In a similar vein, during the early 2000s, the George W.
Bush administration sought to restrain Chen Shui-bian, Taiwan’s leader, when he threatened to
change the status quo in the Taiwan Strait. These American actions were welcomed by the PRC
government. In short, from the Chinese perspective, American involvement in Asia is not always
considered negative, and this is especially true when Beijing needs to place far greater attention
on China’s numerous internal problems (Zheng 2005, 21).
Deng warned that China should not create unnecessary antagonisms with foreign powers
but should “taoguang yanghui” or hide its light and nurture its strength. As a result, in 1997,
Jiang Zemin adopted a “new security concept” to urge countries to “rise above one-sided
security and seek common security through mutually beneficial cooperation” (Nathan and
Scobell 2012, 29). In 2004, Hu Jintao’s “peaceful development” sought to dispel worries
about the “China threat” by telling the international community that

China will not follow the path of Germany leading up to World War I or those of
­ ermany and Japan leading up to World War II.… Neither will China follow the path
G
of the great powers vying for global domination during the Cold War. Instead, China
will transcend ideological differences to strive for peace, development, and cooperation
with all countries of the world.
(Zheng 2005, 22)

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Furthermore, Hu called for the building of a “harmonious world,” which was an extension
of his domestic policy of constructing a “harmonious society.” A harmonious world, in
­essence, is one in which states act in ways that refrain from combative power politics, respect
each other’s national sovereignty, tolerate diversity and promote national development by
equitably spreading economic benefits.
China specialists have long debated whether its rise is peaceful or threatening and revi-
sionist ( Johnston 2003; Kang 2005). The answer lies somewhere between these extremes.
The PRC’s peaceful development strategy is more likely to be “calculative” and “transi-
tional” (Goldstein 2005, 39). It depends ultimately on the endurance of US global lead-
ership and Washington’s commitment to remain engaged in Asia and shape China’s rise
(Christensen 2015). While its power has grown, it still lags far behind the United States.
Beijing’s rapid military modernization and technological advancement aim at fending off
and deterring possible US intervention (and/or US-led encirclement) in China’s peripheral
and regional contingencies, such as the Taiwan Strait and the South and East China Seas.
Yet China, in the words of one China specialist, remains a “fragile superpower,” plagued by
domestic corruption, rising economic inequality, social unrests, environmental degradation,
growing rifts among the ruling CCP elites and the emerging influence of nationalistic and
leftist political forces (Shirk 2008). Indeed, as a Chinese student explained during discussions
with one of the authors, “China is a fat man with brittle bones.”
To be sure, Chinese leaders have, on occasion, resorted to assertive foreign policy behav-
ior and/or nationalistic rhetoric to divert the population’s attention from domestic problems
and to shore up support (Fewsmith 2008). But nationalism is a “double-edged sword.” Some
contend that “contemporary Chinese history shows that the practice of trying to distract the
public from domestic problems by playing up foreign problem has often ended with ­regime
change. Xenophobic public sentiments can quickly transform into an anti-government
­uprising” (Li 2013, 46). The twentieth century provides numerous examples, including the
Boxer Rebellion of 1900, the May 4th Movement in 1919 and the Communist Revolution
in the anti-Japanese war of the 1930s and 1940s.
Today, CCP elites tread cautiously in an effort to avoid being forced to take a confron-
tational foreign policy stance by hawkish military officials, left-wing leaders or members of
the public. Being risk averse and pragmatic, top decision-makers are unwilling, at least in the
foreseeable future, to jeopardize decades of economic growth and modernization by waging
a military conflict with the United States or other powers (Lampton 2014). As one scholar
observed, in these respects, “China is instead more like Bismarck’s Germany: a nationalist
rising power whose interests sometimes conflict with others’, but one that so far lacks a thirst
for expansion, let alone domination, strategic purposes that would pose a serious threat to
­international peace” (Goldstein 2005, 210). Nuclear deterrence and continued US hege-
monic power also serve as safeguards against Chinese revisionism.
Due to such consideration, it should come as little surprise that Xi Jinping, China’s cur-
rent president, has called for “building a new type of relationship between major powers.”
For example, with respect to US-PRC relations, Xi raised four major points: (1) increasing
mutual understanding and strategic trust; (2) respecting each other’s core interests and major
concerns; (3) deepening win-win cooperation in traditional areas, such as economic com-
merce, science and technology, and also in emerging fields, such as energy, environment
and infrastructure construction; and (4) sharing international responsibilities to better meet
global challenges and maintain a healthy interaction in the Asian Pacific region (Hu 2012; Xi
2012; Lampton 2013). Xi’s predecessor, Hu, also emphasized these points during his farewell
report to the 18th Party Congress in November 2012 (Swaine 2013). These propositions

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could suggest a new thinking to replace the traditional realist power transition theory that
has depicted a gloomy picture of an escalating security dilemma and the inevitable clash
between the established dominant (status quo) powers and rising (revisionist) states (Chong
and Hall 2014; Lam 2015).
At the same time, Xi’s taizidang or “princeling” background and his close ties with the
military have presented a more hard-line image (Zheng 2010; Lam 2015). In February 2009,
for instance, while visiting Mexico City, he told Hong Kong media that

there are a few foreigners, with full bellies, who have nothing better to do than try to
point fingers at our [China] country. China does not export revolution, hunger, poverty
nor does China cause you any headaches. Just what else do you want?
(Quoted in Yaita 2012, 205)

Nonetheless, there seems to be a consensus among Chinese elites, irrespective of their fac-
tional affiliations, that peaceful development will prevail as China’s overarching foreign pol-
icy strategy. Indeed, some of Xi’s major policy initiatives focus on domestic affairs, especially
the fight against rampant corruption and the pursuit of bolder economic reforms and re-
structuring. On January 29, 2013, in his first formal discussion of China’s foreign policy, Xi
made it clear that the government “will ensure that the public benefits from China’s peaceful
development as well as work to consolidate a material and social basis for furthering its de-
velopment.” While insisting that the PRC will “never give up [its] legitimate rights and will
never sacrifice our national core interests,” the CCP leader stressed that “China will pursue
its development by seeking a peaceful international environment while safeguarding and
promoting world peace.”1
Despite the declared emphasis on global peace, it is clear that Xi has inaugurated a more
audacious foreign policy agenda in recent years—particularly toward the disputed territo-
ries in the South and East China Seas (Economy 2014). A series of incidents have led the
United States and China’s neighbors to voice concern. The United States has pushed for
deeper strategic and economic ties with Japan, South Korea, Australia, India and ASEAN
in its rebalancing or “pivot” to Asia-Pacific. Moreover, in seeking to promote the “Chinese
Dream” and “rejuvenation of the Chinese nation” (terms with highly nationalistic signifi-
cance), Beijing has launched the new Silk Road project to deepen continental infrastructural
development and maritime trade with South Asia, Central Asia, Africa, the Middle East and
Europe (Lam 2015). To help finance these initiatives, the Xi administration has established
the Asia Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB). Some observers perceive the new banking
organization as a rival to the US-dominated World Bank and IMF.2
It is likely that the Xi government will continue to pursue the peaceful development
strategy but behave more belligerently and assertively on various peripheral and international
issues that pertain to its “core interests.” How China defines the notion “core interests” will
certainly affect its relations with the neighboring countries as well as the United States.
Whereas traditionally “core interests” have encompassed the Chinese mainland, Tibet and
Taiwan, Beijing’s tougher stances on the South and East China Seas’ maritime and island
territories seem to confirm that these contested regions will be included as well. This means
that Sino-American relations may become more antagonistic (Sutter 2015), especially in the
aftermath of the judgment rendered by the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) on July
12, 2016. The court decision was highly favorable to the Philippines (and by extension, the
United States and its other Southeast Asian allies, pertaining to the dispute) and essentially
rebuffed the PRC’s so-called Nine-Dashed Line and its accompanied “historical rights”

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claims over the South China Sea’s maritime territories. The PCA also ruled that land features
in the Spratlys, including the Taiwan-occupied Itu Aba or Taiping, are not islands under the
UN Convention on the Law of the Seas (UNCLOS) and hence have no rights to the two
hundred nautical miles of exclusive economic zones. Beijing has boycotted the proceed-
ings, saying that the tribunal had no jurisdiction and that China would ignore its decision.
Suggesting that the PCA was a “lackey of some outside forces” (implying the United States
and Japan),3 the Chinese also staged a series of air-patrol and naval exercises in the region.
Though China’s reactions have, for the most part, stayed restrained, it remains to be seen
how it would charter its relations with Washington and other claimants.4
The United States and China will also continue to quarrel over other issues, including
trade, foreign exchange rates, human rights, cybersecurity and the protection of intellec-
tual property rights, to name just a few. Yet both Beijing and Washington have affirmed
repeatedly that these contentions (while inevitable) must not derail their bilateral coop-
eration, which is required to address a series of major global challenges.5 The firm shared
commitment of President Barrack Obama and President Xi to set stringent measures in their
respective countries to reduce global warming gases and curb carbon dioxide emissions is
a case in point.6 This intermix of cooperation and competition, known as “coopetition,” is
likely to characterize US-PRC relations in the years to come (Shambaugh 2013). It will also
characterize China’s relations with many regional powers.

Summary
It is often claimed that China’s post-Mao leadership is based on collective leadership and
decision-making. The nation’s foreign policy has become more bureaucratic, pragmatic and
consensus-oriented. Therefore, greater institutionalization of the policymaking process may
ensure a certain degree of continuity and moderation. Nevertheless, it is important to un-
derstand that President Xi differs from his predecessors. His more assertive foreign policy
positions and more consolidated approach to setting China’s national security agenda (such
as establishing an all-powerful National Security Commission in November 2013) have
modified some of these policy norms. Despite being more powerful than any time since the
mid-nineteenth century, the Chinese mainland is now at crossroads. While striving to be-
come more open and deeply integrated into the global economic system, Beijing also under-
stands that greater economic liberalization carries some risks. Pressures for domestic political
reform and change might accelerate and threaten the CCP’s continued monopoly on power.
The growing anti-PRC sentiments in Hong Kong and Taiwan illustrate the limits of B ­ eijing’s
political, economic and ideological appeal, especially to the younger generation. The main-
tenance of social stability and, with it, the CCP’s continued political hegemony remain the
Chinese leadership’s top priorities. Thus, Xi’s vocal advocacy of the nationalistically stoked
“Chinese Dream,” more aggressive foreign policy stances and concentration of political power
may be necessary to keep the CCP in control. Xi’s hard-line policies, however, may not work
well in the long haul, and this represents a dilemma for the PRC to seriously contemplate.

Taiwan
In 1949, the Republic of China (ROC or Taiwan) retreated from mainland China to Taiwan
along with the country’s foreign exchange reserves, gold reserves, art treasures and official
seal. Since that time, the ROC has transformed itself from a staid, authoritarian regime into
what the US government describes officially as “a multi-party democracy.”

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On January 16, 2016, the pro-independence Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) won
a double victory over the ruling Kuomintang (KMT). Tsai Ing-wen, a career politician
promoting a populist agenda, was elected president, and for the first time, the DPP won a
majority in Taiwan’s parliament. The landmark election could impact the island’s external
relations (both its foreign relations and relations with the Chinese mainland).7

Historical background
Following its defeat in 1949, almost all of the ROC’s diplomacy was geared initially toward
the goal of “rescuing” the mainland and reunifying the country under Chiang Kai-shek’s
leadership (Hickey 2007, 80–83). Like Chairman Mao Zedong, the Generalissimo adhered
to the “one China principle” and the “one China policy.”8 Taipei severed relations with any
government that recognized Beijing and withdrew from any international governmental
organization (IGO) that admitted the rival regime. Due to Cold War calculations, most
Western governments stood with Taipei throughout the 1950s and 1960s.
During the early 1970s, seismic shifts in international politics undermined Taiwan’s posi-
tion in the global community. In 1971, Taipei was compelled to yield its seat on the United
Nations (UN) Security Council to Beijing.9 This set the stage for the ROC’s expulsion from
other IGOs and most governments switched diplomatic recognition to Beijing.
Shortly after Chiang Kai-shek’s death in 1975, President Chiang Ching-kuo adopted a
pragmatic approach toward international affairs. Perhaps most significant, he sought to boost
Taipei’s “unofficial” relations with foreign governments—particularly the United States—
after Washington recognized Beijing in 1979. He also agreed to use names other than his
government’s formal title in order to participate in global forums. And on July 15, 1987,
Chiang lifted the ban on travel to the PRC (Hickey 2007, 86).10
In 1988, Lee Teng-hui became the president of the ROC. Like Chiang, Lee sought to bol-
ster Taipei’s “unofficial” relations with foreign governments. But he also tried to “­advance”
formal diplomatic ties and engineer Taiwan’s return to international ­organizations—­including
the UN.
President Lee’s diplomatic victories came with a high cost. The number of Taiwan’s dip-
lomatic allies rose to 30, but all of its remaining important diplomatic partners defected to
Beijing. Moreover, the UN campaign went nowhere. Lee enjoyed some successes upgrading
substantive ties with foreign governments. But these efforts—along with his other moves
to increase Taiwan’s international space—put Taipei on a collision course with Beijing.
Such considerations led President Bill Clinton to journey to China in 1998 and proclaim
­A merica’s adherence to the “three no’s” policy (no support for “two Chinas” or “one China,
one Taiwan,” no support for Taiwan independence and no support for Taiwan’s formal mem-
bership in IGOs).11
Chen Shui-bian was elected president in 2000. His approach to foreign affairs mirrored
the strategy embraced by Lee. During Chen’s eight years as ROC president, his adminis-
tration gained three new diplomatic allies. But it lost nine. And Taipei’s drive to secure
international recognition by bribing impoverished countries in the global south contributed
to the island’s growing reputation as an international troublemaker. Chen strained relations
with both the United States and the PRC.
Following his election in 2008, Ma Ying-jeou embraced a policy described as “flexible
diplomacy.”12 Perhaps most important, Ma endorsed the “1992 Consensus.”13 Negotiations
between Taiwan’s and the mainland reopened for the first time in over a decade. Cross-strait
relations moved forward.

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By 2016, a total of 23 cross-strait agreements had been signed. Moreover, the number
of direct cross-strait flights had soared from 0 to 120 per day. Perhaps most surprising,
however, was the historic summit meeting between President Ma and President Xi
in 2015.
The Ma administration improved relations with the United States, the EU and other for-
eign governments in parallel with the breakthroughs in cross-strait relations (Hickey 2015).14
Moreover, his administration managed to raise the number of countries and regions offering
Taiwan visa-free preferential treatment from 54 to 158 (including the United States). Taiwan
also put a stop to what Ma described as the “pointless competition” with the PRC for diplo-
matic allies (Hickey 2015). Rather, his administration sought to play the role of peacemaker
in a variety of complicated international disputes.

Taiwan’s foreign relations

In 2008, Ma Ying-jeou had campaigned for president promising to improve Taipei’s rela-
tions with Washington and Beijing. He also pledged to turn around a stagnant economy
that had been “mismanaged” by the DPP. Ma fulfilled the first two promises. But President
Chen’s economy eventually became President Ma’s economy. This was a critical factor lead-
ing to the unprecedented KMT defeat in the 2016 elections.
During Taiwan’s 2015–2016 election cycle, Tsai Ing-wen campaigned on a populist plat-
form. She promised to reduce income inequalities, revitalize Taiwan’s economy, boost so-
cial welfare spending, create meaningful and well-paying jobs for young people, diversify
­Taiwan’s trade partners and clean up the environment. At the same time, she pledged to
balance the government’s budget.
With respect to relations with the PRC, Tsai refused to endorse the “1992 Consensus.”
Rather, she sought to sidestep the issue by claiming to support the “status quo” and prom-
ised to handle relations with Beijing in accordance with “the will of the Taiwan people”
and Taiwan’s Constitution.15 When asked to elaborate on the vague approach to cross-Straits
relations and/or state plainly her position toward the 1992 Consensus, Tsai preferred to duck
the question.
With respect to foreign relations, Tsai left many questions unanswered during the
campaign. For example, she promised to boost arms purchases from the Unites States but
never explained how this could be accomplished while simultaneously boosting social wel-
fare spending and balancing the budget. Tsai also promised to reduce Taiwan’s economic
­dependence on the PRC by shifting investment and trade to Southeast Asia but failed to
provide specifics as to how this policy—a failed initiative that had been pursued by the
Lee ­administration—might be accomplished. But perhaps most puzzling was the candidate’s
­attitude toward Taipei’s diplomatic truce with Beijing.
When asked about the diplomatic truce with Beijing during Taiwan’s first presidential de-
bate on December 27, 2015, Tsai charged that “Taiwan’s diplomats have lost their direction in
the past eight years of diplomatic truce and have lost their efficiency and competitiveness—as
a result Taiwan has become beholden to China in maintaining diplomatic ties.”16 Tsai threat-
ened to transform the government’s inefficient foreign affairs personnel into “combat-ready”
diplomats.17 Several days after the debate, Tsai elaborated on her earlier comments when she
complained that ROC diplomats wasted their time waiting for “someone to throw them a
bone” and charged that “this is not how a country should handle diplomacy.”18 It appeared
that Tsai was preparing Taiwan’s people for an end to the diplomatic truce and a return to
Chen’s “scorched earth diplomacy.”

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At the time of writing, Tsai has only been president for several months. But it is still
possible to identify some elements of continuity and change in Taiwan’s foreign relations.
Like each of her predecessors, President Tsai claims to support the maintenance of a
strong relationship with the United States. When running for president, she went to great
lengths to show Washington that she was not a troublemaker. Moreover, in her inaugural
address, Tsai promised to “safeguard” the territory of the ROC—including the govern-
ment’s claims in the East and South China Seas. Tsai appears to support President Ma’s peace
proposals for both disputes.19
Like President Ma, Tsai hopes to somehow engineer Taiwan’s admission to the Trans-­
Pacific Partnership (TPP), a high-standard free trade pact led by the United States.20 She also
will continue the Ma administration’s drive to participate in UN-affiliated organizations,
such as the World Health Organization (WHO), the International Civil Aviation Organi-
zation (ICAO) and the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change. Interestingly, she
acquiesced to Taiwan’s continued participation in the 2016 World Health Assembly (WHA)
as “Chinese Taipei”—a moniker despised by many in Taiwan. Like Ma, boosting Taiwan’s
participation in NGOs is also one of Tsai’s objectives.
Unlike the Ma administration, Tsai’s government plans to diversify trade ties as much as
possible, a move designed to reduce the island’s dependence on the PRC. The cornerstone of
this initiative is a “new southbound policy” aimed at promoting economic ties with South-
east Asia (and to a lesser extent with India). The plan failed miserably when pursued in the
past, and serious analyses give it even less of a chance for success today (Copper 2016). Yet
Tsai’s administration appears determined to give the initiative another try.
The most striking difference between the Ma and Tsai administrations is their respec-
tive approaches to the PRC. The new president wants to move closer to Washington and
Tokyo, while distancing Taipei from Beijing. Given the fact that the Chinese mainland is
now Taiwan’s largest trading partner (no other country is even close), many in the business
community view this objective as unattainable.

Summary
Since retreating to Taiwan in 1949, the ROC’s foreign policy has experienced a variety of
“ups and downs.” At the end of the day, however, it is clear that the government’s foreign
policy options are shaped largely by actors and events outside Taiwan (Hickey 2007). This
will not change. Taiwan’s leadership realizes that it’s one thing to proclaim a shift in foreign
policy but another thing to actually achieve declared goals. In short, two states—the United
States and the PRC—will continue to wield an enormous influence over Taiwan’s foreign
relations in coming years.

Japan
For much of the post-World War II (WWII) era, Japan has been described as an economic
superpower but “a military midget and political lightweight on the world stage” (Auslin
2011). Following his election as Japan’s prime minister in December 2012, Shinzo Abe (who
briefly held that position in 2006–2007) vowed to change this. Abe has expanded Japan’s
linkages with international organizations based outside East Asia ranging from NATO to the
EU. And the Japanese media has described the number and scope of Abe’s summit meetings
with foreign leaders as unprecedented. But it is Abe’s campaign to change Japan’s defense
posture that has attracted the most attention and is the primary focus of this discussion.

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Abe is seeking to revise Tokyo’s self-imposed restrictions on the use of his nation’s
­ ilitary—the so-called Self-Defense Forces (SDF)—overseas and “normalize” Japan’s for-
m
eign security policy in an era of China’s rising power and increasing assertiveness (Bendini
2015). His strategic vision squares with the Barack Obama administration’s drive to upgrade
the US-Japan security and economic cooperation as a key pillar of America’s rebalancing or
“pivot” policy to the Asia-Pacific region (Chanlett-Avery and Rinehart 2016, 2). However,
Tokyo’s attempt to revamp its grand strategy confronts challenges. The nation’s imperialist
past continues to haunt its relations with many Asian countries, especially China and South
Korea. Both view Japan’s rearmament and more ambitious security posture with some suspi-
cion and concern (Hickey and Lu 2007, 95). Furthermore, there are constitutional, norma-
tive and political barriers within Japan that undermine the prime minister’s drive to expand
Japan’s military and security role in regional and global affairs.

Historical overview
Japan’s foreign policy since the mid-nineteenth century onward has been driven predomi-
nantly by a realist impulse—namely, to ensure the nation’s survival, security and economic
interests in an anarchic world dominated by competitive great power states (Bendini 2015, 4).
Compelled by the imperialistic threats of foreign powers, Japan abandoned its long-standing
isolationist orientation and embraced Western modernization. The Japanese realized that
their nation needed to become industrialized and militarily strong to avoid being conquered,
partitioned or colonized by the Western imperialists. Seeking to advance its own strategic,
economic and territorial ambitions, Tokyo rushed to compete with other foreign powers
for concessions in China, Korea and the Western Pacific. For example, in 1895, it defeated
China in the first Sino-Japanese War and annexed China’s Taiwan province and other ter-
ritories. Japanese rule was often harsh and cruel. Indeed, no other foreign power brutalized
China as much as Japan during that country’s so-called “century of humiliation” (Hickey
and Lu 2007, 95–96).
Japan’s expansionism ultimately ignited WWII in the Pacific Theater (described by China
as “the Second Sino-Japanese War”). The bloody conflict ended only after the United States
dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 and coerced Tokyo into ac-
cepting an unconditional surrender. In accordance with its postwar constitution (drafted by
American occupation officials in 1947), Japan appeared to renounce war as an instrument of
national policy. Article 9 of the document reads,

Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese
people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of
force as means of settling international disputes. In order to accomplish the aim of the
preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential will never
be maintained. The right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized.
(Quoted in Hickey 2001, 35–36)

In short, Article 9 constitutes a “no-war clause,” setting forth the renunciation of war, non-
possession of war potential and a denial of the right to collective self-defense and belliger-
ency by the state (Pyle 2014).
The outbreak of the Korean War in 1950 and the ensuing Cold War power struggle
led the United States to encourage Japan to establish the SDF, with three different service
branches—the Ground Self-Defense Forces (GSDF), Maritime Self-Defense Forces (MSDF)

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and Air Self-Defense Forces (ASDF). In addition, Tokyo created the Japan Defense Agency
( JDA), a civilian-staffed bureaucracy under the prime minister’s office, to oversee and ad-
minister SDF operations (Hickey 2001, 37). Meanwhile, Washington ramped up defense
cooperation with Tokyo as a balance against the Soviet Union. On January 19, 1960, the
two sides signed a mutual defense treaty. According to the security pact, America would
retain basing privileges on Japanese soil, and Tokyo would cooperate with Washington if
“the security of the Far East is threatened” (Hickey 2001, 38). Creating greater equality be-
tween Japan and the United States in their security partnership, the treaty also assured Tokyo
that America would not intervene in Japanese politics and that Washington would consult
Tokyo before using bases in Japan for military operations elsewhere in Asia. Furthermore,
the United States promised to protect Japan against foreign attack. It is noteworthy that
this pledge covers all the territories under Japanese administration (including the Senkaku/­
Diaoyu Islands and other islands that were returned to Japan in 1971) (Bendini 2015, 6).
Throughout the Cold War era, Japan slowly increased its military capabilities. However,
Japanese leaders adhered steadfastly to the Yoshida Doctrine, a policy that emphasized the
country’s economic development while leaving its security and defense largely to the United
States (Bendini 2015, 5). This doctrine and other self-binding policies interpreted Article 9
to mean that

there would be no overseas deployment of the Japan Self Defense Forces, no collective
defense, no power-projection capability, no nuclear arms, no arms exports, no sharing
of defense-related technology, no more than 1% of GNP for defense expenditure, and
no military use of force.
(Pyle 2014)

Japan’s foreign policy

The end of the Cold War did not signal an end to US-Japan defense cooperation. Rather,
Washington began to call on Tokyo to reassess its role in global affairs and make pragmatic
and necessary adjustments in its defense policy due to the turbulence that characterized the
immediate post-Cold War era—particularly the Gulf War of 1990–1991 and the 1994 nu-
clear crisis on the Korean peninsula. In other words, Washington believed that Tokyo should
assume greater responsibility for its own security and also contribute meaningfully to the
international community.
On November 28, 1995, Tokyo adopted a new National Defense Program Outline
(NDPO) that, in essence, moved the SDF away from its traditionally defensive posture and
inched it toward an emphasis on the ability to contribute to the creation of a stable security
environment in East Asia (Hickey 2001, 43). Japan was expected to enhance its participation
in the UN peacekeeping operations and disaster relief activities.21 Japanese defense planner
also pledged to take into account the “changes in the military posture of some of Japan’s
neighboring countries,” such as North Korea and China (Hickey 1998).
On September 24, 1997, the United States and Japan updated their Military Defense
Guidelines (MDG). Under the terms of the agreement, the Japanese military forces would
play a larger role assisting US military forces during a conflict. Specifically, Japanese naval
forces could engage in blockades and minesweeping activities in international waters, rescue
American pilots downed at sea and supply US naval vessels with food and fuel. Moreover, the
two countries pledged that they would cooperate in these and other ways when confronted
with “situations that may emerge in areas surrounding Japan.” Most observers and analysts

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agreed that this phrase referred to the Korean peninsula as well as a conflict in the Taiwan
Strait (Hickey 2001, 43).
During the administration of Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi (2001–2006), the SDF’s
defense doctrine became more forward-leaning, as the 2004 NDPO sought to stream-
line the SDF in order to handle the new threats of missile strikes and terrorist attacks and
the development of “multi-function, flexible defense capabilities.” The GSDF, MSDF
and ASDF were also given more latitude to be deployed in far-flung overseas noncombat and
humanitarian missions. For example, the SDF helped support the US-led coalition opera-
tions in ­A fghanistan and Iraq. Its military contributions to global counter-piracy missions
helped to relieve some of the burden on the US military to manage every security challenge
(­Chanlett-Avery and Rinehart 2016, 3). In 2006, the naval, air and ground forces were
placed under a single command for the first time since WWII, and the JDA was elevated to
the rank of Defense Ministry (Hickey and Lu 2007, 98).
Five years of unstable leadership and political paralysis in Tokyo between 2007 and 2012
contributed to a slowdown in Japan’s security policy reform and put to a halt to some US-­
Japan defense initiatives. After the LDP’s decisive victory in the 2012 election, however,
Prime Minister Shinzo Abe proposed the removal of important constitutional constraints
on Japan’s military and a revision of the educational system to encourage a stronger sense of
patriotism among the country’s young people (Bendini 2015, 12). Abe defended his policies
by claiming that the country needed to respond to a series of missile provocations by Pyong-
yang and increasingly aggressive maritime advances and operations by Beijing in the East and
South China Seas. He claimed that Japan must strengthen its military power in order to meet
these new security challenges in the Asia-Pacific (Chanlett-Avery and Rinehart 2016, 6).
With respect to China, the prime minister stressed,

We have an immediate neighbor [the PRC] whose military expenditure is at least twice
as large as Japan’s and second only to the U.S. defense budget. The country has increased
its military expenditures, hardly transparent by more than 10 percent annually for more
than 20 years since 1989. And then my government has increased its defense budget only
by zero point eight percent. So call me, if you want, a right-wing militarist.
(Quoted in Smith 2016, 6)

In short, Abe now seeks to turn Japan into a more “normal” country by increasing the flex-
ibility and capabilities of the SDF.
In order to realize the goal of becoming a more “normal” country, the Abe adminis-
tration made some meaningful modifications in Tokyo’s security policy during 2014 and
2015. These changes include (1) reinterpreting Article 9 of the constitution to allow for the
exercise of the right of collective self-defense, (2) passing a package of security legislation
that provides a new legal framework for the new interpretation, (3) modestly increasing
Japan’s military budget, (4) relaxing Japan’s previous bans on arms exports, (5) establish-
ing a National Security Council to facilitate decision-making on foreign policy, (6) pass-
ing a “state secrets” bill permitting more intelligence-sharing with the United States and
(7) committing political capital and resources to advance the US-Japan agreement to relocate
a controversial marine airbase in Okinawa (Chanlett-Avery and Rinehart 2016, 14–15).
In April 2015, the Obama and Abe governments both agreed to yet another revision
of the US-Japan MDG. The new pact deepens alliance cooperation in a way that “more
intricately intertwines US and Japanese security, making it difficult to avoid involvement
in each other’s military engagements” (Chanlett-Avery and Rinehart, 14–15). Advances in

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SDF capabilities gave Japan a potent deterrent power that complements the US forces, and
both sides have deepened their bilateral cooperation in areas like ballistic missile defense,
cybersecurity and military use of space. With a more liberal interpretation of the Japanese
constitution, Tokyo will now more easily exercise the right of collective self-defense and
come to the defense of the United States if its military and/or territories are under attack
(Chanlett-Avery and Rinehart, 4). It is likely that the PRC’s rising global/regional influence
and more assertive behavior in the East and South China Seas served as major impetus be-
hind this closer security union (Chanlett-Avery and Rinehart, 9–10). For example, during
his April 2014 visit to Japan, President Obama affirmed that the United States regards the
Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands as falling under the purview of Article 5 in the US-Japan Security
Treaty and promised that Washington would oppose any attempt to undermine Japan’s con-
trol of the islands.22 It is also noteworthy that Japan is one of the 12 active members of the
American-proposed TPP free trade pact that, if enacted, will further solidify US economic
connections with the Asia-Pacific.
The recent changes in US-Japan security and economic ties are transforming the strategic
environment of the entire Asia-Pacific region, particularly in the face of a more powerful
and influential China. However, the Abe administration confronts numerous difficulties
in its quest to “come out” and become a “normal country.” Japan’s imperialist past (and its
efforts to whitewash or glorify atrocities committed during the imperialist era) continues to
drive a wedge between Tokyo and its neighbors. Both China and South Korea view Abe’s
defense agenda with suspicion. Beijing and Seoul both contend that Japanese political elites
have not learned and accepted the lessons of Japan’s troubled past and that their apologies lack
sincerity. Since America’s “pivot” policy to Asia depends, to a great extent, on more coordi-
nation between Tokyo and Seoul, such a gulf of mistrust will not be conducive to their stra-
tegic interests. Moreover, domestic political considerations in Japan pose another obstacle.
While the Japanese people have felt the increasing sense of uncertainty and vulnerability in
response to China’s rising military and economic clout, it has also voiced strong opposition
against Abe’s plan to pursue a more muscular foreign policy (Smith 2016, 18–19). For ex-
ample, Japan was rocked by protests and turmoil in 2015 when the Japanese Diet passed the
Security Bills that helped to undergird the reinterpretation of Japan’s pacifist constitution.
To mollify these sentiments, Abe now claims that Japan’s exercise of its collective self-­
defense will be constitutional only when meeting three conditions: (1) when an armed at-
tack against a foreign country that is in a close relationship with Japan occurs and as a result
threatens Japan’s survival and poses a clear danger to fundamentally overturn people’s right
to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness; (2) when there is no other appropriate means avail-
able to repel the attack and ensure Japan’s survival and protect its people; and (3) if Japan lim-
its the use of force to the minimum extent necessary (Chanlett-Avery and Rinehart 2016, 4).
Although the language of these conditions appears ambiguous and seems to be crafted to
allow flexibility when different security contingencies arise, it appears that institutional and
domestic roadblocks could inhibit full implementation at least in the foreseeable future.23 In
January 2016, Abe further reassured that Japan would not take part in America’s campaign
against the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) in the Middle East.24

Summary
In sum, Japan is now at a difficult and even contradictory position in world affairs. Despite
Tokyo’s declared intent to move forward with stronger defense capabilities and closer ties
with the United States, the baggage of history continues to prevent it from making greater

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strides. Perhaps, this was best illustrated by President Obama’s visit to Hiroshima in May
2016. On the one hand, it was unprecedented for an incumbent American president to pay
tribute to the site where US warplanes dropped atomic bombs to end the Pacific War 71
years ago. Obama’s gesture may have symbolized a new chapter in US-Japan relations and
his commitment to eliminate nuclear weapons. On the other hand, the memories of the war
cannot be so easily dispelled as the president, knowing full well the feelings of other Asian
countries, reiterated that he “was not going to apologize” but merely to “pay respect to the
Japanese people” and to bolster a very important alliance in the Asia-Pacific.25

North Korea
The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) or North Korea is a small, xenophobic
and isolated nation. Often described by the international media as “the world’s last Stalinist
state,” foreign policy analysts warn that the DPRK is “the most dangerous country in the
world” (Stavridis 2016). It also holds the dubious distinction of being the world’s first and
only hereditary communist dynasty.

Historical overview
In 1910, Korea was occupied by Imperial Japan. It was liberated following Tokyo’s surrender
and the end of WWII in 1945. In keeping with wartime agreements, the Korean peninsula
was divided temporarily at the 38th parallel. International efforts to unify the country failed,
and two rival regimes were established.
In 1948, the DPRK was founded. The new state was led by Kim Il-Sung, a hard-line
Communist with close ties to Moscow. In the south, a pro-Western regime headed by Syn-
gman Rhee, a nationalist leader, was established with US support.
On June 25, 1950, the DPRK launched a massive invasion of the South. After a meeting
with Joseph Stalin and Chairman Mao Zedong, Kim Il-sung evidently reasoned that “a
weak-kneed United Nations would act either too late or not at all” (Bailey 1974, 819). But
he was wrong. A US-led UN coalition eventually halted the DPRK military advance and
pushed Kim’s troops back to his country’s border with China—a move that contributed to
Beijing’s decision to intervene in the conflict. Some feared that the battles raging in Korea
would lead to World War III.
The Korean War has never officially ended. However, after slow and difficult negotia-
tions, representations of the UN command, DPRK and China signed an armistice agree-
ment at Panmunjom on July 27, 1953. According to the terms of the pact, an international
conference would find a political solution to Korea’s division. But this has not occurred. To
date, no comprehensive peace treaty has replaced the 1953 armistice.

DPRK foreign policy

The world has changed a lot since 1953. Despite dramatic changes on the Korean peninsula
and astounding transformations in the international system, the overarching foreign policy
goals of the DPRK have remained remarkably consistent.
Like all other states, the first goal of the DPRK is regime survival. Ever since its founding
in 1948, Pyongyang has promoted a national ideology of self-reliance ( juche). But Kim Il-
Sung, the founding leader of the Kim dynasty, relied heavily upon handouts from the Soviet
bloc (the Soviet Union, China and Eastern Europe) to bolster his country’s economy during

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the Cold War. The assistance accelerated after the Sino-Soviet split in the late 1950s as Kim
skillfully played the two rivals off each other to obtain more economic support. Each of the
communist giants also signed a defense pact with the DPRK and provided it with military
assistance. It is not an exaggeration to suggest that “North Korea owes its survival as a sepa-
rate political entity to China and the Soviet Union.”26
The end of the Cold War clouded the DPRK’s security outlook and complicated its for-
eign policy. Russia terminated its security treaty and stopped propping the country up with
economic aid. China also scaled back its economic assistance. Both countries established
relations with the rival regime in Seoul during the early 1990s.
During the mid-1990s, a conjunction of several factors—including centralized planning,
excessive military spending, natural disasters and reduced foreign aid—brought the DPRK
to the brink of total starvation. The regime confronted an unprecedented threat to its sta-
bility and survival. In order to cope with the crisis, Pyongyang sought to turn one of these
“negatives” into a “positive.” Namely, excessive military spending is employed to prop up
the regime in several ways.
Beginning in the early 1960s, the DPRK openly declared its intention to “turn the entire
nation into a fortress” (Hickey 2001, 198). The lion’s share of the national budget is ear-
marked for military spending (roughly 30 percent of the GDP), and the country now boasts
one of the largest militaries in the world. The DPRK possesses nuclear weapons, over 1,000
missiles and 1.25 million active-duty troops. It has also stockpiled tons of chemical and bio-
logical weapons. It uses this military prowess—particularly its development of nuclear weap-
ons and ballistic missile systems—to blackmail other states into providing it with support:

The North Korean regime has survived for sixty years by relentlessly pursuing the de-
velopment of nuclear weapons, ballistic missiles and other forms of military power that
hold South Korea—and its other neighbors—hostage. North Korea continues to employ
its nuclear blackmail and brinksmanship strategies, including test firing of weapons and
carefully controlled attacks on South Korea, to wrest concessions from the US, South
Korea, China, and other states that are far more powerful.
(Terry 2013, 64)

The DPRK has no intention of abandoning its WMD. Pyongyang believes that the arms
provide the regime with the only credible deterrent against a US-led attack. After all, the
alliance with Moscow was terminated long ago, and Beijing’s commitment is questionable.
Indeed, in 2014, a spokesman for China’s Foreign Ministry declared that “there is no mil-
itary alliance between China and North Korea.”27 Moreover, experience shows that the
development of WMD and other provocative behavior may be used to obtain assistance—
ranging from food and energy aid to hard currency—from foreign countries. It is estimated
that South Korea’s “sunshine policy” pumped roughly US$8 billion into DPRK before the
policy was judged a failure. Furthermore, the WMD serve as a source of pride for the regime
and its people. Finally, the arms are inexorably linked to the realization of the regime’s sec-
ond foreign policy goal—the annihilation of the rival regime in South Korea.
North Korea’s second foreign policy goal is the unification of the Korean peninsula under
DPRK control. Tactics and strategies employed to achieve this objective have changed since
1948. But the general goal remains the same.
In the past, the DPRK resorted to terrorism on numerous occasions in an effort to over-
throw the ROK government. It also sought to whip up popular discontent among elements
in the South Korean population and foment a popular uprising. Viewing the United States

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as a major obstacle, it has long worked to achieve a withdrawal of American military forces
from the South. In the past, North Korean agents sought to instigate anti-American riots in
the ROK. At the present time, Pyongyang is seeking a peace treaty with Washington that
would require the withdrawal of US troops. This would enable the DPRK to achieve its
long-standing goal—reunification on its terms.

Summary
To be sure, the foreign policy behavior of the Kim dynasty—Kim Il-sung, Kim Jong-il
and Kim Jong-un—has come with some cost. Although China remains the DPRK’s chief
trading partner (and source of aid), many analysts contend that there is now a “serious es-
trangement and distance between China and North Korea despite their common ideological
origins and fraternal and geographic bonds” (Snyder 2016). Relations with the ROK, Japan,
the United States and numerous other states are effectively in a state of paralysis. At the time
of writing, the UN Security Council has imposed four sets of sanctions on Pyongyang.
Despite these problems, however, it would be a mistake to brand the DPRK’s approach to
foreign relations a failure. As one study concluded, “if foreign policy is designed to aid a re-
gime’s security, then North Korean foreign policy may be judged a success” (Terry 2013, 83).
Predictions of North Korea’s demise have proved exaggerated. The DPRK is still standing.

Republic of Korea
Over the past quarter century, the Republic of Korea (ROK or South Korea) has experi-
enced a dramatic political transformation. On the domestic front, it has made the transition
from authoritarianism to democracy. On the international front, the ROK has been em-
braced by many of its former adversaries. For example, the PRC is now the nation’s largest
trading partner. Perhaps equally significant, Seoul has pursued several new approaches to-
ward relations with its archrival—the DPRK.
These developments truly are remarkable. But they cannot alter the fact that the touch-
stone for the ROK’s foreign policy—relations with the DPRK—remains. The Korean War
has never ended, and the Korean peninsula remains one of the most dangerous places on
earth.

Historical background
For much of its history, the ROK was ruled by a series of “strongmen.” During the first
decades of the authoritarian era, primary emphasis was placed upon boosting the ROK’s
relations with the “free world.” Bolstering America’s defense commitment to the ROK was
deemed especially important, and the two sides negotiated a bilateral defense treaty in 1953.
During the administration of General Park Cheng-Hee (1960–1979), the ROK’s foreign
policy priorities grew to include the expansion of economic opportunities. As a result, South
Korea’s economy began to take off. However, security issues continued to dominate ROK
foreign policy, and the nation’s military was largely responsible for crafting the country’s
defense and foreign policies.
South Korea’s authoritarian era came to an end during the late 1980s. Under the 1987
ROK Constitution, executive power is vested in a popularly elected president who is com-
mander in chief of the armed forces and the nation’s chief foreign policy decision-maker.
When crafting policy, the president is often assisted by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the

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National Security Council, relevant economic agencies and the intelligence community.
Some important foreign policy initiatives—including a declaration of war, deployment of
troops overseas and treaty making—are subject to legislative approval.
The ROK’s foreign relations changed markedly following the nation’s democratization
and the end of the Cold War. For example, both Seoul and Pyongyang joined the UN in
1991, and the ROK and PRC established formal diplomatic relations in 1992. Perhaps most
important, the ROK began to make meaningful adjustments in its relationship with the
DPRK.

ROK foreign policy

Despite the end of the Cold War and the accompanying transformation of the international
system, the DPRK remains central to ROK foreign policy. In 1998, the government of the
ROK launched an innovative approach to relations with the DPRK—the sunshine policy.
The initiative called for Seoul to employ both “carrots” and “sticks” in its relationship with
Pyongyang.
Not everyone in South Korea approved of the change in policy. Critics described the new
approach as “appeasement” and claimed that the “provision of food, fertilizer and dollars has
led the North to expedite the development of artillery and missiles, threatening our secu-
rity.” North Korea’s continued development of its nuclear and missile programs supported
this view, and the policy was abandoned following Lee Myung-bak’s inauguration in Feb-
ruary 2008.
Lee and his successor, President Park Geun-hye (daughter of the late General Park), have
pursued an approach toward North Korea that has been described as “trustpolitik.” The
policy emphasizes elements of pressure (military exercises, sanctions, etc.) while keeping the
door open to inter-Korean dialogue and peaceful negotiation. Pyongyang has learned that
there are consequences to its misbehavior. For example, following the DPRK’s January 2016
missile launch, the ROK closed the Kaesong Industrial complex, an industrial park in the
north that employed over 50,000 North Koreans.
Since its establishment in 1948, relations with the United States—Seoul’s main ally—
have served as the cornerstone of South Korea’s foreign and security policy. In recent years,
both sides have claimed that relations are at their closest in decades. Indeed, the 2015 ROK
Diplomatic White Paper boasts that ROK-US relations are in “the best shape ever.” Several
considerations help explain this development. First, the ROK-US alliance remains strong.
The ROK is included under the US “nuclear umbrella,” and the United States stations
roughly 28,500 troops in South Korea. Second, Washington and Seoul coordinate policies
when addressing the threat posed by the DPRK. Third, the two nation’s economies are
closer than ever—in part due to the ROK-US free trade agreement (FTA). In fact, the ROK
has repeatedly emphasized its intention to join the US-led TPP.
Despite the long-standing ties between Washington and Seoul, the relationship has been
subject to strains. Over the years, the two sides have quarreled over trade policy, host nation
support (ROK contributions to US defense costs), US troop levels, crimes committed by
American servicemen and the appropriate approach toward the DPRK.
In 2015, the ROK and Japan observed the 50th anniversary of the normalization of dip-
lomatic relations. Although both states are firm allies of the United States and enjoy robust
economic links, the relationship is often strained by historical and territorial disputes. Japan
accuses the Koreans of illegally occupying Japanese territory—the Dokdo/Takeshima is-
lands. For its part, the ROK accuses Japan of whitewashing atrocities committed in WWII

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and during its occupation of Korea (which began in 1905). Although a breakthrough was
realized when Tokyo and Seoul concluded a deal to settle the issue of Korean “comfort
women” in 2015, it remains likely that the relationship will continue to be plagued by peri-
odical quarrels. Some attribute this to domestic politics in both countries.
As described, the ROK established diplomatic relations with China in 1992. Since that
time, economic ties have exploded. The ROK’s chief export destination is the PRC (US
$180 billion or roughly twice the value of exports to the United States), and its chief import
origin is the PRC (roughly US$88 billion or double its imports from the United States).
China is also the number one location for South Korean foreign direct investment, and the
two nations signed a bilateral Free Trade Agreement (FTA) in 2015. Moreover, despite US
opposition, Seoul opted to join the China-led Asian Infrastructure and Investment Bank
(AIIB) in March 2015.
Despite the remarkable progress in ROK-PRC relations, tensions remain. Although
­Beijing claims to support the “denuclearization” of the Korean peninsula, many South
­Koreans suspect that Beijing places greater emphasis on peninsular stability and opposes
regime change in the DPRK. Such calculations might help explain why Beijing appeared
to back Pyongyang after the shelling of Yeonpyeong Island in 2010 or why it continues to
forcibly repatriate North Korean refugees. In addition to these concerns about PRC support
for the DPRK, China looms large as an economic competitor. In fact, recent years have
witnessed an increasing rivalry between ROK and PRC firms.

Summary
This discussion focuses primarily on the ROK’s foreign relations with the United States and
other regional powers. A more complete discussion would include numerous other features
of the ROK’s foreign policy as well. The ROK maintains diplomatic relations with roughly
170 countries and plays an active role in dozens of international organizations ranging from
the UN to ASEAN. It has hosted numerous multilateral forums and played an increasingly
active role in the efforts to eradicate poverty and promote inclusive growth in the global
community. In short, the ROK is well on its way to achieving its declared goal to be a
“­responsible middle power that contributes to achieving global power and development.”

Conclusion
This discussion provides an overview of the foreign policies of five East Asian states—China,
Taiwan, Japan, North Korea and South Korea. It examines the background of each country’s
foreign policy and discusses their present foreign policy strategies.
At first blush, these countries appear to be a diverse lot. For example, some are rich, and
others are poor. Three are democracies, and two are ruled by authoritarian regimes. Four
are economic giants, and one is an economic basket case (North Korea). And some are allied
with the United States, while others are not.
To be sure, each state examined in this chapter is unique. But it is also clear that these
nations share two major characteristics that play a large role in their respective approaches
to foreign policy.
First, China is the major trading partner of every other country examined in this chapter.
Like Washington’s traditional approach to security partners in East Asia, Beijing is now the
center of a regional “hub and spoke” economic system. This development holds important
foreign policy implications for all of East Asia—irrespective of a country’s domestic politics

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or internal characteristics. And this development will likely become more significant in fu-
ture years—not less so.
A second important characteristic is that each state examined in this study confronts
significant foreign policy challenges. All of them are involved in a variety of long-standing
territorial disputes that hold the potential to generate conflict and undermine peace and
stability in the Western Pacific. Realizing a peaceful resolution of these quarrels represents a
continuing problem for each government.
Some contend that increased economic interdependence will pave the way for friendly
relations among states and a more peaceful region. Other analysts and policymakers disagree
with this argument.28 They caution that promoting peace and stability will represent a sig-
nificant challenge in coming years. But if the governments in the region can cooperate and
act effectively, the future could unfold in a way that will benefit the entire world.

Notes
1 “Xi Vows Peaceful Development while Not Waiving Legitimate Rights,” The Xinhua News
Agency, January 29, 2013, on the world wide web at http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/bilin-
gual/2013-01/29/c_132136438.htm.
2 The United States has not agreed to join the AIIB despite the fact that some of Washing-
ton’s key allies have already entered, such as Great Britain, Australia, France, Germany, Is-
rael and South Korea, to name just a few. Some have argued that to ensure the bank’s proper
functioning in accordance to international law, human rights, environmental protection and
liberal internationalism, the United States should join AIIB too rather than sitting out. See
Stephen Olson, “Time for the U.S. to Join the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank,” The
Diplomat, November 9, 2015, on the world wide web at http://thediplomat.com/2015/11/time-
for-the-us-to-join-the-asian-infrastructure-investment-bank/.
3 Jane Perlez, “Tribunal Rejects Beijing’s Claims in South China Sea,” The New York Times, July
12, 2016, on the world wide web at www.nytimes.com/2016/07/13/world/asia/south-china-
sea-hag ue-r uling-philippines.htm l?action=click&contentCol lection=Asia%20Pacif ic&
module=RelatedCoverage&region=EndOfArticle&pgtype=article.
4 “The South China Sea: Courting Trouble,” The Economist, July 16, 2016, on the world wide web
at www.economist.com/news/china/21702069-region-and-america-will-now-anxiously-await-
chinas-response-un-appointed-tribunal.
5 “Remarks by President Obama and President Xi Jinping in Joint Press Conference,” The
White House Office of the Secretary, September 25, 2015, on the world wide web at www.
whitehouse.gov/the-press-off ice/2015/09/25/remarks-president-obama-and-president-xi-
peoples-republic-china-joint.
6 “U.S.-China Joint Presidential Statement on Climate Change,” The White House ­Office of the
Press Secretary, March 31, 2016, on the world wide web at www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/
2016/03/31/us-china-joint-presidential-statement-climate-change.
7 Relations with the PRC are not foreign relations, but they are not domestic relations. As President
Lee Teng-hui once explained in the 1990s, “they are something else.”
8 According to the “one China principle,” there is only one China, and Taiwan is a part of China.
According to the “one China policy,” there is only one China—not two China’s or one China, one
Taiwan—and governments and IGOs must choose between the PRC and ROC.
9 Rather than suffer the humiliation of expulsion from the UN, Chiang ordered his delegation to
walk out of the global body.
10 As President Chiang explained, “in order to become more anti-communist, we will have to be-
come less anti-communist.”
11 Moreover, rather than remaining silent when the Taiwan representation issue was raised in the UN, the
American delegation began to support the PRC’s position and vote against Taipei in 1999. For a com-
plete analysis of Taipei’s bid to rejoin the UN and the US response to this initiative, see Hickey (2008).
12 Flexible diplomacy was designed to improve Taipei’s relations with Beijing while simultaneously
strengthening ties with foreign governments. An important part of it is the “diplomatic truce”

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whereby Beijing and Taipei agree to stop poaching each other’s diplomatic allies. For more infor-
mation, see “President Ma Defines ‘Flexible Diplomacy,’” China Post, November 11, 2008, on the
world wide web at www.chinapost.com.tw/print/182601.htm.
13 Under the “1992 Consensus,” both Taipei and Beijing appear to accept the principle of “one
China,” but each side holds its own interpretation of what that means.
14 During a Congressional hearing, Daniel Russel, US Assistant Secretary of State, testified that
“US-Taiwan unofficial relations have never been better.”
15 Not surprisingly, Ma Ying-jeou criticized Tsai’s position as little more than “slogans,” while Eric
Chu, KMT chairman, described it as “gobbledygook to take people in.” For more information, see
Dennis V. Hickey, “Tsai Must Clarify Cross-Straits Position,” China Daily, May 28, 2015, on the
world wide web at http://usa.chinadaily.com.cn/opinion/2015-05/28/content_20840896.htm.
16 Alan Fong, “Tsai Shows Weakness in China and Diplomatic Issues,” China Post, December 28,
2015, on the world wide web at www.chinapost.com.tw/print/454630.htm.
17 Ibid.
18 See Stacy Hsu, “Ma Blasts Tsai Over ‘Diplomatic Truce’,” Taipei Times, December 30, 2015, p. 3,
on the world wide web at www.taipeitimes.com/News/taiwan/print/2015/12/30/2003636013.
19 In her inaugural address, Tsai proclaimed support for “setting aside disputes so as to enable joint
development.”
20 Given the fact that many of her supporters oppose free trade and fear imports from abroad, Tsai’s
support for the TPP puzzles some observers.
21 The term “disaster” is defined by the NDPO to encompass “acts of terrorism and other situations.”
22 Ankit Panda, “Obama: Senkakus Covered under U.S.-Japan Security Treaty,” The Diplomat,
April 24, 2014, on the world wide web at http://thediplomat.com/2014/04/obama-senkakus-­
covered-under-us-japan-security-treaty/. While backing Tokyo’s effective administration over the
Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands since 1971, the United States has refrained from taking a stance on the
sovereignty issue, hence leaving China, Japan as well as Taiwan asserting their respective sover-
eignty claims over these island territories.
23 On July 10, 2016, Abe’s LDP and its coalition partners scored a commanding victory in Japan’s
senate (upper-house parliamentary) election, capturing two-thirds of the seats required to proceed
with the constitutional revision. Yet strong disagreements persist over whether to amend Article 9.
See Motoko Rich, “Japan Vote Strengthens Shinzo Abe’s Goal to Change Constitution,” The New
York Times, July 10, 2016, on the world wide web at www.nytimes.com/2016/07/11/world/asia/
japan-vote-parliamentary-elections.html?_r=0.
24 Vladimir Terehov, “Japan’s Foreign Policy Message of Early 2016,” New Eastern Outlook, Feb-
ruary 9, 2016, on the world wide web at http://journal-neo.org/2016/02/09/japan-s-foreign-
policy-messages-of-early-2016/.
25 Gardiner Harris, “In Obama’s Visit to Hiroshima, a Complex Calculus of Asian Politics,” The New
York Times, May 26, 2016, on the world wide web at www.nytimes.com/2016/05/26/world/asia/
obama-hiroshima-visit.html.
26 See US Library of Congress, Country Studies: North Korea, on the world wide web at http://coun-
trystudies.us/north-korea/66.htm.
27 Andrew Scobell and Mark Cozad, “The Foreign Policy Essay: China’s North Korean Challenge,”
Lawfare, March 29, 2015, on the world wide web at www.lawfareblog.com/foreign-policy-essay-
chinas-north-korean-challenge.
28 See Jane Perlez, “Japan’s Leader Compares Strains with China to Germany and Britain in 1914,” New
York Times, January 23, 2014, on the world wide web at www.nytimes.com/2014/01/24/world/
asia/japans-leader- compares-strain-with-china-to-germany-and-britain-in-1914.html?_r=0.

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 7
Southeast Asia
Unity in ASEAN

Shane J. Barter and Amanda Boralessa

Southeast Asia stands out as perhaps the most diverse region in the world. It is home to a
range of political systems (communism; absolute monarchy; democracy; soft authoritari-
anism; and, until recently, a military junta), levels of development (from least-developed
countries to oil-rich Brunei and investment-rich Singapore), world religions (Mahayana and
Theravada Buddhism, Islam, Catholicism, and various other faiths), and scale (in terms of
geographical size and population). Given these and other forms of diversity, it stands to
reason that foreign relations in Southeast Asia would be marked by fragmentation. Though
not entirely uniform, Southeast Asia, in fact, demonstrates a surprisingly cohesive regional
approach to foreign relations, a harmony owed largely to common worldviews that have
gestated through the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN).
This chapter traces the evolution of foreign policy thinking and practice among the
countries of Southeast Asia.1 It begins with a historical overview, leading to the creation of
ASEAN. Throughout its evolution, ASEAN has helped put Southeast Asian countries on
the same page, especially in terms of economic relations and security affairs. That said, sig-
nificant tensions remain within ASEAN, as do distinctive foreign policies. Overall, ASEAN
countries are increasingly united, amplifying Southeast Asian voices beyond what individual
countries could achieve.

Foreign relations in historical perspective

Southeast Asia’s stunning diversity is intimately tied to historical foreign relations, as the
region is situated between two of the world’s great civilizations. Southeast Asia is south of
China and east of India, providing a meeting place for their peoples, economies, and world-
views. From China, Southeast Asia gained trade as well as models for statecraft through the
Chinese tributary system. From India, Southeast Asia also gained trade as well as cultural
influences, namely religions, such as Hinduism; Buddhism; and, later, Islam, which spread
from the subcontinent to maritime Southeast Asia. While reality was not nearly so neat, as
Chinese Buddhists and Indian princes also played important roles, Chinese political econ-
omy and Indian culture made lasting impressions on the peoples of Southeast Asia. That
said, Southeast Asian communities were always actors in their own right, able to strategically

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adapt foreign influences to local circumstances and tastes. For Anthony Reid (1988: 6), “The
fact that Chinese and Indian influences came to most of the region by maritime trade, not by
conquest or colonization, appeared to ensure that Southeast Asia retained its distinctiveness
even while borrowing numerous elements from these larger centres”. Although early foreign
relations were significant, they were always outweighed by relations among the peoples of
Southeast Asia, whose intra-regional commerce tied diverse kingdoms together.
Within Southeast Asia, one finds distinctive approaches to early foreign relations. It is
useful to distinguish between mainland and maritime polities. Mainland Southeast Asia
was home to large Buddhist kingdoms based on wet rice agriculture. These kingdoms were
involved in local wars for manpower and paid tribute to China, with some kingdoms emu-
lating Chinese models of bureaucratic politics. Meanwhile, maritime Southeast Asia looked
very different. Less populous and home to several small kingdoms, the archipelago was
immersed in global trade networks. International relations in each subregion, though, can
be understood in terms of a Mandala, a Buddhist visualization of power in which stronger
actors attract weaker ones within their orbits (Wolters 1999). When the reach of larger
powers waned, smaller kingdoms either broke away on their own or shifted to pay tribute
to other powers.
Lucrative trade in maritime Southeast Asia, namely for spices grown in what is now
­eastern Indonesia, attracted early European influences to the region. In 1511, the Portuguese
invaded Malacca, a trading hub strategically located in the Straits between Sumatra and the
Malay Peninsula. Spain soon arrived from the Pacific to the Philippines, where Manila would
serve as a Galleon port for the silver trade with China. Dutch and British traders would later
establish control over various Malay ports, pushing out Portuguese communities. In the
mid- to late 19th century, Dutch and British colonizers established more direct control,
moving inland to actually produce and extract resources instead of simply controlling trade.
It was at this time that the larger kingdoms of mainland Southeast Asia began experiencing
colonial rule, as they had been more difficult to control and offered fewer benefits in terms
of trade. However, the growing intensity of colonial competition as well as hope for a back
door into China led Britain to colonize Burma and France to colonize Vietnam, Cambodia,
and Laos. Only Siam/Thailand remained independent of European control, although the
kingdom was deeply influenced by colonial advisors.
European colonialism represented a break from traditional foreign relations in Southeast
Asia. Colonizers worked to limit contact among the peoples of Southeast Asia, sever their
relations with India and China, and construct export-based resource economies tied to
­Europe. Instead of being part of a regional system, colonies were cut off from their neighbours
and tied to their distant colonizers, further fragmenting the already diverse region. This
began to change with the rise of Japan, whose victories over Russia and ability to catch up
to Western powers inspired many Southeast Asian nationalist movements. As Japan came
to occupy much of Southeast Asia by 1942, this admiration turned into outrage over new
abuses, with these Asian colonizers demanding free labour, food, and women. That said,
Japanese expansion dislodged European control and enabled new ties among Southeast Asian
independence movements.
The end of colonialism after the Second World War brought an opportunity for South-
east Asian countries to reconnect to one another and to the world, and to promote regional
development. Such expectations were tempered by the instability of the independence era.
Newly independent Southeast Asian countries tended to be led by charismatic nationalists,
men who ruled over unstable economic and political systems. There were several early ef-
forts to create unity among postcolonial countries. In 1955, Indonesia hosted the Bandung

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Conference in which Indonesian, Burmese, and South Asian leaders staked a mutually sup-
portive, independent position in the Cold War (Wright 1956). Burma’s U Nu, Indonesia’s
Sukarno, and Cambodia’s Sihanouk would emerge as vocal spokesmen for developing na-
tions, and the Conference would later evolve into the Non-Aligned Movement.
Postcolonial cooperation failed in light of challenges associated with independence and
the Cold War. First, while leaders might have expected rapid development in the aftermath
of colonialism, the reality was that each country faced significant challenges. Southeast Asian
countries were forced to confront the devastation of the Japanese and independence wars and
faced several domestic insurgencies, all the while realigning their economies from colonial
exports to something else. Domestic instability was reinforced by, and reinforced, regional
instability. National borders were constructed by colonial powers, and with independence, it
was not clear how Southeast Asian leaders would treat their inherited boundaries. The 1950s
saw various territorial disputes, with leaders sponsoring insurgents in neighbouring countries
in an effort to destabilize them. Thailand still claimed parts of Malaysia and Laos, while the
Philippines claimed Sabah in Malaysia. The greatest challenge came from the region’s largest
country, Indonesia, where President Sukarno sought to deflect attention from domestic prob-
lems by attacking regional enemies. Sukarno’s ‘Crush Malaysia’ campaign framed Malaysia,
Singapore, and Brunei as colonial creations, lands that the President felt should become part
of Indonesia. In the early 1960s, Sukarno sponsored armed forays into Malaysia and Brunei,
causing regional instability. By 1965, Malaysia’s ethnic tensions led Kuala Lumpur to kick
Singapore out of the country, making the latter a particularly vulnerable city-state.
Perhaps the greatest foreign relations challenge faced by Southeast Asian countries was
the Cold War, in which countries were pushed and pulled into distinct camps. All Southeast
Asian countries faced communist insurgencies, with state and rebel forces supported by the
West, the Soviet Union, or China. At the end of the First Indochina War (1946–54), the
United States created the Southeast Asian Treaty Organization (SEATO). C ­ omprised of
the Philippines, Thailand, Pakistan, the United States, Australia, New Zealand, and colo-
nial Britain and France, SEATO was an effort to develop an Asian North Atlantic Treaty
Organization (NATO); however, the grouping lacked cohesion, and SEATO lacked a
dedicated military command. It included only two Southeast Asian countries and clearly
­reflected American interests. Meanwhile, communist forces were growing in Vietnam, Laos,
­Cambodia, and Indonesia as the Cold War served to divide Southeast Asian countries into
antagonistic camps. By the early 1960s, Southeast Asia was deeply divided, with little coop-
eration and considerable threat of regional war.

The Association of Southeast Asian Nations

ASEAN was born in the aftermath of the fall of Sukarno in 1965 and the rise of General
Suharto in Indonesia. Sukarno’s adventurism had long destabilized the region, eschewing
peaceful foreign relations by vowing to destroy Indonesia’s neighbours. By 1964, the precar-
ious balance of military and communist forces began tipping towards the latter, while the
Indonesian economy continued to spiral downwards. As Suharto came to power amidst the
slaughter of Indonesian leftists, he sought to reassure neighbours that the regional giant had
benign interests. ASEAN was formed in 1967 by Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, the Philip-
pines, and Indonesia. In some ways, it was a new version of the now-defunct SEATO, except
that Malaysia and Singapore were now independent of Britain and Indonesia’s coup had
brought it into the capitalist camp. All five original ASEAN members were anti-­communist
and promoted capitalist development in partnership with Western countries. That said,

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ASEAN was very different from SEATO. It was a more authentic regional voice, with far
less American influence and no members outside of Southeast Asia. From its inception, its
goals were also more focussed on the region. While ASEAN countries were allies against
communism, their goals were more based on improving relations among member states than
with confronting non-members.
ASEAN initially lacked much institutional strength, limited to a series of meetings among
member states. The meetings had two primary goals. First, ASEAN countries promoted
non-interference in other members’ internal politics. Until this point, the five countries
were deeply involved in the internal affairs of other Southeast Asian countries. As discussed,
Indonesia threatened Malaysia, but Malaysia also supported insurgents in Thailand and the
Philippines, Thailand supported insurgents in Malaysia, and Singapore and Malaysia were
still recovering from their recent separation. Within its first decade, ASEAN helped to di-
minish such tensions as each country pledged to respect the sovereignty of other members
and not to interfere in their domestic politics. Second, ASEAN promoted economic devel-
opment. While ASEAN countries did not carry out much regional trade, especially since
many produced similar raw materials for export, leaders pledged economic cooperation.
Non-interference also enabled leaders to focus on economic growth as political instability
declined. The twin goals of political non-interference and economic growth later became
known as part of ‘the ASEAN Way’, a norm that Amitav Acharya (2014: 63) characterizes as
“a process of regional interactions and cooperation based on discreteness, informality, con-
sensus building and non-confrontational bargaining styles”, a supposedly Asian style that is
often contrasted to more adversarial Western approaches (see also Stubbs 2008).
Despite efforts to expand its scope, ASEAN development was blocked by the Cold War.
ASEAN held its first Summit in 1976, at which leaders signed the Treaty of Amity and
Cooperation, pledging to resolve problems peacefully. In 1977, the second annual Summit
brought Japan to the table in the hope of establishing lasting relations with ASEAN c­ ountries.
Meanwhile, communist Vietnam began making peace overtures to ASEAN members
in an effort to balance Chinese pressure. Relations soured in 1978, when Vietnam invaded
Cambodia, ostensibly to put a stop to the murderous communist Khmer Rouge regime.
The invasion served as a wedge between ASEAN and the region’s communist countries,
especially as Thailand feared continued Vietnamese expansion, and the region was under-
going rapprochement with China. Although ASEAN expanded for the first time in 1984,
welcoming newly independent Brunei, the 1980s generally saw limited development of the
Association, which did not even schedule another Summit until 1987.
The end of the Cold War, marked regionally by Vietnam’s withdrawal from Cambodia,
finally allowed ASEAN to expand its reach and deepen its institutions. In the early 1990s, its
members began reducing tariffs and liberalizing regional trade, leading to the ASEAN Free
Trade Area (AFTA) being signed in 1992. Since this time, AFTA has expanded in numerous
steps, leading to a reduction in tariffs and non-tariff trade barriers. The 1990s also saw the
creation of the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), a multilateral forum that brings together
the Foreign Ministers of ASEAN and other regional powers. ARF currently includes the East
Asian countries of Mongolia, China, South Korea, and Japan; the South Asian countries of
Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka; the Pacific countries of Australia, New ­Zealand,
and Papua New Guinea; and Russia, Canada, the United States, and the European Union
(EU). This expansive grouping is intended to allow dialogue on sensitive security issues, for
instance, providing a venue to discuss North Korea or perhaps the South China Sea.
The 1990s were a decade of ASEAN expansion, as Southeast Asia’s remaining non-
ASEAN states began working towards membership. The collapse of the Soviet Union

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accelerated changes in Vietnam, which ended its occupation of Cambodia. This paved
the way for Vietnam to join ASEAN in 1995, with accession soon following for Laos and
Myanmar in 1997. In 1999, after years of political turmoil, Cambodia finally joined as well.
Its membership made the organization coterminous with the geographic region, as all ten
Southeast Asian countries were now part of ASEAN.2
Just as events in 1978–79 slowed ASEAN’s expansion, the 1997 Asian Economic Crisis
slowed the momentum that had developed throughout the 1990s. The Crisis effectively
crippled Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia, leading to the fall of the latter’s authoritarian
New Order and of President Suharto, one of ASEAN’s founding fathers. With numer-
ous conflicts unfolding across Indonesia and economic uncertainty throughout the region,
ASEAN integration halted. During this time, the ASEAN Way took on a new importance as
a non-­conflictual style and informal meetings allowed countries to focus on domestic affairs
without much regard for regional pressures.
ASEAN’s growth got back on track in 2000. It was in this year that the Chiang Mai Initia-
tive (CMI) was signed. The CMI represented a multilateral currency swap among Southeast
and East Asian countries, an effort to provide a regional response to future economic crises.
The 2000s saw an array of other changes for ASEAN as the region finally came to speak
with one voice in world affairs. With expansion complete within Southeast Asia, ASEAN
was now able to reach out to other regions, especially East Asia. ASEAN had begun meetings
with China, South Korea, and Japan a few years prior. After the CMI, these countries agreed
to develop ASEAN plus Three (APT) as an organization of its own. East Asian countries
have long lacked a sense of cooperation or means of communication. In fact, East Asia is the
only world region lacking a supranational organization of its own. With ASEAN serving as
host, East Asia finally discovered an agreeable form of regional multilateralism. ASEAN also
reached out further, across the Pacific, with the creation of the East Asian Summit (EAS) in
2005. Promoted by Malaysia, the EAS would include APT as well as India, Australia, New
Zealand, the United States, and Russia. By speaking with one voice, ASEAN has allowed its
members to take on an importance beyond what each country could do alone, enabling the
Association to play a leading role in world affairs.
As ASEAN came to function as a single actor on a world stage, its deepening role within
Southeast Asia continued, although for some, it continued to disappoint. In 2003, ASEAN
deployed its first peacekeeping operation when Thai and Malaysian troops were requested
by Indonesian forces to monitor a ceasefire in the restive province of Aceh. In 2007, ASEAN
countries signed the ASEAN Charter, affirming the principles of non-interference and eco-
nomic cooperation. Although the Charter was launched to help ASEAN move towards a
deeper union, it notably lacked democratic language or suggestions for domestic reforms
among member countries. It was followed in 2012 by the ASEAN Human Rights Decla-
ration, a surprising development in a region known for its reticence regarding the concept
of rights. ASEAN leaders have long spoken of being ‘caring societies’ but have rejected the
language of human rights, which may rub against the principle of non-interference. Schol-
ars have explained the contradictory nature of human rights proclamations in the region as
part of ASEAN’s need for legitimacy in the eyes of Western countries (Poole 2015). Other
achievements by ASEAN include liberalizing the flow of skilled labour, connecting ASEAN
stock exchanges, and creating the single aviation market. Another major change occurred in
2008 when Thailand’s Surin Pitsuwan became the Secretary General of ASEAN, bringing
a more active, vocal style to the post. Pitsuwan even spoke in terms of human security and
human rights, seeking to give teeth to the ASEAN Charter. The outcome has been mixed,
with ASEAN seemingly lacking common visions, but the organization expands nonetheless.

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ASEAN: a paper tiger?

Academics have long debated the significance of ASEAN, which has been seen as falling well
short of its lofty ideals but also as a testament to regional unity and a model for other devel-
oping regions. It is difficult to assess its strength. Significant ink has been spilled debating
its implications among neorealists, neoliberals, and constructivists. If ASEAN is compared
to the EU, or even held to the high standards of its own rhetoric, what we see can be dis-
appointing. Critics (and members) note that ASEAN is primarily about golf, durian, and
karaoke, and has not done much to resolve some pressing issues. David Jones and Michael
Smith (2007: 149) have challenged regional diplomats and “academic enthusiasts” who “seek
to embellish” ASEAN’s achievements. Although ASEAN has made important steps in terms
of regional economic integration, it remains true that its countries still do not trade much
with one another. As ASEAN’s advances are primarily economic, its security functions have
generated particularly strong criticisms. ARF is often seen as ‘the dog that does not bark’,
failing to tackle major security issues and thus falling far short of its potential. It is true that
ASEAN has more catered receptions than it has clear policy outcomes.
On the other hand, given the tremendous diversity of Southeast Asia, including the
underdevelopment and political turmoil of many of its member states, compared to the
developed, largely Christian, and democratic countries of the EU, ASEAN appears more
impressive. Defending against critics, former ASEAN Secretary General Rodolfo Severino
(2006: 190) suggests that “Media commentators often dismiss the ARF as a ‘talk shop.’ How-
ever, I see nothing wrong with ‘talk shops’; indeed, they are extremely useful in dealing with
sensitive regional-security issues”. Despite its many challenges, ASEAN represents “one of
the most enduring inter-governmental organizations outside Europe” (Beeson 2014: 204). It
is in many ways a model of south-south relations, outstripping the African Union, Mercosur,
the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC), and other regional bodies
in terms of its cohesion and autonomy from Western pressures.
In contrast to the numerous threats of interstate war among Southeast Asian countries
in the 1960s and 1970s, today, the region enjoys a much deeper sense of peace. Acharya
(2014: 6) suggests that through ASEAN, Southeast Asia has achieved a regional order that
can increasingly be understood in terms of a security community in which member states no
longer consider the option of war with one another. Despite the serious security challenges
discussed below, ASEAN has led not only to the reduction of insurgent activity but also to
increasing military cooperation among ASEAN countries. Leaders have long used ASEAN
meetings to exchange intelligence, and by the late 1970s, began conducting joint military
training exercises. Although army cooperation has been more limited, naval and air force
interactions have been common, being promoted first by Indonesia and increasingly em-
braced by Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines. Singapore operates training
facilities in Indonesia and Thailand, as well as other long-term installations in Brunei and
the Philippines (Acharya 1991: 167). Following the 2002 Bali Bombings, ASEAN countries
established joint antiterrorism exercises against regional threats such as Jemaah Islamiyah.
For many years, Malaysia has served as a third-party monitor for conflicts between the
­Philippines and its Muslim minorities in Mindanao. Southeast Asian states can hardly be said
to possess integrated regional armed forces, but ASEAN has nevertheless helped bring new
levels of security cooperation. Not yet a security community, ASEAN has provided, at a
minimum, a vehicle for collective, cooperative security among individual countries.
By coming together through ASEAN, member countries have been able to amplify their
voices beyond what they could achieve alone. For the purposes of this chapter, it is important

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to note that ASEAN increasingly acts as a single entity on the world stage, harmonizing the
foreign affairs of its members. Economically, negotiating as a bloc has brought rewards for
its members. Acharya (2014: 142) observes that ASEAN has “used collective bargaining to
secure better market access for ASEAN products”, voting collectively in trade talks. Politi-
cally, ASEAN speaks as a single entity in talks with China, the EU, and other powers. One
indicator of ASEAN’s corporate identity is that countries appoint ambassadors to ASEAN,
demonstrating its status as more than just an organization. The United States appointed an
ASEAN Ambassador in 2008, providing the Association a new level of diplomatic recogni-
tion beyond the sum of its parts. ASEAN has grand plans for further development internally
and externally, and while it will likely be slow to realize these aspirations, we should expect
that it will continue to play an important role on the world stage.
The centrality of ASEAN within and beyond the region is evident in terms of ongoing
progress towards Free Trade Agreements. After years of slow progress, AFTA has, as of early
2016, nearly eliminated all tariffs and duties on intra-regional trade. Externally, ASEAN has
negotiated various Free Trade Agreements with China, South Korea, Japan, Australia, New
Zealand, and India. Many such agreements were enacted before Cambodia, Myanmar, Laos,
and Vietnam were even members of the World Trade Organization, as ASEAN has pushed
its members towards international trade. In these agreements, ASEAN largely negotiates as
a single actor. For example, the ASEAN-India Free Trade Area, signed in 2003 with the
final agreement reached in 2009, begins by listing the agreement as one between India and
the individual countries of Southeast Asia, which are mostly referred to as ASEAN for the
remainder of the document. This demonstrates that ASEAN is not entirely a cohesive actor
as its member states still move at different speeds, but that it negotiates as an Association.

Diverse foreign relations

In many ways, to understand ASEAN is to understand foreign relations in Southeast Asia.
The Association’s internal and external policies represent, to an increasing degree, the in-
ternational face of Southeast Asian countries. That said, ASEAN does not represent the
totality of foreign relations in Southeast Asia. In fact, considerable academic attention to
ASEAN may obscure the complexity of regional affairs. While the previous sections made a
case for ASEAN as the vehicle for Southeast Asian foreign relations, this section provides a
reminder that the region’s foreign relations remain varied, driven by the interests of distinct
states. While this may seem to affirm a neorealist perspective, with state interests sometimes
trumping cooperation, pointing out areas of divergence should not be seen as dismissing
ASEAN’s impressive development. Discussing ways in which the foreign policies of S­ outheast
Asian states have not been subsumed by ASEAN can be approached in two ways: looking
at ­d ivergent policies and tensions within Southeast Asia and looking at divergent foreign
policies with the rest of the world.

Intra-Southeast Asian foreign relations

Despite cooperation through ASEAN, Southeast Asian countries continue to maintain
­intra-regional relationships outside of, and indeed opposed to, the ASEAN community.
One early example was the 1980 Kuantan Principle, in which Indonesia and Malaysia ex-
pressed support for Vietnam against China against the wishes of Singapore, the Philippines,
and especially Thailand. This provides a rare case of multilateralism within Southeast Asia
beyond the confines of ASEAN. From this time, Malaysia and Indonesia sought to engage

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Vietnam and Laos, while Thailand continued to veto ASEAN talks with the communist
countries. There are also multilateral forums below ASEAN, such as various Mekong River
partnerships (China, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam) and Economic Growth Triangles
(­Indonesia-Malaysia-Singapore, Indonesia-Malaysia-Thailand). Singapore, Malaysia, and
Indonesia are often understood as a micro-region known as ASEAN Kecil (mini-ASEAN) as
they have much closer cooperation than newer members.
There are also several examples of sustained, sometimes open tensions within Southeast
Asia, despite the principle of non-interference enshrined in the ASEAN Way. From 1996
and in intermittent years since, leaders (and publics) in Malaysia and Singapore have been
critical of Indonesia for the chronic haze caused by forest fires and destructive logging in
Sumatra and Kalimantan. As James Cotton has noted (1999: 331), “conventional ASEAN
modalities have proved a severe disappointment…[Indonesia] has been unwilling or unable
to put the interest of the neighbourhood ahead of its closest associates”. The 2015 Haze was
especially bad, leading to tens of thousands of respiratory infections and cancelled events
in Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei. Similarly, ASEAN has refused to comment, let alone
act, on crackdowns in Myanmar and coups in Thailand, despite concerns from member
countries and the world. In a WikiLeaks cable (2007), Singapore’s elder statesman Lee Kuan
Yew suggested that it was a mistake to admit into ASEAN Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and
Vietnam, whose ineptitude has slowed regional development. Lee applauded Vietnam as a
quick learner but saw Laos as “an outpost for China” and described Myanmar’s generals as
“stupid”. These comments demonstrate ongoing political tensions within the region, espe-
cially between more developed economies and ASEAN’s laggards.
It was noted above that ASEAN has helped Southeast Asian countries overcome festering
regional security issues. Leaders in Singapore and Malaysia have suggested that regional con-
flicts had been overcome, or at least muted, by ASEAN (Acharya 2014: 128). While ASEAN
has helped to reduce open military conflicts, this does not mean that Southeast Asia is peace-
ful. Singapore and Malaysia continue to clash over water resources. Indonesia and Malaysia
maintain an ongoing rivalry, with Malaysian treatment of Indonesian workers and perceived
appropriation of Indonesian culture sparking diplomatic rows and violent protests. Similarly,
the mistreatment of Filipino workers in Singapore provides occasional conflicts between the
two charter ASEAN members.
Perhaps the largest area of tensions is territorial disputes. Not all such disputes continue
to fester—Malaysia has respected a 2008 International Court of Justice ruling in favour
of Singapore’s claim to Pedra Branca Island—but in general, regional unity has not led to
peaceful resolutions of territorial disputes. The Philippines is part of an ongoing dispute
with Malaysia over Sabah. This was a focal point during the formation of Malaysia in 1962,
returning to prominence in the early 2000s. In 2002, the International Court of Justice
ruled in Malaysia’s favour; however, the claim continues to be proclaimed by Philippine
nationalists (despite the refusal to recognize the historical Sulu Sultanate upon which the
claim to Sabah is based). In 2013, a militia from Sulu landed in North Borneo and took part
in an armed standoff with Malaysian soldiers that resulted in fifty-six dead militants, six dead
civilians, and ten dead Malaysian soldiers. Yet another intra-ASEAN clash is the ongoing
dispute between Thailand and Cambodia. While Thailand is also involved in perennial ten-
sions with neighbouring Myanmar, its single largest issue involves the disputed Preah Vihear
Temple. Despite a 1962 International Court of Justice ruling in favour of Cambodia’s claim,
post-Thaksin upheaval in Thailand has brought increased tension over the temple. After
clashes in 2008 left three dead and nine wounded and a 2009 skirmish that left at least five
dead, a 2011 battle resulted in several casualties as well as the displacement of some 15,000

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persons. As Cambodia requested ASEAN mediation, the Association has instead worked
to limit UN involvement and keep the conflict bilateral. Strangely, Singaporean leaders
criticized Cambodia’s appeal to ASEAN’s Security Council for harming ASEAN’s global
standing. It was only after the 2011 clashes that ASEAN, under Indonesian leadership, even
agreed to discuss the crisis, against Thai protests (ICG 2011).
Despite ASEAN efforts to produce common, harmonious foreign policies within South-
east Asia, countries continue to press their national interests against fellow Association
members. The countries of Southeast Asia are home to varied approaches to human rights,
democracy, trade, press freedom, and ethnic identity. While greatly diminishing tensions and
the threat of war, ASEAN has failed to resolve some important flashpoints, lending credence
to the Association’s critics. These examples should not suggest that ASEAN’s achievements
are not considerable; however, they should urge caution for those celebrating ASEAN unity.

External foreign relations outside of ASEAN

That ASEAN is able to take part in world affairs as an actor, instead of a collection of di-
verse sovereign states, is remarkable. However, many ASEAN members continue to main-
tain distinctive foreign policies beyond the region. Malaysia, Singapore, and the Philippines
maintain ties to their former colonizers, while Myanmar and Cambodia are close to China,
Malaysia and Brunei are tied to the Islamic world, and Singapore and Vietnam work with
Israel on security matters. ASEAN countries are especially divided in their relations with the
United States. During the 2003 invasion of Iraq, Malaysia and Indonesia criticized American
action, while the Philippines, Thailand, and Singapore supported their ally. Malaysia has
been an especially vocal critic of the United States. From the late 1990s until his resignation
in 2003, Prime Minister Mahathir fancied himself as a leader of the Muslim world, criti-
cizing supposed Zionist plots. Rooted in divergent policy responses to the 1997 Economic
Crisis, and perhaps Al Gore’s support for Malaysian opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim, ­Mahathir
was an outspoken opponent of US policy in the Middle East and of Western neoliberal
policies. Although Malaysia and the United States are closer than Mahathir’s rhetoric would
suggest, as the two countries cooperate in joint counterterrorism measures, Malaysia remains
a vocal challenger to the United States in Asia. Malaysia has worked to move ASEAN closer
to China and has promoted the EAS in part to balance the American-influenced Asia-Pacific
Economic Community (APEC). The United States has strong bilateral allies in Southeast
Asia, namely the Philippines and Thailand, and is sometimes accused of undermining South-
east Asian unity.
ASEAN countries also differ in the extent to which they embrace the principles of free
trade. In talks with the EU, ASEAN countries were unable to establish a common position,
leading to a separate Singapore-EU agreement, followed by separate agreements between
the EU and Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam. This has been somewhat of a trend, with
Singapore promoting bilateral FTAs with a great range of countries, sometimes followed by
Thailand and Brunei, with poorer countries, such as Laos, Cambodia, and Myanmar stay-
ing behind. As producers of raw materials and light manufacturing, most Southeast Asian
countries are essentially competitors on the world market, with the exception of Singapore,
whose highly globalized economy is based on financial services, shipping, refining the re-
sources of neighbouring countries, and other services. This is shown in Singapore’s pio-
neering efforts to create the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), an agreement that began with
Singapore and New Zealand, and evolved further with Brunei and Chile. TPP negotiations
have not involved ASEAN, but instead Singapore, Brunei, and later signatories Malaysia

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and Vietnam. Other ASEAN members have expressed interest in joining, but this would
demand a massive reduction in protectionist policies. In many ways, the TPP eclipses AFTA,
showing it up in terms of its extensiveness as well as the nascent Regional Comprehensive
Economic Partnership (RCEP), a prospective regional FTA driven by ASEAN that includes
China but excludes the United States. The TPP shows that the globalism of some countries
has outpaced that of others, and Singapore seems unwilling to wait for its ASEAN neigh-
bours to catch up.

Internal and external divisions: the South China Sea

The failure of ASEAN to develop a common position in global affairs as well as its ongoing
internal divisions is exemplified by ongoing disputes over the South China Sea. The People’s
Republic of China has made bold territorial claims in the South China Sea, with Chinese
maps based on the ‘Nine-Dash Line’, or ‘Cow’s Tongue’, dipping into Southeast Asia. Since
the 1980s, the Chinese Navy has framed the South China Sea as ‘lost territories’, part of
China’s humiliation during the colonial era, despite the fact that Imperial China was hardly a
maritime power. In 1992, China passed a law claiming much of the South China Sea and as-
serting its right to evict foreign vessels. Since this time, China has taken to constructing for-
tifications on small islets and to expanding their landmasses. Of particular importance have
been Chinese construction and troop placements on Mischief Reef, located 250 km from
the Philippines and some 1100 km from China. ASEAN has been divided in its response.
Cambodia has stood as a staunch Chinese ally, along with Thailand, Myanmar, and Laos.
Meanwhile, the ASEAN countries most affected by these claims, the Philippines, Vietnam,
and Malaysia, have opposed Chinese territorial claims. Vietnam and the Philippines have
been the most vocal claimants, with the former’s interests in the Parcel Islands and the lat-
ter’s in the Scarborough Shoal and Spratly Islands. The Philippines actively encourages a US
naval presence in the region to balance China, and Vietnam apparently agrees. Meanwhile,
Malaysia seems torn between its general anti-US and pro-China political stance, and its
particular claims to the Spratly Islands. Malaysia has stated that the United States should not
be involved in this Asian dispute, thus “echoing the Chinese position”, but also maintains
its own claims against China (Buszynski 2003: 352). It should also be noted that ASEAN
countries have their own internal clashes, with the Philippines often accusing Malaysia of
working with China.
By 2000, China seemed to rethink its confrontational approach to ASEAN on this is-
sue, leading to a 2002 Declaration of Conduct on the South China Sea between China
and ASEAN. The Declaration signified the end of China’s insistence on bilateralism, and
its increasing acceptance of ASEAN as an actor. That said, it had little lasting effect on the
ongoing dispute and did not lead to any sort of permanent agreement. At worst, the Code
allowed China to appear open to multilateralism while really buying time as ASEAN has
failed to follow up. This is largely due to the fact that ASEAN has demonstrated little inter-
nal cohesion on this issue. For Emmers (2014: 62), Southeast Asian claimants “do not want
to discuss their respective sovereignty claims… under the auspices of their regional body”.
ASEAN has sought only to prevent open conflict and to maintain neutrality on the issue. In
2012, an incident between China and the Philippines was not discussed at ASEAN meetings,
with acting ASEAN Chair Cambodia blocking efforts to put the dispute on the agenda. For
the first time, an annual ASEAN Ministerial Meeting failed to produce a joint statement,
signifying real intra-ASEAN divisions. In response, the Philippines filed a unilateral claim
with the United Nations, and the Philippines and Vietnam have looked to the United States

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to help balance China. Despite later Indonesian efforts to involve ASEAN, the South China
Sea dispute has demonstrated a lack of unity within ASEAN and the Association’s inability
to overcome major regional problems.

Conclusions: looking forward

This chapter has suggested that the Association of Southeast Asian Nations has developed
common foreign policy positions among Southeast Asian countries. A region with such
diverse political regimes, faiths, levels of development, size, and more should not see much
cohesion, and yet it does. Southeast Asian foreign policy coordination is in large part a
product of ASEAN, which continues to surprise many observers through its continued de-
velopment. Southeast Asia has less tension than regions such as South Asia, the Middle East,
and sub-Saharan Africa. And ASEAN has developed stronger institutional cooperation than
other developing regions, Latin America, or even North America, trailing only Europe in
its regional integration. ASEAN has amplified and harmonized the voices of Southeast Asian
countries in world affairs. It has strengthened relations within the region as well as made
Southeast Asia an important voice in world affairs. That said, we should not exaggerate ASEAN’s
achievements as the countries of the region retain distinctive foreign relations in the region
and beyond, and sustain some bilateral tensions. Following Don Emmerson (2007: 426),
“Southeast Asia the region and ASEAN the organization are not the same thing”, and no-
where is this clearer than in the realm of foreign relations.
Looking forward, we should not expect ASEAN to collapse due to intra-regional dis-
putes, nor should we expect a EU-type common market or parliament any time soon. In-
stead, we will likely see many small steps forward, with occasional steps back, as in 1979
and 1997. ASEAN is likely to see continued security cooperation, more political meetings,
and deeper economic relations. Although the foreign relations of Southeast Asian countries
cannot be understood solely in terms of ASEAN, as years go by, we should expect continued
integration.

Notes
1 Southeast Asia refers to the following ten countries: Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia,
­Vietnam, Malaysia, Singapore, Brunei, Indonesia, and the Philippines.
2 Fittingly, the two countries at the edges of the region, East Timor and Papua New Guinea, are also
observers in ASEAN.

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 8
The international r­ elations
of South Asia
Arndt Michael

Introduction: South Asia today

South Asia, home to 1.6 billion people, is a geographic reality but not a political one. On
the contrary, among the eight states that make up the region,1 there are profound ideational
cleavages and irreconcilable perspectives regarding internal and external security, regional
cooperation, and geostrategic objectives. The situation is compounded by diverging levels of
economic strength and military capabilities. Above all, South Asia is characterized by dis-
similar national approaches regarding the organization of complex, often multifaceted states
that possess a bewildering array of religious, ethnic, linguistic, and cultural identities, with
adverse consequences for the way in which foreign policy is formulated and implemented. In
addition, there are lasting negative legacies of British colonial rule; of the events surrounding
the 1947 partition of British India; and a protracted cycle of mutual conflict and suspicion,
especially between India and Pakistan.
Although South Asian governments have embraced democracy, they are characterized by
family rule (India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh), authoritarian rule and/or military domina-
tion (Pakistan, Bangladesh, and the Maldives), and political instability (Bangladesh, Nepal,
­Pakistan, and Sri Lanka) or are close to being failed states only surviving due to massive
financial and military outside backing (Afghanistan) (Freedom House 2015). Cross-border
terrorism; drug and human trafficking; poor governance; corruption; weak democratic ac-
countability; extreme poverty; inequality; suppressed minority rights; ethnic separatism;
sectarianism; and the existence of two hostile, nuclear-armed powers complete the bleak
picture of a complex and fragile region.
India, the geographic and economic hegemon of the region, shares land and maritime
boundaries with eight countries: Bangladesh, Bhutan, China, the Maldives, Myanmar,
­Nepal, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka. India shares historical, religious, ethnic, or linguistic ties
with all of these nations and has strong bilateral economic links with all South Asian coun-
tries except Pakistan. As a result, the region of South Asia is clearly Indo-centric. Yet, in spite
of vital cultural ties and traditional trade linkages among all nations, South Asia is still the
least economically integrated region in the world (World Bank 2014) as South Asian states
generally do not trade much with one another.

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 International ­relations of South Asia

In short, there is neither political nor economic unity within South Asia. Critically, the
asymmetric presence of India has led smaller South Asian countries to fear Indian hege-
mony, causing, in turn, an enduring irritation within India due to the view that its smaller
neighbours are united only in their anti-India sentiments. Against this backdrop, a common
regional policy – for example, regarding the fight against cross-border terrorism – has been
difficult to implement as each South Asian state follows its own foreign policy agenda, which
more often than not contradicts that of its neighbours. In addition, vastly differing threat
perceptions have guided the efforts of South Asian states to engage extra-regional powers,
such as China, Russia, and the United States, in the past, with Indian fears of encircle-
ment especially reinforced by deepening Pakistan-China ties. Today, foreign policy activity
within South Asia mostly revolves around the India-Pakistan conflict and the contested
region of Kashmir as well as related problems in the form of terrorism, transnational traffick-
ing, regional nuclearization, and the involvement of external powers.
One of the main contributions of the literature on international relations theory (IRT)
is the fact that this literature helps to identify the general conditions that shape interstate
conflicts and situations of war and peace in the international system. In the context of this
chapter on the international relations of South Asia, the following section will therefore
first examine the role of South Asia in IRT. Next, the Indo-Pakistani rivalry as the most
significant conflict in South Asia will be analysed, along with the question of to what extent
events and policies in South Asia have been influenced by outside powers, especially China,
Russia, and the United States. The subsequent section then looks at bilateral cooperation and
regional multilateralism in the form of the South Asian Association for Regional Coopera-
tion (SAARC), specifically focussing on cooperation in the security sphere. The penultimate
section examines South Asia’s role in global multilateralism, and the final section assesses the
role of South Asia in the changing international state architecture.

South Asia in international relations theory

Nation states, state policies, and especially foreign policy are the core of IRT analysis, and
states are a common unit of analysis for the majority of theories of international relations.
In general, IRT offers three different perspectives for understanding and explaining sources
of international conflicts. The first, realism, postulates that states are the primary actors in
international politics and are engaged in an unending struggle for power and relative gains,
thereby inevitably causing conflict and wars (Morgenthau 1961). Other, later variants of real-
ism, especially what is known as neorealism, tend to view the rise and decline of regional and
interstate conflicts as primarily a function of the distribution of power (Waltz 1979; Keohane
1984) and to consider all states to act based on international anarchy. A second theoretical
perspective on international relations, known as liberalism, is more concerned with explain-
ing the conditions for peace than the causes of war (Moravcsik 1998). Liberalism has at least
three variants, focussing on domestic politics, economic interdependence, and international
institutions. As a theory of international relations, it postulates that low levels of economic
interdependence as well as the absence of international institutions providing dispute settle-
ment mechanisms are major factors contributing to conflict between states. Social construc-
tivism, the third perspective, seeks to explain international relations focussing on culture and
state identity, even though culture and identity can promote conflict as well as cooperation.
Unlike realists (or similar rationalist perspectives), constructivists argue that the interests and
identities of states are not exogenous to the process of their mutual interaction (Walker 1992;
Wendt 1999) but are derived endogenously.

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Arndt Michael

One of the major empirical caveats towards IRT is its Western or American origin
(­Hoffmann 1977) as well as its embeddedness in the “West” as the key empirical point of ref-
erence. With regard to South Asia in IRT, leading scholars who analysed international affairs
through theoretical lenses virtually ignored South Asia and its hegemon India until the end
of the Cold War, and literature on the region was generally non-theoretical (Acharya and
Acharya 2006, 157–158). Academic literature on the international politics of South Asia has
proliferated, especially since the 1998 Indian and Pakistani nuclear tests and, more recently,
with the new and transformative role of emerging regional powers, such as India in interna-
tional affairs. However, this literature has been predominantly realist or neorealist in its epis-
temological or ontological orientation. This, in essence, has reduced South Asia to primarily
being an actor in its own right and thus observing the region principally from the outside
(Hewitt 1997). Traditionally, realism has paid little attention to internal conflicts, tending to
ignore domestic political systems and ethnic and cultural identities that underpin regional
conflicts, especially in Asia or Africa. Such an approach, virtually ahistorical in nature, has
precluded an analysis of links between the state and domestic politics; how domestic politics
are influenced directly by international actors (state or non-state) and vice versa; and, most
importantly, the role of cultural and ideational factors on policy or process.
As all states are regarded as unitary actors, the determining factor for foreign policy has
been international anarchy and hence an outside perspective rather than the view that, for
example, South Asian elites and decision-makers have of the international system. Yet this
understanding of the state is not suitable for a region where state formation has taken place
under pressure, with a great deal of outside interference, and where sovereignty was achieved
barely 70 years ago or later. Until 1947, South Asia never experienced the kind of “European
nation-state that is assumed to be given” (Behera 2008, 29). Moreover, it becomes difficult to
treat the nation state in South Asia as a monolithic, unitary, and individualized unit of anal-
ysis, making South Asia an intriguing test case for the universality claim of IRT. An analysis
of the subcontinent necessitates that the relationship between agency and structure factors
in non-materialist sources of power – specifically culture and religion – be the driving force
of South Asian politics.
On the other hand, there is a “poor state of IR theorizing in South Asia” itself (Behera
2008, 17). The interrelated question of why there is no original non-Western IRT has been
equally raised (Acharya and Buzan 2007; Mallavarapu 2009, 168–169). According to Amitav
Acharya, the epistemic foundations of international relations in South Asia are generally
weak, and theoretical work is “dreaded and despised”; he attributes this to “the persisting
ethno-centrism or Americanocentrism of Western theories that often leads to alienation
when its tools prove to be ineffective in understanding the ground realities that are rooted in
a very different historical, social and cultural milieu” (Acharya 2008, 80). Crucially, there is
also a lasting divide between academia and foreign policy bureaucracy, compounded by what
has been labelled as an “iron curtain” (Behera 2008, 13) that divides the two in practically all
countries in South Asia, “which live in a separate, almost self-contained worlds that operate
from fundamentally different information bases. There is no sharing of memory, no reliance
on institutional memory and no light thrown on decision-making processes” (Behera 2008,
13), resulting in severe empirical and analytical obstacles.
In spite of these difficulties, a number of South Asian scholars have begun to apply IRTs
to analyse events, structures, and ongoing processes in South Asia, thereby addressing a
double research lacuna and incorporating indigenous analytical perspectives and approaches.
In a way, their work is a (belated but welcome) response to Jawaharlal Nehru’s famous 1958
statement that

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the emergence of the independent nations in Asia naturally leads to what might be
called vaguely an Asian way of looking at the world. I do not say there is one Asian way,
because Asia is a big continent, offering different viewpoints. However, it is a new angle,
and is a change from the Europe-centred or any other view of the world.
(Nehru 2006, 280)

Navnita Behera’s International Relations Theory in South Asia applies various theoretical ap-
proaches, with topics ranging from nuclear deterrence to international order (Behera 2008).
Focussing specifically on questions of security and foreign policy, authors such as Kanti
­Bajpai and Siddarth Mallavarapu (2005), Rajen Harshe and K.M. Seethi (2005), and Eswaran
Sridharan (2007, 2014) have contributed to IRT by using South Asian perspectives. The
edited volume Bringing Theory Back Home (Bajpai and Mallavarapu 2005a), for example,
deals with South Asia by applying realism, postcolonial theory, Marxism, or feminism. The
edited companion volume International Relations in India: Theorizing the Region and Nation
(Bajpai and Mallavarapu 2005b) uses, for example, regime theory to explain the interna-
tional political economy of South Asia, Indo-Chinese border negotiations, or the scepticism
of so-called hyperrealists and structural realist explanations of the Indo-Pakistan conflict.
Sridharan’s two volumes on International Relations Theory and South Asia: Security, Political
Economy, Domestic Politics, Identities, and Images (Sridharan 2014) provide another wide range
of IRTs addressing South Asian politics. All of these works represent important advances
over mainstream and traditional IRTs, such as realism and liberalism, and show the new
significance of South Asia for IRT.
While contemporary indigenous theorizing is useful for understanding and explaining
South Asian politics, South Asian classical literature and analyses also merit attention. Al-
ready in 1919, the Indian social scientist Benoy Sarkar published an article in the American
Political Science Review titled “Hindu Theory of International Relations”, the earliest modern
scholarly work to comprehensively address the parameters of an indigenous South Asian/
Indian theory of international relations (Sarkar 1919; Modelski 1964). One key indigenous contri-
bution of South Asia to IRT is the work of Kautilya (also known as Chanakya, c. 370–283 bc).
His Arthashastra is one of the oldest manuals of statecraft (Zaman 2006; Liebig 2013)
and introduced the mandala model, also known as the circle of states. At the centre of the
state were the king and his court. The mandala model was rooted in the geopolitical reality
of the Indo-Gangetic Plain (North Indian Plain) where extended military movements took
place regularly, with territorial gains as one of the major objectives of the king. Of course,
this model was more a guide to subcontinental than international politics (Michael 2013a,
24–27); nonetheless, it provided a systemic and relational classification of power and status
for the conduct of statecraft. The treatise represents one of the earliest known writings on
the foreign affairs of states; rediscovered in 1912, Kautilya is now regarded as the “first po-
litical realist” (Boesche 2002). His work has been frequently used to explain contemporary
international relations in South Asia.
Distilling this, Acharya demanded that “we should look into the minds of Kautilya and
Confucius and not just Machiavelli and Marx. Similarly, we ought to seek theoretical in-
sights from Nehru or Sukarno just as Western theorizing has drawn from Woodrow ­Wilson
and Henry Kissinger” (Acharya 2008, 81). In this sense, Kautilya and his geostrategic
mandala perspective – a domestic South Asian approach towards international relations – has
put South Asian strategic and theoretical thought on the map of IRT scholars, and a vibrant
debate is under way as to how to adequately locate South Asia in IRT, essentially moving
away from the narrow analytical focus of political realism.

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Arndt Michael

The India-Pakistan conflict and the role of external

powers in South Asia
South Asian regional politics and foreign policy have been shaped by the Indo-Pakistan
conflict. Since 1947, Indo-Pakistani relations have been beset by enmity and almost con-
stant conflict, resulting from their diverging attitudes with regard to territory and identity.
Contestation over the status and precise designation of Kashmir, the core of the animosities,
has led to wars in 1947–48, 1965, and 1999. India-Pakistan relations are one of “the most
enduring rivalries in the post-World War II era” (Paul, 2006) and are the most intractable
and intense of those in South Asia (Malone 2011, 105). Lines of foreign alliances radiated
out from the centrality of this conflict to the regional and international system, essentially
internationalizing the conflict.
The current status of Kashmir is a territorial split, India controlling approximately
60 per cent of the region, Pakistan controlling 30 per cent, and China controlling 10 per cent
(mainly the Aksai Chin region and land ceded by Pakistan in 1963 as part of closer strategic
relations). This split dates back to the first Indo-Pakistan War in 1947 and was reasserted by
the Tashkent Declaration of January 1966, which stipulated that India and Pakistan had to
withdraw from their pre-1965 war positions. Following the 3 July 1972 Shimla Agreement, a
de facto border was created in Kashmir with the establishment of the Line of Control (LoC).
The Kashmir dispute was further manifested in perpetual incidences of insurgency and ter-
rorism from the 1980s onwards, with a Pakistan-terrorism nexus becoming a recognizable
trait within Indo-Pakistan relations (Ogden 2014, 18). A range of terrorist acts have been di-
rectly linked to Pakistan: for example, the coordinated bomb attacks on Mumbai in 1993, the
attack on the Indian parliament on 13 December 2001, the funding of terrorism groups that
are active in India (such as Lashkar-e-Taiba), and the attacks on Mumbai in November 2008.
Overall, tangible results in terms of conflict transformation have been elusive, with just a
few high-level meetings actually taking place in either country; most took place on the side-
lines of international conferences and SAARC meetings. The two countries have reached
numerous agreements since the late 1980s on issues including the protection of nuclear fa-
cilities, human trafficking, irregular immigration, and the establishment of trading routes.
Additionally, periodic ceasefires were declared in Kashmir, and there were various historic
attempts at holding peace summits and talks (such as in Lahore in February 1999, Agra in July
2001, or Islamabad in January 2004). In September 2006, the India-Pakistan Joint-Counter
Terrorism Mechanism was set up, a milestone in the relations between the two countries.
Special visits – such as to India by President Pervez Musharraf in April 2005 and President
Asif Ali Zardari in April 2012 – have helped to steadily improve relations. In addition, regu-
lar bilateral meetings by foreign secretaries, defence secretaries, and external affairs ministers
have also aided the institutionalization of dialogue. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s
(unexpected) visit to Lahore in December 2015 was hailed as the latest milestone in Indo-­
Pakistani relations (Haidar 2015).
In the past 70 years, both sides have been supported by extra-regional powers, with
shifting intensity and objectives. On the one hand, India became a founding member of
the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) in the 1950s. NAM sought to provide a platform for
those countries of the Global South that were not part of either power bloc during the Cold
War. Pakistan, on the other hand, joined the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO)
in 1954, which was backed by the United States, as well as the Central Treaty Organisation
(CETO) in 1955. The United States’ main objective was to contain the spread of com-
munism, and it needed Pakistan as an ally in the region. This was interpreted by India as

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dragging the South Asian region into the Cold War rivalry (Gopal 1975, 183). Pakistani
support for the United States was in no small measure secured by extensive US military aid.
This enabled Pakistan to build up and modernize its armed forces. In return, the United
States was able to use military bases in the region. Although US-Pakistan ties fluctuated
in the 1960s and 1970s, the 1979 invasion of Afghanistan by the Soviet Union was seen by
both states as a confirmation of the importance of their relations. Wanting to prevent Soviet
success in Afghanistan, the United States increased its aid to Pakistan, from US$400 million
in 1979 to a total of US$3.2 billion between 1981 and 1987 (Hagerty 1998, 79).
Although the United States almost fully detached itself strategically from South Asia after
the end of the Cold War, links were subsequently resuscitated after the terrorist attacks of
11 September 2001. Pakistan acted as a vital access point for Afghanistan and became a key
strategic country for the United States. Since 2001, Pakistan has received more than US$26
billion in US military and economic aid (Mukherjee and Malone 2011, 100; Epstein and
Kronstadt 2013). In 2004, the United States even designated Pakistan a major non-NATO
ally, thereby elevating its international status.
Besides enjoying financial and military support from the United States, Pakistan also
fostered a close relationship with China. Initially motivated by their shared enmity towards
India, as well as by elements of anti-Americanism in the 1960s, China began to militarily
assist Pakistan in 1966, leading to a strategic partnership in 1972. Sino-Pakistan relations
have been strengthened over time by continuous military aid, technological cooperation,
and even small (strategic) land swaps in Kashmir. Crucially, China has aided Pakistan’s nu-
clear programme by providing blueprints and technological advice. The underlying rationale
for these relations has always been the containment of India in South Asia, China’s only
potential Asian rival. While relations have persisted (as shown by Chinese investment in the
deepwater port at Gwadar), greater India-China cooperation over the last decade – mainly in
the economic sphere – has led to Chinese neutrality on the Kashmir issue. China now shares
widespread concerns with other countries regarding Pakistan’s links with – and often direct
support of – terrorist groups (Small 2015).
As for India and Pakistan, they remain worlds apart within the region. T.V. Paul argues
that a crucial, neglected structural factor causing the persistence of the India-Pakistan rivalry
is the power asymmetry that has prevailed between the antagonists for over half a century
(Paul 2006, 601) and is bound to increase in the future. Firmly focussed on principles of
sovereignty and self-determination, both sides fear the negative demonstration effects of
Kashmir seceding to the other. As any secession would question the cohesion and viability
of both states (for India, her secular inclusiveness and for Pakistan as the homeland of South
Asia’s Muslim population), the issue has become zero-sum and intractable, overshadowing
South Asian foreign policy at large.

Bilateral relations in South Asia and regional multilateralism

With regard to bilateral relations in South Asia, international politics has centred on the
relationship between India and its neighbours. Indian elites had since 1947 articulated a
foreign policy premised on an ideological commitment to internationalism, non-alignment,
and an active solidarity with colonial peoples but with little more than rhetorical support for
its South Asian neighbours. This was best exemplified by Nehru. His major foreign policy
ideology of idealism was put to the test during the military defeat against China in 1962.
Subsequently, China’s status as a nuclear power created a security dilemma that was of re-
gional significance to India, especially in the context of a Pakistan-China alliance. Despite

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non-alignment, India subsequently sought the financial and military support of the Soviet
Union. This new diplomatic initiative was successful and culminated in a friendship treaty
in 1971. In the wake of the 1971 Indo-Pakistan War, India hence practically checkmated
US-Chinese support for Pakistan.
India’s bilateral relations with smaller states of South Asia have been in competition with
Pakistan but also with China, especially in northeast India. Still, India markedly influenced
domestic events in its neighbouring countries when it intervened militarily in Bangladesh
in 1971, in Sri Lanka in 1987, and the Maldives in 1988. India has also continuously sought
to influence and control the foreign policy of Nepal. Due to crucial bilateral economic re-
lations, all of the smaller states of South Asia are heavily dependent upon Indian support,
which also serves as the main provider of military support.
In South Asia, India is now a vital economic and geostrategic partner for the United
States (Schaffer 2009), not least because India and the United States signed an important and
far-reaching civilian nuclear deal in 2006. In addition, one of the defining features of a new
trend in India’s foreign policy has become the constant search for great power status. India’s
current foreign policy has visibly shifted away from earlier ideological articulations and has
become pragmatic a trend that began under the United Progressive Alliance (UPA) govern-
ment, led by Manmohan Singh from 2004 to 2014, and has become even more pronounced
under the new National Democratic Alliance (NDA) government, led by Narendra Modi
since May 2014. This shift in foreign policy behaviour has also improved bilateral relations
between India and its neighbours as India has begun to offer more development aid and lines
of credit to its smaller neighbours (Ganguly 2015).
As South Asian states prefer bilateralism over multilateralism, regional multilateralism has
not been successful, in no small part a result of the unresolved Indo-Pakistan enmity. There
are essentially two similar regional organizations – the SAARC2 and the Bay of Bengal Ini-
tiative for Multi Sectoral Technical and Economic Cooperation (BIMST-EC)3 – in which
multilateral cooperation has been attempted in various, non-political sectors of cooperation.
BIMST-EC was founded in 1997 and meant to further economic cooperation between the
states of the Bay of Bengal but has not achieved any of its objectives so far and practically
remains inactive (Michael 2013a, 159–163).
Likewise, progress in SAARC has been slow and cooperation proven cumbersome. Before
the inaugural first SAARC Summit in Kathmandu in 1985, almost seven years of protracted
negotiations took place, beginning with an open letter by then Bangladeshi President Rah-
man in 1978. Rahman urged his South Asian neighbours to finally start working together in
order to strengthen economic cooperation as well as security in South Asia (Michael 2013a,
59–60). However, the eventual outcome of the negotiations was an organization working
within the strict confines a common charter that expressly precluded discussing bilateral
and contentious issues and anchored the Panchsheel principles – i.e. non-interference in each
other’s internal affairs – as one of the major normative orientations of the new organization
(Michael 2013b, 41). The charter practically left no room for the organization to grow and
foster cooperation.
Between 1985 and 2016, eighteen SAARC summit meetings have taken place; this is
the most visible form of South Asian regional cooperation. There is general accord that
SAARC has been somewhat useful as a forum for informal talks between, for example, India
and Pakistan, but the major objective of a South Asian Free Trade Area (SAFTA), though
officially in existence since 2004, has still not been brought about the desired economic
results. Despite failing as an economic catalyst, three pillars of (embryonic) multilateral se-
curity cooperation have emerged nonetheless: political dialogue and bilateral consultations at

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the summit level, confidence-building measures regarding counterterrorism, and concerted

measures against various transnational crimes.
Looking at the historical advances regarding political dialogue as one pillar of cooper-
ation, such dialogues have formed an important part during informal, behind-the-scenes
summit talks, especially between India and Pakistan. A second pillar of multilateral security
cooperation – the common fight against terrorist activities in South Asia – has been part of
the SAARC agenda since its inception in 1985. The common terrorist threat was addressed
at several SAARC summits, but it took a long time to arrive at more concrete forms of coop-
eration (Michael 2013a, 104–105). Already at the first SAARC Summit in 1985, the member
states governments explored the possibility of cooperation against terrorism by acknowledg-
ing that the problem affected “security and stability” of the members (SAARC 1985, 7). In
1986, at the second SAARC Summit in Bangalore, SAARC leaders agreed on furthering
cooperation against terrorism and on formulating a regional agreement to curb this severe
security challenge (SAARC 2008, 13). Accordingly, in June 1987, the SAARC Council of
Ministers met in New Delhi to accelerate the process of drafting a Regional Convention
on Suppression of Terrorism (RCST). The convention was subsequently signed at the third
SAARC Summit in Kathmandu in November 1987 (SAARC 2008, 27) and came into force
in August 1988, following ratification by all member states. When signing the convention,
SAARC leaders “unequivocally condemned all acts, methods and practices of terrorism as
criminal” (SAARC 2004, 1). The convention was a milestone in that it marked the first
common South Asian convention that was actually signed by all South Asian states, obliging
its members to exercise self-restraint.
Following the United Nations (UN) Declaration 1373 of 28 September 2001, SAARC
passed the Additional Protocol (AP) to the SAARC Regional Convention on Terrorism in
2004. This agreement came into force in 2006 after being ratified by its members. The AP
aims at strengthening the RCST by addressing the issue of restriction on the financing of
terrorist groups. The agreement requires member states to adopt measures for eradicating
the financing of terrorism (SAARC 2004, 11). The members agreed to become parties to
the related international instruments to which they were not a party in 2004 (SAARC 2004,
10). As a consequence, commitment towards SAARC agreements encouraged members to
become parties to previously ignored international agreements. For example, the Interna-
tional Convention for the Suppression of the Financing of Terrorism (1999) was ratified by
Sri Lanka in 2000, by India and Afghanistan in 2003, by Bhutan in 2004, by Bangladesh in
2005, by Pakistan in 2009, and by Nepal in 2011.
Together with these agreements, in 1995 – and thus eight years after signing of the RCST –
SAARC then established the SAARC Terrorist Offences Monitoring Desk (STOMD) in
Colombo (SAARC 2015). The objective of the STOMD is to collate, analyse, and dissemi-
nate information on terrorist activities to SAARC member states. At a SAARC meeting in
Islamabad in 2010, a decision was then taken to share information on a real-time basis and
to exchange data of terrorist elements in respective countries. Yet, despite the existence of
the STOMD since 1995, progress has been extremely slow: The desk only has ten employ-
ees and suffers from serious underfunding. Also, the national coordinators of the STOMD,
comprising the Secretaries of Ministry of Defence of the member states, have met only four
times until 2016. Another declaration was issued on Cooperation in Combating Terrorism at
the SAARC Ministerial Meeting held on 28 February 2009 (SAARC 2009). However, as of
today, India and Pakistan still do not have an extradition treaty (Gordon 2009, 85, 101–102).
A third pillar of SAARC cooperation concerns the common fight against transnational
crimes, especially with regard to interstate police cooperation, drug smuggling, and human

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trafficking. In line with SAARC’s objective of fighting against cross-border drug smug-
gling, in 1991 the SAARC Drug Offences Monitoring Desk (SDOMD) was established in
Colombo. SDOMD is based at the Police and Narcotics Bureau in Sri Lanka with the func-
tion of analysing and disseminating information on drug-related offences in South Asia, in
accordance with the SAARC convention on Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances.
The SAARC Coordination Group of Drug Law Enforcement Agencies supervises the work
of SDOMD. It has met just three times since inception until 2016. However, the SDOMD
has clearly failed in its task to collect and share information with member states on networks
of drug smugglers in South Asia.
A balance sheet of SAARC after more than 30 years of existence shows that declarations
and letters of intent have been more prominent than actual tangible results, especially in
the economic sphere. Several initiatives at closer cooperation have been attempted time and
again, yet the necessary implementation has always been the major Achilles heel of South
Asian regional cooperation. On 26 May 2014, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi ex-
pressly invited the heads of all the SAARC member countries to his inauguration ceremony.
While this important gesture could have marked a new beginning for regional cooperation
in South Asia, the latest SAARC Summit in 2014 again failed to further cooperation. As
was pointed out earlier, intra-regional trade in South Asia is still very low, and despite the
existence of SAFTA, trade agreements are essentially bilateral and include, for example,
the India-Sri Lanka Free Trade Agreement, trade agreements with Bangladesh, Bhutan, the
Maldives, and an India-Nepal trade pact.

Global multilateralism: the UN, trade, and the

environmental regime
While all South Asian states are members of various global organizations, their imprint has
been insignificant. India’s centrality in global multilateral institutions and regimes, on the other
hand, has grown with the rise of India as a major economic power. Concomitantly, this rise has
been transformative on the crucial role India is now playing in international institutions such as
the UN, the World Trade Organization (WTO), or the International Monetary Fund (IMF).
Unlike any of its South Asian neighbours, India is also a member of smaller influential multilat-
eral frameworks – especially between emerging powers – such as the India-Brazil-South Africa
(IBSA) forum or the Brazil-Russia-India-China-South Africa (BRICS) group.
As one of the original members of the UN, India has provided development resources
to the UN, being one of the largest contributors to the United Nations Development Pro-
gramme (UNDP) and a major contributor to United Nations Population Fund (UNPF) and
United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF), and the United Na-
tions Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) Trust Fund for least-developed
countries. Crucially, India is one of the leading contributors to UN peacekeeping, having
contributed nearly 100,000 troops in more than 40 missions (Murthy 2010). India has served
as non-permanent member of the Security Council for seven terms from 1950–52, 1965–67,
1970–72, 1976–78, 1983–85, 1990–92, and 2011–13. Besides India, Bangladesh, Nepal, and
Pakistan are among the top contributors to UN peacekeeping missions across the world,
making South Asia as a whole one of the most important regional peacekeeping troop pro-
viders of the UN. As part of the G-4 coalition of countries (Brazil, Germany, India, and
Japan), India has been trying to secure a permanent seat in the United Nations Security
Council (UNSC), with British and US backing. However, Pakistan has staunchly opposed
an Indian seat in the UNSC. Likewise, India’s attempted membership of the 48-country

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strong Nuclear Suppliers Group (NSG) has been firmly opposed by China and Pakistan,
demonstrating that ties between external powers and South Asian states are still highly rel-
evant and alive.
Regarding global trade regimes and environmental challenges, in recent years India
has coordinated its efforts with other emerging powers, in particular China, on issues as
wide-ranging as climate change, global trade, energy security, and the global financial crisis.
Both have committed themselves “to crafting joint Sino-Indian positions in the WTO and
global trade negotiations in the hope that this might provide them greater negotiating lever-
age over other developed states” (Pant 2011, 236). The eighth GATT round – the so-called
Uruguay Round – was launched in 1986 and established the WTO in 1995; this was fol-
lowed by the Doha Development Round that commenced in 2001, committing all nations
to negotiations opening agricultural and manufacturing markets, as well as trade-in-services
negotiations and expanded intellectual property regulation. Talks have stalled since 2008
primarily because of significant differences between developed nations and major develop-
ing nations, led mainly by India, Brazil, and China. The Doha Round trade negotiations
collapsed in 2008 over issues of agricultural trade between the United States, India, and
China. After prolonged negotiations, the so-called “Bali package” was agreed upon in De-
cember 2013 focussing on a trade facilitation agreement (TFA). India agreed to this package
on the condition that final decisions on the status of state-supported food programmes were
postponed until 2017. But India eventually did a volte-face in July 2014 by completely re-
jecting the TFA, demanding immediate talks on the unresolved issues and asking for WTO
exceptions on its subsidised grain policy. India’s decision, in effect, not only jeopardized
multilateral negotiations but was also a sign of new Indian negotiation power and influence.
In general, India’s global trade policy has been characterized by assembling coalitions con-
sisting largely of developing countries built around a specific issue area (mainly agriculture).
In essence, India has adopted a strict distributive strategy and used an ideational discourse
of framing, particularly based on fairness, “focused on both the process and the substance of
negotiation” (Narlikar 2013, 429, 431). Here, India was able to secure the support of some
of its South Asian neighbours.
Another crucial issue in multilateral diplomacy for South Asia and especially India is the
effects of climate change (Sengupta 2013). During the 2009 Copenhagen negotiations under
the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), India, along
with the United States, China, Brazil, and South Africa, markedly influenced the outcome
of the negotiations (Meilstrup 2010). It was during this conference that India together with
Brazil, China, and South Africa formed the BASIC (Brazil, South Africa, India, China)
group (Hurrell and Sengupta 2012). This was a new collaboration among emerging powers,
aimed at exerting leverage in multilateral negotiations based upon common positions. In co-
operation with the United States, BASIC worked out the Copenhagen Accord, which called
for voluntary reductions in greenhouse gas emissions rather than the mandatory reductions
that many other states favoured. India’s crucial role at the UNFCCC in Paris was summa-
rized by TIME magazine as “why no country matters more than India” (Worland 2015).

Conclusion: South Asia in the changing global order

A host of domestic and regional problems undermine South Asia’s ability in playing a more
proactive role in shaping the world. Regional politics and the foreign policy of South Asian
nations are hostage to a triad of competing national ideologies, conflicting ethnic and re-
ligious identities, and contested territory, furthering South Asia’s weak position in world

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affairs. Importantly, South Asian states, especially India, prefer to conduct international af-
fairs bilaterally, even within the region, thereby hurting chances of improved regional coop-
eration. Globally, South Asian states have played a prominent role in UN peacekeeping, but
this has not translated in international political influence.
For Indo-Pakistani relations, Kashmir has provided the prism through which the two
states and their elites perceive each other, and the crisis has structured Pakistan’s foreign pol-
icy within both the region and wider international community. Added to this, the growing
asymmetry in the respective economic performance as well as in geostrategic significance
has created an even more powerful structural dimension to Pakistan’s historical resentments
against India, and the uneven balance of power in South Asia hinges markedly upon the
support provided by external powers.
In terms of IRT, culture, identity, strategic, and institutionalist considerations are all
elements that need to be incorporated in theoretical frameworks in order to do justice to
the diversity of South Asia and South Asian politics at large. All in all, it is India that has
begun to exert global influence, and India’s membership in the BRICS or BASIC shows that
it has the potential to play a veto-wielding role in global affairs. There is the calculation on
the Indian side that its role in UN peacekeeping might help India in its drive towards the
permanent membership of the UNSC. Conversely, India’s search for great power status and
global power is still an irritant to China and perceived as a geopolitical challenge to the status
and prospects of Pakistan.
All things considered, India’s negotiating positions on key issues of global governance,
such as global trade or climate change, as well as in multilateral institutions, such as the
UN, will have major implications not only for South Asia but also the international system.
Despite its far-reaching socio-economic problems, South Asia has now become the fastest
growing region in the world (World Bank 2015), mainly because of Indian record growth
rates. If and how India can translate the current economic growth and growing international
influence into economic and political benefits for all South Asian countries will provide an
essential litmus test of South Asian foreign policy at large in the near future.

Notes
1 Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, the Maldives, Nepal, India, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka.
2 SAARC member states are Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Nepal, the Maldives, ­Pakistan,
and Sri Lanka.
3 BIMST-EC member states are Bangladesh, India, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Bhutan, and
Nepal.

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 9
Balancing interests and
perceptions
Foreign policy in Central Asia

Roger Kangas

Since gaining independence in 1991, the states of Central Asia (defined as Kazakhstan,
­Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan) have had to create and manage for-
eign policy strategies that (1) effectively address their national interests and (2) factor in the
realities of the region itself. The landlocked states are surrounded by nuclear (or nuclear-­
aspirant) powers and conflict zones, and have themselves been the “objects of interest” by
outside powers, specifically Russia; China; and, to a lesser extent, the United States and the
European Union (EU) countries. The Central Asian countries have maneuvered through
these tricky waters of foreign and security policy, and have forged their own foreign policy
identities and strategies, respectively. For example, Kazakhstan’s “multi-vectored security
policy” gives it a balancing role in the region and offers access to a wider set of relations. On
the other hand, Turkmenistan’s “positive neutrality” and Uzbekistan’s autarkic economic
and security approaches set conditions for these states to selectively engage and maintain ties
with problematic neighbors. Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan exemplify the limitations of being
small powers surrounded by larger states, especially when it comes to developing coherent
foreign policy agendas. Over time, each of the five states has tried to assert its own national
interests and has experienced mixed results.
This chapter will compare and contrast how the states of Central Asia have established
their own foreign policies and the inherent logic of these choices. While not always neces-
sary, the leaders of the region have often justified their approaches to their domestic audi-
ences and the international community through openly published foreign policy strategies,
press interviews, and speeches at international conferences. As important as the policies
themselves is how they are perceived both within the region and by outside powers. In many
ways, framing foreign policy agendas is key to the success of the regimes themselves.
It is common to overlook the Central Asian states in discussions of Asian politics. This
is partly because these five countries are often viewed as Soviet legacies, part of “Eurasia,”
or somehow in another orbit of nations. Russia remains committed to the view that these
states are part of its “near abroad” or special security region, in which Russia ought to have
a dominant presence (Bugajski 2010; Mileski 2015). In contrast, American and European
engagement with these states has been, and remains, premised on the belief that better
connecting them to Western security organizations will further enhance their foreign and

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security futures, as will adopting normative values, such as individual human rights, demo-
cratic institutions, and free market economies (Hansen 2005; Nichol 2014). Given the his-
toric role of Islam in the region, others view Central Asia as part of that world, with greater
attention to north-south connections. It has mainly been in the past decade that the Asian
character of Central Asia has been articulated on a more regular basis, not surprisingly by
experts who see these states from a continental perspective (Dadabaev 2014). In terms of nor-
mative values and political frameworks, the Central Asian governments themselves are more
seriously evaluating Asian security structures and rhetoric, prompting further analysis of
how Central Asian foreign policy developments can be assessed through this particular lens.
Ultimately, Central Asia is a true “crossroads.” Each country in the region has had to
address these conflicting paradigms within policy environments fraught with limits and
challenges. This chapter will first examine the development and evolution of the foreign
policy strategies of the five states of Central Asia. Then it will turn to how outside powers
have attempted to shape these policies. Finally, it will look at future trends and potential
challenges to these foreign policies, with particular attention given to how an increasing
attention to Asian security architectures might provide solutions to some outstanding issues.
Overall, the countries’ behavior increasingly resembles that of other small and medium
states that are compelled to make choices in terms of interests and needs while acknowledg-
ing the constraints of a myriad of factors, such as geography, capabilities, budget, and even
personnel, to name a few. Given the range of influences, it is no surprise that defining how
each Central Asian state wants to be perceived as an active shaper of its own foreign policy
is equally important.

A perception problem: deflecting the great game image

Since the 1990s, there has been a steady stream of writing emphasizing the “great game”
nature of foreign and security policy in the Central Asian region. This has been done for two
main reasons. First, the historic understanding of the region is limited, so it’s convenient to
rely on romantic imagery and conclude that what took place in the 19th century between the
Russian and British empires will simply be repeated by contemporary states in the late 20th
and early 21st centuries (Hopkirk 1992; Cooley 2012). Second, using this narrative allows a
given outside country the ability to justify its own policy toward the region or, more impor-
tantly, that of other states. It also provides credible excuses for Central Asian states to explain
their own foreign policy engagements, being able to better explain obvious limitations and
periodic failures. The reality on the ground has been much less dramatic. Since 1991, the
states crafted their own policies based more on national interests, resources, and capabilities,
often focusing on a few key issues that were of immediate and existential importance.
From the start, the priorities were limited to simply being recognized as independent
states and functioning as such. Unlike other Union Republics in the Soviet Union, the five
states in Central Asia were not known for their independence movements, which sought to
leave the country. While there was an increasing interest in particular national identities
and being able to freely express them, even the most ardent nationalists in Central Asia
assumed that this could be done within the framework of the Union of Soviet Socialist
Republics (USSR) (Plokhii 2014). When that entity collapsed in December 1991, the ini-
tial challenge facing all five countries was similar to that of the other “successor states”:
the bureaucratic reality of opening embassies, receiving foreign embassies, and developing
cadres of foreign policy experts. Individuals who had served in the Soviet foreign minis-
try were enticed to stay, but many who had no previous foreign policy experience found

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themselves “learning on the job” during that first decade. It was up to the strong leaders –
First ­Secretaries-turned-Presidents – to articulate clear foreign policy objectives for the new
states.
During this time, there was a natural dependency on the Commonwealth of Independent
States (CIS) as well as on maintaining particularly close ties with the newly formed Russian
Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which was the most experienced foreign policy organ among
the successor states. As other countries opened their embassies in the Central Asian capitals,
these Russian officials became helpful tutors in the world of international diplomacy. The
language of communication remained Russian, and real interests focused on the immediate
requirements brought on by the dismantling of the Soviet Union. For most foreign powers,
their newfound experts and even ambassadors to the region tended to be from their Soviet
embassies or individuals who had Russian-language capabilities. In short, Central Asia was
perceived to be an element of the “Former Soviet Union.” Linkages remained tied to this
old identity.
For the countries in the region, foreign affairs mattered less than the stabilization of do-
mestic politics and regime authority. However, this lack of autonomous foreign policies had
consequences. For example, when Russia floated the ruble in January 1992, the resultant
hyperinflation and economic collapse of that country was experienced in all five Central
Asian countries. This action was not coordinated with the Central Asian states, and each
had to react as best they could. Because Russia was the primary economic trading and
investment partner of each Central Asian country, negative developments in Russia were
obviously felt in the region. Oddly, as Uzbekistan pursued a more autarkic approach to eco-
nomic development, it seemed to fare better than the others (World Bank 2016). The same
lack of coordination occurred with policies such as transportation and customs guidelines,
visa regimes, and citizenship requirements (especially on the question of whether one could
have dual citizenship). In terms of military and security cooperation, the Central Asian states
were signatories to the Collective Security Treaty, which was formalized at a conference in
Tashkent, Uzbekistan in May 1992. The exception in this instance was Turkmenistan, which
had already started to develop a more neutral stance in the region, culminating in the de-
clared policy of Positive Neutrality several years later. Overall, the majority of meetings and
efforts that focused on foreign policy matters remained within the CIS, the primary theater
of engagement for the Central Asian countries.
It should also be noted that “foreign policy” also meant how to manage aid from abroad,
whether from the United States, European countries, or fellow CIS nations. Kyrgyzstan
opened its doors to Western donors, hoping to capitalize on the largesse of various inter-
national aid organizations. In a more desperate situation, Tajikistan’s initial foreign policy
priority quickly devolved into a situation in which it simply wanted assistance from outside
powers to maintain a besieged regime and some modicum of engagement as the civil war
raged from 1992 to 1997. In this instance, outside powers did play the key role of mediator.
Russia, Iran, and the Western-based Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe
(OSCE), for example, were all part of the accord process that drew this conflict to a negoti-
ated conclusion in 1997 (Kamoludin and Barnes 2001).
The image of Central Asia to the world beyond the CIS began to change when outside
energy firms actively bid on Kazakh, Uzbek, and Turkmen oil and gas fields. In conjunction
with Azerbaijan, these new markets of the Caspian Sea region were of great international
interest as energy prices increased throughout the decade. So-called “deals of the century”
marked the final years of the 20th century as these very firms not only established themselves
in the region but set the terms for foreign governments to consider energy security a priority

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in Central Asian engagement, especially with over 50 billion barrels of oil and 300 trillion
cubic feet of natural gas reserves in the region (Levine 2007; BTI 2016). Its elevated impor-
tance came at a cost in terms of perception: Once again, the “great game” image was applied
to the region, this time in the context of foreign powers and companies vying for the right to
control Central Asian energy resources. Kazakhstan was the only state to truly make oil part
of its foreign policy, over time setting more nation-friendly terms on future exploration and
development contracts. Turkmenistan’s hesitancy to conclude deals on exploiting gas fields
meant that initial efforts to do so often failed to materialize.
The new millennium brought different challenges to Central Asia. The energy market
experienced a significant downturn during the period of 1998–2000, affecting not just the
export potential of the Central Asian states but also the ability of outside investors to sustain
their presence. Second, the September 11, 2001 attacks on the United States prompted the
government of President George W. Bush to go after Al-Qaeda and the “host entity” in
Afghanistan, the Taliban, in the following month. Because access to Afghanistan required
cooperation from the Central Asian states, one by one, they signed various “status of forces
agreements” with the United States and later with its North Atlantic Treaty Organization
(NATO) allies. Supporting Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) and the concurrent peace
support operation “ISAF” (International Stabilization in Afghanistan Force), bases opened
up in Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan, and flyover and emergency landing rights
were granted in Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan (Kangas 2008). Critics considered these
agreements to be part of a “militarization” or “securitization” of Central Asia by outside
countries – a concern that still plagues the region today. More to the point, the engage-
ment that followed demonstrated the security importance of Central Asia in addition to its
aforementioned energy importance. The “great game” image surfaced yet again in this con-
text, with some noting that the West was aggressively creating permanent military bases in
Central Asia. Even after the last bases were closed in 2014 (Manas Transit Center) and 2015
(Termez), this perception remains.
In reality, the security needs of the ISAF and the US Department of Defense replicated
the needs of other sectors: Central Asia was seen as important due to its location, transit ca-
pacity, and relationship to other regional actors. Interest in Central Asia developed over time
but often for reasons that were related to either resource needs or security concerns in the
broader South and Central Asian region. Consequently, each of the countries had to adjust
their own foreign and security policies to reflect these episodic outside interests but, more
importantly, to protect their own priorities in this ever-changing world. While much was
noted of the “great game” quality of the region, it was more the case that countries viewed
Central Asia instrumentally, not for itself. As a result, the states had to create foreign policy
priorities that would either take advantage of these outside interests or repel any perceived
effort by the same countries to control them. That tension remains integral within the
­Central Asian states today.

Evolution of national foreign policy strategies

Each of the five Central Asian countries developed distinct foreign policy strategies based on
their own perceptions of national security priorities. As the initial years of simply gaining
legitimacy passed, one began to see a clearer description of what each state considered to be
of utmost concern. Important in this discussion is the understanding that the leaderships of
each country believe that they have agency and the ability to frame and promote a foreign
policy of their choosing. As we will see, this belief in agency is often unrealized. At the same

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time, the continued reality of working with limited budgets, capacity, and the “challenges of
the neighborhood” means that the development of coherent and effective foreign policies re-
mains a difficult undertaking, as is evident in the distinct character of each country’s efforts.

Kazakhstan
From the start, President Nursultan Nazarbayev categorized Kazakhstan’s foreign policy as
a “multi-vectored” one. The country was not going to be beholden to any specific power
but rather would balance its interests among several. Beyond the normal narratives one
heard from Almaty, and then Astana, what did this mean? Without question, the notion of
“continued engagement” remains paramount, that is, in terms of addressing trade relations,
energy security, and also combatting transnational threats, such as terrorism, extremism, and
increasingly cyberattacks.
Kazakhstan continues to diversify economic and trade relations with outside powers, so it
will not be beholden to any single country. Trade statistics still show that Russia is the major
partner, but China and other Asian states are fast becoming key competitors for Kazakhstan’s
attention. In published documents, like Kazakhstan 2030 and Strategy Kazakhstan 2050,
ambitious goals are set to make the country a top-20 economy that is less dependent upon
energy export revenues. Green energy is the centerpiece of the 2017 Astana Exposition,
highlighting this point (Nazarbayev 2012).
Two significant challenges confront Kazakhstan today. The first is its complicated relationship
with Russia. While President Nazarbayev is on good terms with President Vladimir Putin, peri-
odically, one sees rhetorical rifts open between the countries. Political actors in Russia, including
President Putin, have questioned the national integrity of Kazakhstan, suggesting that President
Nazarbayev “created” it. Moreover, Moscow has formally declared that the safety of the Russian
community within Kazakhstan is “protected” by Russia itself, as noted in its National Security
Strategy. The heavily Russian-populated northern provinces are also called into question, mak-
ing some Kazakhstani analysts worried about Russia’s intentions overall.
The second complication is simply that intra-Central Asian relations aren’t the strongest,
belying any thought of true regional cooperation. Ties with Kyrgyzstan are frayed because
of the one-sided trade and energy agreements as well as the Kyrgyz desire to develop hy-
droelectric dams along rivers that are of immense importance to Kazakhstan. Ties with
Uzbekistan have also been complicated, largely because of the personal dynamics of the first
presidents but also due to a perceived rivalry as to who is the “leader of Central Asia”
(­Laumulin and Tolipov 2010).
Perhaps in a bid to underscore its leading role in the region, Kazakhstan’s leadership has
consistently expressed a desire to take an active part in international organizations. This
includes not only the CIS, CSTO, and the Eurasian Economic Union (EEU) but also the
Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO), the Economic Cooperation Organization
(ECO), the Conference on Interaction and Confidence-Building Measures in Asia (CICA),
OSCE, OIC, and even NATO’s Partnership for Peace Program. Unlike the other Central
Asian countries, Kazakhstan has also pushed to be a leading actor in these organizations,
twice holding the Chairmanship in Office of the OSCE and OIC in successive years (2010
and 2011, respectively). Even if symbolic, these positions indicate a desire by Kazakhstan to
be a visible global actor, not just a force in Central Asia. Indeed, Kazakhstan’s hosting of
two rounds of the P5+1 (UN Permanent Five Plus One – the United States, Russia, China,
the United Kingdom, France, and Germany) negotiations on Iranian nuclear capabilities has
been shown as proof of this capacity.

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Uzbekistan
Of the five states in Central Asia, Uzbekistan has the reputation of being the country most
willing to change decisions and readjust alliances and partnerships, depending upon the
government’s interpretation of current security interests. Like the other states, Uzbekistan
opened its doors to outside powers early on, although levels of investment and foreign as-
sistance were less than in neighboring Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. Promoting a view that
the country needs to be autarkic – self-sufficient – in strategic materials, energy, and food
supply, President Islam Karimov ensured that supporting the domestic economic and energy
needs was paramount before conducting major export deals, with the exception of the cotton
industry and some strategic minerals.
Whereas Kazakhstan is an example of a multi-vectored security policy, Uzbekistan pres-
ents itself as an independent actor that picks and chooses foreign policy ties, focusing on bi-
lateral engagement and always staying within limits. Representative of the ability to change
decisions has been the status of Uzbekistan in such organizations as the CSTO and Georgia
Ukraine Azerbaijan Moldova (GUAM), among other Eurasian structures, and as a “strategic
partner” with the United States. While a signatory of the original Collective Security Treaty,
which was formalized in a summit held in Tashkent, Uzbekistan was only a member of it
from 1994 to 1999, when it withdrew over disputes with Russia. It did not participate in the
follow-on Collective Security Treaty Organization, which was created in 2000, although
a change in relations with Russia prompted President Karimov to sign as a full member in
2006. This arrangement lasted until 2012, when it once again withdrew, citing concerns of
having foreign troops stationed on Uzbek soil as a problem. At present, it is not a member of
the CSTO, although it has positive foreign and security relations with some of the member
states (Contessi 2015). Perhaps most critically, its security ties with Russia remain limited,
periodically chiding this northern neighbor for acting too assertively in the region.
As proof of this distanced relationship with Russia, Uzbekistan joined the loose security
coalition known as GUAM (also known as the “Organization for Democracy and Economic
Development,” which includes Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan, and Moldova) in 1999, which
has often been cast as an effort to separate from Russian domination in Eurasia. That said,
it was quickly evident that Uzbekistan’s level of participation in the organization remained
modest, with the country eventually withdrawing in 2005.
Finally, and linked to the on-again/off-again relationship with the CSTO, Uzbekistan
signed a “treaty of friendship and cooperation” with the United States in 2001, as that coun-
try was beginning its campaign in Afghanistan. However, differences between the two, not
the least of which was an insistence that the United States pay for the use of the military base
at Karshi-Khanabad and the political fall-out from the violence in Andijon in May 2005, the
two partners became estranged, and the United States was forced to exit the base facility in
November of that year. US-Uzbek relations have remained uneven since that time, with the
refrain of “security versus human rights” being heard in Washington, DC and other West-
ern capitals. Current relations are more transactional, if anything, with a security focus on
transnational threats and an economic focus on developing a limited range of industries in
Uzbekistan to meet the increasing labor demands of the country.
Each of these experiences represents the foreign and security policy of Uzbekistan and
a lack of willingness to become too dependent upon another country/set of countries to
carry out its own policies. With the death of President Karimov on September 2, 2016, the
country found itself in its first leadership succession situation since independence. The Prime
Minister, Shavkat Mirziyoyev, took over as Acting President and was duly elected when

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elections were held on December 4, 2016. Within his first months in office, speculation
arose that he would improve ties with the immediate neighbors and focus on intra-Central
Asian relations. Indeed, President Mirziyoyev has addressed Uzbek-Tajik and Uzbek-Kyrgyz
issues, previously seen as problematic under his predecessor (Mirziyoyev 2016). At present, it
appears that the focus of the new president will remain on improving the domestic economic
conditions of the country; thus, foreign relations will most likely be of secondary impor-
tance, unless it has a direct and positive effect on the former.

Kyrgyzstan
Compared to Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan has had a much more difficult time
establishing a consistent foreign and security policy since independence, simply because of
the lack of expertise and capacity to engage with foreign countries. After an initial attempt
at declaring neutrality, the administration of President Askar Akayev (1990–2005) turned
the country’s attention to the West, accepting significant amounts of aid and the conditions
that came with it. Seeking to be the “Switzerland of Central Asia,” Kyrgyzstan of the 1990s
stressed openness and transparency. To a limited extent, it was also able to craft a modest
“multi-vectored” foreign policy, opting to be part of a range of organizations. Thus, the
country remained part of the CIS and Collective Security Treaty, and was an initial signa-
tory state to the Shanghai Forum/Five.
As with the other states in the region, domestic politics dominated affairs mattered
more, with foreign affairs focusing on ensuring economic stability and increasing foreign
aid. What spelled trouble for Kyrgyzstan was the fact that the political leadership itself
paid lip service to Western values and conditions and ultimately maintained the corrupt,
nepotistic system that characterized the Soviet period. The result was the overthrow of
two presidents (Akayev in 2005 and Kurmanbek Bakiyev in 2010) and a lurching back to a
stronger relationship with Russia. Controversy over profits from fuel sales to the US base
in the country only increased the tension between the two countries, which was exac-
erbated by a strong Russian media campaign against the United States (Mystery at Manas
2010). In 2014, President Almazbek Atambayev requested that the United States close its
base facility at Manas International Airport (named Ganci Airbase for a short time until
it was called the Manas Transit Center), which had been supporting NATO efforts in
­A fghanistan since December 2001.
With that closure, and an increase in support from Russia in both financial sup-
port (over $1 billion in in-kind, trade credits, and financing) and military personnel,
it seems that the country is opting to remain within Russia’s Eurasian orbit. There is
a clear logic to this: Several hundred thousand Kyrgyz are migrant workers in Russia,
sending home enough money in remittances that peaked at approximately 32% of the
Kyrgyz GDP in 2014. Losing this resource would be devastating for the Kyrgyz econ-
omy, and potentially the government’s legitimacy. Bolstering this relationship is the
fact that Kyrgyzstan joined the EEU in 2015, linking its trade policies to others in that
Russian-dominated structure.
In the end, Kyrgyzstan foreign policy has been more reactive and accommodating, based
upon the domestic needs of the country. It has strong ties with most neighbors, and even
is attempting to improve relations with post-Karimov Uzbekistan. President Atambayev
believes that he must continue to develop stronger ties with those states in the region and
nearby. In terms of the West, the relationship is getting more distant and problematic simply
because the interests of those states in Kyrgyzstan are limited.

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Tajikistan
Almost from the beginning, Tajikistan faced severe challenges in being able to function as
state, let alone one that could construct a viable foreign and security policy. Tensions among
competing factions within the country festered and then exploded into the previously men-
tioned civil war that lasted from 1992 to 1996, with a peace accord signed in 1997. It took
several more years before President Emomali Rakhmon was able to consolidate his power
and extend authority throughout the entire country. Thus, it is no surprise that a high prior-
ity for the country – leadership and citizenry – is stability and security. Therefore, in addi-
tion to rather draconian measures periodically taken within the country against opposition
groups, especially Islamist ones, the Rakhmon government tends to rely on defined security
arrangements within Eurasia – the CIS, CSTO, SCO, and the EEU.
A major foreign policy concern comes from Central Asia itself: Uzbekistan. Long-held
differences with this larger neighbor to the West existed during the Soviet period, partly
because both peoples lay historic claims to the cities of Samarqand and Bukhara. In the past
two decades, tensions also have arisen over the Tajik government’s insistence that it build a
massive 335-meter dam at Rogun, which would ostensibly help create energy for Tajikistan
itself, and be a key element of an energy export network within South and Central Asia, the
so-called “CASA-1000” project. Once completed, it would alter the flow rate of water from
the Amy Darya, an essential water source for Uzbek agriculture – hence the war of words
between officials from both sides. Deemed economically and environmentally viable by the
World Bank, Tajikistan now spends considerable effort enlisting foreign companies and in-
ternational financial institutions to assist in the completion of the project, which will extend
to the next decade (World Bank 2014).
As the government considers threats from unstable Afghanistan to be a high priority, for-
eign policy directives tend to address this challenge as well. Consequently, Tajikistan allows
a Russian military unit (the 201st Mechanized Division) to be based within the country and
is once again agreeable to having Russia help protect the Tajik-Afghan border. Likewise,
security assistance from China, India, and even Western powers focuses on border pro-
tection and counter-narcotics/counterterrorism tactics and support. With these immediate
challenges, the parameters within which Tajikistan can proactively develop a foreign policy
are limited. Protecting the territorial integrity of the county and staying any threats from
abroad are paramount. The unknown factor in this is the impact of the remittance economy
based on the nearly one million Tajik citizens that have spent time abroad, mainly in Russia.
For much of the past twenty-five years, such workers found opportunities to earn money
abroad and send it home, becoming an integral to Tajikistan’s economy. With the downturn
in Russia’s economy starting in 2014, a reverse migration has taken place, with hundreds of
thousands of Tajiks returning home – without job prospects – and causing some to believe
that this could be a ripe recruiting environment for radical extremist groups (Lemon 2015).
Handling the issue of “returning foreign fighters,” in the most extreme case, is now a prior-
ity in Tajikistan’s foreign policy agenda, once again highlighting the threat-based security
assessment by the government.

Turkmenistan
Turkmenistan declared that it was going to be a neutral state, officially announcing its pol-
icy of “positive neutrality” to the United Nations on December 1995. This was the lasting
legacy of the first president, Saparmurat Niyazov, who believed that having his country

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tied within security and political alliances would threaten the independence of the coun-
try. The second president, Gurbanguly Berdymukhammedov, who succeeded Niyazov in
2006, continues to adhere to the policy of positive neutrality. First and foremost, the policy
means that Turkmenistan is not party to any collective defense organization or structure that
would entail Turkmenistan to be part of a military alliance with other countries and
have the possibility of foreign troops stationed on Turkmen soil. Likewise, it also limits
­Turkmenistan’s participation in international organizations that impose conditions on mem-
bers or potentially restricts economic and political decisions. Thus, it is not part of the CSTO
or SCO, and minimally engages with other regional organizations like the CIS and ECO.
Positive neutrality does not mean, however, that Turkmenistan is an isolationist country, or
“hermit kingdom,” as some critics suggest. It has trade agreements and bilateral ties with a
host of neighboring and distant countries, as well as the immediate neighbors of Iran and
Afghanistan. It is also a member of the United Nations, OSCE, and other international or-
ganizations. A long-serving minister, Foreign Minister Rashid Meredov, as the guardian of
this policy and since 2001, regularly meets with his counterparts and does carry out a foreign
policy to promote Turkmen interests (Nichol 2013).
Key aspects of Turkmen foreign policy, therefore, focus on building bilateral ties, espe-
cially if they involve economic investment (Turkey) or energy exports (China). Indeed, with
the latter, long-term gas export contracts form the core of Turkmenistan-China relations,
involving sums of over 40 billion dollars. They also guarantee a ready market for Turkmen
gas and became the primary consumer of Turkmen gas in the current decade. Another
major project, the TAPI (Turkmenistan-Afghanistan-Pakistan-India) pipeline is underway,
with construction taking place within Turkmenistan. Repeated meetings have been held to
iron out the differences among the current partners and to entice further investment in the
project. If completed, it will allow Turkmenistan to ship 33 bcm of gas to South Asian con-
sumers. While there are other commercial goods traded between Turkmenistan and other
markets – Russia, China, and Iran – the primary focus will remain on energy for the near
future.
To a lesser extent, security is an issue of foreign policy concern. While neutral, Turk-
menistan does maintain a military and border security forces, largely focused on combatting
transnational threats. Since the early 2010s, incursions of fighters from Afghanistan, as well
as the perennial problem of regional drug trafficking, have resulted in the Turkmen govern-
ment more closely cooperating with international organizations (like the UNODC) and for-
eign security forces (NATO’s Resolute Support Mission in Afghanistan). At times, though,
contact can be abruptly limited, largely to ensure that the neutral status of the country
remains intact. Such decisions can come across as mercurial to outside powers, and are often
the source of frustration by countries and companies trying to do business in Turkmenistan.
While it’s clear that Turkmenistan cannot be completely in control of its foreign policy
agenda, as evidenced by the gas deals with China, the leadership intends to do as much on its
own as possible. As with Uzbekistan, complete “agency” in foreign policy decision-making,
or at least the perception of it, is an aspirational goal.
In each of the five countries, several things stand out. First of all, foreign policy remains
under the control of the chief executive. The presidents are the decision-makers, and in-
terchanging the name of the country with the president when describing foreign policy
decisions is commonplace (Kurtov 2007). Even Kyrgyzstan, which has the most robust leg-
islature, has a foreign policy largely run through the executive branch.
Second, the foreign policy priorities remain parochial. What happens in the immediate
neighborhood is of utmost importance. Common threats, such as transnational terrorism

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or narcotics trafficking, are regionally derived, and the dynamics dictate that the countries
focus their foreign policy efforts to address these. The exception here might be Kazakhstan,
which sees itself as a stronger actor on the global stage. This is evidenced not just by the op-
portunities to be Chairman in Office of the OSCE and OIC in successive years but also for
holding “Expo 2017 – Astana.”
Third, the states have limited capacity to carry out broad-based foreign policies; there-
fore, they have to be selective in priorities. Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan focus largely on engag-
ing with those states investing in the country, and Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan only slightly
increase their visibility overseas. The number of embassies abroad is limited, and they exist
in countries that would make sense to the region. No surprise, these states include other
Eurasian countries, the major European and North American states, and selective countries
in Asia. Indeed, if one sees an area of increased attention is that of South and East Asia. Eco-
nomic agreements and high-level visits have been high over the recent decade with countries
such as Japan, South Korea, Malaysia, in addition to the expected cases of China and India.
Fourth, the region generally adheres to the belief that outside powers are keenly inter-
ested in their resources, land, and markets, ultimately wanting to control the region. Refer-
ring to “great game” politics in Central Asia is commonplace, even if the current situation is
not quite as adventurous as that of the 19th century. It would be a mistake to conclude that
the Central Asian countries are merely pawns on a geopolitical chessboard and unable to
assert their interests. A key difference is that the Central Asian countries, to varying degrees,
try to assert their own views more explicitly. Like other small and medium countries, they
have to be selective in approach, priorities, and actions for which they will expend valuable
resources and personnel. The “great game” narrative remains alive and well for the very fact
that external actors continue to announce policies toward Central Asia. The extent to which
these are truly important efforts, though, is what we will examine next.

Outside powers competing for the region?

As this chapter focuses on the foreign policies of the Central Asian states themselves, only
limited space can be devoted to addressing the interests of the outside countries engaged
in the region. Given the geographic reality of Central Asia, it’s no surprise that only a few
countries have sustained engagement with the region, and mainly for specific reasons. Earlier
observations emphasizing raw materials and security continue to shape how foreign coun-
tries see the region, which is more often than not looked upon as a single whole.

Russia
Put simply, Russia views the Central Asian states as part of its “near abroad,” and therefore
a zone of special engagement. While the capacity to actually be a dominant actor in the re-
gion was severely curtailed in the 1990s, due to economic weakness and political instability,
Russia has proven itself to be a more forceful entity since the first term of President Vladimir
Putin. According to Russia’s current National Security Strategy and repeated pronounce-
ments of its leadership, Central Asia holds a security, economic, and even “civilizational”
importance to Moscow (Lukyanov 2016).
In terms of security, Russia remains involved in both bilateral and multilateral security
relationships with all five countries, although ties with neutral Turkmenistan are admittedly
the weakest. Russian forces are stationed in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, and even though
Russian deployments in Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan withdrew, a “Russian

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presence” remained paramount for the region’s security. At least in the first decade, Western
powers were supportive of this arrangement. For example, as the civil war raged in ­Tajikistan,
a Russian-led peacekeeping force was deployed in that country. The Americans and
­Europeans limited their involvement to the OSCE and United Nations observers that were
in the country from 1992 onward. Even as the United States and NATO forces deployed in
the region after October 2001, it was clear that they were focused exclusively on the cam-
paign in Afghanistan, paying less attention to the security challenges within Central Asia.
With their departure in the summer of 2014, it now is the case that Russia is the only outside
power with a permanent military presence in Central Asia. More importantly, Russia maintains
ties with three of the Central Asian states (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan) via the
CSTO. This collective defense structure allows not just the presence of Russian troops in
the region but opportunities for joint training exercises, educational exchanges, and other
opportunities to integrate the regional armed forces ( Jackson 2014; Kim 2015).
In terms of economic relations, the absolute numbers of Russian-Central Asian trade
remain high, although they have been surpassed by Chinese engagement. Consumer goods,
military hardware, and even technical support are still key elements of Russia’s trade with
the region, which has a turnover of between 30 and 45 billion dollars a year (Sinitsina 2012).
Likewise, raw materials from Central Asia find a ready market in Russia. With the advent of
the EEU, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan are even further tied to Russia. Customs
barriers and legal regimes are to be systemized, making the EEU akin to the EU (at least in
the European Economic Community era).
Lastly, Russia perceives the states of Central Asia to be junior partners within the broader
Eurasian “civilizational” environment. Over the past decade, more has been written on the
importance of the “Eurasian” concept, stressing that the Central Asian countries, like ­Russia,
are not part of the Western civilization (Mileski 2015; Lukyanov 2016). Western values
and norms are not applicable in this region that needs to find its own voice and expres-
sion. Increasingly, President Putin stresses this “special relationship” when meeting with his
Central Asian counterparts. Such a strategy is partially successful. Given the economic and
security ties that exist, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan are comfortably connected with Russia.
Kazakhstan, while a more assertive and economically endowed actor, still manages to foster
a positive relationship with Russia. Even Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, which are more
distant, usually opt not to be critical of their neighbor to the north.

The United States and the European Union

American interests in Central Asia have been fairly consistent over the years, although the
resources to actually address such concerns have been limited. Since 1991, and especially
since the first complete declaration of policy interests in the region in 1996, the United States
has focused on several key issues. It has advocated political reform and democratization,
economic reform and marketization, energy security through the diversification of export
routes, and regional security, usually via multilateral organizations (Talbott 1997; Nichol
2014). In the late 1990s, the United States began devoting more resources to assist some of
the Central Asian states to combat transnational terrorist groups, particularly the Al-­Qaeda-
funded Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU). More definitively, after the September
2001 Al-Qaeda attacks in New York and Washington, D.C., the United States sought and
received support from the Central Asian states to conduct its military campaign in
­A fghanistan, as previously noted. OEF, as well as the later missions focusing on stabilization
and reconstruction in Afghanistan (the ISAF and Resolute Support Missions), bases in Central

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Roger Kangas

Asia and the northern distribution network (NDN) played key roles. That said, the base at
Karshi-Khanabad, Uzbekistan, was open for only four years (2001–2005), and the base at
Manas, Kyrgyzstan, was open for thirteen (2001–2014), which means that today, there are no
US troops permanently stationed in Central Asia.
The impact of this departure can be seen in a drop in funding numbers, as well, as how
the region is viewed within the broader US national security and foreign policy priorities.
Over two decades of National Security Strategies show that Central Asia is mentioned only a
handful of times – either with respect to energy security or to the campaign in Afghanistan.
As economic relations between the United States and the region remain modest, and now
security ties are also minimal, it is logical to conclude that Central Asia is simply not high
on the American agenda.
The EU shares some of the basic interests and challenges in Central Asia as that of the
United States. In the beginning of the 2000s, the EU developed and published a “White Pa-
per” that outlined the organization’s strategy for dealing with Central Asia (Emerson 2010).
As with other Eurasian states, a fundamental feature was the adherence to certain standards
and values that are deemed critical from European perspective. Unfortunately, over time,
European organizations conclude that the Central Asian countries are becoming less trans-
parent in terms of human and political rights (European Parliament 2016).
Perhaps more important than these concerns is the fact that both the United States and
the EU countries face a myriad of challenges within their immediate neighborhoods, and
as issues are prioritized, Central Asia is of lesser importance. As a result, one sees a greater
emphasis on regional and international organizations in the region, to include an acceptance
of a greater involvement of the SCO and CSTO in foreign policy and security matters. This
is quite a change from the 1990s, when the West believed the Central Asian countries, along
with the rest of the former Soviet states, desired to be part of a broader trans-European po-
litical, economic, and security architecture.

China
The past decade has seen the emergence of China as a significant economic partner to the five
Central Asian states. All have increased bilateral ties with this eastern neighbor so that China
is now the top (or among the top) country in a number of economic categories. Initially
starting with commercial trade, particularly shuttle trade across the border to K ­ azakhstan
and Kyrgyzstan, bilateral economic ties have evolved into a complex web of commercial,
logistical, energy, and transportation connections that have been advantageous to all parties
involved. As previously noted with respect to Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan, energy trans-
fers to China make us a substantial part of bilateral trade. For China, which is the largest
energy consumer in Asia, acquiring rights to long-term energy deals is essential for sustained
economic growth (Chen 2012).
Trade has become more than just raw material or commercial goods deals. Since 2014,
China has drawn the Central Asian countries into the broader policy of “One Belt One
Road” (OBOR) that encompasses a plethora of neighbors and investors throughout South
and Central Asia, extending all the way to Europe. The overland component, often called
the “Silk Road” strategy, uses the Central Asian states as transit points for East-West
commercial trade (Fallon 2015). In theory, this will affect Kazakhstan the most, although
­Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan have a role to play, as well. The trade routes southward –
through Tajikistan and Afghanistan – parallel the CPEC routes via Pakistan and will more
likely service a regional market. While this has been positively portrayed in the Central

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 Balancing interests and perceptions

Asian media, there are some questions regarding the ultimate benefits to the region itself.
Will Central Asia be a mere transit region, with larger profits going to China and Europe?
Will the second- and third-order benefits of increased labor opportunities, connectivity,
and travel to outside markets, as well as consumer zones to service the transit hubs of
OBOR, materialize?
In terms of political and security interests, the situation is less dynamic. To date, the
­Chinese government has been clear in its advocacy of “non-interference in the domestic af-
fairs of others” and has refrained from engaging in any meaningful way in the internal affairs
of the Central Asian states. When violence has occurred, or when human rights violations
are highlighted, Chinese officials vocally support the regimes in power. Likewise, when
there is a leadership transition, either through violence (Kyrgyzstan 2005 and 2010) or the
death of an incumbent (Turkmenistan 2006 and Uzbekistan 2016), Beijing offers its support
to the new leaders. This has become a not-so-subtle way of contrasting Chinese views with
those of Western powers, who constantly question the domestic politics of the region. The
major Chinese-based security organization, the SCO, is likewise silent on issues of “values
and norms,” instead focusing on confidence building measures, cooperation, and combatting
transnational threats (the three evils of separatism, extremism, and terrorism) (Kassenova
2009; Dadabaev 2014). From a Central Asian point of view, this approach resonates, and
in recent years, it has become commonplace to consider China an essential neighbor and
partner. Postings to Beijing now rival those to Moscow and Washington, DC as career-­
enhancing opportunities for Central Asian diplomats.
Several observations can be drawn from these modest examples. First of all, the Central
Asian states themselves are not of primary importance to any of the major powers listed. The
same could be said for regional countries, such as Turkey, Iran, and India. While there is a
broad web of bilateral and multilateral agreements in place, the five countries in the region
do not warrant a high level of attention. Even Russia, which sees Central Asia as a special
zone of interest, considers its own Western border, with Ukraine and the EU, further be-
yond, more critical. The same can be said for Russia’s border with China and the Far East.
Second, when outside countries are engaged in Central Asia, it is more often than not
for specific reasons. As noted several times, this usually means energy and/or security. As a
result, there is an unfortunate habit of treating the countries instrumentally, in an effort to
address another problem.
Third, this engagement is episodic. When crises emerge, attention is directed to the re-
gion. Absent such tensions, the very same attention abates. Usually, this criticism is levied
against Western countries, particularly the United States. However, it applies to other out-
side powers, as well. India, for example, is developing a more robust security cooperation
relationship with Tajikistan. When discussion of opening an air base at Ayni occurred, both
Russia and Pakistan raised concerns that this was an attempt to “militarize” the region even
more by strengthening India’s presence (vis-à-vis Pakistan). While this may not have been
India’s intention, it was definitely perceived to be that way by other regional actors.
Finally, it is the challenge of perception that continually plagues the region. As it is a re-
mote area for many countries, active engagement is viewed through the lens of some “greater
game” that is being played. This has had a limiting effect on how the Central Asian countries
engage with outside powers, and also exaggerates the supposed tensions in the region. Iron-
ically, for over ten years, Kyrgyzstan was host to both US/NATO and Russian/CSTO air
bases, seemingly able to manage each. During this time, no serious problems arose between
the two bases, even though rhetorical difference expressed by political leaders would suggest
otherwise.

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Roger Kangas

Conclusion
In sum, the foreign policy of Central Asia is one of managing limitations. The five states
therein are increasingly developing their own foreign and security identities and are not
­simply repeating the actions of the others. It would seem that after more than a quarter cen-
tury of independence, each state has been able to assess their own policy priorities. For all,
state sovereignty is paramount, with three – Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan –
able to actively develop foreign policy strategies to maintain it. The other two – K ­ yrgyzstan
and Tajikistan – are less capable, mainly because of limited resources but also because of
geography. They are wedged among major regional players that have a dominant role in their
economies and security.
The future trends and challenges for the Central Asian states fall into four major catego-
ries. These reflect the basic interests and concerns of outside powers as well as the factors that
could help the five states project power.

Energy
There is no question that energy will remain a key foreign policy topic for at least Kazakhstan
and Turkmenistan, with respect to oil and gas. Assuming that the CASA-1000 project gets
underway in a realistic manner, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan could find themselves engaged
in hydropower discussions with neighboring states and international funders. The challenge
that all face is the extent to which these resources are desired by outside consumers and the
level of perseverance they have in working through the sometimes difficult business environ-
ment. In the area of gas, for example, Turkmenistan has developed a sustainable relationship
with China. However, routing in other directions remains hostage to other, outside factors,
as well as the “ease of doing business.” In the coming years, the Turkmen government ought
to have concerns of possessing “stranded reserves.”

Trade
The “Silk Road” narratives are great for initial policies and public statements, but making
them realities remains a paramount concern. Legal regimes, infrastructure, and cooperative
neighbors all must be developed. Moreover, the comparative advantage of trade from and
through Central Asia needs to be realized. Unless external consumers find a reason for want-
ing trade through Central Asia, the often-discussed plans will remain on paper only, and the
region could be bypassed for more profitable routes.

Politics and human rights

One of the biggest challenges the United States and other Western powers have had with
the five Central Asian states is about how to address the question of human rights. A read-
ing of human rights reporting from the US Department of State, which is the baseline for
American engagement with the region, shows a downward trend overall in Central Asia.
Organizations such as Freedom House and Human Rights Watch also note the potential
for conditions worsening. While this is a problem for the West, it is not so for other outside
­actors. Both Russia and China have expressed their support for not interfering in the domes-
tic affairs of other states and the so-called Beijing Consensus is gaining traction in Central
Asia – as an alternative to the conditions-based discourse of the West (Safranchuk 2016).

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 Balancing interests and perceptions

Security
Perhaps the most complex dynamic in the region remains that of security, which is inextri-
cably linked to the other three factors. At present, Central Asia does not face direct threats
from neighbors, nor have any of the five gone to war with each other, in spite of periodic
bouts of hostile rhetoric. Could this change? Most likely, the chance of state-on-state conflict
will remain low, which is a result of the interlocking security architecture that exists in the
region, and beyond. While Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan belong to multiple structures, Turk-
menistan remains limited in its engagement. That said, all seem to abide by the “rules of the
game” that organizations like the CSTO and SCO have to offer. Through these structures,
tensions between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan over water usage and between Uzbekistan and
Kyrgyzstan over the conditions in the Ferghana Valley can be addressed.
Security challenges from outside of the region remain. This is especially the case from
across the southern border. Afghanistan’s stability is tenuous, and transnational extremist
groups continue to travel through and conduct acts of violence within that state. Were
such organizations as the IMU, Da’esh, or others to seek to expand northward into Central
Asia, they would find potential opportunities. In the past, terrorist acts took place in ­Central
Asia, so this would not be a new phenomenon. The likelihood that a particular group
would gather enough strength to become an existential threat to a country in the region
seems remote at present. However, could they destabilize certain subregions (Badakhshan
and the Fergana Valley, for example)? That is a concern for the countries, more so because
there is a lack of cooperation in the region other than through the multinational organiza-
tions, which have not been truly tested as credible counterterrorism forces.
Each of these elements is common to other parts of the world and not necessarily unique
to Central Asia. How the five states actually address them (independent of each other most
likely) will determine much of how they identify themselves in the coming years. Moreover,
the extent to which outside powers are willing to offer support is also unknown. Will it
require an actual crisis to draw attention from abroad?
Finally, in the coming decades, will the Central Asian states increasingly identify with
Asia, as opposed to the narrower sense of Eurasia? It has only been in the current decade that
China surpassed Russia as the top trading partner, and the familiarity of Chinese, Korean,
­Japanese, Indian, and Malaysian continues to increase. Moreover, Asian-centered organiza-
tions, whether it is the SCO or the AIIB or even the “One Belt One Road” project, have much
greater attention in the region. As these mature, will Central Asia truly become part of Asia?

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The developmental state: political
economic considerations
 10
The political economy of
East Asian regionalism
Linjun Wu

Introduction
Regional development in East Asia has been ongoing ever since countries in the region
achieved independence after a long period of Western colonialism. Although the idea of a
united East Asian front well predated World War II, the postwar era witnessed a renewal in the
attempts to establish a new regional order different from those of the early decades, which were
tainted with the memory of Japanese militarist regionalism in the form of colonialism, war, and
subjugation. Early institutionalization in East Asia remained a part of the larger geopolitical
struggle between the two major camps (Eastern and Western Blocs) and therefore had deep
ideological undertones. Over time, however, the ideological aspect seemed to weaken, while
a widely shared pragmatism took hold, albeit to varying degrees, among polities in East Asia.
Nonetheless, regionalization in East Asia has always had its own unique characteristics
different from the earlier or ongoing regionalization in other parts of the world, be it in
North America or in Europe. The Asian way emphasized mutual understanding, consensus
building, incremental progress, and soft rule-making. Therefore, institutions that emerged
from ideas of cooperation at different levels differed significantly from their Western peers in
terms of their organic development and functions. The localization of East Asian institution
building led to the development of a number of theories with active and diverse scholarly
debate in many aspects (He 2004; Ravenhill 2009).
This chapter offers a broad assessment of East Asian regionalism by attempting an inves-
tigation into the development of regional integration frameworks originating in the region.
It traces the conceptual evolution of regionalism in East Asia. For this, it reviews major extra
forces that promoted various initiatives in the region and factors that stimulated countries in
the region to cooperate economically.
The chapter concludes that the evolution of East Asian economic regionalism has been a
result of shunning the rules set by the American-led bloc (Wu 2015b).1 Furthermore, it finds
that East Asian regionalism has evolved over time from reactive to proactive institutionaliza-
tion, with China-led initiatives in East Asia acting as part of the region’s greater challenge to
US dominance.2 Therefore, regionalization in East Asia has followed the geopolitical lines
of fracture and competition.

141
Linjun Wu

Open regionalism, Asia-Pacific regionalism, and

East Asian regionalism

Open regionalism
Initially, the development of economic institutionalization in East Asia maintained regional
characteristics embodied in the term “open regionalism.” Especially from the end of the
Cold War to the late 1990s, the United States worked hard to convince and sometimes push
skeptical Asian nations to liberalize their economies in order to ensure the free flow of trade
and investment and provide new markets for its multinational corporations.
Open regionalism reflected the desire to address through cooperation the compatibility
problems of international trade. The notion of open regionalism attempted to provide a fun-
damental framework so that regional economic arrangements would not block international
economic liberalization and the streamlining of trade-related interaction across national bor-
ders. The idea of flexibility or openness emerged and was embodied in the Asia-Pacific re-
gion in the form of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) in 1989 (Nair 2008). As
economic regionalism recognized transnational economic interdependence and attempted
to devise policies and structures to regulate this interdependence, a crucial component of this
economic multilateralism was the creation of APEC.

Asia-Pacific regionalism
The first viable institution founded upon the notion of inclusive regionalism was APEC.
There were prior efforts to establish dialogue platforms on economic issues around the
­Pacific Rim, including the Pacific Basin Economic Council (PBEC), established in 1967 by
leading bankers and business leaders from Australia, Canada, Japan, New Zealand, and the
United States, and the Pacific Economic Cooperation Council (PECC), formed in 1980 as a
tripartite forum of government, business leaders, and academics; these provided the founda-
tion for APEC (McKay 2002). However, APEC differed in that it was the first organization
in the region to promote dialogue and cooperation on economic issues at the government
level and thus came to be viewed as a symbol of Asia-Pacific regionalism. Hence, from
its inception, APEC broadened the scope of flexible economic cooperation by elevating
the level of interaction from nongovernmental to governmental level since, doubtlessly, al-
though functional and beneficial, economic interaction at the nongovernmental level had a
narrower scope (Park and Lee 2009).
One of the factors originally prompting the establishment of APEC was that it was viewed
as a way of countering the protectionist tide perceived to be on the rise. As a result, the mem-
bership of APEC tended to be thought of in inclusive rather than exclusive terms. Further-
more, APEC is in essence a product of the rise of economic liberalism. Central to it is a belief
in market-led integration and the seemingly tautological notion of “open regionalism.”
Although APEC was first initiated by Australia in 1989, it is the United States that has
played a leadership role in maintaining it. In the postwar era, the United States became the
sole dominant foreign power, while the East Asian region was still reeling from the end of
European colonialism and Japanese expansionism. Naturally, the emergence of economic re-
gionalism was greatly influenced by the United States, and APEC is seen as having been the
principal vehicle for moving open regionalism forward in the 1990s. The open regionalism
that was promoted by the United States under the APEC framework remained as a core force
for Asia’s regionalization for a long time.

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 The economy of East Asian regionalism

However, the US pressure for regional trade liberalization was met with skepticism on
two counts. First, the United States was viewed as taking protective actions on behalf of its
national interests, including business interests, while pushing for liberalization and opening
up in Asia. Second, regional countries objected to comprehensive liberalization because of
the perceived necessity to protect their key industries. For example, when the United States
tried to push trade liberalization further in 1996 with the Early Voluntary Sectorial Liberal-
ization (EVSL) initiative, it ran into opposition led by Japan. APEC members were unwilling
to accept pressure to liberalize beyond what they would have done unilaterally, and the scope
for concerted unilateral liberalization had narrowed by the late 1990s (Pomfret 2009).

East Asian regionalism

Institutional development in East Asia has followed a regional logic in past decades, moving
from the periphery to the center. Unlike the European experience, in which big countries
initiated and drove the regional integration projects, in the East Asian context, East Asian
institutions were initiated by small powers and later followed by big powers. Initiatives such
as the East Asian Economic Group (EAEG, 1990), East Asian Economic Caucus (EAEC,
1990), and ASEAN plus Three (APT, 2001) were first proposed by states on the periphery,
such as Singapore, Malaysia, and Australia.
Although EAEC could be seen as a starting point, East Asian regionalism was still in-
fluenced by APEC’s ability to genuinely represent the interests of East Asian countries (Yu
2003). It can be argued that East Asian economic regionalism has been reinforced by APEC.
Historically, two broad approaches emerged within its framework. Whereas ASEAN mem-
ber nations argued for a loose, consensus-based body with a small secretariat (the ASEAN
Way), developed countries, such as Australia and the United States, advocated a more tightly
focused and rules-based organization with established norms and an effective secretariat
(McKay 2002). The regional preference affected APEC’s prospects as the East Asian states
tried to elude the American-led APEC in favor of a more regional economic development
(Ball 2000). In other words, APEC paved the way for East Asian regionalism with deeper
Asian characteristics.

Emergence of East Asian economic regionalism

East Asian economic group in APEC

Among the various proposals for regional integration, the call for the creation of an East
Asian region-wide grouping came the earliest. The idea of forming an East Asian grouping
was first explicitly proposed by Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad in 1990 when
he called for the formation of the East Asian Economic Group (EAEG). His proposal not
only received strong opposition from the United States, which feared it might evolve into
an exclusive East Asian bloc, but also received a cold response from other East Asian gov-
ernments, which were wary of Mahathir’s plan and under American pressure to withhold
support for the idea. However, despite initial setbacks, the idea of more institutionalized East
Asian cooperation remained sound enough to be pursued later (Cai 2003).
Initially, the United States had been thrilled about Australia’s APEC initiative in 1989.
However, US policy changed later to support and actively participate in APEC. Some ex-
plained that the policy shift was because of the US strategy to push European countries on
free trade issues in the Uruguay Round of multilateral trade negotiations (Higgott 1995).

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However, more people in the region believed that the US goal in participating in APEC was to
put an effective stop to the forming of an East Asian grouping as initiated by Mahathir in 1990.
Thus, APEC, from the beginning, represented the antithesis to the Asian solution to Asia’s
own problems and became an embodiment of the US comprehensive presence in the region.
Under US leadership, APEC was successful in laying out objectives for trade liberaliza-
tion in 1994 at its annual session in Bogor, at which APEC leaders agreed upon a set of goals
that included free and open trade and investment in the Asia-Pacific, by 2010 for developed
economies and 2020 for developing economies.
Furthermore, the APEC Leaders’ Summit was added in 1993 and offers an institution-
alized venue for the heads of government of all member economies to convene. In a sur-
prisingly short time, APEC, under US leadership, moved the member governments from a
consultative framework to a negotiating body, with concrete decision-making procedures.
However, APEC’s increasing international profile did not pass uncontested in its early
stages as some states, Malaysia being the most vocal, still exhibited a preference for a more
“Asian” and less “Pacific” forum for regional economic dialogue (Higgott and Stubbs 1995).
They have insisted on a loose structure and nonbinding agreements, which could be seen as
obstacles to APEC’s goal of trade liberalization. Moreover, there was frustration from the
Asia side about American-led APEC members’ having focused exclusively on the liberaliza-
tion agenda while neglecting development cooperation (Yu 2003). Overall, there were sub-
stantive outcomes generated by the APEC meetings and programs. APEC could be seen as
successful in bringing the two sides of the Pacific closer economically by enabling a smoother
relationship and resolving a number of protracted conflicts between some countries in East
Asia and the United States (Cai 2003).
However, in the aftermath of the 1997 Asian financial crisis, this situation changed rap-
idly as East Asian countries embarked on bilateral negotiations within regional and extra-­
regional economies.

Asian financial crisis and regionalism with deeper Asian characteristics

It is, then, no mistake to say that the 1997 Asian financial crisis became a major turning point
in shifting the locus of regionalism from the Asia-Pacific to East Asia. In particular, the crisis
revealed East Asia’s vulnerability to external forces, including the rapid cross-border move-
ments of short-term capital and the influence of global financial institutions.
At the same time, it reminded countries that the US- and the West-dominated Interna-
tional Monetary Fund (IMF) did not adequately protect the interests of East Asian economies
(Komori 2009). Specifically, the 1997 Asian financial crisis caused a deep suspicion toward
international organizations (e.g., IMF) and the industrialized Western powers because of
their either inadequate or, as it was perceived, insincere approach toward the economies that
were feeling the brunt of the crisis. Also, many held that the crisis was largely due to inter-
national financial manipulation of the immature local markets in a number of Asian states.
This understanding of vulnerability to the destructive effects of the global finance move-
ment created a deep suspicion and led many regional countries to seek to protect themselves
from any future crisis. The natural response has been to return to the regional dynamics as
embodied in the launch of the Chiang Mai Initiative (CMI) in 2000, the Asian Bond Market
Initiative (ABMI) in 2003, and many others.
Thus, the 1997 Asian financial crisis was an important event that led to Asia’s disillusionment
with the existing US-dominated regional cooperation scheme. In the wake of the crisis, various
initiatives for East Asian regionalism were strongly influenced by the United States. However,

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there has been a wide range of changes in regional economic structures since the Asian financial
crisis, during which there was high demand for regional economic cooperation, and APEC could
play a central role. However, except for offering lip service and rhetorical support, APEC did not
provide any help to Asian countries that suffered from the crisis (Kawai 2007).
In brief, the 1997 Asian financial crisis brought an effective end to liberalizationist frame-
works and opened the way for regionalism with deeper Asian characteristics that emphasized
trade bilateralism. This regional preference also affected APEC’s prospects as East Asian
states tried to elude the American-led APEC in favor of a more regional economic develop-
ment and security framework.
As of 2010, there were 137 trade agreements in East Asia, either in force or awaiting im-
plementation, as well as 54 under negotiation (Feridhanusetyawan 2005). Thus, the Asian
economic crisis was an important juncture during which Asian countries began to develop
a new sense of regional identity, recognizing that their interests did not always correspond
with the interests of the United States and the West.

ASEAN Plus Three forum

In the late 1990s, the East Asian Economic Grouping idea was revived with the ASEAN Plus
Three (APT) forum. Initiated by ASEAN states, APT first emerged because of the need for
ASEAN and the three Northeast Asian countries – China, Japan, and South Korea – to pre-
pare for the Asia-Europe Meeting (ASEM), which was first held in 1996. APT soon evolved
into an institutionalized forum for consultation and cooperation between ASEAN and the
three Northeast Asian countries over a growing range of regional issues. Progress on regional
cooperation is highly publicized after the informal APT summit meetings following annual
ASEAN summits. The first APT summit meeting was held during the 1997 ASEAN summit
in Kuala Lumpur. The main purpose was to discuss the 1997 Asian financial crisis and its
aftermath. After the informal meeting, a range of regular ministerial and other official meet-
ings involving foreign ministers, finance ministers, economic ministers, central bank gover-
nors, and senior officials from other ministries and government offices were held (Cai 2003).
Many view the regional trade frameworks in East Asia as building blocks of a future
ASEAN Economic Community (AEC). However, there seems to have been a lack of a
clear format and modality for negotiations. The emergence of APT, for instance, was not
to create a free trade regime but to provide financial cooperation, which was manifested in
the launching of the CMI in 2000 based on lessons learned from the Asian financial crisis.
Obviously, the interests of each and every actor have been instrumental to the pace, speed,
and direction of the regionalization. If interests are generally aligned, the implementation
process will be faster.
In brief, the APEC experience has proven to be rather constructive for East Asian coun-
tries in terms of the practice of economic cooperation and the process of community-­
making, whereas the Asian financial crisis shifted the course of economic multilateralism
toward closer regional cooperation. In this sense, the establishment of the APT was based
on lessons learned from the positive APEC experience and the negative Asian financial crisis
experience and would not have otherwise been possible.

China’s rise and East Asian economic regionalism

During the Asian financial crisis, China took a more active stance in resisting pressure for
rapid liberalization and took regional responsibility through financial measures that reduced

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Linjun Wu

the negative effects of the crisis on regional economies. Along with countries’ more posi-
tive perceptions of China in the wake of the crisis, China’s economic rise over the past four
decades also significantly impacted the East Asian institutional landscape. China’s growing
economic power has provided it over time with the required capability to not only take part
in regional institutional settings but also initiate its own frameworks.

China’s economic rise and the domino effect

China’s rise has had impacts on East Asian economic regionalism. China has played an in-
creasingly important supporting role in regional economic cooperation not only because of
its rapid economic development but also because the former “flying geese” model of ver-
tical economic integration with Japan as the regional leader is gradually shifting toward a
horizontal development model centered on China. This is supported by China’s trade with
all East Asian countries and the China-centered production network that spreads across the
region (Men 2007).
The China-ASEAN FTA (CAFTA) was the most remarkable free trade agreement in
recent years. ASEAN’s trade talks with China went more smoothly than with many others
that it had been negotiating. The two sides reached an agreement on trade liberalization
in goods in 2004 and on trade liberalization in services in 2007. The accords entered into
force for China and the five economically stronger ASEAN member states in January 2010.
Consequently, the period between 2001 and 2007 witnessed a roughly fivefold increase in
the volume of Sino-ASEAN trade (Webber 2010). In November 2015, China and ASEAN
agreed to upgrade China-ASEAN FTA (CAFTA) across a broad range of areas, including
goods, services, investment, and economic and technological cooperation (CNTV 2015).
It also seemed that a certain domino effect came into play and accelerated trade institu-
tionalization in the region. Indeed, as the number of trade agreements grew, the effect of the
trade agreements increased, providing incentives for more countries to join the free trade
agreement movement, thereby creating a domino effect. Once again, the CAFTA might
serve as an example. Following the opening of negotiations between China and ASEAN,
as anticipated, Japan submitted a similar proposal to ASEAN within months only to be fol-
lowed by Korea. Similarly, after the success of the China-Korea FTA, Japan warmed up to
the idea of accelerating the ongoing trilateral trade agreement between China, Japan, and
South Korea.

Confidence-building process for East Asian economic regionalism

Trade institutionalization and the emerging East Asian regionalism contributed to the region
in many ways. First of all, they have been utilized to cement the political relationships among
the countries involved. For example, the China-ASEAN agreement was regarded a political
confidence-building process with significant geostrategic and economic undertones
(­Soesastro 2003). It has even been argued that the key factor in the recent Asia-Pacific region-
alization is the need for stronger cooperation with China as a result of its growing importance
in the region (Pangestu and Gooptu 2004). With China as the largest contributor to the
region’s economic development and the largest manufacturing and consumption market, it
was perhaps only natural for countries to seek access to the Chinese market, technology, and
logistical network.
From the perspective of international political economy, the rise of China and its institu-
tional strength can be viewed as factors that gradually push the United States into economic

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defense mode in the Asia-Pacific. China has remained quite cautious so as to avoid being
seen as seeking anti-US regionalization by reiterating that Washington, which is aggressively
pushing forward the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), should not feel concerned about the
rise of China and that regional integration is also in the interest of the United States, but the
United States is far from convinced. This is the reason that it has initiated an active contain-
ment strategy against China ever since the APEC meeting in Hawaii in 2011. China, on the
other hand, relying on the soft power of economic interaction and integration, seems aware
of the fact that the best way to counter US efforts to maintain its role as guarantor of regional
security and bolster its military presence in the Asia-Pacific is economic cooperation and
development.

Impacts of the US-led FTAAP and TPP

In response to China’s rise in East Asia and the declining influence of the United States,
which was made clear when it failed to push forward the Free Trade Area of the Asia-Pacific
(FTAAP) framework under APEC in the mid-2000s, the United States began to view the
TPP as a viable instrument to promote high-standards trade liberalization in the Asia-Pacific
since September 2008.

The United States and TPP

After eight years of the Bush administration, in which close US allies in Asia criticized the
US government for dedicating too much time and effort to the Middle Eastern theater at
the cost of ignoring the Asia-Pacific, the United States returned to Asia in full force under
the Obama administration, especially with Hillary Clinton as the Secretary of State. The
rebalancing (or pivot), which is widely considered to be in response to China’s economic and
military rise, involved the reallocation of US global power projection capabilities and espe-
cially its naval assets from the Middle East to East Asia and the Asia-Pacific (Logan 2013).
The economic component of this strategy was the TPP, which was considered a highly for-
malized trade regime. The Obama administration once attempted to assume leadership in
TPP by promoting it aggressively as a high-standard trade regime and as a model for future
direction of international trade. Equally important, it was anticipated that geopolitical influ-
ence would undoubtedly follow trade in East Asia, as it already had been in previous years.
With China being excluded from the negotiations, the TPP was understood as the economic
aspect of the Asia-Pacific rebalancing. A trade agreement that involved the United States and
11 Pacific Rim countries, including Australia, Japan, Singapore, and Vietnam, the TPP was
obviously considered by the US administration as a critical component in forming a trade
regime that served the best interests of the United States. As voiced by President Obama in
his 2016 State of the Union address, “With TPP, China does not set the rules in that region;
we do” (Obama 2016). It was clear that the aim of the TPP for the Obama administration
was to ensure US supremacy in East Asia.
However, the new US administration under Donald Trump formally withdrew from TPP
trade deal. In fact, during his campaign period, Trump had criticized heavily the potential
negative implications of the TPP, which included weakening the US manufacturing by lead-
ing to unbalanced bilateral trade with its Asian partners and, consequently, to high employ-
ment, especially among the middle-aged, white, male US population. As a matter of fact, in
his unorthodox opposition and political rhetoric, Trump has not only targeted the TPP but
also other major deals, such as the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and the

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ongoing Trans-Atlantic Trade and Investment Partnership (TTIP). The Trump administra-
tion also has launched currency manipulation accusations, blanketing a number of econo-
mies, especially those with high national reserve and positive Net International Investment
Position (NIIP), such as China, Japan, Korea, Germany, and Taiwan (SCMP 2017).
The withdrawal of the United States from the TPP will likely have both political and
economic implications, some of which have already become visible. Politically, especially in
Southeast Asia in which territorial disputes over maritime features and boundaries abound,
the major stakeholders appear to be more cautious in serving as a forward base for the US
efforts to militarily encircle China. For example, the Philippines has recently put greater
distance between itself and the United States, while Malaysia has chosen to develop military
ties with China by purchasing China-made naval platforms. Trump’s mixing of security in
East Asia with trade concessions by the developing SEA nations in favor of the US business
interests has created suspicion toward Washington’s commitment in the region as a security
provider. Economically, regional countries appear to concentrate more on bilateral trade
negotiations as well as on alternative regional settings, such as the ASEAN-created Regional
Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP) and China-led FTAAP. Thus, at the APEC
summit held in Peru in 2016, China promoted strongly the alternative trade platforms and
explicitly stated that economic globalization should be ensured against the rising protection-
ism in the developed West led by the United States (Xinhua 2016).

RCEP and China’s vision

While TPP negotiations gained momentum at early stage, ASEAN states responded by ini-
tiating the RCEP in 2011. It is being negotiated between the ten member states of ASEAN
plus regional trading partners, including Australia, China, India, Japan, New Zealand, and
South Korea. The main purpose of RCEP is to derail or divert attention away from the
high-standards TPP and propose a more Asian way of ensuring economic cooperation and
openness. One of the most significant aspects of RCEP is that the United States is excluded
from it, which leaves China as the largest and most influential player within the grouping.
China has been seen as the key driver of the regional trade pact, which has viewed as an al-
ternative to the US-led TPP agreement with the world’s second-biggest economy excluded.
The fact that some of the RCEP’s members, such as Japan, Australia, Vietnam, and
New Zealand, were also members or nonparty signatories to the TPP underlined its role as
a balancing institution to the US-led TPP. Even though ASEAN leaders announced that the
conclusion of the deal would help allay fears that the US-led TPP could have dividing effect on
the ASEAN, the competition between RCEP and TPP remained obvious up until 2017 (Straits
Times 2016). The two frameworks, in a sense, reflected two distinct ideals of regional integration.
From the beginning of RCEP initiatives, China chose to promote the far less rigorous
RCEP, which would include countries making up about 30 percent of global GDP but
exclude the United States. To many observers, this choice was wise because it was obvious
that China’s leaders knew their country had to remain outside the TPP because they could
not meet the “high standards” that were incorporated into the structure of the pact. China
perceived the TPP as being not the right framework for the stage of development the country
was in. Most importantly, many saw that the proposed pact would “not achieve a level of
ambition or comprehensiveness to provide a real alternative to the TPP, but it [would] none-
theless form the center of East Asia’s trade regime if the Trans-Pacific Partnership [did] not
come into existence” (Chang 2015). The withdrawal of the United States from the TPP has
effectively put a dent on the progress of the negotiators. Accordingly, some member states,

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such as Vietnam, halted parliamentary procedures regarding the deal, while others, such as
Japan, continued to seek to salvage the agreement. However, Japanese Prime Minister’s hasty
visit to the United States and personal efforts did not work out as Trump went ahead with
his primary campaign promise.

China and East Asian economic regionalism

The gradual development of the ASEAN plus frameworks from ASEAN plus China to APT
and then to other ASEAN-centered frameworks exemplifies this incrementally develop-
ing and Asia-centered regionalism. Within this new scheme, “China’s growing economic
and military power, expanding political influence, distinctive diplomatic voice, and increas-
ing involvement in regional multilateral institutions are key developments in Asian affairs”
(Shambaug 2004/2005) and represent an increasingly proactive process of regional economic
integration driven by Beijing. Especially after the demise of the TPP process, China’s role in
East Asia as a major market, source of investment and the most capable infrastructure, and
logistics developer has grown considerably. As anti-trade forces gain the upper hand in major
developed Western capitals, developing countries in East Asia look up to China to break
through the vicious cycle of poor infrastructure and unsustainable development.

East Asian economic regionalism with Chinese rule-setting

Recent developments in East Asian economic integration highlight three features of the
emerging pattern of regional integration. First, it is more institutionalized. Since the Asian
financial crisis, mechanisms such as the CMI and ABMI have been implemented to regulate
financial and other monetary transactions. Second, it is more China-centric and, as a result,
proactive. China seems to be the driving force behind exclusive regionalism in East Asia, and
its economic scale and political capabilities make it the de facto leader of regional economic
integration, sidelining the United States and reducing its presence into provider of security
in the region. Third, it is more Asian. Economic integration is more Asian in large part be-
cause it is developed and promoted by China.
This eventually brings the region to an interesting juncture. With the decline of the US
influence as exemplified by the practical end of TPP negotiations and rising US protection-
ism, reactive or passive regionalization is no longer encouraged, and the region instead has
to make active choices about regional economic integration. It is unavoidable that the more
China integrates with the region, the more the United States gets isolated due to the simple
reality of the scale and potential of China’s economy. Indeed, in 2013, China became the
world’s largest trading nation, eclipsing the United States for the first time, one year after
it become the world’s largest trading partner with 124 countries considering China their
largest trading partner and only 76 having that relationship with the US. This was a major
shift since 2006, when the US was the larger trading partner for 127 countries, while China
dominated among 70 (RT News 2013).
In fact, the absence of President Obama at the APEC Summit in Vladivostok in 2012
showed how the United States was moving away from APEC to promote TPP as the new
venue for the opening up of East Asia for US business interests and countering of China.
However, the APEC Lima Summit in 2016 also suggested that the United States might be
entirely sidelined (in part, due to US government’s own choosing) from Asia-Pacific region-
alization as China emerged the new promoter and leading provider of trade, connectivity,
and development.

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China’s regionalist push has gained traction over the past five years, symbolized by the
launch of a number of frameworks and supporting institutions. China’s regionalism in this
new context is not reactive but appears to be proactive and offering an alternative, rather
than a revisionist rival paradigm, for the nations in the Asia-Pacific. China-led, East Asia-
based, Eurasia-oriented regionalism, therefore, is a highly economics-oriented strategy and
stands in stark contrast to the US-led security-oriented engagement in the region. Trump
administration’s conditionality of security provision to trade concessions by its allies in East
Asia has shed a revealing light on the sustainability of US commitment in the region. Thus,
currently, small and medium powers in the region seem to be reconfiguring their strat-
egies and shifting their policies, which, as opposed to the contentious environment that
was generated during and in the aftermath of the SCS arbitration, suggests that China’s
ideas of regional cooperation, connectivity, openness dispute-resolution bilateralism, and
­confidence-building are generating a more favorable resonance across the region.

One Belt, One Road

The most important component of China’s new regional framework is the One Belt, One
Road Connectivity Project (OBOR). Initiated by China in 2013 as an economic strat-
egy to build infrastructure and increase connectivity throughout Eurasia, OBOR is an
integrated two-tier strategy composed of the Silk Road Economic Belt and 21st-Century
Maritime Silk Road. The project was announced by President Xi Jinping in September
2013 during his visits to Kazakhstan (Silk Road Economic Belt) and Indonesia (Maritime
Silk Road). The primary purpose of OBOR is to integrate Eurasian countries through a
network of overland road and rail routes, oil and gas pipelines, maritime routes, ports and
other required coastal structures, and cyber networks (Kennedy and Parker 2015). Having
set the project as one of the primary goals of its 13th Five-Year Plan (2016–2020), China
is at the center of entire initiative as the initiator and largest financial contributor to the
projects.
In his speech delivered to the Indonesian parliament, President Xi also voiced China’s in-
tention to establish a bank to finance infrastructural development and reinforce connectivity
and economic integration in Asia and beyond. The Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank
(AIIB) was launched in October 2014 with 21 Asian countries signing the Memorandum
of Understanding on Establishing AIIB as founding members. As the largest shareholder,
Beijing pledged US$50 billion for the bank. In November of the same year, at the APEC
meeting, President Xi announced the establishment of the US$40 billion Silk Road Fund
to provide investment and financing support for the projects in countries along the OBOR.
Thus, aside from the various infrastructure projects it has initiated bilaterally or multilat-
erally, Beijing has, so far, pledged funds to assist the development efforts (Wu, 2015a, 4–8).
The region-wide interest in China-led institutions indicates that Beijing’s persistent de-
velopmentalist diplomacy has created an alternative discourse to US attempts to manage
inter- and intra-Asian economic and security affairs. This indicates an overall shift in the
understanding of regional dynamics as one emphasizing development as a means to ensure
peace and security but not necessarily the reverse. This lends support to the argument that
US-instigated institutionalization, even those that are seemingly of economic nature, are
militarist and punitive in nature because of their inherent design to counter and contain
China. As an alternative to that, China has offered flexible and inclusive institutionalization
that brings together not only individual Asian nations but countries across Eurasia around
the ideas of infrastructural development, connectivity, and peace.

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Conclusion
This research has found that regionalism in East Asia has gone through a number of stages,
moving from peripheral frameworks to central or regional frameworks. As the transition
continues, the regional development framework has shifted gradually from Western or
US-centric understandings to indigenous conceptualizations. Historical shifts played signif-
icant roles in this transition. During the early 1990s, regional integration adopted a multi-
lateral framework that was embodied in the US-led APEC. The old framework encouraged
open regionalism with Asian and non-Asian (Asia-Pacific) participation. Strict neoliberal
market liberalization was emphasized as the regional economic ideology, which required
countries to open up their markets for foreign investment and deregulate their financial
structures.
The old model suffered a heavy blow in the aftermath of the Asian financial crisis,
with APEC and global financial institutions unable to effectively respond to the crisis.
Exclusive regionalism emerged in the mid-1990s and was further supported by the ap-
parent weaknesses of inclusive regional economic integration initiatives. Under these
conditions, bilateral FTAs mushroomed in the region, and the US-led neoliberal par-
adigm was largely sidelined in favor of market regulation, financial protectionism, and
regional cooperation schemes. Eventually, over the past decade, especially with the rise
of China as a contender against the United States in the Asia-Pacific, a new, competitive
regionalism emerged in which China and the United States began to promote their own
vision of regional development. The United States pushed for hard regionalism, arguing
that, for economic development, neoliberal market mechanisms and new economic con-
ditions, such as intellectual property rights, must be recognized and the state must pull
from all economic activities over time. China, on the other hand, began to argue for a
less standardized development model with key industries protected and countries seeking
consensus on the issues to ensure win-win cooperation. The TPP and the RCEP, in this
sense, stood on opposing sides as regional countries are left with the choice of choosing
the best offer.
However, with Trump’s decision to withdraw the United States from TPP, regionalism
in East Asia has become more proactive and, potentially, a more indigenous process; that is,
instead of reacting to regional or global shocks or signing on to extra-regional initiatives
without playing a major role in their creation, countries seek to proactively cooperate and
improve the regional economic and political landscape within a framework that is resolutely
more Asian. The primacy of the state has not weakened in East Asia, and the European
experience, which is itself in deep existential crisis now, has proven to be inapplicable to
East Asia, even as it moves toward the formation of economic communities in Southeast
Asia (ASEAN) and Northeast Asia (China-Japan-Korea Free Trade Area). In other words,
the market fundamentalism promoted by the United States has also thus far fallen short of
becoming a rule as state-led development continues to be the norm in the region. It appears
that, as China shifts its development efforts from the Asia-Pacific to Eurasia, regional coun-
tries and groupings, such as Japan, South Korea, and ASEAN, will also shift their positions
along with the emerging China-centric frameworks.

Notes
1 The term “rules” in this chapter means practice, procedures, agenda setting, and norms, ranging
from formalized legal entities, such as the WTO, to more informal but legally buttressed and abid-
ing sets of practices.

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Linjun Wu

2 APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation), APT (ASEAN plus Three), CAFAT (China-ASEAN
Free Trade Agreement), FTAAP (Free Trade Area of the Asia Pacific), CKJFTA (China-Japan-­
Korea Free Trade Agreement), TPP (Trans-Pacific Partnership), and RCEP (Regional Compre-
hensive Economic Partnership).

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 11
Southeast Asian political economy
Sarah Y. Tong

Development as a common aspiration

Southeast Asia1 consists of countries with a remarkable heterogeneity in culture, language,
religions, ethnicity, history, and traditions. Great disparity also exists between the countries
in respect to physical area, population size, and stages of economic development. In addition,
the region’s development experience has been deeply affected by its colonial past and by the
evolving external environment (see, for example, Stubbs 1989). These factors include the
Cold War from the post-World Word II period until the early 1990s and the 2008 global
financial and economic crisis.
One extraordinary feature of Southeast Asia, alongside its neighbors to the East, is the
regional countries’ unwavering aspiration and continued efforts to promote development.
While the countries have achieved varying degrees of success, the experience of the region
has not only served to inspire other developing countries but also provided valuable lessons
for government and policy makers around the world. Generally, discussion on Southeast
Asia covers the ten member states of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN):
namely, Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore,
Thailand, and Vietnam. Initially established in 1967 with five nations, ASEAN and its half a
century advancement most evidently exemplify the progress of the region’s political economy.
In the 1960s, the governments of the newly independent states in Southeast Asia faced
numerous challenges and difficulties. Given the different constrains and institutions, coun-
tries have assumed different approaches in their pursuit of development, leading to varying
degrees of success.
For Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand, various sorts of import substitu-
tion policies were implemented. These were later modified toward more outward-oriented
policies. Meanwhile, there were also attempts to promote industrialization. In addition,
the countries have also adopted other policies, such as market liberation and public invest-
ment in human resources, inspired by the successes of Japan and other East Asian Newly
Industrialized Economies (NIEs) (Howell and Palmer 1995; Nasution 1995; Parker 1995;
Rodan, Hewison and Robison 1997, 2006; Wong 1979, 1987). Incidentally, Singapore took
a somewhat different path. Recognizing its limitation in resources and a port location, the

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 Southeast Asian political economy

government of the city-state actively promoted industrialization and trade activities by at-
tracting foreign businesses. Overall, ASEAN’s five founding members, Indonesia, Malaysia,
the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand, all achieved rather impressive progress in promot-
ing development by the 1990s.
In contrast, the other four Southeast Asian countries, Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and
­Vietnam, followed rather different routes. On the one hand, economic development was not a
top priority during the period of military conflicts or military rule. On the other hand, some
forms of central planning were present in the countries. Moreover, since the late 1980s, the
­countries have gradually adopted more liberal economic policies, such as the development of
non-state businesses and opening to trade and foreign investment (see, for example, Brown 1995;
St John 2006). In the case of Vietnam, the country was engaged in military conflicts between the
two rival states of the North and the South from the 1960s to the early 1970s. Following its unifi-
cation in 1975, the government adopted a Soviet-style central planning. In 1986, the g­ overnment
initiated a series of economic reforms, including economic opening and liberalization.
In the second half of the 1990s, the four countries joined ASEAN: Vietnam in July 1995, Laos
and Myanmar in July 1997, and Cambodia in April 1999. The expansion of ASEAN has served
as a positive force for the region. On the one hand, it helps to sustain the momentum of eco-
nomic reforms and liberalization in the four new member states. On the other hand, it enhances
ASEAN’s importance as a regional grouping to promote internal and external cooperation.
Despite great economic and social diversities, the countries in Southeast Asia have been
increasingly convinced that closer cooperation through ASEAN and its various initiatives
is essential for the region. Indeed, the enhancement of ASEAN reflects the joint efforts
and commitment of countries in the region to pursue security, stability, and development.
ASEAN has become an important institution for the regional countries to protect and to
promote the interests of its member states. By enhancing mutual trust and through peace
and security, ASEAN creates a sociopolitical environment that is conducive to growth and
development (Tongzon 1998). It has also achieved important development. For example,
it has placed more emphasis on economic development, in addition to security concerns.
There have also been greater efforts to promote regional integration, in addition to regional
cooperation. Furthermore, ASEAN has reinforced its efforts to forge external economic
cooperation with economies outside the region.
The political economy of Southeast Asia is not without challenges, internal and external.
Internally, there may still be distrust and mutual suspicion between neighbors, which would
seriously impede regional cooperation and economic integration. Countries with similar
levels of development may also be anxious about intensified competition. Externally, there
has been growing rivalry for influence from global and regional powers, including China,
Japan, and the United States. In particular, China’s economic presence in smaller states has
grown rapidly in recent years through trade and investment. This could easily spur unease
from other powers in fear of eroding economic influence. From a longer-term perspec-
tive, ASEAN’s strength depends on both its economic integration and collaboration, and its
openness among member states as well as with the rest of the world.

Southeast Asia’s development experience

Despite the large gaps among them with respect to size, resource endowment, and initial condi-
tions, Southeast Asian countries have made significant improvements in their respective econo-
mies. According to the World Bank, between 1987 and 2015, seven of the ten ASEAN member

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Sarah Y. Tong

states have been upgraded in their relevant standing based on per capita income ­(Table 11.1).
This compares somewhat favorably with countries in South Asia. Of the eight South Asian
countries examined, only five were upgraded in the categorization from 1987 to 2015, and
none have yet entered the groups of “upper middle income” or “high income” (Table 11.1).
In 1987, five ASEAN countries were categorized as “low income”, including Cambodia,
Indonesia, Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam. All were lifted into “lower middle income group”
in 2015, 1993, 2010, 2014, and 2009, respectively. Of the three initially in the “lower middle
income” group, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand, two were later uplifted into “upper
middle income” group: Malaysia in 1992 and Thailand in 2010. The only country that failed

Table 11.1 Countries of East, Southeast, and South Asia by income group (1987–2015)

Middle income

Low income Lower middle Upper middle High income

Japan √
Asian NIEs
Hong Kong √
Korea √ 1995a
Singapore √
Taiwan √
China √ 1997b 2010
ASEAN5
Brunei √
Indonesia √ 1993c
Malaysia √ 1992
Philippines √
Thailand √ 2010
CLMV
Cambodia √ 2015
Laos √ 2010
Myanmar √ 2014
Vietnam √ 2009
South Asia
Afghanistan √
Bangladesh √ 2014
Bhutan √ 2006
India √ 2007
The Maldives 1991d
Nepal √
Pakistan √ 2008
Sri Lanka √ 1997

Source: The World Bank (https://datahelpdesk.worldbank.org/knowledgebase/articles/906519, accessed 7

June 2017).
a
Korea was recategorized as “upper middle income” from 1995 to 1997.
b
China was recategorized as “low income” in 1998 and then as “lower middle income” in 1999.
c
Indonesia was recategorized as “low income” from 1998 to 2002.
d
Moldova was recategorized as “low income” from 1996 to 2004.

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 Southeast Asian political economy

to make the jump is the Philippines. Another two ASEAN countries, Brunei and Singapore,
were already in the “high income group” in 1987 and remained.
We could conveniently divide the ten ASEAN countries into three groups. The first includes
the richest two, the developed Singapore and the resource-rich Brunei. The second includes four
of ASEAN’s five founding members, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand. And the
third group includes ASEAN’s four newest members, Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam.
As one of the four Asian NIEs, Singapore’s economic takeoff started in the 1960s, along-
side Hong Kong, South Korea, and Taiwan. The country’s GDP grew by over 9 percent a
year in the 1960s and 1970s. Although growth has moderated since, to below 8 percent in the
1980s and 1990s and to around 5 percent since 2000, Singapore overtook Japan to become
the richest country in East Asia in 2015 (Table 11.2).

Table 11.2 G
 ross national income per capita of economies in East, Southeast, and South Asia
(1965–2015)

GNI per capita (current US$) Ratio to world average

1965 1985 1995 2005 2015 1965 1985 1995 2005 2015

Japan 890 11,360 41,960 40,560 38,840 1.52 4.43 8.02 5.52 3.36
Asian NIEs
Hong Kong 700 6,090 23,500 28,890 41,000 1.20 2.38 4.49 3.93 3.55
Korea 130 2,510 11,650 17,800 27,450 22% 98% 2.23 2.42 2.38
Singapore 540 7,090 23,610 28,370 52,090 92% 2.77 4.52 3.86 4.51
China 100 290 540 1,760 7,900 17% 11% 10% 24% 68%
ASEAN5
Brunei 15,790 23,290 38,010 3.02 3.17 3.29
Indonesia 500 990 1,220 3,440 20% 19% 17% 30%
Malaysia 300 1,900 4,000 5,250 10,570 51% 74% 76% 71% 92%
The 180 520 1,020 1,520 3,550 31% 20% 20% 21% 31%
Philippines
Thailand 140 790 2,750 2,770 5,720 24% 31% 53% 38% 50%
CLMV
Cambodia 300 460 1,070 6% 6% 9%
Laos 350 460 1,740 7% 6% 15%
Myanmar 260 1,160 4% 10%
Vietnam 260 680 1,990 5% 9% 17%
South Asia
Afghanistan 250 610 3% 5%
Bangladesh 220 330 540 1,190 9% 6% 7% 10%
Bhutan 300 510 1,220 2,380 12% 10% 17% 21%
India 110 300 380 730 1,590 19% 12% 7% 10% 14%
The Maldives 3,570 6,950 49% 60%
Nepal 50 160 210 310 730 9% 6% 4% 4% 6%
Pakistan 120 380 490 740 1,440 21% 15% 9% 10% 12%
Sri Lanka 130 380 700 1,220 3,800 22% 15% 13% 17% 33%
World 584 2,562 5,229 7,348 11,551

Source: Calculated by the author based on data obtained from World Development Indicators, the World Bank
(http://databank.worldbank.org/data/reports.aspx?source=world-development-indicators, accessed 8 June 2017).

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 Sarah Y. Tong

Following the examples of the Asian NIEs, the four ASEAN members in the second
group have also performed quite strongly in attaining growth. Of them, Malaysia has sus-
tained the highest annual growth for the period from 1960 to 2015: 5.2 percent on average,
compared to 4.5 percent for Indonesia, 4.7 percent for the Philippines, and 3.6 percent for
Thailand (Table 11.3).
The countries in the third group had a late start and began their catch-up only in
the 1990s. They have nonetheless achieved significant improvement. Between 1993 and
2015, Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam each grew by an average of 7.6 percent,
7.1 ­percent, 9.7 percent, and 6.8 percent a year, respectively. This is higher than the average
of 4.7 percent a year for the group of developing countries in East Asia and the Pacific,
excluding China.
On the whole, Southeast Asia fared better than countries in South Asia in sustaining
growth. Likewise, the region has also performed better in improving standard of living,
measured by GDP per capita. As can be seen (Table 11.4), by 1980, per capita GDP for de-
veloping countries in East Asia and the Pacific was less than 10 percent of the world average.
This has since risen rapidly to over half in 2015. While this is due in large part to China’s
exceptional growth, growth in Southeast Asian countries is also key. For example, both
­Malaysia and Thailand have considerably narrowed their gaps with the world average. From
less than 40 percent of the world average in 1960, Malaysia’s per capital GDP has surpassed

Table 11.3 GDP growth of East and Southeast Asian economies (1960–2015)

1960–1970 1970–1980 1980–1990 1990–2000 2000–2010 2010–2015 1960–2015 1993–2015

EAP 7.8 4.9 5.3 3.7 4.5 4.4 5.1 4.2

EAP-D 4.4 6.6 7.2 8.1 9.1 7.3 7.1 8.1
China 3.9 6.2 9.3 10.4 10.6 7.9 8.0 9.6
ASEAN 5.2 5.0 4.8

ASEAN6
Singapore 9.2 9.1 7.7 7.1 5.8 4.0 7.4 5.6
Brunei 8.5a −1.8 2.2 1.4 0.1 1.6 a 1.2
Indonesia 3.9 7.4 5.5 3.9 5.2 5.5 5.2 4.5
Malaysia 6.5 7.8 6.0 7.1 4.6 5.3 6.3 5.2
The 4.9 5.9 1.7 2.9 4.8 5.9 4.2 4.7
Philippines
Thailand 8.2 6.9 7.8 4.4 4.6 2.9 6.0 3.6
CLMV
Cambodia 7.4b 8.0 7.2 7.6 b 7.6
Laos 4.4c 6.2 7.1 7.9 6.4 c 7.1
Myanmar 3.0 4.7 1.3 7.2 12.0 7.3 5.7 9.7
Vietnam 4.6c 7.6 6.6 5.9 6.4 c 6.8
World 5.4 3.9 3.2 2.8 2.8 2.7 3.5 3.0

Notes: EAP: East Asia and the Pacific; EAP-D: developing countries in East Asia and the Pacific. Bold values indicate the aggregate
and the longest period.
Source: Calculated by the author based on data obtained from World Development Indicators, the World Bank (http://databank.
worldbank.org/data/reports.aspx?source=world-development-indicators, accessed 8 June 2017).
a
1974.
b
1993.
c
1984.

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 Southeast Asian political economy

Table 11.4 GDP per capita of economies in East, Southeast, and South Asia (1960–2015)

GDP per capita (constant 2010 US$) Ratio to world average

1960 1980 1995 2005 2015 1960 1980 1995 2005 2015

EAP-D 287 554 1,423 2,609 5,500 7.8% 8.9% 19% 29% 54%
China 192 348 1,228 2,738 6,498 5.2% 5.6% 17% 31% 63%
ASEAN 2,278a 2,729 4,009 28%a 31% 39%
ASEAN-D 2,016a 2,420 3,566 25%a 27% 35%
Singapore 3,389 13,309 29,008 40,020 51,855 92% 2.1 3.9 4.5 5.1
Brunei 45,832b 59,666 37,983 36,653 32,226 8.1b 9.6 5.2 4.1 3.1
Indonesia 690 1,231 2,220 2,525 3,834 19% 20% 30% 28% 37%
Malaysia 1,407 3,309 6,206 7,942 10,878 38% 53% 84% 89% 1.1
The Philippines 1,059 1,687 1,507 1,821 2,640 29% 27% 20% 20% 26%
Thailand 571 1,403 3,544 4,308 5,775 15% 22% 48% 48% 56%
Cambodia 342 611 1,021 4.6% 6.9% 10%
Laos 424c 547 844 1,531 6.6%c 7.4% 9.5% 15%
Myanmar 155 205 238 586 1,309 4.2% 3.3% 3.2% 6.6% 13%
Vietnam 389c 607 1,036 1,685 6.1%c 8.2% 12% 16%
South Asia 314 409 635 944 1,600 8.5% 6.5% 8.6% 11% 16%
Afghanistan 373d 400 620 4.5%d 4.5% 6.1%
Bangladesh 371 352 447 601 973 10% 5.6% 6.1% 6.8% 9.5%
Bhutan 400 995 1,548 2,668 6.4% 13% 17% 26%
India 307 394 629 982 1,752 8.3% 6.3% 8.5% 11% 17%
The Maldives 4,198e 4,794 7,222 51%e 54% 71%
Nepal 267 283 403 505 690 7.2% 4.5% 5.5% 5.7% 6.7%
Pakistan 305 556 817 978 1,143 8.3% 8.9% 11% 11% 11%
Sri Lanka 583f 927 1,483 2,149 3,638 15%f 14% 20% 24% 36%
World 3,690 6,243 7,373 8,899 10,242

Note: EAP-D: East Asia and the Pacific excluding high income countries; ASEAN-D: ASEAN excluding high income
members. Bold values indicate the aggregate and the longest period.
Source: Calculated by the author based on data obtained from World Development Indicators, the World Bank (http://
databank.worldbank.org/data/reports.aspx?source=world-development-indicators, accessed 8 June 2017).
a
2000.
b
1974.
c
1984.
d
2002.
e
2001.
f
1961.

the world average since 2013. Similarly, Thailand’s per capital GDP rose from less than a
quarter of the world average in 1960 to about half in 2015. Despite its being seriously affected
by the Asian Financial Crisis in the late 1990s, Thailand’s record in catching up with the rich
world has been considerably better than those of India, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka.
Despite the overall favorable development outcome, countries in Southeast Asia vary
considerably in their respective experience. For the initial six ASEAN members, leave aside
the two small and rich economies of Brunei and Singapore, Malaysia performed the best,
followed by Thailand, Indonesia, and the Philippines. In fact, the Philippines has hardly kept
pace relative to the world average, measured by per capita GDP. The other three, meanwhile,
have significantly raised their global standing. Differences also exist among ASEAN’s newer

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Sarah Y. Tong

members, although all made considerable advancement in recent decades. For example, per
capital GDP for Laos and Vietnam as a ratio to world average has increased consistently and
considerably, from 6.6 percent and 6.1 percent in 1984 to 15 percent and 16 percent in 2015,
respectively. Similarly, the figures for Cambodia and Myanmar rose from 4.6 percent and
3.2 percent to 10 percent and 13 percent in the 20 years from 1995 to 2015, respectively. If
we take ASEAN as one unified entity, its GDP per capita as a ratio to world average rose
from 28 percent in 2000 to 39 percent in 2015. If the two high-income members are ex-
cluded, the ratio has risen by a similar magnitude, from 25 percent to 35 percent during the
15-year period. This compared favorably to that of Southeast Asia, in which per capita GDP
as a ratio to world average increased from 9.3 percent to 16 percent.

Economic liberalization and industrialization

To some extent, Southeast Asian countries’ development record in recent decades reflects
their shared desire for economic growth and prosperity. Moreover, Japan’s economic success
in the postwar period serves as an excellent example for its neighbors in East and S­ outheast
Asia. Indeed, since the 1960s, several waves of followers have taken up the lessons from Japan,
including the East Asian NIEs, China, and the four ASEAN members, namely ­Indonesia,
Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand.
The relative success of these developing countries in catching up with the advanced world
is sometimes termed the East Asian Miracle, despite the fact that not all countries have
achieved their development objectives. Underlying the encouraging economic outcome,
the regional countries’ development policies have some common features. The first is the
relatively orthodox or conservative macroeconomic management, including sustaining a
relatively low fiscal deficit as a percentage to GDP and a moderate growth in money supply
(Hill 1997). The second is the economic opening and the associated liberalization (Hill 1997;
Wong 1979). And the third is that, in general, the countries’ economic expansion has not
been associated with significant increases in inequality.
These characteristics are probably more appropriate and accurate concerning the initial
members or the ASEAN6. However, as we shall see, the newer ASEAN members have also
followed in the initial members’ footsteps by pursuing development through reforms and
liberalization. Concerning macroeconomic management, in Malaysia and Singapore, con-
sumer price index has been kept at below 6 percent since the early 1980s. The same is true
for Thailand, with an exception of 8 percent inflation in 1998. While Indonesia and the
Philippines experienced episodes of inflation above 10 percent between 1980 and the mid-
2000s, consumer price index has been maintained at relatively low level in recent years.
The more important lesson from the region’s experience is its openness to trade and
foreign investment. It has been essential to accelerate the industrialization process and to
enhance the overall economic efficiency in the countries. As can be seen (Table 11.5), since
the mid-1990s, developing countries in East Asia and the Pacific have become more export-­
oriented than the world as a whole. In particular, exports to GDP ratios for Indonesia,
Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand had risen considerably since the 1960s and 1970s
to reach their peak levels in the early to mid-2000s. The figures for these countries have
declined in the last decade, due in part to the 2008 global financial and economic crisis.
Between 2005 and 2015, exports to GDP ratio decreased from 34 percent to 21 percent
for Indonesia, 113 percent to 71 percent for Malaysia, and 46 percent to 28 percent for
the ­Philippines. Meanwhile, that of Thailand dropped slightly from 68 percent in 2005 to
66 percent in 2010 but then recovered to reach 69 percent in 2015.

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Table 11.5 E xports of goods and services as a ratio to GDP (1960–2015)

Exports of goods and services (% of GDP)

1960 1970 1980 1990 1995 2000 2005 2010 2015

Japan 10.7 10.6 13.4 10.3 9.0 10.6 14.0 15.0 17.6
The United States 5.0 5.6 9.8 9.2 10.6 10.7 10.0 12.4 12.6
Asian NIEs
Hong Kong 83.0a 93.2 88.9 130.7 142.9 141.8 194.7 219.4 201.6
Korea 3.2 12.9 30.2 25.9 26.7 35.1 36.8 49.4 45.9
Singapore 163.9 126.1 202.1 177.2 181.2 189.2 226.1 199.3 176.5
China 4.3 2.5 5.9 14.0 18.4 21.2 34.5 26.3 22.0
ASEAN5
Brunei n.a. 90.1b 93.4 61.8 59.7 67.3 70.2 67.4 52.2
Indonesia 11.5 12.8 30.5 26.7 26.3 41.0 34.1 24.3 21.1
Malaysia 64.5 45.8 57.8 74.5 94.1 119.8 112.9 86.9 70.9
The Philippines 12.0 21.6 23.6 27.5 36.4 51.4 46.1 34.8 28.2
Thailand 16.1 15.0 24.1 34.1 41.5 64.8 68.4 66.2 69.1
CLMV
Cambodia 13.9 5.8 n.a. 16.1c 31.2 50.0 64.1 54.1 61.7
Laos n.a. n.a. 2.8d 11.3 23.2 30.1 34.2 35.8 36.0
Myanmar n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. 0.5 0.2 0.1 20.8
Vietnam n.a. n.a. 6.6e 36.0 32.8 50.0 63.7 72.0 89.8
EAP-D 7.7 6.0 11.2 18.7 23.4 29.3 39.0 30.6 26.8
World 12.0 13.4 18.9 19.6 22.1 26.2 32.2 27.3 25.1

Note: EAP-D: East Asia and the Pacific excluding high income countries; ASEAN-D: ASEAN excluding high income
members. Bold values indicate the aggregate and the longest period.
Source: Calculated by the author based on data obtained from World Development Indicators, the World Bank
(http://databank.worldbank.org/data/reports.aspx?source=world-development-indicators, accessed 12 June 2017).
a
1961.
b
1974.
c
1993.
d
1984.
e
1986.

Started later than the ASEAN6, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam have gone through ­similar
changes and have been affected less seriously by the global economic crisis in their trade
activities. Exports to GDP ratio for Cambodia rose from 16 percent in the early 1990s to
64 percent in 2005 and declined to 54 percent in 2010 before they rose again to 62 percent
in 2015. In Laos and Vietnam, exports to GDP ratios have increased consistently, from
around 3 percent and 7 percent in the 1980s to 36 percent and 90 percent in 2015, respec-
tively. Overall, developing countries in East and Southeast Asia remain comparatively more
­export-oriented than the world as a whole.
Equally important is that trade expansion has been accompanied by structural changes in
trade and in the overall economy. In trade, the shares of primary products have come down,
while those of manufactured goods have risen. For most ASEAN countries, the shares of
“fuel exports” and “ores and metals exports” in total merchandise exports dropped sig-
nificantly from their peak levels of the 1970s and 1980s, with the obvious exception of the

161
Table 11.6 E xport structure of ASEAN countries (1962–2015)

1962 1970 1980 1990 1995 2000 2005 2010 2015

Fuel exports (% of merchandise exports)

Brunei 98.2 99.2 100.0 99.5 98.7a 95.1b 96.3c n.a. 93.0
Indonesia 31.7 32.8 71.9 44.0 25.4 25.4 27.6 29.7 23.2
Malaysia 4.9d 7.4 24.7 16.2 7.0 9.6 13.4 15.9 16.1
The Philippines 0.4 1.6 0.7 2.2 1.5 1.3 1.9 1.9 1.3
Singapore 17.1 23.2 25.2 17.9 6.8 7.3 12.0 16.2 12.6
Thailand 0.0 0.3 0.1 0.8 0.7 3.0 4.1 4.8 3.6
Cambodia 0.1 1.7 n.a. n.a. n.a. 0.0 0.0 0.0 0.0
Myanmar 0.6 1.2 n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. 38.5 n.a.
Vietnam n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. 18.0 e 26.5 25.8 11.1 6.2f
EAP-D n.a. n.a. n.a. 11.0 5.2 6.0 5.9 5.6 4.4
World 6.7 7.4 14.3 10.7 7.9 13.0 13.4 14.3 12.7
Ores and metals exports (% of merchandise exports)
Brunei 0.0 0.1 0.0 0.0 0.1e 0.0b 0.1c 0.1g 0.2
Indonesia 5.6 11.4 3.9 4.4 6.0 4.9 8.5 9.9 5.5
Malaysia 27.9d 22.6 10.2 2.1 1.4 1.0 1.1 2.0 3.9
The Philippines 9.3 21.0 20.6 8.2 4.4 1.6 2.3 3.9 5.1
Singapore 1.4 1.6 2.5 1.6 2.0 1.1 1.1 1.2 1.3
Thailand 7.8 14.6 13.6 1.0 0.6 1.2 1.3 1.3 1.2
Cambodia 0.0 0.1 n.a. n.a. 0.0 n.a. 0.0 0.1 0.1
Myanmar 3.6 5.7 n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. 0.9 n.a.
Vietnam n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. 0.5e 0.4 0.6 1.0 0.7f
EAP-D n.a. n.a. 2.9h 2.5 2.2 2.1 2.2 2.1 1.9
World 7.1 7.0 5.4 3.8 3.5 3.2 3.6 4.7 4.4
Manufactures exports (% of merchandise exports)
Brunei 0.0 0.1 0.0 0.5 1.3a 4.7b 3.3c 3.9g 6.6
Indonesia 0.3 1.2 2.3 35.5 50.6 56.4 47.2 37.5 44.7
Malaysia 5.2d 6.6 18.9 53.8 74.7 80.1 74.7 67.2 66.9
The Philippines 4.6 7.5 21.1 37.9 41.6 91.1 89.2 56.8 84.8
Singapore 26.2 27.5 46.7 71.6 83.9 84.7 81.1 73.1 77.0
Thailand 2.1 4.7 25.2 63.1 73.1 74.5 76.8 75.3 77.8
Cambodia 1.6 1.6 n.a. n.a. n.a. 96.4 97.4 96.1 92.9
Myanmar 0.9 1.5 2.9i 10.4j n.a. n.a. n.a. 30.0 n.a.
Vietnam n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. 44.1e 45.5 50.2 64.7 76.3f
EAP-D n.a. n.a. 41.1h 65.6 78.9 82.8 84.5 83.8 86.4
World 57.1 58.9 59.9 69.9 74.0 71.3 71.0 66.3 68.9

Notes: Laos is not included as the data is largely missing. Bold values indicate the aggregate and the longest
period.
Source: Calculated by the author based on data obtained from World Development Indicators, the World Bank
(http://databank.worldbank.org/data/reports.aspx?source=world-development-indicators, accessed 8 June 2017).
a
1994.
b
2001.
c
2006.
d
1964.
e
1997.
f
2014.
g
2012.
h
1984.
i
1976.
j
1991.
 Southeast Asian political economy

small and oil-rich Brunei (Table 11.6). For Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore, the shares
of fuel exports in total merchandise exports declined from over 72 percent, 25 percent,
and 25 percent in 1980 to 23 percent, 16 percent, and 13 percent in 2015, respectively. For
Vietnam, the share went down from 27 percent in 2000 to 6 percent in 2014. Likewise, for
countries where ores and metals exports were relatively important, such as Malaysia and the
­Philippines, shares also declined from over 20 percent to single digits in recent years.
Meanwhile, the rapid growth in manufactures exports has been the main underlying
factor in ASEAN countries’ exports expansion. The shares of manufactures exports in total
merchandise exports have been largely on the rise over the decades, though they have been
pressured down by factors such as the negative shocks to external demand by the global
economy crisis and boom in commodities prices. For developing countries in East Asia and
the Pacific as a whole, the share of manufactures exports in total merchandise exports rose
from about 40 percent in 1980 to 86 percent in 2015, compared to 60 percent and 69 percent
for the world, respectively. Moreover, although the 2008–2009 global economic and finan-
cial crisis has caused serious negative impact on the region’s manufactures exports, most have
recovered swiftly and strongly.
More importantly, structural changes in trade have also facilitated industrialization in
ASEAN countries. Table 11.7 highlights the variations in the shares of agriculture and in-
dustry in GDP across countries at different periods of time. There are a number of features.
First, the shares of agriculture in GDP have declined steadily in ASEAN countries, though
starting at various times. Second, the newer ASEAN members are considerably more ag-
ricultural than the ASEAN6. By 2015, the shares were around 1 percent for Brunei and
Singapore; around 10 percent for Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines; at 14 percent
for Indonesia; and between 19 percent and 28 percent for Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and
Vietnam. Third, as the newer ASEAN members are in the process of industrialization, the
ASEAN6 have largely passed their peak and the share of industrial value-added in GDP
has declined in the last decade. The same trend is also present for manufacturing, the key
component of industry. In 2015, the shares of manufacturing value-added in GDP ranged
between 10 percent (Laos) and 27 percent (Thailand), compared to around 15 percent for
the world.
Several factors help explain the generally good equity records in Southeast Asia. First,
history and the countries’ structure matter. For example, rice-based economies, such as
Java (Indonesia) and Thailand, generally exhibit more even distributions of wealth and
income owning to patterns of labor use and relatively less importance of scale economies.
The nationalization of foreign property in Indonesia from 1957 to 1965 also served as an
equalizing factor.
Another is the emphasis on advancing agriculture and rural development. This is in part
to reduce interregional and rural-urban disparities. In addition, there have been strong com-
mitment and efforts to improve human resources through the provision of universal edu-
cation, better health, and other social goods. The governments’ commitment to promote
equity has been motivated by different political and economic factors. These include strong
anti-colonial, egalitarian sentiments; a desire for national integrity and cohesion; the im-
portance of particular ethnic or regional grouping; and the need to neutralize a potentially
radical constituency.
One puzzling question is why, more often than not, governments in Southeast Asia have
taken the right policy decisions. Three ingredients are believed to be important, at least in
some countries, for their successful experience, especially between the 1960s and 1990s.
The first is powerful political figures who were committed to economic growth and able

163
Table 11.7 Agriculture and industry in GDP of East Asian countries (1965–2015)

Agriculture (% in GDP) Industry (% in GDP)

Total Manufacturing (% in GDP)

1965 1975 1985 1995 2005 2015 1965 1975 1985 1995 2005 2015 1965 1975 1985 1995 2005 2015

Japan 4.6 2.7 1.7 1.2 1.1a 39 38 32 27 25a 27 22 19 18

Korea 39 26 13 5.8 3.2 2.3 21 27 36 38 38 38 14 20 25 25 28 29
China 37 32 28 20 12 8.8 35 45 43 47 47 41 32b 38 34 33 32 30c
ASEAN6
Brunei 1.3 1.2 1.2 1.0 1.1 90 72 54 72 61 12 10 13 12 15
Indonesia 23d 17 13 14 36d 42 47 40 17d 24 27 21
Malaysia 31 31 20 13 8.3 8.5 30 36 39 41 46 36 10 19 20 26 28 23
The Philippines 27 30 25 22 13 10 31 35 35 32 34 31 24 26 25 23 24 20
Singapore 2.2 1.0 0.2 0.1 0.04 32 33 34 32 26 22 21 26 28 20
Thailand 32 27 15.8 9.1 9.2 9.1 23 26 32 38 39 36 14 19 22 26 30 27
CLMV
Cambodia 50 32 28 15 26 29 9.5 19 17
Laos 60 e 56 36 27 13e 19 25 31 9.3e 14 10 9.4
Myanmar 57f 47 27 18 35 13 21
Vietnam 21g 19 37g 37 14g 15
World 8.0 4.4 3.9a 33 30 28a 21 18 15a

Notes: Laos is not included as the data is largely missing. Bold values indicate the aggregate and the longest period.
Source: Calculated by the author based on data obtained from World Development Indicators, the World Bank (http://databank.worldbank.org/data/reports.aspx?source=world-
development-indicators, accessed 12 June 2017).
a
2014.
b
1966.
c
2013.
d
1987.
e
1989.
f
2000.
g
2010.
 Southeast Asian political economy

to draw on a community consensus in favor of growth. President Muhammad Soeharto of

Indonesia, Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew of Singapore, and Prime Minister Mahathir bin
Mohamad of Malaysia are such figures. Second, these political leaders were being advised by
able technocrats, who have, to some extent, been insulated from political pressure groups.
And underpinning the second ingredient has been the fact that the political-bureaucratic
elites and the commercial elites in the region have been historically rather distinct (see, for
example, Hill 1997, 2013).
Great caution has to be taken when making such generalization. It is easier to make a
claim, ex post, that a leader has been instrumental to a country’s development through long
and effective leadership. Meanwhile, long ruling by powerful leaders does not guarantee
good development outcome, as demonstrated by President Ferdinand Marcos of the Philip-
pines. Moreover, even when good policies were made and the successful outcome ensued,
the relative separation between political and business elites may blur. Then a lack of effective
institutions could easily lead to corruption and policy misstep, resulting in serious economic
difficulties. This in part explains the region’s misfortunes during the Asian Financial Crisis
of the late 1990s, such as those in Indonesia (Haggard 2000).

ASEAN and economic integration

The ASEAN has been a significant regional initiative in promoting peace and prosperity in
the region. Formed during the Cold War era with the initial objectives of regional peace
and security, ASEAN has focused increasingly on regional economic cooperation and inte-
gration, as well as on strengthening the region’s economic ties with other parts of the world
(Akrasanee 1987; Naya 1987).
ASEAN was formed in 1967 by Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, and
Thailand, joined later by Brunei in 1984 (forming the ASEAN6) and Cambodia, Laos,
Myanmar, and Vietnam in 1995–1999 (hereafter referred to as CLMV). As mentioned, the
initial objectives were regional peace and security, and this is reflected in the regular meet-
ings of ASEAN Foreign Ministers. The first ASEAN Summit of heads of state was held only
in 1976, followed by meetings of economic ministers and heralding a new era of economic
cooperation and integration.
Efforts to enhance economic cooperation among ASEAN members started in the late
1970s, with the 1977 ASEAN Preferential Trading Arrangement (PTA) and several in-
dustrial cooperation schemes. Started in the early 1990s, there have been serious efforts
for economic integration, with the 1992 ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA), 1995 ASEAN
Framework on Services, and the 1998 ASEAN Investment Ara. The efforts have been fur-
ther widened and deepened with the 2003 ASEAN Economic Community (Chia 2014;
Plummer and Chia 2009).
Since 1960s, ASEAN achieved considerable progress in trade and investment liberaliza-
tion, while more could have been done. It is useful to note that ASEAN’s initial objective
in economics was to enhance cooperation, rather than promoting integration. Attention to
economic integration was added in part to defend the region’s competitiveness, while there
have been growing efforts to develop regional groupings, such as the North America Free
Trade Area and the European Single Market.
Given that countries within differ greatly in many areas, including size, the level of de-
velopment and industrialization, progress in economic integration has been slow. As can be
seen (Table 11.8), intraregional trade among ASEAN members remains low in relation to
the region’s total trade. Between 2000 and 2015, the share of intra-ASEAN trade (exports

165
Table 11.8 Intra-ASEAN trade and ASEAN’s trade with China, Japan, and the United States (2000–2015)

Intra-ASEAN With China With Japan With United States

2000 2005 2015 2000 2005 2015 2000 2005 2015 2000 2005 2015

Exports (%)
Brunei 29.5 24.0 19.5 0.9 3.7 1.5 43.2 37.8 36.3 11.6 7.3 0.8
Indonesia 17.5 18.5 22.3 4.5 7.8 10.0 23.2 21.1 12.0 13.6 11.5 10.8
Malaysia 24.9 26.1 28.2 2.5 6.7 13.0 9.2 9.4 9.4 14.4 19.7 9.5
The Philippines 15.7 17.3 14.6 1.7 9.9 10.9 14.7 17.5 21.1 29.8 18.0 15.0
Singapore 27.3 31.3 32.3 3.9 8.6 13.0 7.5 5.5 4.2 17.3 10.2 6.1
Thailand 19.2 21.8 28.9 4.1 8.3 7.6 14.7 13.7 14.8 21.4 15.4 12.6
Cambodia 5.6 4.7 9.3 1.7 0.5 4.8 0.8 2.1 6.6 54.1 52.9 24.7
Laos 84.8 71.2 2.4 20.2 0.3 1.8 0.0 0.5
Myanmar 33.0 49.9 36.4 3.2 3.8 39.6 5.4 4.6 4.0 14.6 0.0 0.6
Vietnam 17.6 11.1 9.9 10.3 14.8 8.7 19.6 20.7
ASEAN total 22.8 25.3 25.9 3.5 8.1 11.4 12.3 11.2 9.6 18.0 14.3 10.9

Imports (%)
Brunei 50.1 49.1 43.4 2.0 6.2 11.6 6.7 9.0 7.6 10.3 9.8 10.5
Indonesia 20.2 30.0 21.0 6.0 10.1 16.5 16.1 12.0 26.3 10.1 6.7 4.2
Malaysia 20.0 25.5 26.5 5.7 12.6 18.8 19.3 14.5 7.8 15.2 12.9 8.1
The Philippines 14.4 18.7 24.3 2.2 6.3 16.4 17.5 17.0 9.6 15.4 19.2 10.9
Singapore 24.7 26.1 21.5 5.3 10.3 14.2 17.2 9.6 6.3 15.0 11.6 11.2
Thailand 16.6 18.3 21.2 5.5 9.4 19.6 24.7 22.0 15.3 11.8 7.3 6.7
Cambodia 39.1 36.4 33.6 8.0 15.2 37.2 4.1 3.6 4.0 2.3 1.1 2.2
Laos 51.6 56.1 26.4 32.8 4.4 1.9 0.0 0.8
Myanmar 50.2 54.9 41.5 7.4 17.5 38.0 8.4 7.3 9.1 2.9 0.9 0.6
Vietnam 27.4 14.4 16.3 29.9 12.1 8.7 3.6 4.7
ASEAN total 21.1 24.5 21.9 5.2 10.6 19.4 18.8 14.1 11.4 13.9 10.6 7.6

Exports + imports (%)

Brunei 36.3 28.8 27.6 1.3 4.2 4.9 31.1 32.3 26.6 11.2 7.8 4.1
Indonesia 18.5 23.1 21.7 5.0 8.7 13.2 20.7 17.4 18.9 12.4 9.6 7.6
Malaysia 22.7 25.8 27.4 3.9 9.4 15.8 13.7 11.7 8.7 14.8 16.6 8.8
The Philippines 15.1 18.1 19.9 2.0 8.0 13.9 16.0 17.2 14.9 23.0 18.6 12.8
Singapore 26.0 28.9 27.5 4.6 9.4 13.5 12.3 7.4 5.1 16.1 10.9 8.4
Thailand 18.0 20.0 25.1 4.7 8.9 13.5 19.5 18.0 15.1 16.8 11.2 9.8
Cambodia 22.6 19.8 22.7 4.9 7.5 22.7 2.5 2.8 5.2 27.8 28.2 12.3
Laos 58.2 64.4 21.6 25.9 3.6 1.8 0.0 0.6
Myanmar 44.1 51.6 39.4 5.9 8.5 38.7 7.4 5.6 6.9 7.0 0.3 0.6
Vietnam 22.8 12.8 13.3 20.2 13.4 8.7 11.1 12.6
ASEAN total 22.0 24.9 24.0 4.3 9.3 15.2 15.3 12.6 10.5 16.1 12.6 9.4

Note: Similar to ASEAN’s trade with the United States, the region’s trade with the European Union has also declined relative to its two. The share of ASEAN’s exports to EU in
ASEAN’s total declined from 15 percent in 2000 to 11 percent in 2015, while the share of its imports from EU in total dropped from 11 percent to 9 percent during the period. Bold
values indicate the aggregate and the longest period.
Source: Compiled from ASEAN Secretariat trade statistics (http://asean.org/?static_post=external-trade-statistics-3, accessed 12 June 2017).
Sarah Y. Tong

plus imports) remains at below one quarter. The share of intra-ASEAN exports in total rose
modestly, from 23 percent in 2000 to 28 percent in 2010 and then dropped to 26 percent
in 2015, while that of intra-ASEAN imports increased from 21 percent in 2000 to 27 percent
in 2010 before declined to 22 percent in 2015.
Meanwhile, ASEAN’s trade relations with its major external trading partners expe-
rienced diverging trends. First, the relative importance of industrial world as ASEAN’s
export market has declined. In 2000, the United States and EU accounted for 18 percent
and 15 percent of ASEAN’s total exports, respectively. The shares have gone down to
11 percent for each in 2015. Likewise, the shares of these two economies as suppliers for
ASEAN’s imports also dropped, from 14 percent and 11 percent to 8 percent and 9 percent,
respectively.
Second, ASEAN’s trade relations with Japan have also significantly changed. The share of
ASEAN’s imports from Japan in ASEAN’s total declined sharply, from 18 percent in 2000 to
11 percent in 2015. The share of the region’s export to Japan also somewhat declined. This
indicates that the central role of Japan in the regional production network is diminishing.
Third, alongside ASEAN’s weakening trade ties with EU, Japan, and the United States,
ASEAN’s trade with China has expanded significantly.2 Exports to China accounted for
11 percent of ASEAN’s total in 2015, up from 3 percent in 2000. The increase in ASEAN’s
imports from China is even stronger, from US$18 billion in 2000 to US$212 billion in 2015.
Meanwhile, its share in ASEAN’s total imports rose from 3 percent to 19 percent. As a result,
ASEAN has a trade deficit with China amounted to US$77 billion in 2015, up from US$4
billion in 2010.
Naturally, there are considerable variations among ASEAN members. Myanmar is by
far the most dependent on China for its exports, as the share of exports to China in the
country’s total shot up from 7 percent in 2010 to 40 percent in 2015. Similar expansion
occurred for exports to China from Laos. In addition, China accounted for between 10
percent and 13 percent exports for Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, and
Vietnam in 2015. On the import side, China has been an essential import supplier for
Myanmar, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam in 2015. From the ASEAN6, China has also
become the largest supplier for imports by the ASEAN6, and its share in the respective
countries’ total imports ranges between 12 percent (Brunei) and 20 percent (Thailand).
China has in effect become the central link for ASEAN countries as a key player in the East
Asian production network.
Such a new pattern of trade relations has its advantages and challenges for Southeast Asian
countries. On the positive side, closer economic ties with China help sustain the regional eco-
nomic momentum and continued growth. First, China has become the world’s second largest
economy and among the most dynamic. The country strives to further develop and upgrade
its economy, while committed to further economic opening and integration with the rest of
the world. Second, as income level rises, China has the great potential of becoming a key con-
sumer market for imports. Third, China and its businesses also have the ambition to go global
through outward investment and other forms of collaboration. There are opportunities in all
these for Southeast Asian countries to thrive, through closer economic relations.
Challenges abound. First, as China has yet developed a robust domestic market, it re-
mains a producer rather than a consumer in international trade. As such, Southeast Asia,
together with China, is vulnerable to negative shocks to global trade. Second, in case of
weakened global demand, Southeast Asia tends to suffer disproportionally as Chinese firms
may reduce its imports more sharply and buy from domestic suppliers for intermediate
goods, such as parts and components. Third, as a large continental size economy, China still

168
 Southeast Asian political economy

has considerable development gaps with its borders and can thus maintain its comparative
advantages in products with varying technology intensity. This may place Southeast Asian
businesses in disadvantaged positions in regional and global competition.

Looking ahead
Southeast Asia has gone a long way in its pursuit of growth and prosperity, and its achieve-
ment has been remarkable. Over the last half century, the region has been transformed, from
a poor and divided region, devastated by war and colonial rules, into one where countries
have not only coexisted peacefully but worked together toward a shared future.
ASEAN has been instrumental for the region’s success in the past and shall remain a
central pillar for the region’s future endeavors. First, despite the remarkable progress, great
variations remain among ASEAN members in their development needs and external anx-
ieties. ASEAN is significant for countries to communicate their respective concerns and
enhance mutual understanding and trust. Second, as member states are mostly small to
medium in economic size, ASEAN needs to continue to promote international economic
integration and reduce its dependence on external markets. Third, as the region forges
closer economic ties with economies outside the region, it is most advantageous to act as
a group in striking a trade deal, which is especially true when dealing with large econ-
omies, such as the United States, EU, China, and Japan. In reality, as a consensus-based
institution, ASEAN is relatively weak, for example, in promoting intraregional economic
integration.
Since being seriously affected by the global economic and financial crisis, the world
­economy and trade have gradually recovered, but many uncertainties remain. In partic-
ular, we have witnessed stronger anti-globalization sentiments and protectionist rhetoric.
The success of Southeast Asia has been sustained by economic liberalization and economic
opening. It is a huge question how ASEAN can extend its achievement through a liberal and
­outward-oriented policy setting. Since the 1990s, ASEAN and its members have been in-
volved in numerous trade and investment talks, such as the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP)
and the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP). The challenge for the
region is to form regional groupings that are open, fair, and growth enhancing.

Notes
1 In the context of this chapter, Southeast Asia includes the ten member states of the Association
of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). They are Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia,
Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam. Moreover, Brunei as a small,
wealthy, and oil-rich country receives comparatively less attention. This is due in part to that the
country’s experience may have relatively less implications to most other developing countries.
2 While China’s economic relations with Southeast, measured in trade and investment, have de-
veloped strongly since the early 2000s, bilateral economic ties dated back much earlier. See more
in-depth discussion by John Wong (Wong 1984).

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170
 12
Political economy of South Asia
Commonalities overshadowed by conflict

Amita Batra

South Asia, comprising eight member countries – Afghanistan,1 Bangladesh, Bhutan, India,
the Maldives, Nepal, Pakistan and Sri Lanka – of the South Asian Association for Regional
Cooperation (SAARC), is a geographically coherent region. The northern boundary is de-
fined by the Himalayan mountains and thick forests along the Myanmar border, and the
southern boundary is defined by the Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea. The ­western
boundary is relatively open, with deserts and mountains. The South Asian countries share
a common historical and colonial past. Of these, the countries India, Pakistan and Bangladesh
were part of one country – India – until 1947 when independence from British colonial rule
divided the country into two, the other country being Pakistan. Bangladesh, the erstwhile
East Pakistan, is an outcome of its war of liberation in 1971. Overlapping cultures, religious
traditions, social norms and linguistic affinity are therefore characteristic of the region.

India’s centrality
A unique feature of South Asia is the geographical and economic largeness and centrality of
India. Stretching over 64 percent of the land area, India has a common border with almost
all countries in the region. Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal and Bhutan have a common land
border with India, and two other countries, Sri Lanka and the Maldives, share a maritime
border with India. None of these countries share a common border with each other. Bhutan
and Nepal are landlocked by India. Afghanistan and Pakistan have geographical access to
other SAARC members only through India. Sri Lanka is an island, and the Maldives is an
archipelago of low-lying coral islands in the central Indian Ocean. Further, India is home
to 74 percent of the regional population, contributes nearly 80 percent of the regional gross
domestic product (GDP) and is the fastest growing economy, not only in South Asia but
in the world. In the last two years, India, with a growth rate of 6.5 percent, has surpassed
China, the economy with the fastest rate of growth for over two decades. India’s GDP
in purchasing power parity (ppp) terms is third largest in the world. None of the other
South Asian countries are among the top 20 in the global GDP ppp ranking. Pakistan, at
rank 24, has a GDP that is almost a tenth of India’s GDP (data.worldbank.org/data-catalog/
GDP-PPP-based-table).

171
Amita Batra

India is central to regional trade and capital flows as well. Given its faster growth, a large
market and a diversified manufacturing base, India corners about 65 percent of regional
trade and accounts for about 80 percent of capital inflows received by South Asia. A predom-
inant share of 87 percent in intra-South Asia exports is cornered by India. In intra-­regional
­imports, though, its share of 13 percent is much smaller (Batra 2013). B ­ ilateral trade is
therefore naturally in favour of India. It is among the major trading partners for all regional
economies, while the reverse doesn’t hold true. For India though, trade with South Asian
countries constitutes less than 3 percent of its total trade – exports to and imports from South
Asia have about 7 percent and less than 1 percent shares of its total exports and imports,
respectively (https://aric.adb.org/integrationindicators). Bilateral trade among other econo-
mies in South Asia is small and majorly dependent on India granting transit rights for them
to trade with each other. India has bilateral preferential trade treaties with Nepal, Bhutan
and Sri Lanka, and has unilaterally offered all least developed countries (LDCs) in the region
duty-free and quota-free access to its market. Pakistan has a transit trade treaty with
­A fghanistan-Pakistan Transit Trade Agreement (APTTA), signed in 2010, which a­ llows
movement of goods up to the Pakistan-India border but not across to India 2 as well as a free trade
agreement (FTA) with Sri Lanka, with fewer economic gains relative to the India-Sri Lanka
bilateral FTA. India is a member of all subregional and inter-subregional (South Asia-Southeast
Asia) groupings, like the Bangladesh-Bhutan-India-Nepal (BBIN), Bangladesh-China-­
India-Myanmar (BCIM), Mekong Ganga Cooperation (MGC) and Bay of Bengal Initia-
tive for Multi-­Sectoral Technical and Economic Cooperation (BIMSTEC).3 Intra-regional
foreign direct investment (FDI) in South Asia is small, with India as the dominant SAARC
country investor in the region. Its investments have been significant in B ­ hutan, Nepal and,
post the bilateral FTA, in Sri Lanka. Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka are also coming
up as a source of FDI outflows from the region but with smaller shares (https://aric.adb.org/
integrationindicators).
India’s largeness and centrality and the consequent economic and geographical asymme-
try in the region have to a large extent worked against regional economic integration. Fear
of being overtaken by the larger economy and potentially enlarged trade deficits, even when
not necessarily justified by economic rationale, has dominated the psyche of smaller econ-
omies and thereby limited regional economic interactions. Conflictual and friction-laden
bilateral relations combined with smaller states’ hypersensitivity about issues of sovereignty
are reflected in India’s not being accepted as a regional leader. However, it may also not
be incorrect to say that India itself has been reluctant to assume the regional leadership in
South Asia.

Growth models: inward-looking, socialist orientation

and the transformation to economic liberalization
India’s growth has outpaced other regional economies, despite the fact that, post-­independence,
all South Asian economies followed a broadly similar inward-looking economic growth
model aimed at self-reliance through import substitution-based industrialization. To a large
extent, emphasis on self-reliance as a primary objective of the growth process was an out-
come of long years of colonial subjugation. During this phase, large-scale production and
resource ownership was largely controlled and operated by the state through public-sector
enterprises, and the market process was highly regulated. There was minimal emphasis on
the external sector. Some attempts at reform and liberalization were initiated in India in
the late 1970s and early 1980s, but these were more in the nature of easing out business

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restrictions than aimed at any reorientation of the policy framework. Until the late 1980s/
early 1990s, the economic functioning of the South Asian countries was within an overarch-
ing socialist framework, that is, a mixed economy predominantly led by state, with varying
degrees of private sector participation across the region. In Pakistan, the military regimes
were more private sector-oriented, with a clear delineation towards the socialist orientation’s
being adopted in the 1970s during the Bhutto regime. Sri Lanka made an early start towards
liberalization and trade integration with the global economy in the late 1970s. Although a
fitful start to economic liberalization was short-lived on account of increasing fiscal stress
and excessive government expenditure on welfare schemes and programmes, it did lead to
a significant development in establishing the Export Processing Zones and a programme of
privatization that, pursued later in the late 1980s, helped make Sri Lanka more attractive for
export-oriented firms.
The socialist orientation of the South Asian economies until the 1970s did not result
in any spectacular growth outcomes. Growth in India, after a positive start in the 1950s,
was inhibited in the 1960s by natural calamities, like famines, followed by the wars with
China and Pakistan in the same decade. The 1970s did not see any improvement, despite
the green revolution contributing to productivity growth in the agriculture sector. By
this time, the inefficiencies of the large public sector that controlled heavy industries had
become apparent. Restrictive trade policies combined with extensive state control of the
commanding heights of the economy and excessive bureaucratic regulations for industrial
expansion were ultimately reflected in an inefficient, high-cost economy with few gains
in terms of productivity growth. In the latter half of the 1980s, India did register a higher
rate of growth, but it was accompanied by increased fiscal deficit. By the end of the decade,
the burden of government borrowing was exacerbated by a series of external events, in-
cluding the disintegration of the USSR, India’s thus far economic role model/ally, and the
Gulf War. While the former created pressure on the external sector through the sudden
cessation of rupee trade, the latter meant a reduction in remittance inflows that had thus
far been the largest source of foreign exchange earnings for India. With foreign exchange
reserves thus reduced to allow less than a week of imports in July 1991, India, on the brink
of a balance of payment crisis, was forced to borrow from the International Monetary
Fund (IMF). The bailout loan from the IMF came with the commitment by India to-
wards implementation of the Washington Consensus4 as part of the Structural Adjustment
Programme of the IMF. Thus began India’s economic reorientation towards integrating
with the global economy and establishing regional partnerships. In its quest for alternative
growth models, India, now free of Cold War divisions, reoriented its foreign policy with
the new ‘Look East’ formulation. There were many lessons of economic liberalization
and export-led growth that it now wanted to learn from the successful miracle economies
of Southeast/East Asia. The other South Asian economies followed course, looking east,
though only in the next decade.
Pakistan, although off to a slower start on account of poorer resource base relative to In-
dia post-partition, made good progress in the 1960s. While it continued to protect domestic
industry, there was also some push given to export expansion. Industry and agriculture both
flourished in the 1960s. However, the gains were soon eroded when the political regime
transitioned to a more socialist one under Z.A. Bhutto in the 1970s. Coupled with external
events, like the oil price shock of the 1970s, breaking away of East Pakistan (until then a cap-
tive market) and a series of famines, the decade of 1970s saw a dismal performance. Bhutto’s
programme of avowed socialism and nationalization of large industry and the financial sector
did not do any good for the economy (Osmani 2008).

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Amita Batra

Economic liberalization in India was undertaken in the 1990s, with unilateral policy
liberalization being the mode of outward orientation. The reforms, systemic in nature, were
an outcome of a democratic process that, though gradual, was based on strong political con-
sensus (Ahluwalia 2002). From dismantling the license-permit raj in the industrial sector, it
extended to rationalization of the direct and indirect tax system. Trade policy was the other
major plank of the reform process, with the elimination of quantitative restrictions and re-
duction in peak and average tariff rates first in capital and intermediate goods followed by
that in consumer goods and agricultural goods.5 The first set of reforms was soon followed
by liberalization of the financial sector in the next few years. The market-oriented reforms
led to a greater participation of the private sector – domestic and foreign – and hence an
element of competitiveness in economic activity. Led by India, other countries in South Asia
followed with their own liberalization programmes in the 1990s.
The economic liberalization in South Asia was followed by an unprecedented growth
momentum, largely on account of India’s growth performance, which peaked in the period
of 2000–2007 with an annual average growth rate of 6.5 percent and a peak growth rate
of 8.9 percent, which was observed in 2006–2007. Macroeconomic stability was maintained
during this time with the inflation rate, fiscal balance and trade deficit well within a manage-
able range. Alongside positive growth, the process was accompanied by a sectoral transfor-
mation in the South Asian economies. The share of agriculture in GDP declined to less than
a quarter, and that of services increased to over 50 percent for all South Asian economies.
The industrial sector did not see much growth during this phase, contributing about a fifth
to a quarter of the GDP. The onset of the global financial crisis in 2007–2008 did come as a
setback to the growth process, but then South Asia was among the earliest to recover in 2009,
with a growth rate of 8 percent (Batra 2013).
While these broad similarities exist among the South Asian countries, there have also
been some aspects that are distinct in each economy’s growth trajectory.
In the case of Pakistan, the economic transformation has been limited, if at all sustainable.
Pakistan has seen growth in spurts, with the 1960s and 1980s being relatively better and with
the military regimes having encouraged private participation in the economy in contrast
with the democratic regimes that have been more socialist in orientation. Irrespective of the
kind of political regime in Pakistan, growth continues to be propelled by remittance earnings
and foreign-aid inflows (owing to its geostrategic advantages: the Afghan War in the 1980s
and the fight against terrorism in the 2000s). This dependence on external finance has, in
turn, contributed to increased volatility in growth, such as in times of external crisis, like
the Gulf War, and/or the imposition of sanctions consequent upon the nuclear tests. This is
even more apparent today as Pakistan becomes home to the over $50 billion Chinese invest-
ment (www.business-standard.com/article/pti-stories/chinese-cast-a-shadow-on-­indo-pak-
trade-prospects-zaidi) in the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC). While Chinese
investment has the potential to ameliorate Pakistan’s power and infrastructure woes, the ma-
jor constraints to its manufacturing growth, there are fears that this would imply incurring
huge loans, the repayment of which may be most difficult in the long run, given that the ges-
tation period for these projects is long, there are security risks in many locations and the do-
mestic capability of Pakistan’s economy to repay is limited. Pakistan may therefore continue
to depend on external financial assistance rather than develop a self-sustained growth path.
In Sri Lanka, the economic performance during the second phase of reforms in the late
1980s and early 1990s, while restoring growth, was constrained by the impact of a long-
drawn-out civil war in its northern and eastern provinces, and after the 2009 ceasefire,
the impact of global financial crisis has meant the shrinking of traditional markets like the

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European Union (EU) for its large export sectors. Bangladesh, coming into existence only
in 1971, had a slow start with its growth process, but it gathered momentum in the 1980s. A
three-year structural adjustment facility under the IMF started in 1986 and included reforms
in agriculture, trade and industry. The process gained momentum in the 1990s. Bangla-
desh has a fairly liberalized trade and FDI regime. A significant highlight of its experience
has been the government’s facilitating the participation of non-governmental organizations
(NGOs) in economic activity and the extent to which this sector has contributed to devel-
opmental goals. The NGOs that started with rehabilitation, relief and social-sector activ-
ities in the 1970s gradually, in the next decade, expanded to credit delivery and financial
services, evolving in the process a unique group-based participatory approach to service
delivery (­Zohir 2004). In that sense, Bangladesh was able to provide an exemplary model of
innovation in providing basic services and inclusive developmental practices, even when the
growth rates were not spectacular. In Nepal, with the restoration of multiparty democracy
in 1990, the subsequent years were aimed at liberalizing the economy, participating in the
global economy and accelerating economic growth. Nepal’s accession to the World Trade
Organisation (WTO) was undertaken relatively more recently in 2004. Among the South
Asian economies, Nepal is yet to emerge out of its low level of economic growth. Even
during the peak growth period (2000–2008) of South Asia, Nepal was the only country to
have registered an average rate of growth of less than 5 percent (databank.worldbank.org/
datdata/reports.aspx?Code=NY.GDP.MKTP.KD.ZG&ida).

Developmental challenges
Notwithstanding diversity in growth outcomes, developmental challenges such as pov-
erty, food security and malnourishment are common to all South Asian economies. India,
Bangladesh, Bhutan, Afghanistan and Sri Lanka are included in the Food and Agriculture
Organisation (FAO) list of Low-Income Food-Deficit countries.6 Almost 60 percent of the
undernourished in the world live in Low-Income Food-Deficit countries. Of the total under-
nourished people in developing countries,7 about 35 percent reside in South Asia. The major-
ity of the undernourished in South Asia, that is, 69 percent of South Asia’s poor, live in India,
followed by Pakistan with a much smaller proportion of 14 percent and Bangladesh with a still
smaller percentage of about 9 percent. Of the 106.9 million undernourished people residing
in landlocked developing countries, a little over 10 percent reside in the landlocked countries
of South Asia. There has been little change in these numbers since 2010, notwithstanding the
Millennium Development Goal commitments of reducing hunger by half by 2015.
Forty percent of the world’s poor reside in South Asia. In addition, a majority (67 percent
in 2015: http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SP.RUR.TOTL.ZS) of the South Asian popu-
lation continues to reside in rural areas and depend on agriculture as the major source of em-
ployment and income, despite its declining contribution to GDP. Of the total employment
in India and Pakistan, 51 percent and 45 percent is in agriculture, respectively. Fifty-eight
percent of the total employment in Bhutan is in the agriculture sector (http://databank.
worldbank.org/data/reports). In comparison with other regions of the world agricultural
population density8 in South Asia is not only among the highest but has increased in the
past two decades. The agricultural population density in South Asia is also close to, though
higher than, the average level in low-income countries (www.fao.org). Despite the con-
tinuing importance of agriculture to a large section of the population, public expenditure
on its development has been stagnant or declining. Instead, the South Asian governments
have spent more on safety net programmes with diverse components and variants in terms

175
Amita Batra

of targeting, nutrition base, gender classification, etc. These programmes, plagued by prob-
lems of leakage, pilferage and poor targeting, have led to huge subsidization and increased
fiscal burdens on the exchequer in the process, implying reduced expenditure on research
and development or investment in productivity enhancement initiatives for the agriculture
sector. Agriculture research has been low priority for public expenditure in South Asia.
As a proportion of agriculture GDP, public research spending on agriculture is less than
50 percent for all South Asian economies (IFPRI 2017). Agriculture production continues to
be characterized by small and marginal landholdings, with the average size of less than one
hectare in most economies of the region. Land reforms and redistribution are difficult, given
vote bank politics in these countries. The challenge of food security in South Asia has been
further compounded by the adverse repercussions of climate change on crop yield and out-
put, particularly of staples like wheat and rice.
At the bilateral level, trade in foodgrains in South Asia is small. In times of food crisis, its
governments have increased trade barriers rather than facilitate trade across the region. In
order to manage domestic foodgrain shortfall/prices, export control measures, including a
ban on export of staples, have been used, resulting in the negative externality of sometimes
unbearable high prices in import-dependent countries of the region. This was evident in
the increased 2007–2008 wheat price in Afghanistan largely as a result of Pakistan’s export
ban on wheat and wheat flour and of the rice price in Bangladesh on account of high prices
of imports from India, again as a consequence of its restrictions on rice exports during the
2006–2008 food price increase (World Bank 2010).
At the regional level, SAARC has provided for an institutional arrangement for food se-
curity under the 2007 ‘Agreement on Establishing the SAARC Food Bank’, which is to act
as a regional food security reserve for the SAARC member countries during normal times,
food shortages/emergencies and provide regional support for national food security efforts
fostering inter-country partnerships through collective action. Under the Agreement, the
Food Bank has been authorized to start functioning with a total reserve of 241,580 metric
tonnes of foodgrains made up of contributions from all member countries9 with a decision
to increase the strategic reserve later given the region’s population increase and the number
of hungry therein exceeding the availability of agricultural land in South Asia. Potentially,
therefore, the Food Bank is capable of reducing the region’s vulnerability to food shortages,
particularly in times of crisis. However, thus far, there is no experience of withdrawal of
foodgrains from the Bank even during critical periods of food shortage.10 The food reserve
has not been activated as the SAARC member countries have failed to resolve the opera-
tional and procedural ambiguities. The SAARC Food Bank has thus not been concretized
beyond the conceptual level. This is true of many other SAARC programmes and agree-
ments as well, including the SAARC initiative on poverty, a development fund and the 1987
SAARC Regional Convention on Suppression of Terrorism that have not progressed beyond
conception. Even regional centres such as those for agriculture information and ecological
research in Dhaka and disaster management and documentation in Delhi have not shown
any credible progress towards the stated objectives and in the context of developmental chal-
lenges in the region. Actually, there exists a larger challenge to successful collective action in
South Asia, which is, the predominance of conflict over economic rationality.

Conflict in South Asia and the challenge to collective action

Conflict in South Asia has been long-standing and multidimensional. Border, boundary and
territorial disputes between India and Pakistan, India and Bangladesh, India and Nepal, and

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 Political economy of South Asia

Pakistan and Afghanistan have persisted over the years. There have also been resource dis-
putes. Many river- and water-sharing arrangements have been at the centre of conflict be-
tween India and Pakistan and between India and Bangladesh (Batra 2013). The region has also
been characterized by ethnic domestic strife with spillover implications for bilateral relations.11
Terrorist threats and nuclear and missile rivalry in the region have been both a consequence
and cause of conflict. Bilateral conflict has been persistent, difficult to resolve and unlike in
other regions has not been subsumed in the larger interest of peace for development in South
Asia. Regional leadership has not taken the initiative to unite the region or steer the regional
organization towards peace or development. India’s most recent attempts of invitation to all
the SAARC heads of government for the prime minister’s oath-taking ceremony in 2014
have been brought to a null by continued cross-border terrorism. In other regions, large
economies have come together or given up territorial claims, such as in the case of the EU and
Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), in pursuit of a larger objective of peaceful
prosperity. This has not happened in South Asia where the relationship between the two large
economies, India and Pakistan, has been the most enduring strategic rivalry (Batra 2013).
Therefore, even a common traumatic past like the partition has not been sufficient cause to
allow supremacy to cooperative forces to work towards regional development in South Asia.
This is unlike the experience in the case of the EU, where the ravages of war were sought to
be overcome through increasing economic interdependence between rival countries. On the
contrary, for South Asia, the partition with its man-made boundaries has meant that the coun-
tries define themselves as distinct rather than evolve along a common developmental path.
Conflict has inflicted a cost on the region in terms of limiting intra-regional economic
exchange and trade. South Asian experience has defied the logic of shared borders, physi-
cal proximity and common language and history as the basis of identifying natural trading
partners with low transaction costs. As borders are disputed, adjacent countries have actu-
ally substituted trade with regional partners by trading with the rest of the world. Longer
and more circuitous routes12 have been adopted for trade rather than allowing movement
of goods across common borders within the region at much lower transportation costs. In-
struments of economic integration, although formulated, have not progressed successfully
towards trade liberalization or creation of a free trade area in the region. The South Asian
Preferential Trade Agreement (SAPTA) initiated in 1993 was suspended in 1999 after three
rounds of negotiation, owing to rising India-Pakistan tensions and a military coup in
­Pakistan. As bilateral relations between India and Pakistan normalized in the early 2000s, an
announcement for the South Asian Free Trade Area (SAFTA) was made at the 2004 SAARC
summit held in Islamabad. It took two years for the FTA agreement to be implemented in
2006. After over a decade of its implementation, the FTA is not yet anywhere close to fru-
ition. Trade liberalization under both SAPTA and SAFTA was inhibited, in the case of the
former by an inherently prolonged positive list-based approach to negotiations and in the
latter case by large negative lists that invariably included the most tradable goods among
these economies. Granting concessional market access to regional partners for goods where
they have a comparative advantage while making economic sense is not politically gainful
in these countries. In addition, Pakistan in violation of the spirit of the SAFTA agreement
provisions, until 2011, specified a small positive list for trade liberalization with India. Un-
surprisingly therefore, intra-regional trade in South Asia continues to be low and stagnant
at around 5–6 percent, below the levels achieved by even sub-Saharan Africa. Further, India
with its unilateral offer of duty-free and quota-free market access to all LDCs in the region
and bilateral preferential trading arrangements with Bhutan and Nepal and an FTA with Sri
Lanka leaves little advantage in utilization of the SAFTA.

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Amita Batra

The overriding importance of politics over economic rationality is also due partly to the
political regimes in South Asia being other than democracies. Democracy has not been the
norm in the region. Only India and Sri Lanka have experienced democracy on a sustained
basis. Other countries have only recently made a more substantive shift to democracy after
long runs of monarchy in Bhutan and Nepal and autarkic and military regimes in the case
of Pakistan and Bangladesh. In autocratic or military rule policy orientation towards maxi-
mization of economic welfare of the median voter may not be a given. So, even if economic
rationality may justify regional trade integration, political regimes may do otherwise. The
adamant policy stance of the Pakistan government to not grant India the most favoured
nation (MFN) status is an example in this context. As WTO members, India and Pakistan
are required to grant MFN status to all their trading partners so as to conduct trade on a
non-discriminatory basis. India granted MFN status to Pakistan in 1996. Pakistan has not
granted India the MFN status thus far, arguing that this may lead to an enlargement of an
existing trade deficit with India. The argument is based on narrow political gains. Importing
from India may lead to a larger bilateral deficit but will, in turn, reduce Pakistan’s overall
trade deficit with the rest of the world as imports from other countries are substituted by
those from India at lower transportation costs. Announcement towards granting India the
MFN status in 2011 made during the Pakistan PM’s visit to India was retracted soon after his
return home. On the grounds that the MFN term is not politically acceptable,13 an alterna-
tive Non-Discriminatory Market Access (NDMA) status was proposed as a workable option.
However, even the NDMA has not seen full implementation to date.
In the case of India-Bhutan and India-Nepal, heterogeneity of political regimes notwith-
standing, to a large extent geography has contributed to shaping economic relations. Both
Bhutan and Nepal are landlocked countries. Bhutan is an example of successful cooperation
with India where the smaller country has been able to develop its hydropower potential that
is far in excess of its domestic demand with financial and technical assistance from India.
This has helped create income and employment for Bhutan, while export of hydropower to
India has been advantageous for energy-deficient India. With Nepal, India’s relations are de-
fined by economic dependence in the arena of trade. The long-standing trade treaty, last re-
vised in 2009, has allowed free movement of goods across the open border with stricter rules
of origin being introduced by India only in the last decade owing to increased import of cer-
tain commodities and fears of trade deflection. In the context of water-sharing arrangements
however, domestic politics and issues of sovereignty have outweighed economic rationality.
In fact, apart from India-Bhutan, sharing of water resources and hydropower project de-
velopment for energy cooperation in South Asia has always been contentious. Water-sharing
arrangements have been necessitated by the cross-boundary nature of the rivers often a result
of arbitrary territorial boundaries that have been drawn at the time of partition. Disputes
have arisen on issues related to storage structures (height and design), release/flow of water
in dry and wet seasons, and compensation. Cooperative behaviour that could be in the in-
terest of both countries has often been rejected over misplaced perceptions of infringement
of territorial sovereignty as in the case of India-Nepal dispute over the construction of the
Tanakpur barrage and India-Pakistan disputes vis-à-vis the Indus Water Treaty (IWT).
Signed in 1960, the IWT between India and Pakistan is otherwise considered as a success-
ful model of bilateral cooperation. Three wars, a minor war and frequent border skirmishes
have not been able to dislodge the treaty.14 That the treaty has been an outcome of third-party
(World Bank) mediation contributes to its uniqueness as India and Pakistan have otherwise
refrained from third-party involvement in bilateral issues. While the two countries broadly
abide by the agreement, disputes have arisen based on complaints by Pakistan on water flow

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being restricted by India owing to its upstream status. This derives its significance from the
fact that Indus and its tributaries are the only source of surface water for Pakistan, particu-
larly for its agriculture sector. However, disputes related to technical interpretation of the
treaty, particularly where dam construction is involved, may be otherwise motivated, given
that the rivers Indus, Jhelum and Chenab all flow through J&K, the site of a long-standing
and core territorial dispute between India and Pakistan (Batra 2013). The construction of the
Baglihar dam, Tulbul navigation/wullar barrage and Kishanganga dam project have been
some of the more prominent disputes in this category.
In the broader context of regional energy cooperation, South Asia has both energy-­
deficient (India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka) and energy-surplus countries (Bangladesh, Nepal
and Bhutan), alongside transit economies like Afghanistan (for South Asia-Central Asia, with
Central Asia as the energy resource-rich region) and Pakistan. Energy cooperation, though
highly desirable in the region, given the growing demand and pace of industrialization, has
not happened. Existing high dependence on oil imports that increases vulnerability to oil
market volatilities and fossil fuel dependence that has adverse environmental implication
makes energy security through alternative resources an imperative for South Asia. But not
just hydropower projects even gas pipeline projects like Turkmenistan-Afghanistan-­
Pakistan-India (TAPI) and Iran-Pakistan-India (IPI) have been stalled for years over issues
like construction and security of pipelines, transit routes and fee and per-unit gas pricing –
with bilateral political relations having added and contributed further to the complexities
and delays.

Conflict over cooperation in South Asian

regionalism and evolving alternatives
Addressing the essential question at a larger level on whether these states in constant conflict
have been able to shift into a mode of regional cooperation is important considering that
other regions have progressed in their pursuit of economic regionalism through collabo-
rative action of member states and the regional organization facilitating the process either
through peace building as in ASEAN or by establishing rules of economic interaction as in
the case of the EU. As ASEAN members entered a phase of peaceful coexistence, the pro-
cess was carried forward by market forces. The dynamism that has accompanied South-east
Asia through interactive and interconnected industrial development: the flying geese model
(Akamatsu 1962) that followed the initial export-led and, for second-tier newly industrial-
ized economies (NIEs), FDI-led industrial growth models is not evident in the case of South
Asia. Intra-regional FDI in South Asia is small, manufacturing base of member economies is
not yet diversified enough for complementary comparative advantages to have evolved so as
to form regional supply chains, and intra-regional trade liberalization is not complete subject
as it is to political factors and bilateral conflicts rather than to economic rationale.
In South Asia, regionalism has not been accorded the primacy it has received in other
regions. With many other regions already having seen successful regional economic inte-
gration initiatives, it was largely the fear of isolation that compelled member countries to
establish the SAARC in 1985. In over three decades of its existence, it has seen little suc-
cess in terms of its stated objectives at the time of initiation, the economic agenda adopted
much later in the early 1990s or even in terms of the number of summit meetings held so
far. Only eighteen summits have been held in over three decades of SAARC’s existence.
Strangely enough, while the Charter itself specified that bilateral and contentious issues
will be kept out of the deliberations, it is the bilateral tensions that have inhibited the

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Amita Batra

organization from making progress (Indian Foreign Affairs Journal 2014). With even the FTA
not yet fully implemented, the vision of creating a South Asia Economic Union (SAEU)
reiterated at the 18th SAARC summit in Kathmandu in 2014 remains an unrealistic goal.
In fact, the 18th SAARC summit ended with Pakistan’s refusal to sign the three connectiv-
ity agreements proposed by India citing ‘lack of domestic preparedness’. The 19th SAARC
summit that was to be held in Pakistan in 2016 was suspended when India’s stance of ab-
staining from the summit post terrorist attack on its army base camp in Uri was supported
by other member countries.
Notwithstanding its limited success, the SAARC has seen an expansion in its mem-
bership with Afghanistan as a new member in 2006 and China making a serious bid for
membership.15 While China’s bid for membership and greater role in the SAARC has not
materialized, it has made inroads into the South Asian region through its various investment
projects over the last half a decade and now, more significantly through its One Belt One
Road (OBOR) connectivity strategy that has all South Asian nations except India as partici-
pants and potential beneficiaries. There is now a balancing act at evidence in the region that
the smaller economies are attempting vis-à-vis their relations with the larger South Asian
economy India and the other power desirous of a regional status that is China. Simultane-
ously, it is also interesting to note that India has over the last decade been increasingly sought
by the Southeast Asian countries as a counterbalancing power vis-à-vis China. India’s trade
integration with the region has been consolidated through its FTA with ASEAN and the
ASEAN-centric Pan Asian formulation – the regional comprehensive economic partnership
(RCEP). With the Look East policy reformulated by India in 2014 as the ‘Act East’ policy,
there is an even greater emphasis on economic integration with ASEAN and East Asian
economies through regional value chains. At the same time reformulating its strategy for
South Asia, India, with willing regional partners, is now leading the way forward through
subregional cooperation.

Conclusion and reflections

The chapter highlights that South Asia is a region where conflict has dominated cooperation.
Despite the many similarities – history, geography, culture and religion – South Asia has not
been able to unite with a common cause. Even though faced with common developmental
challenges of poverty, malnutrition and energy demand, the countries have not been able
to design or operationalize collaborative solutions either through or independent of the
regional organization, the SAARC, that has been in existence now for over three decades.
The geographically and economically central country India is also a participant in almost all
bilateral conflicts in South Asia, centred as they are around issues of territory, resource shar-
ing and cross-border ethnic strife. Smaller countries have therefore often subjected benefits
of bilateral and regional economic interactions and decisions to domestic political gains. In-
struments of economic integration have had little success as conflict has played an overriding
role in both the negotiation and implementation processes.
The South Asian countries have always looked at the rest of the world for economic in-
teraction rather than within the region. However, India with its relatively more diversified
economy is now looking east with greater focus and attention to consolidate a process that
was initiated in the 1990s with its economic liberalization. Having paid positive dividends in
increasing India’s engagement with the dynamic ASEAN and East Asian economies, the pol-
icy has now not just been rechristened as the Act East policy, but there is also further strength-
ening of economic relations given the post global financial crisis global scenario of growth

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yet to pick up in the advanced economies and the fact that India is sought as a counterbalance
to China’s growing influence in the evolving Pan Asian regional context. Additionally, India
having attempted and not succeeded to revive the South Asian regionalism and SAARC
through its positive overtures to Pakistan (Indian PM’s visit to Pakistan in December 2015)
and regional initiatives (invitation to all SAARC heads to the new government’s oath-taking
ceremony in 2014 and the three connectivity agreements prepared and presented by India
at the 18th SAARC summit in 2014) has now realigned its neighbourhood policy towards
subregional cooperation. Connectivity and transport corridors are being proposed as means
to development cooperation. Groupings like the BBIN and BIMSTEC are showing gainful
momentum. The BBIN member countries have signed a motor vehicle agreement in 2015
to facilitate movement of passenger, personal and cargo vehicles across borders.16 Simultane-
ously, Pakistan has moved ahead, notwithstanding its potential debt enhancing possibilities,
with the CPEC connectivity project with Chinese financial assistance. While the outcomes
of these projects may not be easy to predict, the developments in South Asia, as always, re-
inforce the divergence more than the commonalities in the region.

Notes
1 Afghanistan joined SAARC in 2007. The other seven countries are founder members of the re-
gional organization.
2 India has now (in 2017) established an air freight corridor to facilitate the movement of goods from
Afghanistan to India, thus overcoming the trade barrier in the APTTA.
3 Member countries – BBIN: Bangladesh, Bhutan, India and Nepal; BCIM: Bangladesh, China,
India and Myanmar; MGC: Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, Vietnam, Thailand and India; BIMSTEC:
Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Nepal, Myanmar, Thailand and Sri Lanka.
4 Coined in 1989, the term was used by John Williamson to describe a set of ten policy reform
measures that were required in Latin America. The term over time has come to be associated with
reforms under the structural adjustment programme of the IMF for countries that borrow to avert/
overcome a financial crisis (Williamson 2004).
5 During the early 1990s, India’s unilateral trade liberalization was restricted to the manufacturing
sector. During 1995–2001, the remaining restrictions (QRs) on imports were gradually removed in
a large measure in response to international pressures. The first of these pressures came from U
­ ruguay
Round negotiations on textiles and clothing (Agreement on Textiles and Clothing), phasing
out of the multi-fibre agreement (MFA), the second from a dispute brought against India at the
WTO in the matter of imposing quantitative restrictions on imports under the balance-of payments
clause of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) (Article XVIII (B)) ­(Goldar 2005).
6 Based on the income criterion, net food trade position of a country reflecting trade volumes of
a broad basket of basic food stuffs converted and aggregated by the calorie content of individual
constituent commodities and a self-exclusion request in case they satisfy the first two criteria.
7 About 805 million people in the world are undernourished (2012–2014) having reduced from over
a 1,000 million in 1990–1992. Almost all of the undernourished people (790 million) reside in
developing countries. Source: www.fao.org/3/a-i4030e.pdf: The State of Food Insecurity in the
World, 2014.
8 Agricultural population per hectare of arable land and permanent crop land.
9 Initially in 2008, assessed as India (153,000 tonnes), Bangladesh (40,000 tonnes), Pakistan (40,000
tonnes), Nepal (4,000 tonnes), Sri Lanka (4,000 tonnes), Bhutan (180 tonnes) and the Maldives (200
tonnes). The quantum was doubled in 2009: SAARC-sec.org: A Guide to the SAARC Food Bank.
10 Such as floods in Nepal in 2008 and in Pakistan in 2010 and earthquake in Nepal in 2015.
11 Examples of such intra-state issues with inter-state implications include the insurgency movement
in Indian Punjab (India-Pakistan), Tamil issues in Sri Lanka (India-Sri Lanka) and insurgency
movements in India’s north-eastern states (India-Bangladesh).
12 For example, India-Dubai-Iran-Afghanistan-Pakistan (Batra 2013).
13 Translated in local Urdu language, MFN is stated to mean ‘most favoured friend (nation)’ and
hence not a politically acceptable term in Pakistan vis-à-vis India.

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14 After the attack on Indian army base camp in Uri by cross-border terrorists in 2016, revision of the
Treaty was considered as also its use by India as an instrument of sanctions against Pakistan, but
then it was left unchanged.
15 Apart from eight member countries, the regional organization has nine observers inclusive of
­Australia, China, US, EU, Korea, Japan, Myanmar, Mauritius and South Korea.
16 Bhutan has expressed reservation for environmental reasons and is yet to ratify the agreement.

References
Ahluwalia, Montek S. 2002. Economic Reforms in India since 1991: Has Gradualism Worked? Journal
of Economic Perspectives 16(3): 67–88.
Akamatsu, K. 1962. A Historical Pattern of Economic Growth in Developing Countries. The Devel-
oping Economies 1(1): 3–25.
Asian Development Bank, Asian Regional Integration Centre (ARIC) https://aric.adb.org
Batra, Amita. 2013. Regional Economic Integration in South Asia: Trapped in Conflict? London: Routledge.
Goldar, B. 2005. Impact on India of Tariff and Quantitative Restrictions under WTO. Working Paper
No. 172, ICRIER, New Delhi.
IFPRI (The International Food Policy Research Institute) Global Food Policy Report 2015.
Indian Foreign Affairs Journal. Debate: Regional Cooperation in South Asia: The Present and The
­Future. 9(4) (October–December), 2014: 307–350.
Osmani, S. R. 2008. Explaining Growth in South Asia. Paper prepared for the Global Development
Network’s project on ‘Explaining Growth’, University of Ulster, UK.
Williamson, John. 2004. A History of the Washington Consensus. Paper Commissioned by Fundacion
CIDOB for a conference From the Washington Consensus towards a new Global Governance, Barcelona,
September 24–25. World Bank: data.worldbank.org/data-catalog/GDP-PPP-based-table.
World Bank: data.worldbank.org/indicator/SP.RUR.TOTL.ZS.
World Bank Report on Food Price Increases in South Asia: National Responses and Regional
­Dimensions, 2010.
Zohir, Sajjad. 2004. NGO Sector in Bangladesh: An Overview. Economic & Political Weekly 39(36):
4109–4113.

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 13
Central Asia
The political economy
of resource dependency

Luca Anceschi

A considerable degree of immobility permeated the structure of Central Asia’s economic pro-
duction after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The progressive entrenchment of authoritarian
strategies of economic management has to date prevented the implementation of comprehen-
sive reform agendas across the region: In 2016, the economic activity of post-Soviet Central
Asia1 remained predominantly confined to the extraction and commercialisation of natural re-
sources, just as it did in 1992. It is in the energy sector that Central Asia’s resource dependency
has, however, come to the fore more visibly: Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan hold substantive
hydrocarbon reserves, while Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan feature a globally relevant hydroelec-
tricity potential, thanks to their significant water resources. The extraction, transport, and
ultimately the export of natural resources hence represent the cornerstone activities of the
region’s political economy: It is precisely to the study of these processes that the present chapter
will devote its core analytical attention. The chapter, however, will not delve exclusively into
energy-related issues but, tellingly, will also put a premium on the identification of the resource
dependency patterns that define Central Asia’s agricultural sector. By briefly looking at the
region’s agro-industry – and most specifically Uzbekistan’s extreme reliance on cotton crops –
this chapter intends to emphasise that production models centred on the exploitation of a single
resource have ultimately entrenched a detrimental monoculture praxis across Central Asia.
The negotiation of resource usage pathways has to be seen as a crucial engagement mech-
anism connecting Central Asia’s resource-rich economies to their resource-poor neighbours.
From the relatively easy finalisation of transit deals for oil and gas pipelines to the enormously
complex management of the region’s shared hydro-politics, Central Asia’s political economy
of resource dependency can be analytically reduced to a compromise between haves and
have-nots. As this chapter will argue, the establishment of a viable path to regulate Central
Asia’s shared resource usage has been so far obstructed by the progressive entrenchment of
authoritarian strategies of resource management across the region.

The political economy of Central Asia’s energy resources

Central Asia’s contribution to the economic activity of the Soviet Union (USSR) was lim-
ited to the production of raw materials to be processed in regions of the USSR with a

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higher degree of economic complexity (Nove 1977). Hydrocarbons extracted in Kazakhstan

and Turkmenistan were exported to the centre of the Union through a slowly expanding
­pipeline system, while cotton from Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan was sent to manufacturing
establishments scattered around the vast Soviet territory. The negative effects of economic
over-reliance on natural resources were mitigated by the artificial pricing system in force
in the Soviet Union and the overarching logic of intra-Union trade, which ensured relative
stability for the essentially unsophisticated economies of Central Asia.
The collapse of the Soviet Union and the achievement of independence thrust the Central
Asian republics onto the global economic scene. In terms of production structure, it may be
argued that no significant change had since then occurred within the economic activity of
the region’s energy-exporting countries. Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan emerged as the big
winners of the sudden transfer to market prices that accompanied Central Asia’s access to
global economic relations (von Hirschhausen & Engerer 1998): In 1992, the governments
in Almaty and Ashgabat began to reap much higher revenues for selling stable amounts of
oil and gas.
A second set of domestic political considerations obstructed the development of the
non-energy sector within the Turkmen and the Kazakhstani economies. The establishment
of non-transparent strategies of revenue management allowed the emerging regimes in Al-
maty/Astana and Ashgabat to syphon off increasingly substantive amounts of revenues from
their state’s official budgets, transforming oil and gas largesse in a driver for corruption, cro-
nyism, and patronage (Pleines & Wöstheinrich 2016). With no incentive to introduce any
change in their structure of production, the economies of Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan
continued to be dominated by the extraction and the export of hydrocarbons, enhancing in
the long run the regimes’ intrinsic dependency on energy resources.
The oil sector does currently account for a quarter of Kazakhstan’s GDP and, most
­crucially, more than 60 per cent of its total exports (Voloshin 2015a). Kazakhstan’s oil
­reserves, estimated in 2014 at 30 billion barrels (EIA 2015), are the largest in Central Asia
and the eleventh in the world. Kazakhstan is also the second largest oil producer in the for-
mer ­Soviet Union: In 2014, total crude production was estimated at 1.70 million barrels per
day (EIA 2015). Throughout the post-Soviet era, the progress of exploration and extraction
activities in three giant fields facilitated the substantive growth experienced by Kazakh-
stan’s production capacity. Two onshore fields situated in the country’s western regions –
Tengiz and Karachaganak – currently account for nearly half of its total crude production
­( Badykova 2015): Future growth is hence essentially linked to the development of the
Kashagan ­offshore field, which is, in turn, located in the Kazakhstani sector of the Caspian
Sea. A comprehensive pipeline network has been steadily developed by the government in
Astana in order to overcome the export limitations imposed by Kazakhstan’s landlockedness.
In mid-2016, Kazakhstani oil is mainly exported through three pipelines. The Uzen-Atyrau-
Samara (UAS) pipeline connects Kazakhstan to the Russian distribution system, facilitating in
this sense the eventual export of Kazakhstani crude to non-CIS markets. Initially operated
through the Soviet oil transit network, the UAS pipeline has represented the main export
route for Kazakhstani crude: In 2014, after extensive renovation works carried out by Kazakh-
stan’s state oil company – KazMunaiGas (KMG) – the UAS pipeline carried a total volume of
14.6 million tons of crude oil (KazMunaiGas a).
The pipeline system operated by the Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC) connects the
oil fields located in Western Kazakhstan to the Black Sea port of Novorossiysk (Russian Fed-
eration). The CPC entered into line in October 2001, when it came to represent the first sig-
nificant expansion of the Kazakhstani energy transit network concluded in the post-Soviet

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era. KMG and the Russian government are key CPC stakeholders, with combined shares
that account for 43 per cent of the total; a further 15 per cent of the consortium’s shares is, in
turn, held by Chevron. The year 2014 saw the CPC system – the total length of which does
currently exceed 1,500 kilometres – pumping a record volume of 40 million tons of crude
oil (Caspian Pipeline Consortium).
The most recent evolution of the Kazakhstani pipeline system has witnessed the
­progressive strengthening of Astana’s energy linkages with China. The development of a
pipeline network transporting crude from Kazakhstan’s western regions to the Chinese bor-
der represented a massive endeavour upon which a consortium involving KMG and the
China National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC) embarked from the mid-2000s onwards.
The successive openings of two separate pipelines – which have been built through debt
financing guaranteed by CNPC – facilitated the commercialisation of Sino-Kazakhstani oil
relations: At the end of 2014, total crude volumes delivered by Kazakhstan at the Chinese
border amounted to 11.7 million tons (KazMunaiGas b).
The crystallisation of global energy relations predicated on low prices is severely im-
pacting on Kazakhstan’s oil industry, and, more broadly, it appears to have drastically cur-
tailed Kazakhstan’s economic prospects. Beyond a fundamental need for wider economic
­d iversification, the Kazakhstani government is now tasked with significantly expanding its
oil production, with the view to offset the decline in energy revenues instigated by low
commodities prices. And it is precisely at this juncture that the failure experienced by the op-
erationalisation of the Kashagan oil field comes to hold critical importance for ­K azakhstan’s
future economic performance.
Discovered in 2000 and named after a Kazakh poet from Mangystau (west Kazakhstan),
this giant offshore field has a potential of 38 billion barrels of oil, of which at least 13 ­billion
appear to be fully recoverable (Campaner & Yenikeff 2008). The initial development of
the Kashagan field was supported by significant amounts of capital – approximately US$50­
billion (Farchy 2014) – injected by a large consortium that includes KMG, ENI, Royal
Dutch Shell, Total, and ExxonMobil. On 11 September 2013, after years of delay, the North
Caspian Operating Company – which is leading the implementation stage at Kashagan –
­fi nally commenced its production activities. Operational success was nevertheless short-
lived: In October 2013, the discovery of numerous leaks in the pipes connecting the field
with the Kazakhstani shore led to production suspension (TengriNews 2013). Commercial
production at the Kashagan field restarted in September 2016.
An even greater degree of resource dependency comes to the surface when our analyt-
ical attention shifts onto the Turkmen economic landscape. To all intents and purposes,
Turkmenistan features a rentier economy, of which the largest income is represented by
externally generated revenues that are managed by a very small segment of the essentially
non-democratic Turkmen élite (Beblawi & Luciani 1987, 12). In 2014, the energy sector ac-
counted for 35 per cent of Turkmenistan’s GDP, 90 per cent of total exports, and 80 p­ er cent
of fiscal revenues (World Bank 2015). Turkmenistan’s dependency on its natural gas indus-
try, encapsulated with greater precision by the latter proposition, is hence reminiscent of the
oil-dominated economies of the Arab Gulf.
As of January 2015, Turkmenistan’s total reserves of natural gas were estimated at 215
trillion cubic feet (EIA 2016). Exploration and production activities are strictly controlled
by the authoritarian regime led by Gurbanguly M. Berdymuhamedov: The Turkmen gas
sector is in this sense participating directly in the technologies of power devised by the élite
in Ashgabat. Throughout the post-Soviet era, the internationally isolated Turkmen state
has endeavoured to systematically block the access of international energy companies to its

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onshore fields: Successive regimes categorically refused to conclude any production sharing
agreement (PSA) with foreign companies.2 The exception to this norm has been represented
by the multibillion PSA signed in 2009 with CNPC to regulate exploration and develop-
ment activities at the Bagtyýarlyk cluster field (Lebap region, northeast Turkmenistan). Strict
policies of impermeability from cooperation with foreign partners led Turkmenistan’s en-
ergy industry to be state-centred: Virtually 100 per cent of oil and gas production – with the
notable exception of the volumes extracted at Bagtyýarlyk – continues to be dominated by
the two state concerns, namely Türkmengaz and its petroleum counterpart Türkmennebit.
While Turkmen oil is mostly used for domestic consumption as well the production of
electricity and petrochemicals, the export of natural gas has to be seen as the most vital eco-
nomic activity performed by post-Soviet Turkmenistan. The majority of accessible reserves
are located in the Galkynysh field (Mary region) – the world’s second-largest natural gas
field – the Bagtyýarlyk cluster area, and the Turkmen sector of the Caspian Sea. Internal gas
transit takes place via the so-called East-West pipeline, which links up the two branches of
the old Soviet natural gas pipeline, connecting major gas fields located in the eastern Mary
region and the western Balkan velayat (Natural Gas Europe 2015).
When it comes to natural gas exports, geography may be said to have constrained the
options available to Turkmenistan. Throughout the post-Soviet years, the Turkmen regime
managed to commercialise its gas relations with three key partners: namely, the Russian
Federation, the People’s Republic of China, and the Islamic Republic of Iran.
Energy trade with Russia has traditionally been conducted through the Central Asia-­
Centre (CA-C) gas pipeline, built in Soviet times and incorporated in the Gazprom transit
network after the demise of the USSR. For much of the post-Soviet era, the CA-C pipeline
continued to pump the bulk of the natural gas exported by Turkmenistan. As the Niyazov
regime came to equate its short-term stability with the preservation of a stable inflow of gas
revenues, Turkmenistan’s dependency on the old Soviet pipeline led to the consolidation
of an essentially monodirectional form of gas commerce. The Turkmen natural gas sector
became in this sense an integral component in the transit monopoly that Gazprom enforced
over much of Eurasia for the 1990s and, to a lesser extent, the 2000s. A closer look at the
commercial framework operating through the CA-C pipeline reveals the many constraints
that gas rentierism has to date imposed upon the wider Turkmen economy. The periodic
eruption of gas disputes involving the regimes in Ashgabat, their Eurasian customers, and
the Gazprom leadership had punishing effects on Turkmenistan’s economy and, at other
times, its wider society. In 1997, the Turkmen economic performance experienced a sig-
nificant contraction as a result of the suspension of gas shipments to Ukraine (Sagers 1999).
In 2003, Turkmenistan’s ethnic Russian population became a pawn in the resolution of a
pricing dispute between Saparmurat A. Niyazov and Vladimir V. Putin (Torbakov 2003). In
2009–2010, Turkmen GDP shrank by 25 per cent after an explosion in the Uzbek sector of
the CA-C pipeline instigated a prolonged interruption of Turkmenistan’s gas deliveries to
Russia (Vasánczki 2011). While it guaranteed, on the one hand, a relatively steady revenue
inflow, Gazprom’s transit monopoly exerted, on the other, a series of destabilising influences
over Turkmenistan. It is precisely to contain such negative repercussions that the leadership
in Ashgabat engaged in a protracted, and ultimately successful, policy drive to expand the
geographic breadth of Turkmenistan’s gas export routes.
This policy drive culminated in the opening of the Central Asia-China natural gas pipe-
line (December 2009). A landmark development in the geopolitics of Eurasian natural gas,
this pipeline came to represent the first export route operating beyond the Gazprom transit
monopoly. The entry into line of the Central Asia-China pipeline ushered in a new era of

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multidirectionality for the gas policy of the Turkmen state but, paradoxically, ended up
entrenching even further the regime’s extreme economic reliance on natural gas exports.
At the time of writing, over 80 per cent of the gas exported by Turkmenistan is pumped
through the Central Asia-China pipeline (BP 2016). In early 2016, Gazprom opted to sus-
pend any future purchase of Turkmen natural gas (RIA Novosti 2016).
The five years that have followed the opening of the pipeline witnessed in this sense
the conclusion of a parabolic evolution through which China progressively emerged as the
key partner in the Turkmen energy trade system. To understand more profoundly the im-
plications of growing Chinese centrality vis-à-vis Turkmenistan’s economic relations, it
might be worth taking a further look at the financing structure that supported the con-
struction of the Central Asia-China natural gas pipeline. CNPC financed the construction
of the pipeline and, most significantly, the exploration and extraction activities conducted at
­Galkynysh, one of the giant fields that produce the volumes of gas currently traded between
Turkmenistan and China.3 The repayment of the debt that Turkmenistan contracted during
the pipeline construction is currently executed by sending to China undisclosed volumes
of free-of-charge gas. As a consequence, Turkmenistan is reaping less significant revenues
for selling a virtually unchanged quantity of natural gas. For an essentially mono-resource
­economy, this scenario appears to be thoroughly unsustainable.
This short overview of the industrial and commercial frameworks that are regulating
the energy sectors in Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan revealed in full the low sustainability
of the economic strategies currently pursued by the élites in Astana and Ashgabat. While, on
the one hand, Kazakhstan faces a series of apparently unsurmountable problems in its efforts
to boost current levels of oil production, on the other hand, Turkmenistan is experiencing
an unprecedented export crisis, which has seen a return to essentially monodirectional en-
ergy trade relations. As the key short-term effects of resource dependency remain intimately
connected to the stabilisation of local authoritarian governance, policymakers in Kazakhstan
and Turkmenistan are nevertheless likely to ignore the long-term implications of such pro-
nounced unsustainability.
Economic over-reliance on natural resources is hence expected to continue, in spite of
the many problems that are currently affecting the financial and operational structures en-
trusted to oversee the energy industries in question. Kazakhstan’s Sovereign Wealth Fund –
­Samruk-Kazyna – has been recently depleted in order to soften the impacts of the crisis
affecting the Kazakh economic at large: The assets managed by the fund have fallen by 16
per cent to US$64.2 billion in just 18 months between 2014 and early 2016 (Mooney 2016).
Türkmengaz, on the other hand, is experiencing what seems to be a multifaceted crisis: Be-
hind the wall of silence imposed by official media, a combination of significant financial loss,
massive layouts, workers’ turmoil, and lack of expertise is currently affecting the capacity of
the Turkmen state concern to deliver the ambitious gas agenda designed by Berdymuhame-
dov and his close associates (Pannier 2016).
The placement of resource dependency at the core of the authoritarian stability of both
Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan prevented in this sense the formulation and the implementa-
tion of economic development programmes that are divorced from the hydrocarbon sector.
The crystallisation of low oil prices revealed in full Kazakhstan’s unpreparedness to face
major economic shocks: The slower GDP growth rates experienced in 2014 and 2015 (ADB
2016) forced the government in Astana to redistribute funds allocated to Samruk-Kazyna
into several packages of economic stimulus, including the Nurly Zhol programme (Lillis
2014). To this end, the Nazarbayev regime had to abandon its timid economic diversification
agenda, which aimed to attract investment in the non-oil sector by strengthening transport

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infrastructure in the Kazakhstani periphery while bolstering the state’s central institutional
framework (World Bank 2015).
No visible move has been made towards the expansion of Turkmenistan’s non-energy
sector. In 2014 and 2015, the rapid decline of commodities prices forced the suspension of
long-term subsidisation practices, rewriting in this sense the authoritarian energy contract
(Balmaceda 2014) between the regime in Ashgabat and the wider Turkmen population.
Turkmenistan’s future plans for economic development thus continue to revolve around
the maximisation of its natural gas potential via the construction of a series of export routes
targeting South Asian markets or, alternatively, potential buyers located in the European
Union. Continuous reliance on export pipelines is intended to preserve, for all intents and
purposes, the élite’s unchecked access to non-transparent methods of revenue management,
entrenching in this sense corruption practices that have to date defined the Turkmen version
of economic rentierism.
In post-Soviet Central Asia, the political economy of resource wealth crystallised very
exclusionary praxes of endowment management. Energy security, in both Kazakhstan and
Turkmenistan, became instrumental – and in some sense equivalent – to regime stability.
Similar dynamics, as the next segment intends to demonstrate, also defined the economic
development strategies devised in the region’s energy-poor countries.

The political economy of Central Asia’s water resources

The complexity underpinning Central Asia’s patterns of resource dependency – and their
correlation with the region’s political economy in particular – emerges most strikingly when
analysing the energy balances of Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. As net hydrocarbon importers,
Central Asia’s least-performing economies are connected with the Eurasian oil and gas mar-
kets through an intricate, and generally unstable, web of energy deals.
Domestic crude production is only sufficient to meet 3 per cent of Kyrgyzstan’s total de-
mand (Yuldashev & Sahin 2016): The government in Bishkek, as a consequence, purchases
most of its oil from the Russian Federation, and it continues to be dependent on natural gas
imports from neighbouring Uzbekistan. This is not, however, to say that the Kyrgyz Re-
public has generally enjoyed a steady energy supply. In 2014, a prolonged transit dispute with
Kazakhstan led to the interruption of oil deliveries from Russia (Eurasianet 2014). Bishkek’s
tumultuous gas relationship with Uzbekistan has similarly been defined by frequent disrup-
tions in the natural gas flows directed to Kyrgyzstan (RFE/RL 2014).
Tajikistan’s hydrocarbons imports are essentially limited to natural gas: For much of the
post-Soviet era, the Tajik internal demand was met almost entirely through the volumes pur-
chased from Uzbekistan. Tajikistan’s total gas imports decreased rather significantly ­between
2000 and 2011 (Fields et al. 2013, 37); due to its rather poor economic performance, how-
ever, the Tajik state regularly delayed the payment of increasingly smaller gas volumes. The
commercialisation of Tajikistan’s gas relations with Uzbekistan came as a consequence to
experience regular crises: The Uzbek government repeatedly suspended its gas deliveries to
Tajikistan, motivating such decision on the basis of the insolvency of its Tajik counterpart
(Voloshin 2015b).
Electricity production via renewable sources does hence have to be seen as a very criti-
cal component in the energy security paradigms framed by the leaderships in Bishkek and
Dushanbe. The impressive hydropower capacity held by Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan might
hold the key to future energy security: In this context, however, the gap between potential
and actual production capacity remains quite significant. Official sources have reported that

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Tajikistan’s total hydro potential might amount to 527 billion kWh (TAJ Hydro); at the
time of writing, however, 95 per cent of this potential remains untapped. Hydroelectricity
accounts for 30 per cent of Kyrgyzstan’s total energy primary supply (ADB): It might be,
however, noted that current production represents less than 10 per cent of the total hydro
potential held by the Kyrgyz Republic.
Unstable supply of hydrocarbons and insufficient hydroelectricity production have fre-
quently plunged Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan into rather dramatic energy crises. In recent
years, the residential energy usages in both countries have been severely restricted and came
to regularly experience protracted interruptions. Running large energy deficits posed signif-
icant problems at peak usage time, especially during Central Asia’s notoriously rigid winters
(Najibullah 2008; Times of Central Asia 2014). The political implications of such recurrent
energy crises have been rather significant: In 2010, the energy insecurity of the Kyrgyz pop-
ulation played a key role in igniting the spark that led to the overthrow of the regime headed
by Kurmanbek Bakiyev (Wooden 2014).
The endemic energy instability affecting Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan has to be regarded as
a visible indicator of the wider distribution breakdown that defined the political economy
of Central Asia’s natural resources in the post-Soviet years. Minimal interstate cooperation
to establish mechanisms of collective management for shared water resources emerged as the
key factor that, while placing hydro-politics at the epicentre of Central Asia’s energy security
dynamics (Perelet 2008), brought a peculiarly twisted logic of resource dependency at the
core of the policymaking milieux of Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan.
To date, the five Central Asian republics have failed to reach any consensus on the most
effective option for the collective use of regional water resources, debating ad infinitum
whether Central Asian water is best used for summer irrigation or to produce electricity for
heating in the winter. This specific failure hit most severely the upstream states in the Syr
Darya and Amu Darya fluvial basins, curtailing Kyrgyzstan’s and Tajikistan’s capacity to
maximise their respective electricity generation capacity at times of peak usage. Kyrgyzstan
and Tajikistan have also been penalised by the reportedly over-inflated prices that the lead-
erships of Central Asia’s downstream (and hydrocarbon-rich) states usually impose on fuel
exports (Pannier 2009). As several intra-regional agreements regulating hydro-energy co-
operation continue to be violated quite regularly (Mirimanova 2009), Central Asia’s uneasy
water-energy-agriculture nexus is the most visible manifestation of the fundamental break-
down characterising the regional resource distribution network (Gleason 2001). A cursory
look at the Central Asia’s electricity grid might lend further weight to the latter proposition.
The Central Asia Power System (CAPS) – the region’s integrated power grid – has seen
the successive withdrawals of Turkmenistan (2003), Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan (2009). A
shaky combination of bilateral agreements and state-based power grids is therefore regu-
lating Central Asia’s electricity transmission, leaving the region’s key producers with very
little room to export electricity within their immediate neighbourhood. For the leaderships
in Bishkek and Dushanbe, extra-regional trade might then offer some incentive to increase
current hydroelectricity production capability: The very low viability of distribution net-
works aimed at integrating Central Asian producers with South Asian buyers – including
the most controversial CASA-1000 scheme – does nevertheless cast more than a shadow on
Kyrgyzstan’s and Tajikistan’s future options for electricity export.
A multifaceted range of exogenous influences limited the capacity of both Kyrgyzstan and
Tajikistan to identify viable options to develop and commercialise their natural resources,
and water more in particular. At the same time, the idiosyncratic forms of governance con-
solidated in Bishkek and Dushanbe posed equally significant hurdles to the endowment

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management praxis that crystallised across the two economic landscapes examined here.
Further light on this particular proposition might be shed by focussing on two specific re-
source-related projects.
The Rogun Dam project has come to incarnate many of Tajikistan’s energy dreams, be-
coming a central element in key nation-building narratives associated to the development
of the national hydroelectricity sector (Menga 2015). While its implementation has been
discussed for at least four decades, the Rogun project – a giant dam with a prospected annual
capacity of 3.6 billion kWh (Muzalevsky 2010) – emerged as the cornerstone of the devel-
opment policies framed by the authoritarian regime led by Emomali Rahmon. An infinite
series of issues have so far slowed down progress at the Rogun site: Tajikistan’s endemic
corruption and, to a lesser extent, its problematic relations with neighbouring (Uzbekistan)
and more distant (Russia) partners have to be regarded as the most serious obstacles impeding
the construction of the dam (Marat 2010).
The open-pit gold mine located in Kumtor represented a major contributor to Kyrgyz-
stan’s post-Soviet economy: In 2014, the mine produced approximately 7.4 per cent of the
Kyrgyz GDP, while its output amounted to almost a quarter of the total industrial pro-
duction in the Kyrgyz Republic (Kumtor-CenterraGold 2014). A long-term controversy
surrounded Kumtor’s ownership structure, which has seen Canadian company Centerra
holding 100 per cent of the mine shares for much of the post-Soviet era. Successive contract
renegotiations increased to almost 33 per cent the quota of shares held by KyrgyzAltyn – a
company fully controlled by the Kyrgyz government (Dzyubenko & Rocha 2015). Several
observers highlighted the negative counter-effects of the production activities conducted at
the mine, which are nevertheless expected to cease in 2026. On the one hand, extraction at
Kumtor is said to have failed to bring real benefit to Kyrgyzstan’s economy, and more in par-
ticular to the villages located in the immediate proximity of the mine (Engvall 2013). Pro-
duction activities at Kumtor, on the other hand, attracted loud domestic and international
criticism for their perceivably disastrous impact upon Kyrgyzstan’s environmental security
(Kronenberg 2013).
Extreme dependency on the extraction of finite resources (Kumtor) or the over-reliance
on planned, and most likely unviable, infrastructure mega-projects (Rogun) have signalled
the consolidation of rather inefficient resource management strategies across Kyrgyzstan and
Tajikistan. It is perhaps for this very reason that the overall economic sustainability of the
regimes in Bishkek and Dushanbe has become dependent on another form of economic rent,
namely the financial remittances sent home by migrants working in Russia or, to a much
lesser extent, Turkey and Kazakhstan.4 The degree to which the economies of the states
in question have become remittance-dependent is quite striking: In 2010, 31 per cent of
households in Tajikistan reported a 100 per cent remittance-based income; for a further 60
per cent of Tajik families, money remitted from abroad constituted more than half of their
total income (ILO 2010). In 2009–2014, the ratio of remittance inflows over Kyrgyzstan’s
total GDP averaged between 25 and 30 per cent (UNDP Eurasia 2015, 27). The economic
volatility recently experienced across post-Soviet Eurasia eroded the capacity of Central
Asian migrants to remit money to their countries of origins: In the first semester of 2015,
total remittances from Russia to Tajikistan fell by 44 per cent on year-on-year basis, while
money flows directed to Kyrgyzstan had decreased by over 30 per cent (The Economist
2016). The unsustainability of this dependency mechanism is hence evident: An externally
generated form of rent facilitated the leaderships in Bishkek and Dushanbe in delaying the
implementation of much-needed domestic programmes of economic reforms. Mutatis mu-
tandis, extreme remittance-dependency, in the Kyrgyz and Tajik contexts, serves the same

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authoritarian purposes that oil and gas largesse might be said to have pursued in Kazakhstan
and Turkmenistan, insofar as it bolsters the present authoritarian power of established élites
without adequately preparing the national economies for future shocks.
A rapid look at the regional agricultural sector highlights a further dependency pattern
underpinning the management strategies of Central Asia’s non-energy resources. Cotton
harvest and lint production, since the Soviet era, have represented the key activities per-
formed by the Uzbek agro-industrial sector: In 2009, the cotton industry was employing
almost a third of the entire Uzbek agricultural workforce and contributed to 25 per cent
of the foreign exchange revenues reaped by Uzbekistan (Djanibekov et al. 2010, 1). The
­Uzbek cotton industry continues therefore to hold a global relevance: At the time of writing,
Uzbekistan is ranked amongst the world’s top five exporters and producers of the so-called
white gold (RFE/RL 2013). More importantly, cotton production and exports have to be
seen as a crucial economic stabiliser for the regime led by Islam Karimov: The Open Society
calculated that, in 2012, the agro-industrial conglomerates that oversee the entire cotton
production cycle – growth, harvest, and ginning – accounted for approximately 25 per cent
of total GDP (Muradov & Ilkhamov 2014).
The political and environmental costs associated to what is essentially a monoculture are,
however, enormous. To maximise its cotton production, the Uzbek regime assembles every
year a programme of compulsory labour that, at the time of harvest, does not usually exclude
children, students, teachers, and other workers usually employed in the non-­agricultural sec-
tor (ICG 2005). This practice attracts annual waves of external criticism, which are ultimately
increasing the international isolation of the Karimov regime. So far as the environmental im-
plications of Uzbekistan’s cotton monoculture, the preponderance of a water-intensive crop
across the Uzbek agro-system exasperated water scarcity in the Aral area, while increasing
exponentially the salinisation of irrigated areas (Abdullaev et al. 2007, 126).
Uzbekistan’s approach to cotton production confirms that, yet again, the domestic po-
litical considerations of Central Asia’s non-democratic leaderships tend to instigate resource
management paradigms in which the population’s present welfare and the security of the
wider ecosystem – and thus the long-term stability of the state as a whole – are systematically
ignored.

Concluding remarks
The management of resource endowments has to be seen as the most critical economic a­ ctivity
that is performed today in post-Soviet Central Asia. By commercialising their ­hydrocarbon
reserves, exploiting their water resources, or exporting globally significant quantities of
­cotton, the Central Asian states established a development model that features many – and, in
some more extreme cases, all – characteristics of economic rentierism. Natural resources are
a primary contributor to Central Asian GDPs, dominate the export structures of the regional
economies, and the revenues deriving from their commercialisation support quite decisively
budgetary stability across the region. The political economy of post-Soviet Central Asia is,
to all intents and purposes, a political economy of natural resources.
It is with an authoritarian agenda in mind that Central Asia’s resource endowments
are, however, managed. The conspicuous absence of long-term considerations – related to
­economic diversification, future export viability, and environmental security – has charac-
terised very profoundly the processes through which Central Asia’s resources are exploited,
developed, and commercialised. There is in this sense an intimate correlation between
the economy of resource management and the crystallisation of authoritarian forms of

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governance across the region. This correlation explains the slow pace at which economic
reforms have been introduced in Central Asia since the collapse of the Soviet Union.
This overview chapter argued that the resource management strategies implemented in
the region are ultimately integral to the technologies of power supporting Central Asia’s
authoritarian regimes. When related to economic and environmental issues, these strategies’
long-term sustainability remains questionable; their immediate contribution to regime sta-
bility, on the other hand, continues to define the short-term configuration of Central Asia’s
political economy.

Notes
1 In this chapter, the term Central Asia indicates the ensemble of the five post-Soviet republics of
Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan.
2 A more relaxed policy applied to natural gas fields located in the Turkmen sector of the Caspian
Sea. In this context, the finalisation of numerous PSAs with foreign companies sped up the devel-
opment of offshore fields, including those located in the Cheleken area and operated by the UAE
company Dragon Oil.
3 Undisclosed volumes of gas traded between Turkmenistan and China are produced under PSA
conditions at the Bagtyýarlyk cluster field.
4 Official data reported that, in early December 2014, approximately 4.5 million Central Asian mi-
grants were living in the Russian Federation (Malyuchenko 2015).

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The Asian way: political
culture and tradition
 14
Is there still an Asian way?
The changing nature of p­ olitical
culture in East Asia

Yu-tzung Chang, Yun-han Chu, and Mark Weatherall1

When interviewed in 1994 for Foreign Affairs, former Singaporean Prime Minister Lee
Kuan Yew claimed that China, Japan, Korea, Taiwan, Singapore, and Vietnam share the
same Confucian cultural values that have defined their social and cultural identity. Lee
identified five values that continue to shape the culture of these societies today: hierarchical
collectivism (loyalty to group leaders), paternalistic meritocracy (benevolent rule by a moral
elite), interpersonal reciprocity and accommodation (avoiding conflict with others), com-
munal interest and harmony (sacrificing personal interest for the community), and familism
(placing family above self ) (Zakaria 1994).
However, despite these claims, scholars have lacked the cross-national data to empirically
measure the presence of these values. This chapter uses data from the latest wave of the Asian
Barometer Survey (ABS), applying Tianjian Shi’s (2015) theoretical framework to measure
the two core dimensions of Asian values: orientation toward authority (OTA) and definition
of self-interest (DSI). We find substantial differences between countries in the region on
the OTA dimension, which is found to be strongly influenced by modernization. However,
on the DSI dimension, cross-national differences are very small, and we find a consistent
emphasis on collectivism across the region that is contrasted to the importance of individual
rights in the Western context. Nonetheless, we found that the presence of democratic insti-
tutions can strengthen orientations toward individualism. These findings show that it may be
too to claim that East Asia does not have its own distinctive system of values that are distinc-
tive from those of the West. However, our data also show that these values are undergoing a
gradual process of transition.
The chapter is organized as follows. The first part describes the development of empir-
ical research on political culture, starting from the pioneering work of Gabriel Almond
(1956) through to the vigorous development of the field after the 1990s. The second part
describes two main research methods in political culture. The analysis in this chapter is
primarily built upon the assumptions of the behaviorist school. The third part presents
two fundamental questions. First, is there a core value system shared by the majority
of citizens in East Asia? Second, do Asian countries have an illiberal value system? The
fourth part explains our measurement methods and preliminary analysis. The fifth part
presents the model analysis and tests the construct validity of the model, and explores

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factors affecting value change in Asia. The final part is the conclusion. Most past studies
have focused a great deal on political philosophy without paying sufficient attention to
empirical testing (Nathan 2012; Shin 2012). Finally, in this chapter, we try to move be-
yond the Asian values debate.

Overview of the study of political culture

The concept of political culture appeared relatively late in social science research, beginning
from the pioneering article by Almond (1956) on “Comparative Political Systems” in The
Journal of Politics. This is not to say that scholars had ignored political culture in the past.
However, Almond was the first to specifically use the term “political culture”; prior to him,
researchers used a variety of terms, such as “national spirit,” “Chinese spirit,” or “European
spirit,” and people were distinguished by their nationality. For example, the French might
be defined by their use of the French language, their culinary preferences, or even their al-
leged “arrogance” (Lichterman and Cefai 2006). This “national spirit” was also referred to
as the “national character.” For instance, “The Chrysanthemum and the Sword” was used
to describe the “Japanese national character.” Of course, such ideas are difficult to measure
empirically. For example, it is difficult to “prove” that the French are more “romantic” or
that the Germans are more “serious.” In short, prior to Almond, the comparative study of
political culture focused on abstract concepts and generalizations without the use of modern
social science research for empirical validation.
Almond’s concept of political culture started from the tradition of comparative politi-
cal research. In The Civic Culture, Almond and Sidney Verba (1963) proposed a framework
for researching political culture, using four different factors to construct three types of
culture: parochial, subject, and participant. Based on these three types of culture, A ­ lmond
and Verba tried to develop a way to measure culture in different countries. They mea-
sured political participation and attitudes toward politics in five countries (the United
Kingdom, the United States, Germany, Italy, and Mexico), discovering significant dif-
ferences in the development of political culture, even among established democracies
(­A lmond and Verba 1963). This groundbreaking work set the path for subsequent empir-
ical studies on political culture.
However, the emerging study of political culture faced challenges in the 1960s. First,
the study of political culture was bound up with modernization theory. This was orig-
inally proposed by economists against the backdrop of the reconstruction of Europe in
the aftermath of World War II. During the process of Europe’s reconstruction, these
scholars found that when a country develops its economy, economic modernization will
lead to political and cultural modernization. Through this process, traditional and back-
ward societies would gradually escape poverty and start to modernize, first economically
and then culturally and politically, following the same path to development as Western
countries had previously undergone. Almond and Verba’s study was based on this as-
sumption. Specifically, they argued that the political culture in the United Kingdom and
the United States was more advanced than that in Italy and Mexico, and tried to find
whether this implied a single law of development. However, with the rise of the New
Left in academia, this research program was criticized for uncritically applying the ­Western
development model to non-Western countries. As a result of these changing trends in
academia, following the publication of The Civic Culture in 1963, no cross-national
empirical study of political culture appeared until the publication of Ronald Inglehart’s
The Silent Revolution in 1977.

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Yu-tzung Chang et al.

So, what happened during this period? In the 1970s, the New Left emerged, along with
the cultural hegemony of Antonio Gramsci and the critical theory of the Frankfurt School.
However, by the 1980s, cultural research, which had been dominated by the New Left,
began to undergo some changes. These changes were closely associated with the overall
direction of the political science discipline.
In both the East and the West, the 1980s witnessed the emergence of what later be-
came known as the “Third Wave of democratization” (Huntington 1991). This wave of
democratization started in Southern Europe, spreading to Latin America, South Africa, and
Eastern Europe at an extremely fast rate. Throughout the 1980s, politics around the world
moved rapidly toward democracy. In the context of these changes, many new research direc-
tions emerged, including the use of survey research in emerging countries. Democratization
opened up new opportunities for this type of research while encouraging scholars to collect
data that could explain the remarkable transformations in these countries. This wave of re-
search sought to explain political change by looking at changes in citizens’ beliefs, attitudes,
and behaviors. When carrying out this research, scholars found that there was much of value
in the earlier work of Almond and Verba.
At present, cross-national survey projects can be divided into three main groups. The first
is the World Values Survey led by Inglehart. The second group includes a number of regional
surveys – the Latinobarómetro, covering countries in Latin America; the New Europe
­Barometer, covering Eastern Europe and former Soviet states; the Asian Barometer, including
countries in East and Southeast Asia; and the Afrobarometer, covering African countries.
Given the research interest in the role of citizens’ attitudes in democratization, these surveys
are primarily focused on countries that can be classified as emerging democracies. In contrast,
the third group under the auspices of the Comparative Study of Electoral Systems, which
covers more than fifty countries around the world, is focused on public opinion in mature
democracies.2
Why do these surveys? Behind this question lies the deeper issue of whether democracy
is sustainable in these emerging democratic countries. For example, can it be sustained
in a country like Egypt? Can democracy survive in a country such as Iraq, where it was
imposed from the outside? Cross-national survey projects are interested in measuring cit-
izens’ support for democratic institutions. When research teams started to do this type of
cross-national research, their interest in this topic was, of course, different from the system
inputs and outputs that were the focus of the work of Almond and Verba. Instead, this
new wave of survey research examined issues such as support for democracy, democratic
legitimacy, and quality of democracy. In particular, citizens need democratic institutions
to deliver certain outputs. Democracy that does not meet the needs of its citizens will
not win popular support. However, after more than a decade of survey research, we have
found that emerging democracies have been unable to gain a high level of popular support
or guarantee a better life for their citizens. In view of this sobering reality, we have started
to study the reasons for the gap between the expectations and the reality of democracy.
In fact, the greater the level of democratic development, the more serious the gap. This is
what Pippa Norris has referred to as the “democratic deficit,” in which people have high
expectations for democracy, but governments lack the capacity to meet these expectations
(Norris 2011). Therefore, aside from studies of emerging democracies, in recent years,
there has also been considerable scholarly interest in the political culture of established
Western democracies.
Roberto Foa and Yascha Mounk (2016) point out that only 30 percent of A ­ mericans
born after the 1980s agree that it is “essential” to live in a country that is governed

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democratically. In European countries, an average of 45 percent of people feel the same. In

the United States, nearly 25 percent of people feel that “having a democratic political sys-
tem” is a “bad” or “very bad” way to “run this country,” while in European countries, an
average of 13 percent agree with this. Remarkably, the trend toward openness to nondem-
ocratic alternatives is especially strong among citizens who are both young and rich. Nearly
35 percent of young, wealthy Americans can accept military rule, compared to 17 percent
of their European counterparts. In Western countries, rising support for authoritarianism
allowed Donald Trump to win the presidency, seemingly challenging the foundations of
U.S. democracy. After World War II, Germany had an extreme fear of the far-right, yet
in recent years, far-right forces have been on the rise again in the country. In France, the
far-right National Front (FN) obtained 25 percent of the vote and 24 seats in the elections
to the European Parliament in May 2015, more than did two mainstream parties – the
Socialist Party (PS) and the Republicans (LR). Does this mean we are in a reverse wave
of democratization? What lies at the root of these troubles? How can we understand the
historical trajectory of which our current moment is a part? These recent crises of deconsol-
idation in Western countries have led to increased scholarly interest concerning the impact
of inequality on democracy.

Two competing research approaches

The British political scientist Stephen Welch divides research on political culture into
three schools. The first is the political psychology approach, which is also known as
­behaviorism, and which is currently dominant in research on political culture. The second
are ­non-­m ainstream approaches, which include anthological approaches and the continental
­t radition of hermeneutics. The third include critical political philosophy, such as structur-
alism, postmodernism, and neo-Marxist approaches (Thompson et al. 2006; Welch 2013).
Critical political philosophy is traditionally concerned with political and cultural aspects
of modern capitalism, such as cultural industries and racism. Its purpose is to criticize these
cultural phenomena. As a result, it is claimed that anthropology and psychology are the
only true approaches to the study of political culture. However, there is the problem of the
incommensurability between different approaches since meaningful dialogue between them
seems to be impossible.
If we adopt an interpretive approach to the study of culture, we need to understand
whether the subjects of our research have any special religious rituals or practices, any specific
symbols or totems, or any linguistic structures. Furthermore, researchers should try to place
themselves in the position of their research subjects in order to understand the meanings
behind their behaviors or understand the symbolism behind their rituals. Religious or tra-
ditional ceremonies may have different meanings, such as venerating ancestors or exorcism
of evil spirits. Researchers need to place themselves within the particular cultural context in
order to understand the meanings of these ceremonies. This continental research tradition is
not philosophy; in fact, it is an empirical science but one that is distinct from other strands of
empirical research.
The work of Clifford Geertz (1973) is typical of the interpretative tradition. For exam-
ple, imagine two boys are sitting opposite each other, and one of them moves his eyelids.
If a third boy comes over and also moves his eyelids, then from a behaviorist perspective,
we know that the two boys moved their eyelids, but we are not sure why they are doing
so. It is possible that the three boys are passing information to one another through a
conspiratorial wink, or alternatively, the movements may just be involuntary twitches.

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Behaviorism has no way of understanding the boys’ actions. It only remembers the action,
but it cannot tell us the reason behind it. Perhaps the first boy is transmitting informa-
tion to the second boy, and when the third boy sees the action, he finds it interesting and
mimics the action as a joke. In this specific situation, each of the boys’ actions express a
distinct meaning. This example conveys the fundamental question behind research on
political culture.
Another assumption in behaviorism and psychology is that subjects are treated as in-
dividuals. Behaviorism argues that a holistic understanding comes through looking at in-
dividuals first. For example, if we want to know if Group A or Group B is more united,
we must look at the actions of the individuals within each group. If Group A and Group
B play a soccer match against each other, and Group A has a higher attendance and more
support, we can reasonably infer that Group A is more united. Behaviorism does not ignore
the group as a whole, but it believes that the characteristics of the group are a product of
the characteristics of the individuals that make up the group and can be observed at the
individual level. To take another example, the issue of national identity can be measured
by whether citizens pay taxes or are willing to step forward when the nation is facing diffi-
culties. Therefore, the characteristics of the group of the whole can be understood through
the individuals that make up the group. This means that while the characteristics of the
group are still important, they can be understood by observing the individuals that make
it up. Therefore, while hermeneutics argues against reductionism, behaviorism believes
that group characteristics can be understood at the individual level. Because of the funda-
mentally different assumptions of the two approaches, meaningful dialogue between them
is difficult. As Almond has pointed out, the lack of dialogue between political scientists is
unique to the field (Almond 1990).
However, William Mishler and Detlef Pollack (2003) have sought to bring together the
two research traditions. Mishler and Pollack use Aaron Wildavsky’s concept of cultural hier-
archy to bring together the two traditions, arguing that research on political culture can be
essentially divided into three types. The first belongs to the tradition of anthropology and
involves the study of thick culture. This approach is based on the fundamental orientations
of political culture, and it studies various identity issues, including national identity, religious
identity, ethnic identity, party identity, and ideological identity. A different approach from
the psychological tradition is thin culture. This approach is based on social and political
attitudes, including interpersonal trust, trust in the political system, and evaluation of gov-
ernment performance. The final type is somewhere between the preceding two approaches,
and focused on value systems, including collectivism vs. individualism, democratic values
vs. authoritarianism, and social order vs. individual freedom. Mishler and Pollack stress that
the three traditions lie on a continuous scale, and there is not incommensurability between
the three levels. Political culture will be understood in this chapter as a body of value system
that set standards of appropriate behavior for countries that distinguish them from other
countries.
Proponents of this approach claim that these cultural factors are established over a long
period of time and that they continue exerting great influence on political behaviors. For
example, in Muslim societies, the Koran provides an overarching source of political legiti-
macy to traditional as well as modern Islamic polities. In East Asian countries, Confucianism
provides the bedrock of the value system that supports various types of regimes, ranging
from one-party authoritarian China, to electoral authoritarian Singapore, to liberal dem-
ocratic Taiwan and South Korea. These cultural factors differ from psychological factors
in two aspects. First, they possess certain idiosyncrasies rooted in specific spatial-temporal

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domains, such as Confucianism in East Asian societies. Second, those factors are always iden-
tified with the societal-level characteristics and are rarely defined by individual behaviors or
attitudes. For instance, honoring filial piety is a typical characteristic of Confucianism, but
simply having this characteristic does not make a society Confucian-like.

Beyond the Asian values debate

According to the proponents of “Asian values,” “non-Western” culture and norms influence
political, economic, and social behaviors in Asia. Former Singaporean Prime Minister Lee
Kuan Yew and former Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir have criticized Western liber-
alism and democracy based on individual rights, arguing that developing countries do not
necessarily need to follow the Western path to development. Instead, East Asia’s unique po-
litical and economic development offers an alternative Asian way to development (Dupont
1996: 14–15).
However, it is also necessary to analyze the political motives behind Asian leaders’ support
for Asian values. Are there claims, in fact, consistent with the specific historical development
of Asian countries? Or are they just a way to rationalize the existing authoritarian regime?
Amartya Sen (1999: 15) has argued that democracy is a common value around the world.
According to Sen, the arguments of Asian political leaders that “Asian values” or the “Asian
development model” make Asian countries unsuitable for democracy are simply a way to
obstruct growing demands for democratic reform and rationalize nondemocratic rule. Alan
Dupont (1996) also believes that so-called Asian values were designed by politicians for
clearly political purposes.
When debating Asian values, scholars from both Asia and the West have to answer two
fundamental questions. First, is there a core value system shared by the majority of citizens in
East Asia? Second, do Asian countries have an illiberal value system? Donald K. Emmerson
(1995) has pointed out that the cultural differences between Asian countries are greater than
the commonality between them. In fact, the core values advocated by Asian countries, such
as emphasis on family values, the importance of social order and harmony, and respect for the
elderly, are also found in Western society. Therefore, “Asian values” should be understood
through more specific concepts, such as “Confucian values,” “East Asian values,” “Muslim
values,” or “Buddhist values.”
Zakaria (1997: 28) argues that constitutional liberalism can lead to democracy, but de-
mocracy cannot bring constitutional liberalism. As a result, East Asian democracies will
establish an “illiberal political culture” with strong authoritarian elements, instead of the
“liberal political culture” found in the West. 3 Daniel A. Bell et al. (1995: 163–7) believes
that this will have the following three characteristics. The first is the non-neutral state. The
Western liberal tradition respects the sovereignty of the people, with the people determin-
ing policy preferences. On the contrary, non-liberal systems rely on leaders to determine
what is necessary to improve the living standards of ordinary people, and on this basis
allow the state to intervene in the private domain. The second is techno-paternalism, us-
ing technocrats to manage developing countries in the same way that a business would be
managed. Third, these polities are characterized by managed public space and dependent
civil society.4
However, past studies have focused a great deal on political philosophy without paying
sufficient attention to empirical testing. We cannot rely on just reading classic texts or the
observations of individual researchers in order to evaluate the meaning of “Asian values” and
their impact on democracy and economic development. Only by asking citizens themselves

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can we understand which of these cultural values have been internalized into the worldviews
of ordinary people and which values are no longer held by most people. In addition, we are
interested in whether these traditions that have survived will act as a barrier to political and
economic development.
We also must acknowledge that differences also exist between East Asian countries. Fol-
lowing social, economic, or institutional change, or specific historical events in individual
countries, will accelerate the breakdown of cultural homogeneity. Therefore, explaining
how cultural values in Asia change and how this value change impacts political institutions
has often been ignored by scholars of East Asia.

Measuring Asian values in East Asia

In this chapter, we juxtapose the normative propositions stemming from the East tradition
against the received views under the Western liberal tradition about what are supposed to
be the most important pillars of political culture in the contemporary world. We examine
these divergent claims with the latest wave of ABS (2014–2016). In particular, we compare
their empirical relevance to a systematic understanding of the sources of political culture
in East Asia. We further compare their relative explanatory power between the Confucian
societies, namely Mainland China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, South Korea, Japan, Vietnam, and
non-Confucian societies in the region. In so doing, we are in a stronger intellectual posi-
tion to tackle two related issues. First, we address the puzzle about why the observed level
of traditionalism under nondemocratic regimes has been substantially higher than either
established or emerging democracies. Second, we can engage the ongoing debate over Asian
values in a more focused and rigorous way.
Lucian Pye and Mary Pye (1985) reconceptualize Asian political development as a prod-
uct of cultural attitudes about power and authority. They contrast the great traditions of
Confucian East Asia with the Southeast Asian cultures and the South Asian traditions of
Hinduism and Islam, and explores the national differences within these larger civilizations.
Based on the work of Weiming Tu, Francis Fukuyama (1995) divides Confucian thoughts
into two categories: political Confucianism and Confucian personal ethics. Political Confu-
cianism emphasizes imperial and gentry power, which together define a ruling social hier-
archy as the upper structure of society. On the other hand, Confucian personal ethics stress
family values and a system of personal ethics; this is the true essence of Confucian culture.
The Confucian personal ethic states that it is imperative to obey family elders. It also stresses
that the ultimate objective of one’s personal behavior is honoring the ancestors. In order to
not humiliate family members, it is necessary to take on the responsibility of “procreation.”
In one’s social life, it is also necessary to respect the opinion of the older generation and ed-
ucated people, and by doing so, a harmonious and well-ordered society is achieved.
Shi (2015: 43–4) identifies four key cultural norms that influence political behavior in
East and West, and focuses on two of them for deeper analysis of causal mechanisms by
which norms influence behavior. The following common characteristics are idiocentric DSI,
reciprocal OTA, acceptance of conflict, and procedural justice. The first two, which are the
focus of this study, are discussed in greater detail toward the end of this chapter.
In terms of individual-level pattern, we design six questions corresponding to most,
if not all, of the aspects of political culture in the ABS in East Asia. Each of the two per-
spectives covers three questions. Each question is rated at a four-point scale, ranging from
“strongly agree” to “somewhat agree,” “somewhat disagree,” or “strongly disagree,” where
the former two positive responses are assigned to the value of 0 and the latter two negative

202
 Is there still an Asian way?

ones to 1, respectively. “Don’t understand,” “Don’t know,” and “Decline to answer” are
pooled in the value of 0 as they neither agree nor disagree. We calculate the mean values of
the questions included in each of the two perspectives of political culture. This conversion
allows us to construct a composite index that approximated an interval variable designed
to tap traditional beliefs at the individual level. The lower the average scores, the more
traditionally oriented a respondent is. The higher the average scores, the less traditionally
oriented her or she is. In short, the rating is positively related to the degree of traditional
values. We will elaborate the wording of questions for each category in the following
paragraphs.
First, OTA means that respect is socially conferred by hierarchy under the assumption
of experiences. We include three statements to measure this concept: (1) “Even if parents’
demands are unreasonable, children still should do what they ask,” (2) “When a mother-in-
law and a daughter-in-law come into conflict, even if the mother-in-law is in the wrong,
the husband should still persuade his wife to obey his mother,” and (3) “Being a student, one
should not question the authority of their teacher.”
Second, DSI refers to the prioritization of group interests over personal interests. We
measure respondents’ agreements with three statements. The first statement is “For the sake
of the family, the individual should put his personal interests second.” The second statement
is “In a group, we should sacrifice our individual interest for the sake of the group’s collective
interest.” The final statement is “For the sake of national interest, individual interest could
be sacrificed” (Table 14.1).
Table 14.2 displays the frequency of respondents’ answers to these questions in different
countries. We want to explore how many people have rejected the traditional Asian norms
of hierarchical OTA and allocentric DSI, and why they do so. First, we see very big differ-
ences between countries on OTA. In Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong, and Taiwan, a very
high percentage of people do not support traditional authority (patriarchy), whereas China,
­Thailand, Singapore, and the Philippines are found somewhere in the middle, ­followed by
Indonesia, Malaysia, and Myanmar with the lowest levels of rejection of traditional authority.

Table 14.1 Measurement of traditionalism

Element Wording

Orientation toward authority (OTA) “Even if parents’ demands are unreasonable, children still
should do what they ask.”
“When a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law come into
conflict, even if the mother-in-law is in the wrong, the
husband should still persuade his wife to obey his mother.”
“Being a student, one should not question the authority of
their teacher.”
Definition of self-interest (DSI) “For the sake of the family, the individual should put his
personal interests second.”
“In a group, we should sacrifice our individual interest for the
sake of the group’s collective interest.”
“For the sake of national interest, individual interest could be
sacrificed.”

Note: According to IRT, the ratings are from Strongly Agree and Somewhat Agree, equal to 0, to Somewhat
Disagree and Strongly Disagree, equal to 1. Do not understand the question, can’t choose, and decline to answer
are categorized as 0.

203
Table 14.2 Political culture in East Asia

Japan Hong Kong South Korea China The Philippines Taiwan Thailand Indonesia Singapore Malaysia Myanmar Overall mean

OTA
OTA1 69.77 66.53 54.92 60.76 44.56 69.84 57.67 46.65 55.59 40.3 22.33 53.54
OTA2 73.67 68.51 59.92 45.14 49.42 63.34 55.58 14.84 59.72 34.02 17.19 49.21
OTA3 59.14 63.86 65 41.83 32.08 59.93 53.41 12.39 45.49 32.15 31.85 45.19
DSI
DSI1 15.27 15.34 19.08 10.23 14.61 13.64 10.34 5.81 14.15 14.9 5.63 12.64
DSI2 37.19 50.87 45.83 23.23 26.4 24.65 8.43 18.06 20.97 24.02 15.03 26.79
DSI3 67.72 56.1 52.33 18.2 33.49 50.13 10.17 19.48 33.04 24.94 10.55 34.20
N 1081 1217 1200 4068 1200 1657 1200 1550 1039 1207 1620 17039

Note: Entries are the percentages of respondents giving negative answers to the question.
Source: Asian Barometer Survey IV, 2014–2016.
 Is there still an Asian way?

It seems that for OTA, the influence of modernization is greater than that of political insti-
tutions or culture.
In addition, we see very big differences between countries on DSI. In particular, we see
strong emphasis on family values in East Asian society, with the interests of the family being
viewed as more important than the interests of an individual in Japan, South Korea, Hong
Kong, and Taiwan as well as in Indonesia and Myanmar. The type of polity (level of democ-
racy) seems to have more explanatory power, but this needs more in-depth statistical testing.

Creating an index of political culture in East Asia

We use the six questionnaire items to create two multi-item indexes for each of the two
norms. First, we conduct a confirmatory factor analysis using data from the Fourth Wave of
the ABS. We imposed a two-factor structure on the data and assigned the three items about
OTA (OTA1 through OTA3) to the first factor and the three items about DSI (DSI1 through
DSI3) to the second factor. The results are presented in Table 14.3. Our findings show that
the two-factor model provides a good fit with the data. The first two fit statistics compare the
given model with an alternative model. The confirmatory fit index (CFI) is .985, indicating
a good model fit. The second fit measure is the Tucker-Lewis index (TLI), which also shows
a good fit, with a TLI value of .972. A final goodness of fit test, the root mean square error
of approximation (RMSEA), also shows a good model fit, with an RMSEA of .038. Second,
item response theory (IRT) analysis shows that each of the coefficients in Table 14.3 is statis-
tically significantly correlated with the underlying variable, meaning that they all contribute
to the score for each of the factors. Finally, the “difficulty” of each item shows how unlikely
it is that a respondent will disagree with the question; a higher difficulty score indicates a
higher weighting in the combined scale.
The mean factor score on each of the two dimensions for each country is shown in
Figure 14.1. In terms of relative position, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, and Hong Kong are
found to be further from the traditional orientation on the two dimensions, while Singapore,
the Philippines, China, and Malaysia are situated somewhere in the middle, and Myanmar
and Indonesia retain more traditional orientations. Finally, Thailand seems to be an excep-
tion to the overall pattern.

Table 14.3 Confirmatory IRT model for East Asian data

Standardized coefficient Difficulty

OTA
OTA1 0.576 0.258
OTA2 0.685 −0.180
OTA3 0.537 −0.394
DSI
DSI1 0.346 −3.131
DSI2 0.688 −1.741
DSI3 0.686 −1.341
CFI = 0.985, TLI = 0.972, RMSEA = 0.038
Covariance of OTA and DSI = 0.421
Chi-square (8) = 204.85, P-value = 0.000

Source: Asian Barometer Survey IV, 2014–2016.

205
Yu-tzung Chang et al.

OTA X DSI: country mean

1
0.8
JP
0.6 TW HK
0.4 KR
0.2 TH SG
OTA

0 CN
-0.2 PH
-0.4 MY
-0.6
-0.8
MM IN
-1
-1 -0.8 -0.6 -0.4 -0.2 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 1
DSI
Figure 14.1 The mean factor score of East Asia.

Findings of the multilevel analysis

There are three main theoretical perspectives of how traditional value system might interact
with modernization and democratization; they are discussed separately under the labels of
modernization, cultural relativists, and communitarianism.
Modernization theorists believe that the gap between Eastern and Western cultures will
eventually disappear through the processes of global modernization and democratization
(Chang et al. 2005; Inglehart 1990, 1997; Inglehart and Welzel 2005; Kim 2013). They
also believe that liberal democratic regimes will replace other forms of political regimes
and, in turn, become the best and only option. Fukuyama (1995) argues that any changes
in political institutions (the upper structure) will not by any means damage the integrated
Confucian social order (the lower structure). Confucian culture can be combined with
authoritarianism or semi-authoritarianism, for example, Mainland China, Hong Kong,
and Singapore, or it can be combined with democratic regimes, such as Japan, Taiwan,
and South.
People who adhere to cultural relativism argue that the East Asia has vivid paternal-
istic power and superior-inferior relations, which will never disappear with the modern-
ization of the social economy. In contrast, rapid social economic shifts will result in an
individual sense of insecurity, creating a new form of power dependency (Pye and Pye
1985: 381). In addition, Huntington (1996) argues that Confucianism values group inter-
ests greater than individual interests, political authority more than individual freedoms,
and social responsibility over individual rights. Meanwhile, Confucian society lacks tra-
ditions that guard against the consolidation of national power, and thus the concept of
individual rights has never existed. Essentially, Confucian thought encourages social har-
mony and cooperation, avoids conflict, values the attainment of social order, and main-
tains hierarchical social structures. More importantly, Confucian thought regards society
and the country as identical, and thus leaves no space for autonomous social groups.
These characteristics of traditional East Asian culture will not assist the development of
democracy in the region.
In contrast, institutional theory argues that democratic transition will lead to changes in
political behavior, attitude, and culture. Democratization creates new political opportunity

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structures and new channels for participation, leading to changes in political values. There-
fore, from the perspective of system theory, democratic values will strengthen as democratic
participation increases. Longer experiences living under democracy will produce stronger
democratic values. In addition, under democratic systems, greater satisfaction with partic-
ipation in democracy and higher levels of participation are both associated with greater
democratic values (Di Palma 1990: 144–52; Przeworski 1986: 50–3; Rustow 1970: 344–5).
Finally, political systems also play an important role. Different institutional designs will
affect the effectiveness of democracy, while also influencing the politicization of social cleav-
ages and the development of the party system. These factors directly affect the political
participation of citizens, as well as the development of democratic values and legitimacy.
Curtis (1998: 222) has noted that in traditional East Asian societies, democratic culture was
very weak. Nonetheless, the promotion of democratization in East Asia has produced a stable
democratic culture.
Table 14.4 reports the result of the multilevel analysis when we anchor the conception of
political culture by OTA and DSI. Among the four major groups of explanatory variables
at the individual level, education has significant explanatory power for OTA but no signifi-
cant influence on DSI. This indicates that higher levels of education can change traditional
views on authority but have no effect on group interests vs. individual interests. Age has a
significant influence on OTA and DSI, meaning that lower age produces higher OTA and
DSI scores, showing lower adherence to traditionalism and supporting modernization the-
ory. However, urban residence had a relatively small effect. In addition, gender differences
had a very significant effect. Females had higher OTA and DSI scores, indicating weaker
adherence to traditional values. Overall, our microlevel analysis found greater supporting
evidence for the modernization theory explanation.
We turn to examine the macro-level coefficients for contextual effects. As shown in the
lower section of Table 14.4, among five contextual variables specified in the random coef-
ficient model, two have the significant statistical power to account for the variation of the

Table 14.4 Multilevel analysis result

Covariates OTA IRT score DSI IRT score

Individual-level effects
Education 0.144*** (4.18) −0.0108 (−0.35)
Age group −0.0734** (−2.62) −0.123*** (−4.50)
Urban resident 0.0952* (2.04) 0.116* (2.07)
Female 0.118*** (3.43) 0.0601** (2.89)
Contextual effects
Freedom House Score −0.0615* (−2.24) −0.158*** (−3.36)
GDP per capita 0.000766 (0.12) 0.00350 (0.36)
Buddhism dummy as reference
Islam dummy −0.575 (−1.27) 0.0274 (0.15)
Catholic dummy −0.171 (−0.39) 0.322* (2.46)
Confucian dummy 0.432 (0.97) 0.562*** (5.65)
Intercept −0.140 (−0.27) 0.547* (2.02)
N 16931 16931

Note: t statistics in parentheses. Level of significance: *p < 0.05, **p < 0.01, ***p < 0.001.
Source: Asian Barometer Survey IV, 2014–2016.

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Yu-tzung Chang et al.

country means of political culture. The aggregate level of Freedom House Score is found
to be negatively associated with both traditional political cultures, while Confucian ( Japan,
South Korea, China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Singapore) and Catholic societies (the P ­ hilippines)
are positively associated with DSI.5 The two macro predictors, GDP per capita and ­Islam
society on the other hand, show little explanatory power. Moreover, the macro-level
result also contradicts the individual-level findings, because institutional factors now have
the strongest explanatory power.

Conclusion
Is there an “Asian way”? Pye and Pye (1985) suggest that the “Asian way” is a valid response
to people’s needs and will help ensure community solidarity. He predicts that some new
version of modern society will emerge from Asia’s accelerating transformation and that it is
likely to be a form of democracy that is blended with much that Westerners might regard as
authoritarian.
This chapter found significant differences in OTA between East Asian countries, and a
strong modernization effect, especially from education and age. From this, we predict that
OTA in East Asian countries will gradually converge with the West. However, on the DSI
dimension, cross-national differences are very small, and collectivist tendencies are strong
across the region, in contrast to the Western emphasis on individual rights. However, dem-
ocratic reform can increase DSI scores. This chapter has shown that it may be too soon
to claim that East Asia does not have values that are distinctive from the West. However,
our data also show that these values are undergoing a gradual process of transition. At the
individual level, the most important factor is modernization and its effect on OTA. At the
macro level, the most important factor is democratization and its effect on DSI. If East Asia
continues to modernize and become more democratic, its political culture in the future will
be increasingly close to that of the West.
Across the eleven different societies, while traditional values are not immutable to the
forces of socioeconomic modernization, they, nevertheless, have demonstrated its staying
power despite of rapid pace of modernization and divergent experiences of democratization.
The living experiences under different political systems leave marks on people’s value orien-
tation in the domain of personal ethnics, notwithstanding the Cultural Revolution in China.
Brian Girvin (1989) once pointed out that when established political culture engages with
certain pressure that forces it to change, a specific reaction will occur. The microlevel cul-
ture changes first; then the meso-level culture; and, finally, the macro-level culture, which
is composed of the values and symbols of collective goals. This latter structure is highly
resilient as it is built on the beliefs of the entire society.
Our descriptive analysis lends some support to the claim of modernization theorists that
traditionalism and liberal democracy do not go together in East Asia. The macro-level
evidence confirms that the value systems of traditionalism and liberal democracy are in-
compatible across time. In addition, liberal democracy is expected to eclipse traditionalism
in the future, given the trend of liberal democracy and traditionalism across generations in
East Asia.

Notes
1 Yu-tzung Chang is Professor of Political Science, National Taiwan University; Yun-han Chu
is Distinguished Research Fellow, Institute of Political Science, Academia Sinica; and Mark

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 Is there still an Asian way?

Weatherall is a Post-Doctoral Research Fellow, Center for East Asia Democratic Studies, National
­Taiwan University.
2 With regard to developments and trends in cross-national survey research in the 1990s, refer to
Heath et al. (2005).
3 Zakaria even believes that liberal autocracies (such as countries before the 1940s and Hong Kong
today) are preferable to “illiberal democracies.”
4 Huntington (1996: 11–2) quotes Lee Kuan Yew’s argument that East Asians are more interested
in “good government” (meaning economic development, political stability, social harmony, effi-
ciency, honesty, and integrity) than in “democratic government.”
5 In the model, we took Buddhist countries (Thailand and Myanmar) as reference group. Islamic
countries include Malaysia and Indonesia.

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 15
Political culture in Southeast Asia
The myth or reality of authoritarianism?

Bridget Welsh and Kai-Ping Huang

“With few exceptions, democracy has not brought good government to new developing
countries… What Asians value may not necessarily be what Americans or Europeans value.
Westerners value the freedoms and liberties of the individual. As an Asian of Chinese cultural
background, my values are for a government which is honest, effective and efficient.
Lee Kuan Yew, Tokyo, 1992

Singapore’s strongman and former premier set the tone of what would become the ‘Asian
values’ debate in the 1990s with these remarks. He argued that Asians had different values
than those of the West, a claim that continues to be debated over two decades later. In fact,
the debate over the role of values in political life has roots much earlier. With works by lead-
ing political scientists, such as Lucien Pye and Benedict Anderson, Southeast Asia has been
at the heart of the discussions of how political culture shapes political behavior and regime
support. Scholars and practitioners alike have repeatedly emphasized that citizens accept
more authoritarian rule as a result of the norms and values of their communities. Sometimes,
political culture is tied directly to religion, be it Islam or Confucian beliefs, while other
times, this belief in a concentration of power is conceived of as mystical and connected to
socialized rituals.
In looking at how political culture has shaped our understanding of politics in Southeast
Asia, this chapter is anchored around the arguments surrounding citizen support for authori-
tarian government. The discussion not only lays out the evolution of the debates surrounding
political culture in the region but also draws from existing surveys in S­ outheast Asia to show
how relevant and accurate the theoretical arguments are today. We include available empir-
ical time series evidence. The survey findings are drawn from the Asian ­Barometer ­Surveys
(ABS) conducted in eight Southeast Asian countries (Cambodia, I­ ndonesia, ­Malaysia,
­Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam) from 2001 to 2016. The find-
ings show that while political culture arguments continue to have resonance in Southeast
Asian scholarship and public life, they fail to fully capture the diverse and changing attitudes
and values of Southeast Asians in the contemporary era or the trajectory of how political
culture is changing.

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Bridget Welsh and Kai-Ping Huang

Political culture in Southeast Asia: early studies

Political culture is a set of values that define norms or proper political behavior in a given
society. Such norms involve day-to-day interactions with others as well as the relationship
between rulers and the ruled. Norms are reinforced through socialization, and people rely
on these norms to judge whether others’ behavior is acceptable. Political culture, there-
fore, provides important insights into how and why citizens practice and engage politics
as they do.
Political culture has long been an important concept, explaining different social phe-
nomena in a comparative perspective. In his classic work discussing the Protestant ethic
and religions of China and India, Max Weber forged the typical images of the West
and East, with the former emphasizing individualism and rationalism and the latter pri-
oritizing communitarianism and patrimonialism (Weber 2002). The rise of capitalism
and modernity in the Western world, Weber argued, was due to the cultural influences
embedded in religion, which was against the cultural heritages of the East that kept the
old civilizations backward. Weber’s intellectual concern focused on the arrival of a new
economic order. His work inspired scholars who used culture to probe the origins of po-
litical systems, to explain social and economic development, and to understand political
behavior in later days.
The rise of behaviorism in the 1960s broke further ground in political cultural stud-
ies, providing evidence that culture, individual orientation, and behavior were indeed
tied ­together. Applying in-depth face-to-face interviews, individuals’ values and behav-
ior were used to understand why democracy persisted in some countries but not in others
(Almond and Verba 1989). Analyzing interview records, Gabriel A. Almond and Sidney
Verba ­concluded that national pride, active political participation, cooperation and trust, and
membership in political associations were decisive factors, which they called civic culture. This
work also marked the arrival of political culture as a substantive concept in political science, a
tradition that continues with the work of Seymour Martin Lipset and Jason M. Lakin (2004)
and Ronald Inglehart (1997).
Southeast Asia became a prominent area for the study of political culture. Seen as a region
influenced by a diverse range of ‘Eastern’ cultures—Hinduism, Confucianism, and Islam,
to name the three most prominent—and possessing practices and local beliefs that made
these religions and belief systems their own, Southeast Asia attracted scholars to engage in
fieldwork and apply the research zeal of the developing concept. Much of this early work on
political culture in Southeast Asia formulated concepts that have reinforced the view that
the underlying attitudes in the region support and engage in supportive political behavior
toward a more concentrated political system.
There were two thrusts in the early work. The first focused on conceptualizing how
Southeast Asians perceived power. This was tied to views of moral authority and socialized
norms in daily life. The classic text in this regard is Anderson’s “Javanese concept of power”
(Anderson and Holt 1972). He argued that Javanese rulers were mediators between God and
the commoners, and that they contained mystical authority. This tied into the idea of raja
adil or the ‘just king,’ drawn from Hinduism (von-Heine Geldern 1956; Wolters 1982). As
such, rulers possessed and held on to their power rather than competing and sharing control.
Power was thus concentrated, and the actions of the ruler were not judged for his actions as
the leader were the moral authority. This view of power was reinforced by societal norms. It
was argued that harmony was highly praised as a human quality in Javanese culture in which
conflicts were to be avoided to maintain social peace, even though there were disagreements

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(Sarsito 2006). Similarly, consensus was prioritized over conflict. These ideas underscored
the authoritarian rule of ‘Guided Democracy’ formulated by the former Indonesian presi-
dent Sukarno, which emphasized the importance of a paternalistic state for the stability of
the society and elite consensus rather than market competition and electoral contestation
(Eklof 2004). Under the New Order era, his Pancasila (five principles) was an extension on
the values and philosophy of Javanese culture that upheld monotheism, social welfare, rep-
resentative democracy, justice, and nationalism—elements that are now traditionally seen as
essential elements of Indonesia’s political culture.
Concentrated notions of power were also echoed in Lucien and Mary Pye’s Asian
Power and Politics (1985). The authors compared concepts of power in Burma, Indonesia,
Thailand, and the Philippines, and concluded that context and socialized norms from
local beliefs and religious traditions were similarly important determinants of how power
was seen and practiced. Burmese, for example, were taught to be aware of five enemies—
fire, flood, famine, plague, and government—reinforcing distrust in authority. However,
Buddhism in Burma, the Pyes argued, reinforced a fatalist acceptance of authority, espe-
cially the acceptance of elite and military rule as well as the use of coercion. This view
has underscored views of political culture in Burma (Smith 1965; Spiro 1982; Gyi 1983).
As with the ‘Javanese concept of power,’ those in power contained moral authority as a
product of holding the position. Force was the prerogative of those in power, not chal-
lengers. These views were seen to permeate deeply. In Burmese, power can be translated
into two words, with ana referring to power with force and awza referring to power with-
out any form of coercion (Kawanami 2009). To wield awza, the individuals must have
moral quality in the eyes of those who are willing to spontaneously offer their services
with the belief that those in power will take care of their needs. Respect for author-
ity was therefore accepted based on a perceived broad consensus in society. Thais, like
their ­Burmese neighbors, were similarly seen to respect authority and believe that kings
(leaders) should carry moral qualities and be benevolent, like fathers looking after their
­children (­Chaloemtiarana 2007).
The Pyes, along with other scholars, suggested that views of authority varied across the
region. There was greater emphasis on the actions of rulers as opposed to their inherent
possessed authority in places such as the Philippines, Singapore, and Malaysia. The deliv-
ery of benefits, often in the form of patronage through a paternalistic state, was deemed
essential, which has reinforced a combination of support for a strong interventionist state
and attention to government performance, especially in the economy (Subramaniam 2001).
This was a view seen to be held by both elites and the public at large. Singapore’s ruling
party, the People’s Action Party, tends to view its citizens as children whose needs should be
satisfied to avoid upheavals, a norm that was prominently socialized in the Lee Kuan Yew
era, 1959–1990 (Barr 2000). There was a focus on delivery in the economy. In exchange,
freedom and multiparty politics were to be curbed to preserve economic achievement. Lee
had famously stated that “If Singapore is a nanny state, then I am proud to have fostered
one” (Lee 2012). Elite rule and paternalism were cornerstones of Singapore’s development
model and socialized political culture—norms that were seen throughout the region from
the Philippines to Indonesia.
Closely connected to the idea of concentrated power with accompanying values of con-
sensus/acceptance, harmony, and paternalism, the second thrust of early research on values
in Southeast Asia focused on the relationship between citizens and power. It was the re-
gion where scholars such as Carl Landé (1965) and James Scott (1969) identified the impor-
tance of political patronage. Personal ties, loyalty, and reciprocity were seen as underlying

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patron-client ties. These relationships were not just about mutually beneficial political inter-
ests, in which unequal partners shared goods and favors for political loyalty, but were con-
nected to personal interactions in a region where people were seen to be valued and wooed.
Less populated compared to Africa and other parts of Asia, contests for political power in
Southeast Asia involved winning public support, as the measure of a patron was not the
amount of territory in his possession but the number of people he supported who, in turn,
supported him (Scott 1998).
Scholars found different patterns and drivers of patronage across Southeast Asia. The
Pyes (1985) argued that Filipinos were highly competitive in seeking out patrons in their
extended families to get advantages. As such, the relationships between Filipino clients and
patrons were transient and marred by distrust. The Filipino party system is full of dyadic
ties that originated from early socialization experiences of establishing person-to-person,
­superordinate-subordinate relationships to improve personal circumstances (Landé 1965).
The relationships between patrons and clients are sustained by mutual benefits—the for-
mer needs votes, and the latter needs tangible favors (cash, jobs, public works, etc.); such
relationships, however, might not be stable as both parties search for different agents to get
better deals. Low levels of interpersonal trust and the dependence on client-patron dyadic
ties emerge as model social characteristics in the Philippines.
By contrast, Thais, Indonesians, and Malaysians were seen to be more trusting and loyal
to their patrons (Milner 1982; Sukatipan 1995; Amoroso 2014). This was tied to their inher-
ent respect for their leaders, who were expected to be kind and moral, to take care of their
peoples’ welfare, and often to be from the political elite or royalty. The political culture in
these Southeast Asian countries was seen to be tied to reciprocity, in which the welfare of
citizens was deemed an essential responsibility of the ruler. The idea of reciprocity fed into
support for elite rule and a more paternalistic state but also contributed to a perceived accep-
tance of inequality as well as a priority of the welfare of the community as opposed to the
individual. Scholars such as Clifford Geertz (1963) and Scott (1977, 1985) highlighted the
importance of strong social ties as binding in Indonesian and Malaysian societies, relations
that assured that a ‘moral economy’ protected the welfare of members of the community
through patronage and shared distributions of goods. There was a baseline threshold of
equality in the basic needs for all that was to be met. The idea of the ‘moral economy’ in
Southeast Asia was challenged by Samuel Popkin (1979) and Michael Peletz (1983), who
argued that competition and individualism were stronger than consensus and community, a
debate that continued with research on village life from Vietnam and Malaysia to Indonesia
(Elson 1997).
These early studies reinforced the idea that Southeast Asia supported authoritarian elite
rule tied to a distributive system of patronage backed by a strong interventionist state. Pa-
ternalism, harmony, consensus, communitarianism, and inequality were accepted norms,
buttressing this hierarchical political culture. Despite different religious heritages, perceived
levels of social trust, and political developments, these norms are seen as common themes
across the region. It is therefore not surprising to see leaders argue that authoritarianism was
backed by the political culture of their citizens.

‘Asian values’ and advocates for authoritarianism in Southeast Asia

This is exactly what happened in the 1990s ‘Asian values’ debate. With the rapid economic
development in the 1980s, leaders in Southeast Asia had gained confidence in their own
models of development. The characteristics highlighted by European Orientalists as the

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reasons for backwardness in developing countries—communitarianism, paternalism, and

respect for authority—were now praised as the driving force for development in Southeast
Asia. Backed up by their economic success, Singapore’s Lee and Malaysia’s Mahathir ­Mohamad
became strong advocates of ‘Asian values’ as political culture continued to shape debate
over authoritarianism in Southeast Asia.
‘Asian values’ is a series of claims that prioritize community interests over the vested in-
terest of individuals (Bell 2009). Community interests range from one’s own family to the
society and state, as conceptualized by those in power. Social harmony and avoiding open
conflicts are prioritized over conflict and challenges to authority. Decision-making was be-
lieved to be based on elite consensus instead of confrontation and engagement. The region’s
paternalistic state was not only to bring about economic growth and development, it was
to maintain social cohesion and promote moral principles based on community-oriented,
elite-defined norms. Emphasis was placed on duties instead of rights, on collectivity instead
of individuality, and on economic well-being instead of political equality. Citizens were
loyal subjects, who should follow their leaders. Advocates of ‘Asian values’ tied these values
to the beliefs of Confucianism and Islam, and used these arguments to challenge calls to open
up their regimes and criticize democracy. Democracy and economic development were usu-
ally portrayed as a trade-off, and political rights and civil liberties were deemed unnecessary
to the improvement of lives of ordinary people and at times might even be detrimental to
social order and harmony (Sen 1997).
‘Asian values’ drew from many of the norms of earlier studies of political culture, partic-
ularly support for concentrated political power. What differentiated ‘Asian values’ from pre-
vious studies was that it diminished differences within Asia, with a broad cultural relativist
call of the world’s most populated region as having the same norms. This focus on Asia as
a whole connected to the dominant paradigm of the time (before the Asian financial crisis
of 1997) of a rising region and dismissed variation within and across countries (Kausikan
1993). It also sharply contrasted ‘Asia’ with the ‘West’ in a confrontational dichotomization
of political culture framework. Critics of ‘Asian values,’ such as Donald Emmerson (1995)
and Richard Robison (1996), pointed to the opportunistic manner in which leaders used the
framework to support their governance. Others identified the inconsistencies between the
reality of diversity of values and experience in the region with the overly simplistic frame-
work (Engle 1999; Zakaria 2002). Yet others openly challenged their assertions as failing to
connect to the aspirations of their citizens (Sen 1997). The 1997 Asian financial crisis that
severely affected the region’s economic growth, calling into question the factors accounting
for the region’s development success and serving as a catalyst for widening democracy in
Indonesia and to a lesser extent Thailand, debunked much of the credibility of the ‘Asian
values’ arguments.

Contemporary political culture from citizens’ perspectives

As with the early political culture studies of Southeast Asia, however, the ‘Asian values’ ar-
guments lived on. Writing a decade later, Mark Thompson (2001, 2004) highlighted how
the regimes of the advocates of Asian values—Singapore and Malaysia—had survived the
crisis, and the arguments surrounding governance, authoritarianism, and democracy were
as alive as ever. While the tenures of strongmen Mahathir and Lee have passed, there is
little unanimity on how political culture shapes views of authoritarianism and democracy
in Southeast Asia. With a democratic contraction in the region, notably in the third-wave
democracies of Thailand (which experienced a coup in 2014) and the Philippines (which

215
Bridget Welsh and Kai-Ping Huang

elected a strongman leader, Rodrigo Duterte, in May 2016) and the continued dominance of
one-party rule in Singapore, Malaysia, Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia and one-man rule in
Brunei, political culture arguments continue to have resonance. Myanmar (formerly Burma)
is seen by some as the exception to the persistence of authoritarianism, but the arguments
about traditional authoritarian values are as salient there as they are in the rest of the region
(Welsh, Huang and Chu 2016).
What differs now, however, is that the study of political culture and values in S­ outheast
Asia has greater access to comparative survey data than in the past. Unlike the rich de-
scriptive ethnographic studies of the past, which allowed for in-depth analysis, national
representative surveys allow for greater attention to variation and comparison across and
within countries, as well as help us understand the underlying arguments of why citizens
across Southeast Asia have these different values. The ABS findings show the region’s greater
diversity in its political values and reveal that modern, more democratic attitudes are more
prominent than the earlier debates would suggest.1 The assumption that Southeast Asians ac-
cept a concentration of power and the accompanying supporting norms is being challenged.
At the same time, majorities across Southeast Asia continue to adopt more authoritarian
values, although inconsistently.
To begin, we look at whether Southeast Asians support authoritarian rule or its alterna-
tives. A majority of citizens in the region preferred democracy on average at 64%, with the
least being in the Philippines at 47% and the strongest preference being in Cambodia at 74%.
ABS research on views of democracy reveals that definitions of what democracy means,
however, vary, with many actually supporting a ‘democracy’ ideal that is not, in fact, what
is seen to be democracy elsewhere (Chu and Huang 2010). ‘Democracy’ has become a term
applied to nondemocratic regimes and socialized in nondemocratic ways.
Thus, in looking at whether Southeast Asians actually have authoritarian values, we assess
key components of democracy, namely checks and balances (such as an independent judi-
ciary), accountability, and protection of the rule of law. The findings shown in Figure 15.1
indicated a conflicted region. There is limited support for an independent judiciary, espe-
cially in Vietnam and the Philippines, with majorities across the region opposing the judi-
ciary as a check on other political institutions. Yet Southeast Asians are more divided on the
need for accountability and generally oppose interventions that undermine the rule of law.
On average, 61% of respondents across the countries disapprove judicial independence, 53%
disapprove horizontal accountability, and 45% rule of law. For individual countries, there is
a rather mixed picture. More than two-thirds of Vietnamese disapproved the independent
status of the judicial system, but almost half of citizens demanded horizontal accountabil-
ity and rule of law. A majority of Burmese did not approve horizontal accountability, but
they highly supported rule of law. Across waves, the largest change happened in Thailand,
where there was 29% increase of disapproving an independent judiciary. The judicial system
has become a tool of the military and conservative forces to intervene in politics (Dressel
2010). Though highly controversial, it was thought a solution to resolve conflicts albeit
temporally. This might explain the surge of Thai support for this norm. Together with
­Vietnamese, Thais have become more authoritarian oriented over time, indicating the influ-
ence of political institutions on norms and values.
The broad but inconsistent authoritarian orientation is buttressed by other values.
Preserving harmony and avoiding open conflicts is a norm highly adopted in Southeast
Asian societies. People are more likely to recoil from conflicts in their communities and
the society at large to maintain harmony. At least 80% of respondents in every country
surveyed agree that one should avoid open quarrel and conflicts with others to preserve

216
 Political culture in Southeast Asia

80% 76%
75% 72%
70%
65% 64%
65% 63%
61%
60% 56% 57% 57%
53% 54% 54% 54%
55% 51%
50% 48%
50% 47% 53%
45%
45% 41% 41%
39%
40% 36%
34%
35%
30%
Indonesia Malaysia Cambodia Philippines Singapore Thailand Myanmar Vietnam

Judicial Independence Accountability Rule of law

Figure 15.1 Authoritarian orientation (% of disapproval).

99%
100% 97%
94% 96% 95% 96%
94%
95% 91% 91% 91%
90% 87% 88% 88%
86% 86%
84%
85% 83%
80%
80%
76% 75%
73%
75%
69% 68%
70% 67%
65%

60%
Singapore Philippines Thailand Vietnam Myanmar Malaysia Cambodia Indonesia

Community Workplace Society

Figure 15.2 E mphasis of harmony in different spheres.

harmony. People, however, are ready to confront their coworkers and insist on their own
opinions when disagreements arise. Burmese are the most conflict-averse here compared
to people in other countries, contrasting the image of Burma which has been plagued by
ethnic and religious conflicts (Welsh and Huang 2016a). Next follows Indonesia, where
conflict avoidance is a quality praised in Javanese culture and seen as sustaining elite rule
(Figure 15.2).
Southeast Asians similarly emphasize communitarianism or allocentric (­community-
minded) values (Shi 2014). In an allocentric perspective, individuals are encouraged to
make sacrifices for the interests and survivals of family, society, and the nation. The ABS
asked individuals whether they should sacrifice for the interests of family, society, and the
nation. Taking the average of the percentages of agreeing with the norms across waves of
surveys available, we can see that such norms are highly supported across the countries.
More than 80% of respondents in every country agree that the individual should put his
personal interests second for the sake of the family. Though sacrificing for group’s collec-
tive and national interests is less supported, still more than two-thirds accepted the norms.
Based on the data from different waves (2010–2015), over time more Filipinos, Malaysians,

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Bridget Welsh and Kai-Ping Huang

100%
95% 94%
95% 93%
91%
89% 90% 94% 89%
90% 87%
92%
85% 83%
81% 81% 81%
80% 78% 84%
74%
75% 72%
70% 75%
70% 73%
65% 66% 66%
65%

60%
Philippines Cambodia Malaysia Singapore Thailand Indonesia Vietnam Myanmar

Family Community Nation

Figure 15.3 Allocentric orientation of self-interest.

and Singaporeans adopted allocentric outlooks, while such norms lost its support in
­Cambodia. Overall, the orientation of communitarianism remains strong across the region
(Figure 15.3).
In contrast to communitarianism and preserving harmony, Southeast Asians are gradually
moving away from paternalism. Although regional leaders usually portray themselves as a
father figure, especially in the strongmen authoritarian regimes, fewer people treat their gov-
ernment leaders as the head of the family and profess to follow their decisions uncondition-
ally. The proportion of agreeing with this view hovers around 60%, with the highest levels
in Indonesia (75%), where the Sukarno and Suharto strongmen legacies remain prevalent.
Most Southeast Asians also disagree that governments should decide whether certain ideas
should be allowed to be discussed in society, to serve as the guardian of the people. Yet using
censorship to control ideas is well received in Malaysia, Vietnam, and Cambodia due to the
long practice of censorship by governments there. Even with a morally upright leader, the
power of decision-making is not without constraints. Support for a moral leader is highest in
Thailand, Cambodia, Myanmar, and Vietnam. Across time, Cambodians have become the
least supportive of father figures, while the Thais and Singaporeans were the most against
censorship. While more Vietnamese longed for a moral leader, Thais have been going in the
opposite direction (Figure 15.4).
In conjunction with the decline of a controlling paternalist state, the norm of respect for
hierarchical order and authority gets less support as well. Although teachers more or less
maintain their authority, parents seem to face more challenges. Less than a third of respon-
dents disagree that politics should be monopolized by educated people. Between waves,
more Cambodians rejected the norm of being obedient children and students (9% and
6% decrease) as well as Thais (21% decrease). Yet oddly, more Thais (8% increase) did not
support the idea that people with little or no education should have as much say in politics
as highly educated people. This change can be tied to the political ­t urmoil in the ­country,
which is commonly perceived as a class struggle against elite rule (­Chachavalpongpun
2012). There was a surge for respect for authority in the Philippines in the latest (2013)
ABS survey, with 13% increase in reverence for parents and 10% increase for teachers
(Figure 15.5).
Despite the changes in views of authority and the levels of control of the state, South-
east Asians continue to support an interventionist state, expecting the government to solve

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 Political culture in Southeast Asia

100%
92% 90% 90%
90%

87%
80% 75% 74%
73% 70% 71% 73%
70% 65% 66% 66%
61%
59% 58%
60%
45% 51%
49% 56%
50% 58% 55% 45%
49%
40%
Philippines Indonesia Thailand Singapore Malaysia Myanmar Vietnam Cambodia

Father figure Guardian Morality

Figure 15.4 Paternalism.

90%
77%
80% 75%
70% 67% 69%
70%
59% 60% 66%
60%
51% 51% 52%
50% 44% 46%
41% 43%
39%
40% 36%
31% 31%
30%
20% 20%
20% 17% 16% 14%
10%
Singapore Thailand Malaysia Philippines Cambodia Myanmar Indonesia Vietnam

Parents Teacher Educated

Figure 15.5 Respect for authority.

problems, such as income inequality, in the country. Over 90% of Indonesians, ­Singaporeans,
and Myanmar citizens hold this view. It is only in the Philippines where there is less support
for this, at 61%, but here too, a high majority support this outlook.
This points to the resilience of the idea of the ‘moral economy’ where a level of equality
is valued (Figure 15.6).
Tracing the changes in political culture across time and space, the findings indicate that
authoritarian orientations and supporting values are still important cultural traits in South-
east Asia. While there are differences among countries and issues, even within countries,
and there are large shares of Southeast Asians who adopt alternative perspectives on many
dimensions, the picture that emerges is one in which, decades later, Southeast Asia remains
a region with a predominant authoritarian political culture, which is in conjunction with
the arrangement of political systems. Political institutions and regime governance play an
important role upholding such norms. Figure 15.7 shows that the level of democracy is neg-
atively correlated with authoritarian values, and with a higher level of democracy, people are
less likely to agree with authoritarian values. Regimes that have long tenures of authoritarian
rule socialize and embed authoritarian values.
Yet the empirical findings also point to a bifurcated pattern. On the one hand, people still
hold onto norms of communitarianism and harmony despite rapid economic development

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Bridget Welsh and Kai-Ping Huang

100% 93%
91% 91%
90% 85% 85%
79%
80% 76%

70% 61%
60%
50%
40%
30%
20%
10%
0%
Philippines Cambodia Vietnam Thailand Malaysia Indonesia Singapore Myanmar

Figure 15.6 Support for government intervention on equality.

6.00
5.50 Philippines
Level of Democracy (Freedom House)

5.00 Indonesia
4.50
Malaysia
4.00 Thailand

3.50 Singapore

3.00 Cambodia
2.50
2.00 Myanmar Vietnam

1.50
1.00
35% 40% 45% 50% 55% 60% 65%

Percent Agreeing with Authoritarian Values

Figure 15.7 Correlation between authoritarian values and level of democracy.

and modernization. On the other hand, people want their leaders to be held accountable and
follow the rule of law, and expect them to solve their peoples’ problems. There is clearly a
decline in the willingness to turn over authority unconditionally, to a father figure, guard-
ian, or moral leader, as the expectations of governments remain high.
Vietnam is a case in point. Compared to other countries in the region, the one-party
state has made citizens into subjects, highly dependent on the party and the state. At the
same time, it has wielded tight control through control of education and the media as well as
arrests of dissidents. While countries such as Cambodia, Malaysia, and Singapore are facing
challenges to the old political order, Vietnamese seem to accept the norms of paternalism
and respect for authority. The same can be said of Myanmar, as the legacy of over fifty years
of military rule has socialized authoritarian values. It is not just the authoritarian regimes
that are shaping political culture. In the region’s democracies of Thailand, the Philippines,
and to a lesser extent Indonesia, there is considerable dissatisfaction with democracy in areas
of governance, especially corruption, and considerable authoritarian nostalgia, although the
level of authoritarian values is lower than in the nondemocratic regimes. The data show that

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 Political culture in Southeast Asia

little has been done to socialize and encourage the acceptance of alternative, more demo-
cratic norms in parts of Southeast Asian societies, although support for the ideal of democ-
racy remains high.

Trajectories ahead: concluding reflections

This chapter examined the evolution of political culture in Southeast Asia, closing with
time series and contemporary data on the values and attitudes of citizens in eight countries
in the region. Despite decades of economic development, with rising levels of education and
incomes, a majority of citizens across the region hold onto authoritarian values. They do not
fully embrace checks and balances and the practice of accountability. They prioritize har-
mony and communitarianism, and still hold onto the view of a paternalistic state, although
one without the same level of unchecked obedience than in the past. It would seem that the
persistence of authoritarianism in Southeast Asia continues to have cultural roots, as political
culture remains an important explanatory dimension of the region’s politics.
At the same time, the findings point to the importance of political institutions and expe-
rience in shaping contemporary political culture in Southeast Asia. Modernization has had
an impact, as well, as it helps us understand the variation among Southeast Asians within
countries. Broadly, those that are more educated and with higher incomes have adopted
more democratic values (Welsh and Huang 2016b). Yet, as with the variation in authoritarian
values, there is inconsistency. Modernization is not the main driver of changes and consis-
tencies in political culture. The findings point to the importance of political institutions and
experience in shaping contemporary political culture in Southeast Asia. How citizens are
socialized and engaged and the effectiveness of political institutions in delivery, especially
the weaknesses in governance in areas of corruption, emerge as important underlying expla-
nations of both persistence of views and changes in views, from Singapore to Thailand. In
fact, the findings highlight a reversal in the causal argument over ‘Asian values’: It is authori-
tarian regime that instills and upholds certain orientations and norms, not inherited cultural
orientations that bred authoritarianism.

Note
1 The Asian Barometer Survey (ABS) has conducted face-to-face interviews asking citizens ques-
tions measuring the orientations of traditionalism since 2001. These surveys were drawn on ran-
dom sampling representing the population. Each survey has at least 1,200 observations. Data are
available for the Philippines and Thailand across four waves of survey (2001, 2006, 2010, 2014),
three waves for Cambodia, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Vietnam (2006, 2010, 2014), and
one wave for Myanmar (2015). For more information on the ABS, see www.asianbarometer.org.

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 16
Political culture and s­ ocial
change in South Asia
Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha

Introduction
The coexistence of primordial loyalties based on caste, kinship, ethnic identities, religious
communities and extended family networks (biradari) with modern political institutions like
elections, political parties and other institutions is a puzzling feature of South Asian politics.
Political actors in these societies appear to travel effortlessly between these two contradic-
tory norms. Individual preferences that go into the making of electoral outcomes are deeply
affected by collective, organic identities. This has two main consequences. First, despite
occasional spells of military dictatorship, politics in South Asia is conducted mostly through
elections, professional bureaucracies, judiciaries and legislative processes. However, while
these institutions have a family resemblance to similar ones in Western liberal democracies,
the contents sometimes look beyond liberal values. Second, the stability of these modern
institutions varies greatly within the region as a result of differences in the evolutionary path
taken by the country that provides the contextual background.
How does one explain the seamless link between social, political and economic organi-
sations that draw on basically different value systems? An equally potent puzzle for students
of comparative politics is to explain the emergence of hybrid structures, such as ‘caste asso-
ciations’ and bodies that function simultaneously as social, religious and voluntary associ-
ations. These anomalies are explained by the entanglement of traditional social structures
and modern politics that underpin the political process of South Asia. The analysis of the
complex political process of transition in the states of South Asia, comprising Afghanistan,
Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, the Maldives, Nepal, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, helps explain how
organic social networks and political competition can get conflated and, depending on the
context, act as motors promoting transition to democracy and its consolidation or serve as
constraints on democratisation.
As a whole, South Asia has been relatively more successful than other regions of the world
in transition to democracy and its consolidation. Unlike other regions of the non-Western
world, all the states of South Asia currently display some form of electoral democracy. In
spite of deep inequalities, terrorist attacks or long-standing insurgencies, the region as a
whole is not affected by the kind of civil war, violent extermination of whole communities

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or frozen one-party rule that one finds in Africa, Latin America, the Middle East or Eastern
and Southeastern Asia. South Asian states – particularly those like India, Pakistan, ­Bangladesh
and Sri Lanka that experienced long years of British colonial rule – developed a political cul-
ture of intermediation between the state and society, which, in turn, generated a mutation
of traditional values and modern culture of individual rights and political transaction. This
was facilitated by intermediary institutions like the Indian National Congress, which acted,
simultaneously, as a vehicle for participation in colonial politics, thanks to elections with
limited franchise and, occasionally, also acted as an agent of resistance to colonial power.
Collective identities based on caste, kin, religion, region and language were challenged
through market penetration, limited enfranchisement and political competition during co-
lonial rule. This led to the creation of short-term alliances based on new and broader or-
ganisations. This is a dynamic process that has helped open up the limited horizons of
local societies, leading to the creation of larger, political identities. This general process
has ­acquired different forms specific to the states of the region, depending on the nature of
leadership and anti-colonial movements; the solidity of social organisations, such as the local
caste system; the hold of religion on belief systems and the different forms of collaboration
with natives adopted by colonial rulers. In the Indian case, Lloyd Rudolph and ­Susanne
­Rudolph (1967) show how Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi effectively pulled together tra-
dition (the caste system), modern politics (elections and party-building) and the saintly (sac-
rificial) traditions of Indian religions to generate the political culture specific to India and
how this entanglement in the Congress party effectively accelerated India’s democratic tran-
sition. The absence of such political synthesisers among the elite has prevented the creation
of a ­synthetic political culture that appears as an Indian speciality. In the following analysis,
we concentrate on the acquisition of political attitudes, the difference in the process of so-
cialisation within their state and the impact of the political environment in the evolution
of attitudes towards politics. In view of the limitation of space, we restrict the analysis to
India, Pakistan and Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Nepal. Since these states represent different
contexts with differing levels of market penetration, political competition and party systems,
the ­nature of political cultures varies in consequence.

India
Three major identities make up Indian society. It is a multireligious, multilingual and hier-
archical structure. The hierarchical structure is deeply embedded into the Hindu religion,
notably the caste system. Such is its lingering effect that despite conversion, modernisation
and social change, caste-like structures are to be found in other religions of India, such as
Islam, Christianity, Jainism and Sikhism, despite their scriptural opposition to inequality of
status (Mitra 2011: 47). The caste system remains the basis of ranking and relation of social
categories “in a complex reciprocal relationship, based on the core idea of purity and pollu-
tion” (Mitra 2011: 471). The membership of a caste comes with implications for the social
but also the economic and religious standing.
In spite of the fact that close to 80 per cent of Indians are Hindus, the Indian state does
not assign Hinduism a superior status over all the other recognised cultures, creeds and re-
ligions. “The word ‘secular’ was inserted into the preamble to the constitution in 1976. In
Indian usage, it implies both a wall of separation between the church and the state, and an
equal status to all religions” (Mitra 2011: 50). Despite the secular appearance of the state;
the variations even within the religions, especially Hinduism; and differences in region and

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Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha

language, religion is a major source of identification within the Indian context and a critical
influence on electoral choice.
India is a multilinguistic society. There are major Indian languages, each of which has its
own dialects. Most of India’s 22 major recognised languages, each of which has evolved over
the course of many centuries, are concentrated in different regions (Government of India,
Ministry of Home Affairs, Census of India 2001). Hindi and English are, next to the regional
languages that are used as official mediums in their regions, also official link languages.
Language has been a major component of identity throughout the history of India. This is
true for the Indo-Aryan languages of the North as much as for the Dravidian languages of
the South.
The political and legal transformations in India have served to politicise those identities
based on caste, religion and language. Equality before the law, introduced by the British
rulers, was one of the main factors to influence the self-perception of lower castes and those
who used to be considered ‘untouchable’ before the constitution of India conferred the
basic right to equality to all Indians, and subsequent legislation criminalised the practice
of untouchability. Moreover, the inclusive politics of India’s anti-colonial movement led by
Gandhi helped mobilise lower castes as well as former ‘untouchables’, commonly referred
to as Dalits (the suppressed ones) in contemporary political discourse. The issue of social in-
equality based on caste has been brought to the centre of politics in post-independence India
by the first Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. Thanks to the social policy promoted
by him, legislative reform and administrative measures have whittled away social privilege
and introduced punitive measures against discrimination. The possibilities of participating
in the democratic process, the political and economic success of members of the lower castes
and their impact on policies as well as constitutional change have transformed the perception
of lower social orders from subjects into full-fledged political agents and quickened their
upward social mobility.
Despite efforts by prominent leaders of the independence movement, such as Gandhi and
Nehru, religion has become a source of politicised identity. The politicised identity of the
Muslim community led to a call for a separated state for South Asian Muslims, finally result-
ing in the partition of India and the formation of two independent states, India and Pakistan,
in 1947 (Kulke and Rothermund 2006). The atrocities of the partition and the migration of
large communities into the respective state still remain embedded in the memories of the
communities, and the still unresolved issue of Kashmir reinforces politicisation of identities
based on religion (Malik 1993). Religious minorities are becoming increasingly politically
active, demanding material and other benefits similar to those given to the Scheduled Castes,
Scheduled Tribes and Other Backward Classes through a quota system known as ‘reserva-
tion’. At the same time, resentment against what some see as “minority appeasement” leads
to support for the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party, which is currently in power at
the centre, under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, as well as in some of the major regions of
the Indian Union.
The politicised identification with languages is as old as the Indian nationalist movement
itself. These “sub-national loyalties based on regional languages” had developed as early as
the 1920s. After Indian independence, the demand for the recognition and equal treatment
of Tamil compared to Hindi in the 1960s, especially, serves as an example of those politi-
cised, language-based movements. The pride based on the long existence, traditions and
history of literary art continues to nurture these identities and regional governments that
draw on them. Out of those identities and their perceived relation with the Indian state, new
aims and political interests, some of which demand radical changes to the state’s structure

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and foundations, have emerged. The perception that one’s own identity is either not secured
by the state or even threatened by it may, for example, lead to the demand for significant
change, such as a separate state to act as a homeland.
Demands, opinions and ideas are transported easily towards a wide range of society due to
modern mass media. In the time of globalisation, information – based on internet, television
and mobile phones – travels easily to groups that, due to lack of infrastructure, education or
literacy, had not been penetrated before. The breaking up of the traditional environments
of socialisation, such as the family, kin, village and other social structures, due to processes
of modernisation, enables widespread political mobilisation. While education in India may
not be able to further a common culture and identification, it may significantly add to the
legitimisation of the political system. The multiplicity of other channels of political educa-
tion, such as political parties, TV as well as radio channels and modern social media, further
diversify the political socialisation.
Political agents in India have resorted to a varied repertoire of political behaviour. Some
include the means offered by the modern state, such as the “the competitive process of
articulation and aggregation of interests” (Mitra 2011: 56), participation in elections and
political campaigning; some are rather traditional direct actions, such as rasta roko (stopping
and disturbing the traffic) or hartal (“a form of boycott accompanied by a work stoppage”) as
was applied during the Indian freedom struggle; and some resort to violence. Many of those
actions, be they modern or rather traditional, are accompanied by the (religious) symbols and
traditional concepts ingrained in Indian religions and values (Mitra, 1999, 2011).
The Sikh nationalist movement is a case in point. The Sikhs, adherents to Sikhism, a re-
ligion incorporating elements of Hinduism and Islam that emerged as a resistance movement
against the invasion of India by Muslims, form a majority in the State of Punjab. Feeling
their identity threatened by assimilation with Hinduism, they demanded the creation of a
sovereign, territorial state serving as the homeland of the Sikhs. The political movement,
called the Khalistan movement, that had emerged changed gradually from non-violent pro-
test to violent forms of action. The army was employed to operate against the leaders of the
secessionist movement holed up in the Golden Temple of Amritsar. This eventually culmi-
nated in the assassination of the then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi by her Sikh bodyguards
in 1984. Politics in Punjab returned to democratic means after “a firm combination of re-
pression of dissidents and accommodation of some of their leaders” (Mitra 2011: 53).
This changed behaviour can be explained by the changed perception of the state and the
relation of the group seeking to assert its collective identity. When the state was considered
to be inefficient in preserving and securing the Sikh identity – or, by itself, even posed a
threat to it – the movement resorted to means of violence. As soon as the leaders of the
movement were included in the political system, and accorded a share of political power
within the framework of the modern state, the political system was considered by them to be
efficient in absorbing the demands and changing the self-perception of these agents from an
alienated group into efficacious citizens of the state.
This Indian two-track strategy, which combines suppression with accommodation, turns
rebels into stakeholders and rebellious attitudes to legitimacy. This can be seen in a num-
ber of ethno-national movements, like the Tamil language movement in 1960s. India has
witnessed a “steady rise of the sense of efficacy in the population as a whole, going up from
48.5 per cent on the entire population in 1971 to 67.5 per cent in 2004” (Mitra 2011: 59).
Similarly, there has been an increase in the perceived legitimacy of the political system; “the
percentage of those who see the political system as legitimate has gone up from 43.4 per cent
in 1971 to 72.2 per cent in 2004” (Mitra 2011: 60). The relatively small but stable group of

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Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha

citizens who do not feel efficacious tends to pertain to those groups who have not been sub-
ject to political mobilisation (Mitra 2011).
The recent widely publicised cases of (gang) rape have opened a door for the political mo-
bilisation of identity based on gender. Similarly, the provision of simplified access to infor-
mation may lead to an increase in both efficacy and legitimacy. One of those examples could
be the implementation of an election app for the 2016 assembly polls in Kerala, providing
easily accessible information and means that facilitated participation. “Titled ‘e-voter’, the
app is envisaged to help voters search electoral rolls, locate polling stations, obtain informa-
tion about candidates and the affidavit filed by them, file complaints and so on” (Times of
India 2016).

Pakistan and Bangladesh

The state of Pakistan split in 1971, when the Eastern wing separated from West Pakistan and
emerged as the state of Bangladesh. The creation of Pakistan was the result of the Muslim
League’s demand for a homeland for all South Asian Muslims. This led to the partition of
colonial India into two independent states, India and Pakistan, in 1947. The demand for a
separate state for Indian Muslims had been mobilised on the basis of the argument that only
a Muslim state would bring about the security for Muslims, which could not be gained
within a Hindu majoritarian state (Kulke and Rothermund 2006). However, the split of
1971 showed that the homogeneity of Indian Muslims was a politically convenient myth.
It also proved that other identities, such as language – equal status for Bangla as opposed to
Urdu, the national language of Pakistan, was the main rallying cry of East Pakistan – can be
strong components of the political culture of a people.
Compared to Bangladesh, Pakistani society is ethnically and linguistically very diverse.
Mixed ethnic groups are found within every province (Rais 2002: 220–246). Despite the
shared religion, several ethnic communities have seen mobilisation of their ethnic-lingual
identity, leading to demands of a homeland, as was the case for the Balochis, reminiscent of
the successful separation of Bangladesh. The question of federal arrangements and the role
of the majority province “first East-Bengal, and later Punjab” continues to be a contentious
issue (Waseem 2011: 213). Even more, the Muslim identity is challenged by the Sunni-Shia
rift and the presence of various religious minorities, such as Hindus, Christians, Sikhs, Bud-
dhists, Parsis and Baha’i.
The mobilisation and justification based on Muslim identity and the question of Islam’s
role within the state has served the military as well as civilian agents, both in Pakistan and
Bangladesh. The place of Islam and Islamic law (sharia) within the state and society remains
a contested issue. Especially under the rule of General Muhammad Zia ul-Haq from 1977
to 1988 in Pakistan, the fusion of state and Islam was given an institutional form. He used
the idea of creating an ideal Islamic society to justify his military rule and the suppression
of democratic elements. Tendencies towards Islamisation of the state and secularism have
alternated, both during the civilian government of Benazir Bhutto (1988–1990, 1993–1996)
and the military government led by Pervez Musharraf (1999–2008). This rift between secu-
larism and Islam is also transported to education. Conflicting opinions about the Islam and
Islamic rules shape the educational environment both in Pakistan and Bangladesh, though it
is more extreme in the case of the former compared to the latter. The education of girls and
the education within madrassas (Islamic educational institutions) are contested and lead at
times to violent attacks against schools, teachers and children (Oldenburg 2010). The most
prominent case that illustrates this is the case of Malala Yousafzai, who survived an attack

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by the Taliban and got the Nobel Peace Prize in 2014 for her efforts to promote (girls’)
education in Pakistan. The discrepancies in the quality of as well as the access to education
hinder a shared socialisation and the promotion of shared values as well as a shared trust in
the political system.
While agents are able to use politicised identities for aggregation of interests and mobil-
isation of support, the political system has hindered the emergence of the perception of its
efficiency in taking up demands from below, leading to high levels of dissatisfaction. Both
military and democratic rulers have failed to enable the participation of all sections of the
population, the provision of fundamental freedoms and the equal access to power and re-
sources (Rais 2002: 220–246). Moreover, the frequent takeover of power by the military
has hindered the development of functioning democratic institutions and the necessary ex-
perience in democratic rule. In Pakistan, the military has dismissed democratically elected
governments three times, leading to long periods of authoritarian military rule lasting from
1958 to 1971, 1977 to 1988 and 1999 to 2008 (Waseem 2011). In these periods, the partic-
ipation of vast elements of the society has not been possible. Instead, military rulers, like
Zia, have included only some of the provincial elites in order to secure their power. But
authoritarian and exclusive tendencies are found in the periods of civilian governments as
well. All this has added to the evaluation of the political system as inefficient by vast sections
of the society. In marked contrast to India, in 2013 – 66 years after independence – for the
first time in Pakistani history, an elected government was able to complete its full term. Even
more, the elections in 2013 have been the first to enable the peaceful shift of power from one
democratic government to the next and the first that had taken place in conformity with the
constitution (Federal Foreign Ministry 2016).
Institutions like the media play a significant role in the socialisation of individuals within
a particular system. Compared to the fiercely independent media of India, the media in Pa-
kistan has an ambiguous position, with the legal freedom of articulation continuously under
threat. However, in both Pakistan and Bangladesh, modern media, like social platforms on
the internet, offer space of relative security compared to more risky forms, such as participa-
tion in public rallies and election campaigns. The flow of information tends to be censored
through political and legal means, such as the blockage of YouTube in 2012 based on the
blasphemy law, which was lifted only in January 2016 due to a local version of YouTube that
allows the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority to ask offending material to be blocked
(Reuters 2016). The denial of the free flow of information is further enhanced through the
self-censorship of journalists who fear persecution by militants and militaries alike, as one
can see from the recent cases of the hacking of bloggers who had spoken up for the need of
greater toleration in Bangladesh. In contrast to India, the politicisation of identity-based in-
terests and the perception of lack of efficiency of the prevalent political system and low trust
in politicians explain the growing support for increasingly violent organisations throughout
Pakistan’s history (Fair et al. 2014). While the foundations of democracy are relatively more
solid in Bangladesh, the fractured party system generates deep lack of trust in the political
system. While elections take place more regularly in Bangladesh than in Pakistan, violence,
nevertheless, lurks in the background.

Sri Lanka
The Sri Lankan society encompasses diverse ethnicities, languages and religions. The two
major ethnic communities, the Sinhalese and the Sri Lankan Tamils, are concentrated in
particular regions. Despite its being a majoritarian Buddhist country, there is a hierarchical

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caste system similar to those influenced by Hinduism. Religion, ethnicity, region and caste
are sources of identity in Sri Lanka. Yet the politicisation of identity has largely taken place
based on religion and ethnicity – along the lines of majority and minorities.
The politicisation of identities began mainly during the British colonial rule and the po-
litical representation of communities based on their ethnic membership. When Sri Lanka,
formerly called Ceylon, became independent in 1948 (as Dominion), it was regarded as the
role model of the British Empire, with universal suffrage since 1931, a comparatively high
rate of literacy, a well-functioning economy and even elements of social welfare. Ceylon’s
transition to independence was peaceful; it was negotiated rather than fought for. The polit-
ical elites were moderate and willing to accept the benefits offered by British rule, including
their status within the political system. The preservation of the British legacy, materialised in
the adaption of the Westminster system and even the transfer of the last British governor as
the first Governor-General of the independent Ceylon included the preservation of the clas-
sification of the population along the ethnic-religious lines and the division’s representation
in the political parties. Although Ceylon was a democratic and secular state (de Silva 2011:
591–598), the vast majority of the population – despite high literacy and universal suffrage –
had not become politically active. Compared to India, the ruling elite was relatively distant
from ordinary masses, leading to the perception that Sri Lanka’s (i.e. Ceylon’s) independence
was not real but rather a conspiracy between the ruling elite and the British (de Silva 2011:
591–598). The elite lacked the political will, or, indeed, the need, to engage “the masses” in
the political process – before and after independence – and lacked a charismatic leader like
Nehru, Gandhi or Jinnah. In this environment, people kept away from engaging in politics
through voting (Manor 2011: 599–606).
The politicisation of the masses based on ethno-religious identity was instilled by the
Prime Minister S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike (1956–1959) who came to power largely through
the support by Buddhist organisations and their influence within (Buddhist majority) so-
ciety. He first made Sinhala and Sinhalese Buddhist culture central concern of the state.
He gave Sinhalese Buddhists greater confidence in themselves and their culture, even as he
failed to prevent their insecurities from producing excesses, and from becoming a firmly
institutionalised element of the island’s politics (Manor 2011: 599–606). This enabled the
participation in the electoral process for many elements of the society who were excluded
from it before, due, among others, to the provision of infrastructure that enabled the “com-
mon man” to cast the ballot (public transport to the poll site, more poll sites in the rural
areas) (Manor 2011: 599–606). With both, and the implementation of a wider social welfare
system, Bandaranaike had taken up the subliminal conflict of identity and the perception
of the state as the provider for entitlements for the communities (Manor 2011: 599–606).
What Bandaranaike had started became an institutionalised element of Sri Lankan politics –
namely, the focus on identity politics and the mobilisation of the people by ethnic-religious
identities – rather than other, e.g., economic issues. The Westminster system allowed the
majority to implement laws that affected the minorities without giving them a say.
The Westminster system together with the major focus on ethnic and religious issues and
increasing economic decline led to a situation in which the state had become the “enemy”
rather than the “friend” for two major youth movements. The Sinhalese-Buddhist youth,
who had gained higher education but did not have access to appropriate jobs, thereafter saw
themselves as neglected by the state. Means within the system did not allow for change. The
youth’s perception of themselves as liberators and the state authorities as suppressors, led to
the implementation of violent methods to subdue dissidence. The JVP ( Janatha Vimukthi
Peramuna/People’s Liberation Front) demanded better economic conditions for the youth

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 Political culture and ­social change

but failed to mobilise or represent the interests cutting through the ethnic-religious divi-
sions. The state authorities put down the JVP insurrections in 1971 and later in 1987–1989 in
which less than 2 per cent of non-Sinhalese-Buddhists participated, with enormous brutality
by police and military. The state did not give in to demands, and many of the insurgents and
most of their leaders were killed (Kearney and Jiggins 2011: 618–640).
The Tamil youth developed a sense of alienation from the state, which had radically
reduced their opportunities to gain higher education and employment within the public
service, and which did not allow an equal and prominent place to the Tamil minority.
Government politicians reneged on their promises. Two negotiated agreements with the
Tamil political leaders, the Bandaranaike-Chelvanayagam Agreement in 1957 and the
­Senanayake-Chelvanayagam Agreement in 1965, did not prove to be effective (Perera 2000:
74–91). These measures allowed the change of the constitution (successful in 1972 and 1978)
without a major influence of the Tamil parties – leading to making Sinhala the major Sri
Lankan language, to providing Buddhism the foremost place in the country and to insisting
on a unitary and not a federal state. While the older generation of Tamil politicians – due
to their experiences in pre-independence period – still trusted in the Sinhalese politicians
and at least in the diplomatic means to reach their political ends, the calls for an indepen-
dent Tamil state and for other means of reaching their ends were growing louder. When the
government responded to non-violent Tamil protests with violence, the doors were opened
for retaliations. The situation escalated and culminated in the pogrom against Tamils in
­Colombo and other cities in Sri Lanka in 1983, leading to the start of the civil war, which would
be interrupted by ceasefire agreements between the major rebel organisation LTTE (Liberation
Tigers of Tamil Eelam) and the government of Sri Lanka, last until 2009 (Swamy 2010).
The notion to not being able to actively participate within the framework of the state,
the evaluation that the political system and its actors were dysfunctional, the identification
along the lines of religion and ethnicity as well as the lack of cooperation based on shared
socio-economic issues beyond the own ethnicity, led to distrust between the communities
and the absorption of violence in the political behaviour of Sri Lanka. A leading commen-
tator on Sri Lanka says,

When a political system does not follow its own rules or does not operate according to
standards set by itself, the rulers themselves prepare the stage for violent, anti-systemic
movements, which may, of course, be rooted in the larger social system.
(Hettige 2000: 9)

The long-lasting civil war between the Sri Lankan government and the LTTE came to an
end with the killing of the LTTE leadership. The abuse of power, corruption as well as the
increasing intimidation of political opponents and journalists led to a tense and mistrusting
situation in post-war Sri Lanka. The authoritarian rule by the Rajapaksa government was
brought to an end by a coalition of the opposition parties, including the minority par-
ties. The cooperation in the presidential election campaign between the various parties –
­including members of the President’s own party – based on the shared interest to bring back
more democracy and end the authoritarian rule by Rajapaksa – presented a new form of
politics. The overthrow by democratic means based on cooperation between the majority as
well as the minority parties and the acceptance of his defeat by Rajapaksa as a part of normal
politics point towards change and may help to socialise people in an environment of trust in
peaceful and democratic means. Despite the call to bring back Rajapaksa as a strong leader
in various sections of the Sri Lankan society, the parliamentary elections in 2015 confirmed

231
Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha

the cooperative strategy. The new government is engaged in an attempt to create a new
constitution, in which minority demands are incorporated and in the making of which also
the minority parties shall be engaged. Even the formerly violent Buddhist organisations that
targeted minorities and their property after the end of the civil war have shifted their activ-
ities towards more democratic means.

Nepal
The case of Nepal poses an exception among South Asian states as it was never directly co-
lonialised. Today, the country includes different regions, religions, ethnicities and next to
Nepali many (minority) languages. Not having been directly colonised unlike other states of
South Asia, Nepal did not need develop the structure of intermediary elites between colonial
rulers and native subjects. As such, the political culture of mediation did not develop nor did
political organisations that could have experienced limited franchise and representation as in
colonial India. The structure of the Nepalese society has been fundamentally shaped by the
hierarchical and centralised organisation of the Hindu kingdom, which existed for 240 years.
In 1768, Prithvi Narayan Shah conquered the territories of the adjacent principalities and
unified them under his kingship. The kingdom has been structured according to the Hindu
caste system, in which the different groupings were subsumed according to their socio-­
economic status but also as an expression of their relation to the state (Malla 2013).

The process of state building resulted in the ethnic stratification as different groups of
people were incorporated in the state on unequal terms. […] High-caste Hindus resid-
ing in Nepal’s central hills were closely aligned with the state from the beginning and
have continually held positions of power.
(Whelpton 1977: 44)

The order of the state was characterised by the unequal access to political and social re-
sources, the economic exploitation of the lower ranks of the society and the mobility based
on the groups’ relevance for the central state. The Kathmandu valley formed the political
as well as the social power centre. In 1846, the Rana family took over, vesting the state
powers in the office of the prime minister – from then on hereditary – making the king
a simple representation of his role as unifier of the diverse people and territories. In 1854,
the first comprehensive legal code was established that institutionalised the social ideas of
the Rana rule. The legal code reflected “a Hindu world order” within which the social
elements were integrated in the caste hierarchy, underpinning and reinforcing the “high-
caste Hindu dominance” (Hangen 2010). The centralisation of power – on the one hand
within the hands of high-caste Hindus and on the other hand within the region of the
­K athmandu valley – and the incorporation of such power structures into the legal and
ideological framework of the state underpinned the perpetuation of the political and socio-­
economic configurations.
This led to the politicisation of identities based on caste and ethnic affiliation and with
that, the changed attitudes towards a centralised and high caste, hill-country dominated
political system. Subsequently, political movements were initiated by the Nepali elites based
in India, who modelled their politics on the Indian freedom struggle. The Rana author-
itarian system stood in great contrast to the participatory ideas imported from the Indian
independence movement. Within the 100 years of Rana rule, there had never been taken any
measures to include people from all strata in decision-making (Hangen 2010).

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 Political culture and ­social change

The exclusion from power, the politicisation of identities and the mobilisation of in-
terests set in motion a desire for participation and democracy; increasingly incompatible
with the autocratic Rana rule and a centralised state culturally, linguistically and religiously
dominated by the high-caste Hindu elite. A violent overthrow of the Rana regime and the
reinstallation of the king who ruled in cooperation with a new prime minister and the po-
litical parties, for a short time, satisfied democratic aspirations, until the king dismissed the
government and vested the powers on himself. The introduction of the Panchayat system
in 1962 can be understood as an attempt to preserve the king’s power and that of the Hindu
high-caste elites in a unified, religiously and linguistically homogenous society, while at the
same time concede to the democratic demands by giving a more participatory veneer. The
Panchayat constitution, which had been in effect until 1990, paid a lip service to democracy
but allowed the king to keep his powers, to diminish political parties and to control the
opposition (Hangen 2010). In effect, it repressed political freedom and participation of the
broader population, and sought to promote societal unity and cultural homogeneity, espe-
cially through the school education. The school education was used to promote the Nepali
language, the Hindu religion and the political system. But many were excluded, and social-
ised within their socio-economic environment and its particular conditions often leading to
a self-identification based on ethnicity, language and caste. The inequality and poverty in
many Nepalese regions as well as the exclusion from participation of particular castes and
ethnicities were not addressed. A moment of relative political freedom led to politicisation
and radical mobilisation of various communities and calls for democracy finding expression
in the emergence of various social movements (Hangen 2010). The call for more participa-
tion, access to resources and satisfaction of certain interests reached out to communities that
had not considered themselves as legitimate political agents before.
The end of the Panchayat rule in 1990 and the introduction of parliamentary democracy
as well as the elections in 1991 on the one hand raised the hope for better interest repre-
sentation, and on the other hand led to the mobilisation of diverse identities based on caste,
region, indigenous nationalities and gender (Hangen 2010). An economic crisis and the
perception of the failure of the elected government to cope with the demands as well as the
perceived inefficiency of the parliament to address the grievances of the people and to reach
the demanded aims resulted in the agitation of left-wing groupings. Protests soon esca-
lated, leading to an armed resistance in 1996 led by the Unified Communist Party of Nepal
(Maoist) with the declared aim to overthrow the political system by a “people’s war” and to
establish a people’s republic ( Jha 2008: 268f ).
Despite the deployment of the military, the Maoists could not be defeated and at times
controlled about 80 per cent of the Nepalese territory:

[…] the near collapse of development work and civil governance in violence-affected
areas, break down of the rule of law, and lack of democratization at the grass-roots
level have, understandably, enabled the Maoists to not only set up parallel structures of
­governance in many parts of the country, including their own visa and taxation system,
but also to exert considerable influence in the urban centres.
( Jha 2008: 246–281)

The civil war led to thousands of victims on both sides. In the course of events, in 2005, the
king declared state of emergency and dissolved the elected parliament. Protests against the
autocratic rule of the king culminated in a national strike lasting three weeks. The ensuing
reinstallation of the parliament and the transfer of power to a seven-party alliance enabled

233
Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha

peace negotiations and the subsequent signing of a Comprehensive Peace Agreement be-
tween the alliance and the Maoists in 2006, ending the decade-long civil war and signing
the beginning of the peace process in Nepal.
An elected constituent assembly, after several delays, presented a new constitution in
2015, which was passed in the same year. Democratic rule, federalism, equality of minori-
ties, women’s rights and secularism were enshrined in the new constitution, making Nepal
a “Federal Democratic Republic”. Despite the stipulation of the demands of the politicised
identities based on region, ethnicity, religion or gender, the satisfaction with the new frame-
work for the political system is not utterly. Shortly after the adoption of the new constitution,
ethnic groups put up resistance. The still unresolved definition of the borders of the prov-
inces has led to protests and street blockages by the Madhesi people who live mostly in the
Terai region in the southern areas of Nepal bordering India, and to the outbreak of violence.

Conclusion
The political culture of South Asia has been deeply affected by the transformation of tradi-
tional social structures through modernisation and political mobilisation. Our analysis of its
main components and the variations across South Asian states has focussed on the questions
of how the South Asian societies acquire political attitudes, how they differ in the process of
socialisation among different states of the region, and which impact these have on the polit-
ical environment in the respective states. We have seen how traditional social stratification,
ethnicities, languages, religious affiliations and ideologies have been the major sources of
political identity. The emerging self-consciousness of political movements based on shared
identities has enabled the aggregation of interests specific for these groups and facilitated the
mobilisation of various segments of South Asian society for political ends.
The politicisation of identities in South Asia has diverse reasons, but all of them include
the demand for political participation and self-determination. The political socialisation
within South Asia takes place through different channels and the combination of those dif-
ferent channels, ranging from more traditional ones of family and kin structures, ways such
as education and schooling, to modern means, such as social platforms and digital media. In
the process of socialisation, it is not only the self-awareness of a group that is passed along but
also the evaluation of the political system regarding the group’s standing. The political sys-
tem thus provides the environment in which individuals engage in various forms of political
participation. On the one hand, this leads to strategies of interest articulation and aggrega-
tion that are institutionalised, and on the other hand, it can also lead to protest movements
with various degrees of violence, leading to disorder and overthrow of the regime. In sum,
the reactions of political agents within the system towards the interest articulation of certain
groups shape the attitudes of the others towards the system.
In India, Hinduism and the caste system have significantly impacted the emergence of
identities. The Indian freedom struggle has served as the important, yet not the only basis
for the politicisation of identities. Political agents have resorted to traditional ways of protest,
such as satyagraha, modern ways of interest articulation, such as electoral campaigns and
have endowed both with the symbols of the saintly tradition, with links to traditional belief
systems and religion. Despite the appearance of violent clashes and radical demands for sep-
aration, the Indian democratic and secular political system has proven to be resilient. With a
combined strategy of force and persuasion, the Indian state has been able to gain increasing
legitimacy and trust by its people, thus turning rebels into stakeholders and subjects into
citizens. The challenge of the emancipatory demands of women, cutting through various

234
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other categories of identification, and the reaction of the state towards those demands will
have the potential to change attitudes and to incorporate even more segments of the society
into the political process.
In Pakistan, religion has played a significant role in shaping state and society. The struggle
between the religious and the secular elements, the frequent alternation between democratic
and military rule, and an authoritarian and restrictive style of the exercise of power have not
enabled a secure environment for political activities. Channels of socialisation, such as edu-
cation and media, have fallen prey to the political system and therefore have not been able
neither to acquire subsystem autonomy nor to fulfil their appropriate function. The institu-
tionalisation of lawlessness and resort to means outside the constitutional framework have
added to the perception of inefficiency and inefficacy of the political system as a whole. This
has culminated in the emergence of and support for extra-state – at times anti-systemic –
actors to obtain political ends. The lack of trust in the state and the own efficacy have added
to the overall instability in Pakistan. A major step towards the successful democratisation has
been made recently, and the continuation of this process might change the attitudes towards
the efficiency of the political system.
In Bangladesh, both religion and region have served as sources of identification. The
legacy of the partition from India as well as the partition from Pakistan have invoked the
emergence of contested identities and perceptions of the state. The constitutional changes
regarding the status of religion within the state as well as the politicisation of the civil society
along party lines also find expression in the political behaviour, partly taking place at the bal-
lot box and partly, on the streets. The authoritarian style of ruling that was institutionalised
in Pakistan continues to affect socialisation political attitudes in Bangladesh. The increasing
centralisation of power in the two dominant parties might be as much an expression of this
legacy as the military coups in Bangladesh’s short history.
In Sri Lanka, ethno-religious identities and the rift between the majority and the m ­ inorities
have served as the basis for political identities. The politicisation of those identities was for-
tified under the British rule and passed on into the independent state. The exclusion from
participation and decision-making processes as well as the defence of political elites’ power
positions through violent and non-constitutional means has alienated the minorities as well
as segments of the majority from the state and its institutions. The socialisation within kin
structures and within a hostile political environment, exclusive and not responsive, led to the
institutionalisation of violence as political tool for interest articulation. The new c­ ooperation
that cuts through the traditional lines of ethnicity and religious affiliation and the creation of
a new constitution might positively affect political attitudes and trust in Sri Lanka.
In Nepal, the hierarchical structure of the Hindu kingdom and the Maoist insurgency
have shaped the political attitudes of its people. Ideology, religion, region and ethnicity
remain to be sources of politicised identities. After a long and intense struggle for more
participation and equality, the Nepalese state has finally gained a constitution that offers the
opportunity for the settlement of conflicts. The stability of this new democracy will also
depend on the reactions to the demands of ethnic communities that do not consider their
interests to be incorporated correctly.
In sum, the analysis of political attitudes in South Asia shows that primordial attitudes can
change into attitudes that give legitimacy to the postcolonial state, as in the case of India, or
to anti-system behaviour as in some South Asian states, depending on the context, collective
memory and historical conjuncture in which a particular case is ensconced. Politicisation
of identities based on ideology, religion, language, region and social stratification plays a
significant role for the attitudes of the South Asian societies towards their self-perception as

235
Subrata Kumar Mitra and La Toya Waha

legitimate political actors. The evaluation of efficacy within the political system is mainly
shaped by the responsiveness of the state towards the demands of social groups. The stability
of the political system is affected by the beliefs, attitudes and trust of its citizens. The respon-
siveness to demands and incorporation into the political process increases the satisfaction
among the people and with that the perceived efficiency of the state and a positive evaluation
of one’s own efficacy. For South Asia, it can be said that the ability to turn subjects into cit-
izens and rebels into stakeholders accounts for the variations in the stability of democratic
systems. As a prospect for the future, one may refer to the impact of politicised identities
based on gender, which may mobilise yet other elements of the societies; the use of digital
media and technological advances, and the conflation of party politics and non-conventional
forms of political action will continue to affect the political mobilisation as well as socialisa-
tion of the people. In addition, globalisation and the role of the media will have significant
consequences for the legitimacy, and evolution of national political cultures.

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 17
Political culture and
­traditions in Central Asia
The “logic” of patrimony

Nalin Kumar Mohapatra

Introduction
One issue that has not been adequately addressed in the disciplinary history of Compar-
ative Politics over the years is looking at political processes from a cultural perspective.
This is more so true in transitional societies where sociocultural structure is deeply em-
bedded in the governance processes. It is in this context that analysing political systems in
these states without looking at the cultural milieu makes the study quite hollow (Ross 2009:
140–143; Dean 2000; Helmke and Levitsky 2004). Five states of Central Asia (Kazakhstan,
­Uzbekistan, ­Turkmenistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan) being the “cradle of an ancient civili-
sation” is a classic case in which sociocultural structures play an important role in shaping the
political dynamics. In a­ ddition to the cultural factor, the geographical setting is also shaping
the ­cultural matrixes of this region, which, in turn, contributes to the evolvement of a strong
centralised political system. Some of the cognitive strands, like “perception”, “attitude”, “val-
ues” and “norms”, constitute the edifice of political culture, as defined by Gabriel Almond and
Sidney Verba, and “shape the perception of masses towards the political leadership” (Almond
and Verba 1963). The crisis or stability of the political system of respective states is partly de-
termined by interaction between informal elements and institutionalisation processes (Hall and
Taylor 1996; Helmke and Levitsky 2004). The present study is an attempt to critically examine
some of the aforementioned trajectories to outline how far perception of political leadership is
rooted in political culture and geographical setting. Second, the chapter will look at whether
there is any divergence or convergence among the Central Asian states in the pattern of leader-
ship. Finally, it will shed light on how the present-day political leadership is lending legitimacy
to their ­leadership, which is often premised upon “patrimony” (Collins 2006: 16–21).

Political transition, political culture and dynamic

of post-Soviet political processes
In the middle of 20th century, two ideological debates confronted the domain of Compar-
ative Politics: One was based on “institutional rationality”, and the other one tried to iden-
tify political systems more with a “cultural framework”. The dichotomy between these two

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 Political culture and ­traditions

approaches was aptly visible in the behavioural and post-behavioural schools of thought that
became the dominant discourses in Comparative Politics. It is in this context that cultural
politics has emerged as a major approach to study institutions (Easton 1969; Dean 2000). This
approach gained more prominence in the path-breaking work of Verba and Almond titled The
Civic Culture. The book provides an alternative perspective to approaching political institu-
tions, in which both the authors posit that “sustainability of democracy” is largely determined
by the level of “Civic Culture” prevalent in a political system. Civic Culture as defined by Verba
and Almond implies a mix of political processes in which “tradition and modernity co-exist”,
which, in turn, provides necessary substance to the political system. In the words of both the
authors, this phrase implies “a pluralistic culture based on persuasion and communication,
a culture of consensus and diversity, a culture that permitted change but moderated it …
[and helps in] ‘consolidating’ democracy” (Almond and Verba 1963: 7). The Princeton Study
undertaken by Verba and Almond employing cognitive framework of analysis argues that
political culture basically emphasises an “attitude towards the political system and its various
parts, and attitudes towards the role of the self in the system” (Almond and Verba 1963: 7).
One may recall here that even before the publication of the Princeton study by Almond
and Verba, cognitive approach in terms of perception towards political systems was adopted
by Harold Lasswell in his pioneering work titled Psychopathology and Politics, published in
1930. The book basically laid the foundation for studying “personality”, “decision-making
processes”, “group interaction” and “perception”; some of these factors play a prominent role
in understanding the political culture. Lasswell argues that “democratic state depends upon
the technique of discussion … and all whose interests are affected should be consulted in the
determination of policy” (Lasswell 1930: 194). In addition to cognitive approach, Clifford
Geertz applied the logic of anthropology in the context of bridging the gap between culture
and the political processes by stating that the former represents a “symbolic system”. He
further argues that culture expresses itself through “ideology”, which provides “symbolic
outlet” for “emotional disturbances” generated by “social disequilibrium” (Geertz 1973: 17
and 204). The notion of “social disequilibrium” plays an important role in providing an im-
petus to the functioning of a political system. If there are heterogeneous social groups with
diverse interests, this will have an impact on the capacity of the political system. This is what
Samuel Huntington calls “Institutional Decay”. Some of the major elements that bring these
social groups together, as Huntington highlights, are “tradition, myth, purpose, or code of
behaviour that the persons and groups have in common” (Huntington 1968: 10 and 99).
These social elements provide necessary “solidarity” to the social system.
A closer look at some of the theoretical approaches, like cognitive, anthropological, his-
torical and sociological, helps one to understand the complex relationship between pol-
itics and society from the correct perspective. One may underline here that some of the
metaphoric concepts, like “tradition”, “attitude” and “values”, are playing a crucial role in
determining systemic stability. This is more so in such a society in which there are bitter
social cleavages. Political elite try to arrive at a consensus-building process to prevent the
fissiparous tendencies. This will contribute to what Arend Lijphart calls “Consociational
Democracy” (Lijphart 1969: 216–217). The other important variable that constitutes the core
of political culture as outlined by Ronald Inglehart is “interpersonal trust”. In addition to
trust, which provides necessary bonding to the political system, the level of “tolerance” in a
social structure among different social groups will add vitality to democratisation processes
(Inglehart 1988).
The unexpected demise of the Soviet Union contributed to the ideological chaos
in the post-Soviet space. In addition to these aforementioned features, the notion of

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“patrimonialism”, which constitutes the core of pre-Soviet political culture, gained prom-
inence in academic discourses in the space. Alongside “patrimonialism”, the historical
elements, geographical location and nature of modernisation processes, as outlined by
­Inglehart, are some of the other elements that shaped the discourses of political culture in
the post-Soviet space’s having its roots in the pre-Tsarist era (Hahn 1991; Fleron Jr. 1996).
One may add here the fact that a cognitive approach to studying political culture is not
adequate; rather, applying a complex disciplinary perspective involving historical, anthropo-
logical, sociological and institutional perspectives will give the notion of political culture a
better understanding in the post-Soviet space (Hall and Taylor 1996).
It has been observed that post-Soviet transition created two types of structures—“social”
and “institutional”. One is rooted in historical memories based on “collective conscious-
nesses”, and the second one is inherited from the Soviet past. Using historical memories as
a benchmark to evaluate a political system, William Mishler and Richard Rose are of the
opinion that one factor that causes “distrust” in the post-Soviet states is “historical and cul-
tural experiences” (Mishler and Rose 1997: 420 and 437).
Another noteworthy aspect of post-Soviet political processes is the growing role of in-
formal elements in the decision-making processes. Informal elements1 are getting an upper
hand in the institutional structure because of the “trust deficit” and institutional deficit that
crept into the political system. This is happening despite the fact that the monolithic Soviet
structure existed for about 70 years (Helmke and Levitsky 2004; Mishler and Rose 1997: 420
and 437). In the post-Soviet Central Asian states, these customary rules evolved over a period
of time and are playing an important role in regulating “social behaviours” and generating
“institutional norms” (Collins 2006). They generate enough “trust”, which provides neces-
sary solidarity to their functioning. A closer look at the Tajik Civil War demonstrates how
clan elements (part of informal structure) played a role in shaping political processes of this
state by bringing various clan units into both “competition” and “cooperation” (Whitefield
2002; Helmke and Levitsky 2004: 727–728; Collins 2006: 282–283).
The Tajik example highlights that the nature of interaction among different sociocultural
units in the political arena is shaping the dynamics of democratisation processes. Some of
these historical elements have been interacting since ancient times and providing necessary
substance to the political system. On the other hand, sociological and institutional practices
provide the needed context to the political action and map out the individual’s role in that
process as well. The justification of “patrimony” in the context of Central Asia, which op-
erates on the premise of “patron-client relationship”, can be studied in the frameworks, as
discussed earlier (Hall and Taylor 1996; Thelen 1999; Pop Eleches 2007). The three previ-
ously discussed variables have been aptly reflected in the writings of Barrington Moore Jr.
His view is that the success of parliamentary government can be attributed to the fact that it
“was a flexible institution which constituted both an arena into which new social elements
could be drawn as their demands arose and an institutional mechanism for settling peace-
fully conflicts of interest among these groups” (Moore Jr. 1966: 21). His approach to political
institutions, as discussed here, is relevant in the context of post-Soviet Central Asia because
it will help to analyse in what context political institutions evolve, adapt and adjust to new
circumstances, keeping the social structure in mind (Pop Eleches 2007).
Looking at the theoretical discourses of the concept of political culture both in the theo-
retical framework and in empirical practices, what are the inferences one can draw that can
be relevant to the present study? Emergence of informal regimes based on “kinship ties”;
sense of patrimony rooted in hierarchical relationships, which strengthens trust and mis-
trust in political institutions by the masses; and a culture of tolerance to political leadership

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as well as institutions are some of the phenomena shaping the dynamics of political pro-
cesses in Central Asia. In addition to these features, the structural processes that include the
“sedentary and nomadic dynamics”, access to resources and its allocation among the social
groups along with a sense of continuity of political leadership in the form of “Khan political
culture”, as has been argued by analysts, are shaping the structural and functional notions
of political culture (Khazanov 1994; Manz 1994: 5). Though Central Asia as a geographical
entity is able to offer a more or less coherent political culture, a microanalysis demonstrates
sharp differences in terms of “attitude”, “perception” and the “orientation of general masses
towards the political system”. This is reflected in the actual performance of the political
system for the last 26 years. It has been observed that Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan offered
a different pattern of political transition, while Turkmenistan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan
demonstrated a common trajectory (Kunysz 2012).
On the one hand, what is intriguing in the study of political processes in these states is
that most of the works assess political processes from an institutional or rational framework;
on the other hand, the cultural aspects or the historical experiences hardly get noticed by
academics. Thus, to get a balanced perspective of the political system of these states, both of
the aspects of democratisation are to be studied. (Collins 2006; Manz 2004; Gleason 1997).
While studying the political culture and the nature of “patrimonialism” in Central Asia,
three major aspects are to be focussed on. These are geographical location and allocation of
resources, the nature of colonial practices and, finally, the reflections of political traditions
in the writings of Central Asian intellectuals. These three aspects are broadly shaping the
nature of “patrimony” in these states. The “perception” of common masses towards political
authority as well as their “orientation” towards the political system are, to a greater extent,
also shaped by the three aforementioned factors (Almond and Verba 1963).

Geographical location, control of resources and the

evolvement of “patrimonial” political culture
Correlating geography and democracy, Halford J. Mackinder, in his book Democratic Ideas
and Reality, highlighted that “Maps are the essential apparatus of the culture”. He further
argues that “democracy implies rule by consent of the average citizen, who does not view
things from the hill tops, for he must be at his work in his fertile plains” (Mackinder 1919: 27
and 32). Similar argument was given by German geographer Karl Wittofogel. To quote him,
“Of all tasks imposed by the natural environment, it was the task imposed by a precarious
water situation that stimulated man to develop hydraulic methods of social control”. Only
then “did the opportunity arise for despotic pattern of government” (Wittofogel 1957: 12
and 13). Both the works of Mackinder and Wittofogel highlight two important features rel-
evant to the growth of a patrimonial political culture. These are correlation between natural
resources and political processes and the consent of the population (Gleason 1997: 5–30) and,
second, the evolvement of a centralised political power that facilitated the development of
(in the words of Wittofogel) a “managerial state” (Wittofogel 1957: 10–19). Because of the
multiple tasks the head of the state performs under a hydraulic system, Wittofogel argues that
he (Mirab) tends to be powerful, and there is an asymmetric distribution of political power.
Applying the logic of Wittofogel in the context of Central Asia, one can notice that because
of the hierarchical distribution of resources like water, one finds the emergence of a patrimo-
nial ruler. Since water is a scarce commodity in Central Asia, the task of allocating it among
the community, digging canals, etc. was performed by Mirab (water master) ­( Wittofogel
1957; Gleason 1997: 5–30)2. With regard to the election of Mirab, conflicting opinions are

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Nalin Kumar Mohapatra

coming out. While George Curzon, in his book Russia in Central Asia, mentions that in the
Turkmenistan, part Mirab was elected annually, the other studies say that he was selected
through a competition. The winner of the competition became Mirab (Curzon 1889: 115;
Wittofogel 1957; Gleason 1997: 5–30; Geiss 2003: 180). Arminus Vambery, in his interesting
travel account titled Travels in Central Asia, gives a detailed account of the functioning of the
Mirab. The Hungarian traveller, in his book, argues that in “each town there is a mirab” who
performs multiple roles, including “maintaining law and order” (Vambery 1864: 330–331).
In addition to scarcity of water resources, which contributed to the emergence of a hydrau-
lic leader in Central Asia, the “nomadic and sedentary” character of Central Asian society
has also shaped the political culture of this region since ancient times. As Beatrice F. Manz
has observed, “The interaction between the two lifestyles and populations—‘nomad and
sedentary’, Turkic and Iranian—dominated the history of Central Asia well into the nine-
teenth century” (Manz 1994: 5). The interface between these two units since ancient times
played a prominent role in shaping the social, economic and political processes of this part
of the world. Because of complex social life as well as geographical compulsions, what one
witnesses is that the nomadic structure evolved to adapt itself to a suit new political environ-
ment. The basis of nomadism, as defined by Anatoly M. Khazanov, is associated with a search
for pastureland for cattle as well as closely linked with “movement of population in search of
food for himself in which the pastoral groups are involved” (Khazanov 1994: 16). Because of
the hazardous geographical conditions, it has been observed that the political structure that
emerged in the nomadic society was a complex one and used to be a “centralised one”. The
political unit of nomadic society used to perform multiple functions, ranging from allocating
pasturelands to nomadic and sedentary groups to mitigating inter- and intra-group conflicts
(Khazanov 1994: 151). Using pastoralism as a background, anthropologist Lawrence Krader
argues that in the sedentary part of Kazakhstan, the political system is a largely hierarchical
one, with Khan stood at the apex followed by Buiruk (assistant of the king, combining civil
and military functions), landed nobles and common people. The common people used to pay
tribute to the Khan. Slaves used to be at the lowest position on the hierarchy ladder (Krader
1963: 182). Krader further states that despite movement of population, the nomadic pasto-
ral society achieved a higher level of development in terms of “political solidarity”, “better
adaption to the societal need and followed a trajectory of scientific inquiry” (Krader 1955:
102). It is in this context, Krader argues, that “Centralization of political authority is closely
related to population concentration in Central Asia, i.e., to net density” (Krader 1963: 323).
In addition to population concentration, the other important factor that played a role in
providing legitimacy to the political authority of pastoral nomadic society is the “mythical an-
cestry”. Geertz is of the opinion that “mythical ancestry” is closely associated with the cultural
notion of “primordial trust”, community well-being and kinship ties, which he calls a “sym-
bolic system” (Krader 1971: 182; Geertz 1973:17). Khazanov, in his description of ­Eurasia, has
also highlighted that the notion of “Eternal heavenly”, also known as Tengri (in ­Turkic par-
lance), provided necessary legitimacy to the rulers, including Genghis Khan and his successors,
to rule over the whole of Eurasia. Under the system of Tengri, the ruler got an opportunity to
interact with the heavenly god (Khazanov 1993: 465–467). In Turkmenistan, the customary
rule Tore also played a key role in shaping the policymaking processes. The importance of
Tore can be understood in the context of Kut. Kut means a geographical zone where rulers can
practise these rules. The ancient nomadic Turkmen political culture gave equal importance
to all the persons living in the society, and Khan played an important role in governing the
society and was ably consulted by the Halq Maslahaty (House of Elders) (Saray 1989: 52–56).
The nomadic practices that were widely prevalent in Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan can

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also be observed in Kyrgyzstan. As stated by Hungarian traveller Vambery, the word Kirgiz,
like Qazak, means “nomads” or “wanderer”. Because of nomadic lifestyle, Vambery, quot-
ing the local folklore, states, “Count first the sand in the desert, and then you may number
the Kirghis” (Vambery 1864: 368; Krader 1971: 179). Despite their nomadic tradition, the
­Kyrgyz have developed administrative structure to regulate their social life. In this regard,
two informal institutions, namely “Uruk” (sub clan) and “Uruu” (clan), played a prominent
role in governing social relations. Intra- as well as inter-family relations based on kin affinity
on the basis of “genealogical connection” based on seven generation linkages are the primary
basis for formation of “Uruk” and “Úru” (Sahin 2013: 39–49). Folk oral traditions, custom-
ary rules and regulations and the most important sources for governance in the traditional
Kyrgyz society was Manas, i.e., the Kyrgyz oral epic. A closer study of Manas demonstrates
that some of the principles enshrined in the epic, like “customary tradition”, “moral values”
and “kinship tradition”, provided the necessary substance to the nomadic political culture
(Sahin 2013: 39–49).
Looking at the nomadic traditions of Kazakh, Turkmen and Kyrgyz, two important in-
ferences can be drawn relevant to the present study of political culture. These are, first, that
informal social relations played an important role in shaping the political discourses of these
states and, second, that in this nomadic society, the basis of group identity is being provided
by “kinship ties” (Schatz 2004: 12–16). The kinship relationship in these societies is shaped by
clan relations. These clan relations are also not homogeneous in nature. As Krader m ­ entions,
Greater Horde has two divisions, namely “Western” and “Eastern” along with “Middle
Horde” and “Younger Horde”. Similarly, he mentions that the Kyrgyz tribe is known by
different names, namely Kara-Kirgiz or Black Kirgiz. Often, the term Burut is also used for
them. Krader further highlights that the word Kyrgyz derived from “Turkic word 40 Kyrk,
and daughter, Kyz” (Krader 1963: 179–180; Olcott 2010: 183). Anthropological works done
by Krader demonstrates that the Kyrgyz tribe basically divide them into two categories,
i.e., “on” (“right division”) and “sol” (“left division”) (Krader 1963: 200). The Turkmen
nomadic groups are also divided into five broad categories, and prominent among these
are subgroups like “Yomut, Teke, Choudirs, Teke, and Sariks” having distinct genealogical
lineages. These divisions and subdivisions of clan reinforce the formation of an informal
hierarchical structure, which, in turn, strengthens the “logic of patrimony” (Rossabi 1994:
9, 22, 31–34; Edgar 2004: 21; Schatz 2004: 98).
In addition to the unique nomadic-pastoral community system that evolved its own po-
litical system, the sedentary part of Central Asia has developed administrative mechanisms
largely guided by religious principles, i.e., Sharia. The annexations of Central Asia by the
Mongols have also brought it out under a hierarchical administrative system. One may add
here that one commonality that one witnesses in both the administrative systems (nomadic
and sedentary) is that it is quite hierarchical in nature. Second, the most important element
of Mongol administrative system is the unqualified loyalty to the Mongol Khan by the clan
groups (Vambery 1864: 364–365; Lindholm 1986: 36–43; Rossabi 1994: 9, 22, 31–32). The
influence of the Mongol system of administration was evident in the sedentary part of Cen-
tral Asia, namely Khanate of Bukhara, Kokand and Khiva. For instance, Vambery mentions
that the Constitution of Khiva followed the Mongol system, with Khan being chosen by the
com­munity, followed by four Inag (close advisors of Khan), Nakib (the spiritual head), Bi (the
military aid), and eight other categories of administration. Vambery further mentions that
the practice of allocating land and offering tributes was considered as part of the administra-
tive system (Vambery 1864: 364–365). One can notice that hierarchical forms of administra-
tion in Bukhara are the same as in Khiva. As highlighted by Joshua Kutniz, Bek used to be the

243
Nalin Kumar Mohapatra

highest spiritual and temporal authority. Like Khiva, the Bukharan administrative system
was divided into three administrative units, namely provinces, counties and villages. The
three corresponding administrative heads, as highlighted by Kutniz, were “Bek, ­A mliakadar
and Aksakal”. The administrative system was basically focussed on revenue collection,
and this practise more or less strengthened the patron-client relationship in the Bukharan
administrative structure (Kunitz 1964: 12–13). In Kokand (until its incorporation into the
Tsarist Empire), a pattern of administrative structure emerged that was more or less similar
to the Khivan and Bukharan administrative system. It was headed by Khan at the apex of
the administration (Zenkovsky 1955: 15; Ashrafyan 1999: 26–27; Tabyshalieva 2005: 82).
One interesting aspect of the sedentary as well as the nomadic pattern of administration is
the existence of Aksaqal (person with a white beard or an elder person). The Aksaqal is (elder
person of a community) located in a particular geographical space often known as Mahalla.
The same is also known as “gaps”, “guzar” and “Chaikhona” in Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan
and Uzbekistan, respectively (Geiss 2001: 98–99; Dadabaev 2013: 183–184). The Aksaqal
is chosen by the community and respected by local population because of their wisdom,
neutrality and ability to transmit genealogical history to the local community. Because of
his experience, he used to play a key role in determining the movements of cattle and herds
in search of pastureland. In the sedentary part of Central Asia, they act as a custodian of
arbitration processes at the local level (Geiss 2001: 98–99; Dadabaev 2013: 183–184). In the
sedentary part of Tajikistan, the Aksaqal is assisted by Poikors (assistant) in decision-making
processes. The Aksaqal used to be guided by the local adats as well as sharia principles. The
basic purposes of these institutions were to generate a sense of community bonding as well
as to adjudicate local issues. One may recall here that the institutions of Aksaqal is still func-
tioning and getting support from the Central Asian states, more particularly in Uzbekistan
(Geiss 2001: 98–99; Dadabaev 2013: 183–184).
A closer look at the traditional political processes of Central Asia – like the dichotomy
between “sedentary” and “nomadic”, “adat” and “shariat”, pastoral community, movement
of nomadic social group, respect to the Khan and Aksaqal, and community trust – d­ emonstrates
that societal structure used to be the bedrock of the political system. The discourses of Com-
parative Politics over the years as highlighted earlier are also focussing on some of these
aspects to determine political stability, political change and political development. It may be
highlighted that in addition to the dichotomy between “nomadic and sedentary population”,
which shapes the structural aspect of political culture of Central Asia, the colonial admin-
istrative system provided the necessary substances as well as continuity to the patrimonial
political culture (Martin 2002; Geiss 2001: 98–99; Massell 1968: 180–183).

Colonial administrative system and nature

of political culture in Central Asia
As has been discussed, the annexation and accession of Central Asia by colonial rulers, more
particularly the Tsarist rulers, brought out fundamental changes in the administrative structure,
both in the nomadic and sedentary regions. The colonization processes not only created new
administrative norms but also adapted existing sociopolitical system to new political institution-
alisation processes. In the nomadic parts of Central Asia, the Russian colonial administrators, in
order to ensure their preponderance, brought out numerous legislations to control pasturelands.
Similar measures were undertaken in the sedentary parts of Central Asia (Martin 2002).
Leslie Dienes argues that with the annexation of the nomadic parts of Central Asia, the
socioeconomic fabrics of this region underwent a massive change. Dienes posits that the

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settlement of the Slavic population created a scarcity of land, as a result of which resentment
grew against the settled population. Subsequently, the colonial administration also imposed
taxation on the nomadic population. This contributed to the emergence of new types of
social groups within the nomadic population (Dienes 1975: 350–355). The 1868 Provisional
Statute for the Administration of the Steppe became the basis for regulating the affairs of
nomadic steppe region after the dissolution of the horde system of administration in 1822. In
addition to this statute, the colonial administration issued a series of decrees aimed at regu-
lating land deeds (Dines 1975: 350–355; Martin 2002: 66–68; Temirkoulov 2004: 94). Acts
like the 1889 Resettlement Act and the 1891 Statute for the Administration of the Steppe
contributed to the establishment of a Resettlement Administrative Commission in 1896.
The 1891 act contributed to the evolvement of a new law under which all the lands were
completely nationalised. Some of these provisions transformed the nomadic steppe region to
a considerable extent and facilitated their integration with sedentary Central Asia (Martin
2002: 73–74; d’Encausse 1989).
Through administrative restructuring, Russian administration not only ensured a trans-
formation of the nomadic parts of Central Asia but also did the same in the sedentary region.
The Tsarist rulers introduced a hierarchical administrative system with military governor
at the top. The military governor used to report to the Tsarist authority and perform both
civil and political functions. The lowest unit of administration in Central Asia during Tsarist
period was headed by Aksaqal in every villages known as Qisalks. Several villages constitute
one Volost. The Volost administration consists of representatives elected by local population
and at the same time members nominated by the Governor-General. Uezd (district) was
the third at the hierarchy. The head of the district administration was appointed by the
­Governor-General3 (d’ Encausse 1989: 155–156; Abdurakhimova 2002: 244).
The Russian colonial administrators, to appease the local sensitivity, allowed the practise
of shariyat interpretation in deciding the legal matters, which were being headed by a local
Kazi. The Kazi was elected by the local population every three years. However, it has to be
certified by the colonial administration. This was done to ensure order in the colonial ad-
ministered regions so also to provide sanctity to the Russian colonisation among the masses.
While deciding cases, the Kazi used to take local customs and traditions in adjudicating
cases. However, they used to decide civil and criminal cases of minor significance. These
courts have no jurisdiction over non-native populations. Criminal cases and matters relating
to the Russians were mostly decided by Tsarist court consisting of Russian judges. In the
nomadic parts of Kyrgyzstan, the judge used to hold a title called bi (Zenkovsky 1955: 18–19;
Sartori 2011: 295–296 and 301).
From the forelonged discussions, what are the inferences one can draw relevant to the
notion of political culture in Central Asia? On the one hand, the Tsarist colonial rulers’
objective in governing Central Asia is not aimed at creating a participative political culture;
on the other hand, Moscow was interested in creating a colonial structure of administration
that ensured uninterrupted dominance of Russia over this geopolitical space. The hier-
archical administrative structure that they created perpetuated the dominance of colonial
administration giving little opportunity to the masses in participating it. Instead of Khan,
a new patrimonial ruler came up in the form of military governor whose function was to
strengthen the edifice of Russian colonial administration (Mackenzie 1967). This form of
administrative practices strengthened the patron-client relationship and also legitimised the
rule of traditional political elite like Kazi at the lower level of judiciary as well as of the
­Aksaqal. Like other colonial powers, the Tsarist colonial rulers also found it convenient to use
the traditional institutions rather than creating a new one that will penetrate easily with the

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Nalin Kumar Mohapatra

social structure and generate “trust” that Inglehart talks about, as discussed earlier, towards
the colonial administration (Dines 1975: 352–353).
One may underline here that the patrimony, which is the essence of Central Asian politi-
cal culture, is not only reflected in the folk traditions and colonial practices but also inferred
from the local narratives and literary writings. This is also a reflection of “collective con-
sciousness” processes that constitute the essence of political culture.

Oral narratives, literary traditions and the community

culture in the context of Central Asian tradition
The Central Asian political culture was not only reflected through the sedentary and no-
madic political processes but also in the oral narratives, literary writings and community cul-
tural practices. In the Central Asian political tradition, a number of myths emerged through
which political elite even in recent years justify their patrimonial rule. Different forms of
oral traditions and literary practices emerged in Central Asia, which highlight the relation-
ship between political institutions, questions of allotment of land and societal practices. One
may add here that these correlations provide the necessary substance to the social practices
as well as political traditions. Literatures published in Central Asia through the ages, like
“Dastans, ghazels, fairy tales”, etc., emphasised the charismatic leadership, in which the Khan
is viewed as “representative of god on earth”. The nomadic traditions also reinforced such
kind of perception towards leadership. The perception of common people towards political
leadership is that of a father figure who can protect them from external enemies and address
their grievances in a just manner (Abazov 2007: 84–85; Bouma 2011: 564–567).
In Turkmenistan, the legend of Oguz Khan is well known. The oral tradition says that the
sky god (Menge Kok Tengri) gave all the land to Oguz Khan who divided all the land to his
6 sons and 24 grandsons. Turkmen myth considers him as the father figure of Turkmenistan
as he traces his genealogy to Prophet Noah a highly revered figure in Turkmenistan. Local
myth says that the 24 grandchildren of Oguz Khan later on formed 24 clans, which one can
find in modern-day Turkmenistan (Agajanov 1999; Glen 1999: 60; Dolive 2014: 86–87;
Darling 2016: 86–87; Golden 2016: 150–155). Persian writer Rashid al Din, who lived in
the 14th century, mentions that there was a bitter fight between Oguz Khan and his father.
Oguz Khan took control over his father’s territory and extended it to all over Turkmenistan
(Agajanov 1999: 61–62). The Turkmen mythical narratives basically revolve around heroic
leadership, mythical figures, Sufi saints, annexation of land, etc. (Bouma 2011: 571).
The nomadic traditions of Kazakhstan also provide a rich history of cult figures, mystic
men, strong rulers and the same found expression through folk tales, oral traditions and
literary activities. Like Oguz Khan, the mythical figure who provides a rallying point for
Kazakh politics is Chengiz Khan. In the Kazakh literary narratives, Chengiz Khan is being
portrayed as a benevolent leader with a mythical legacy, who provided unity to the Kazakh
people. In addition to the Chengiz Khan, who became the rallying point for the Kazakh
national figure, Kenessary Kasymuly is also getting much attention. After Chengiz Khan,
Kasymuly was widely recognised as the person who undertook measures to improve the
administrative structure of Kazakhstan, especially the Middle Horde, which he represented.
He synchronised the nomadic customs with Islamic sharia law. The Tsarist imperial ruler,
after a prolonged negotiation, brought him under their control. The Kazakh batyr ­Raiymbek
Batyr Tuke Ully, who was born in Almaty and fought valiantly against the Chinese by
joining hands with Russia, is also becoming a popular figure in Kazakhstan (Fergus 2003:
128; Kassymova, Kundakbaeva and Ustin, 2012: 221; Kussainova and Abdigapbarova 2016).

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 Political culture and ­traditions

The Alash movement, which gained wider popularity in the beginning of the 20th century
and also advocated greater sedentarization, separation of religion from politics, uniqueness
of Kazakh national identity, etc., is also getting much attention in recent years as a reflection
of community culture (Kendirbaeva 1999: 33).
Kazakh ethnographer of 19th century Chokan Valikhanov, in his book dikokamennye
­Kirgiz (wild mountain Kyrgyz), gives a description about Kyrgyz society. Valikhanov explains
that the Kyrgyz society has been divided between Manap (“father of the family” having right
to rule) and Kara Bukary (ordinary masses). He terms that kinship practices based on “lineage”
and customs are quintessence of Kyrgyz society (Gullette 2010: 66). The Kyrgyz folk tale,
i.e., Manas, as discussed earlier is the most authoritative representation of Kyrgyz society’s
appreciation for valour, courage and charismatic personality, (Reichl 2016). As described in
the oral epic, Manas is a legendary and mystical figure born to an old couple named Jaqup and
­Chyrrdy. Following the oriental traditions, many saints predicted a bright future for Manas.
He not only protected Kyrgyz people from external aggression but also gave a cohesive iden-
tity to them. The folk tale also narrates about how treacherously he got killed (Reichl 2016:
330). In addition to Manas, two other novels, namely Valikhanov’s Smert” Kukotay-khana i,
published in 1861 and V.V. Radlov’s Bok Murum, published a year later, dealt with heroic tales
associated with the Kyrgyz literary works. Both the tales talk about heroic deeds of rulers in
the Kyrgyz society, their succession, the community feast, etc. (Hatto 1969: 344–346).
Mysticism, myth and heroic tales are the most important sources to understand political
traditions of Uzbekistan as well as Tajikistan. One may add here that both these states came
under the category of sedentary parts of Central Asia. It has been argued that the Tamerlane
considered being the greatest ruler of Uzbekistan. He interpreted the notion of “sover-
eignty” to the extension of power over different territories. He further argued that one of
the key functions of sovereign state is the conduct of “external affairs” (Allworth 1990: 24).
The contribution of Uzbek scholar and philosopher Ibn Sina is also quite noteworthy. Like
Plato, he believes that an “ideal ruler is the prophet” and possesses all the “virtues”. Since he
possesses all the “virtues”, he “may be worshipped after Prophet”. One may add here that Ibn
Sina’s view can be more or less correlated with the divine origin theory of state that gained
popularity in medieval Europe (Rosenthal 1958: 156). Another Uzbek scholar of the late
19th and early 20th century, Abdulhamid Sulayman Choplon, in an interesting novel Kecha
va Kunduz (Night and Day), brought out the notion of colonialism and political process. One
of the principle characters of this novel, Miryoqub, continuing the tradition of Ibn Sina, ad-
vocated that “We the Sart…population, believe first in god and then the Tsar” (Lyons 2001:
176). Similarly, the Persian literary figure Abolqasem Ferdowsi who has a great follower in
Tajikistan, in his classic work Shahnameh: The Persian Book of Kings, gives a narrative about
formation of statehood, the dichotomy between good and evil, etc. The book also delves
into mythical and mystical rulers (Abazov 2007: 86–87). In addition to the Manas, the best
Central Asian exposition to the concept of ideal ruler can be inferred from the work of al
Farabi. Al Farabi lists out four ideal forms of government: namely, an ideal king who rules
by his own will; the second category is one in which a “ruler is guided by a team known
as” (“al-ru’asd’ al-akydr wa-dawf ‘l-fa.d’il”); the third form of government is based on what al
Farabicalls “king according to the law” (“malik al-sunn”); and the final form is that a “single
person may act in different groups” (“ru’asd’ al-sunna”). This categorisation of four rulers is
more or less similar to the Aristotelian classification of government (Crone 2003: 208).
Three important inferences one can draw here from the aforementioned discussion are
relevant to the study of political culture of Central Asia. These are, first, acceptance of a
political leader who got legitimacy to rule through his assertive personality and is more or

247
Nalin Kumar Mohapatra

less akin to the god; second, political leadership is considered as benevolent because the ruler
will protect the local folk both from external aggression and from internal conflict, thus giv-
ing order to the social structure; finally, after going through some of the Central Asian folk
tales and narratives, one can get a sense that succession is largely premised upon kin relations
based on what anthropologists call “community tradition”. Thus, the perception of masses
with regard to the political system is rooted in a benevolent leader who can be considered as
patriarch in the community. Some of these factors contributed to the evolvement of a per-
sonality cult in the political arena, which justifies patrimony in recent years (Abazov 2007:
86–89: Isaacs 2015). One interesting question that may arise is that how far the political cul-
ture and traditions of Central Asia is quite relevant in the present context? In the post-Soviet
phase, what one witnesses in the Central Asian political system is that political elite of all the
five states of Central Asia (late Islam Karimov of Uzbekistan, late Saparmurat Niyazov of
Turkmenistan and then President Askar Akayev) justified their rule in the name of tradition.
Even the longest serving presidents of Central Asia, Noor Sultan Nazarbayev of Kazakhstan,
Imomali Rahmon of Tajikistan and Gurbanguly Berdimuhamedow of Turkmenistan, on a
number of occasions stated their continuance of power in the name of tradition and political
culture (Isaacs 2015). However, it has to be underlined here that though there is a sense of
continuity in the political system, what is missing is the context for operationalisation. This
requires a new “logic” to justify patrimonialism in these states.

Conclusion
Going through both the theoretical polemics and empirical practices of political culture in
the Central Asian political tradition, one can draw seven inferences relevant to understand-
ing present-day Central Asian politics. First, the theoretical literature underline the impor-
tance of cognitive processes like “perception”, “attitude” and “collective consciousness” in
the operationalisation of the political system. Second, it highlights the role of “community
trust” and “community solidarity” in sustaining the political processes. Third, “myths”,
“genealogical linkages”, “tolerance” and “customary rules”, though considered to be part
of “informalism”, play a role in influencing the political processes. Fourth, geographical
factors along with “allocation resources” shape the political processes. Fifth, the present
study demonstrates that the institutionalisation of the political system is a continuous pro-
cess. Sixth, local narratives, folk traditions and collective imaginations as reflected in the
oral and written literatures help in gauging the vibrancy of a political system. Finally, these
inferences, as discussed earlier, constitute the essence of political culture and traditions of
Central Asia. One factor contributing to the emergence of a strong ruler is that masses are
reposing faith on them and there is a continuity of the tradition. The growth of Mirab and
Khan political culture is a good example of this. The Tsarist rulers also did not want to
change the political culture and tradition of this part of the world, fearing breakdown of the
colonial administration. Rather, they provided necessary legitimacy to both the nomadic
and sedentary political institutions to penetrate effectively in the colonial administrative
structure. One issue that needs to be highlighted here is that though the Central Asian
political system resembles a “patrimonial” one, it still can witness election at the local level
(as in the case of Mirab) in the pre-Tsarist era. Thus, one can say that despite many limita-
tions, the Central Asian political culture has many progressive elements, which requires an
in-depth study in the context of modern democratic polity. At a broader level, the essence
of Central Asian political culture should be studied in the overall sociocultural traditions
of Asia.

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Notes
1 As has been argued by Gretchen Helmke and Steven Levitsky, informalism implies a process in
which “socially shared rules, usually unwritten, that are created, communicated, and enforced
outside officially sanctioned channels” (Helmke and Levitsky 2004: 727).
2 See also Mohapatra, 2006: 180–184.
3 See also Mohapatra, 2006: 32–38.

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 Part II
Introducing the major
powers in Asia
China, India, and Japan
 18
China’s post-Mao reforms
Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

The post-Mao reform era that began in 1978 represented a rupture in the political sys-
tem that had defined the Maoist period (1949–1978), and it changed the patterns of so-
cial development dramatically. During the era of post-Mao reform, the emerging market
forces have challenged and gradually diminished the importance of state influence in the
patterns of social development through the introduction of new mechanisms of resource
allocation and the alteration of the opportunity structure that was monopolized by the
party-state (Nee 1989; Zhou, Tuma and Moen 1996; Zhou 2004; Nee and Opper 2012).
According to market transition theory, state and market represent two fundamentally
different systems of resource allocation. Market transition theory suggests that the rise of
market institutions in the era of post-Mao reform creates alternative sources of rewards
not controlled by the state institutions, and such a shift reduces dependence on the state
(Nee 1989, 1991, 1996 and 2005; Nee and Matthews 1996; Nee and Opper 2012). More-
over, this theory suggests that as power—control over resources—shifts progressively
from state institutions to market institutions, there will be a change in the distribution of
rewards favoring those who hold market rather than state power (Nee 1989, 1991, 1996
and 2005; Nee and Opper 2012).
By contrast, the state-centric model illustrates the continued influence of state institutions
on ordinary citizens’ lives during the reform era (Rona-Tas 1994; Bian and Logan 1996; Nee
and Matthews 1996; Zhou, Tuma and Moen 1996; Dickson 2000; Zhou 2000; Yang 2004;
Hsu and Hasmath 2013). The premise of the state-centric model is based on an insight from
new institutionalism theories that the state plays a crucial role in setting up institutional con-
texts within which social forces interact (Skocpol 1979; Evans, Rueschemeyer and Skocpol
1985; North 1990; Rueschemeyer, Stephens and Stephens 1992; Hsu and Hasmath 2013).
Based on this insight, the state-centric model (Zhou 2000: 1141) suggests that

given the historical role of the state in China, and the prevalence of vested interests
associated with existing institutions, there is no reason to doubt that the remaking of
institutional rules in China’s economic transformations will be heavily influenced by
the vested interests and the state’s own interests.

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Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

The state-centric model helps us understand why, despite the societal transformations
wrought by market forces in post-Mao China, state institutions have continued to play an
important role in determining the patterns of social development, and it identifies and con-
ceptualizes the unique forms of China’s market economy, in which all kinds of economic
agents cultivate relations with political institutions and are involved in a wide variety of
rent-seeking behaviors (Parish and Michelson 1996). The state-centric model refines the
logic of China’s economic transformations and suggests that the newly emerging private
economy is still dependent on the state institutions. In fact, the Chinese party-state has
evolved in response to the challenges posed by market institutions, creating a set of new
institutions—the so-called corporatist institutions—to regulate the unleashed social forces,
such as private entrepreneurs (Pearson 1997; Goodman 1999; Dickson 2003; Yang 2004;
Hsu and Hasmath 2013). As Margaret Pearson (1997: 40) points out, China’s new corporatist
institutions reflect

the evolution of socialist systems away from a highly penetrated, Party-dominated Le-
ninist system to one in which a degree of autonomy for economic interests outside the
Party-state structure is deemed by the state to be necessary for industrialization, at the
same time that the state finds it desirable to prevent the independent organization of the
societal groups that might undermine the state.

Nature of Chinese economic reform

The fundamental characteristic of China’s economic reform is that it happened without
significant political reform. The party still monopolized political control over the country.
By asking the question of why Chinese economic reform could succeed without political
reform, Susan Shirk (1993: 7) uses an institutional approach, looking at patterns of compe-
tition among politicians who operate in an institutionalized political setting in a Chinese
context to explain the happenings of Chinese economic reform. The fundamental difference
between the Soviet and Chinese institutions is that Soviet economic institutions are more
centralized. By contrast, the Chinese economic institutions are less centralized, and the local
governments have more autonomy compared to the Soviet model (Shirk 1993; Walder 2003;
Huang 2008). Many of the economic activities in China occurred outside of the national
plan, which made fewer obstacles in the post-Mao economic reform. The result of this
institutional difference was that the Soviet Union has to reform its centralized economic
administrative structure first. The low level of centralization in the Chinese institutional
setting gives Chinese leaders either at the national level or the local level more opportunities
to initiate economic reforms without political reform and encourages the local governments
to pursue their own development (Oi 1992, 1995, 1999; Shirk 1993; Walder 1995, 2003; Nee
and Opper 2010, 2012).
Starting in 1980, China implemented a fiscal revenue-sharing system between any two
adjacent levels of governments. The basic idea is that a lower-level regional government
contracts with an upper-level regional government on the total amount (or share) of tax and
profit revenue to be remitted for the next several years; the lower-level government keeps the
rest (Montinola, Qian and Weingast 1996; Zhang 2009). These fiscal contracts were fixed
so that the division of revenues among different levels of governments could be predicted.
Rights to flows of revenues were clarified among different levels of governments. Thus,
each level of government was allowed to retain a specified proportion of revenues collected
over a targeted amount, and each level of government had to be responsible for their own

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financial budget (Walder 2003). The importance of this institutional setting is that it induces
a strong positive relationship between local interests and local economic prosperity at all
levels of governments. This local autonomous system generates considerable pressure on
local governments to compete with each other in supporting profit-making enterprises and
pro-growth policies. As argued by Shirk (1993), such a decentralized structure has been the
institutional foundation for rapid economic growth in post-Mao China.
These financial changes provide for substantial independence of the local governments
in China, from the provincial to the township, which ensures that governments in each
region assume primary responsibility for economic development in that region (Shirk 1993;
Montinola, Qian and Weingast 1996; Huang 2008). Hence, these governments possess both
significant fiscal autonomy from the central government and considerable independent au-
thority over their economies. Therefore, the fundamental characteristic of Chinese eco-
nomic reforms is that the intended reform fuses the economy with profit incentives and
limited market functions on a decentralized basis (Huang 1990, 2008; Shirk 1993; Nee 2005;
Nee and Opper 2012). However, this reform produced a hybrid system that still retains some
of the fundamental features of a command economy. This halfway place between planned
economy and market economy has the effect of lodging a web of interests between local
governments and enterprises under their jurisdiction. This web of interests, in turn, dictates
a pattern of mutually beneficial behavior between these two crucial actors in the Chinese
economy.1
For example, the development of the sector of private enterprises in Wenzhou was the
result of compromise and cooperation between the local society and the agents of the local
government. Local government and party cadres played a vital role, often colluding with
local society to circumvent those policies adopted in Beijing that might constrain the growth
of private business (Parris 1993; Huang 2013: 293). In Wenzhou, one of the widespread
forms that private business took in the 1980s was known as the guahu (the so-called red hat
enterprises). Guahu firms attached themselves to an established collective or state unit, trying
to avoid the restrictions on private business. Kristin Parris (1993) argues that such new local
economic practices as guahu firms illustrate that even under the existing state institution and
ideology, the local society was able to “work the system” for its own benefit. And he further
suggests that in the local level of China, there exists the interpenetration of state and private
business interests, and he calls this close relationship that developed between them “local
state corporatism.”
This collusive pattern of behavior between local bureaucrats and private enterprise may
lead to the formation of an implicit political coalition between them (Huang 1990; Oi 1992,
1995, 1999; Dickson 2000; Huang 2008). As a result, “the emerging state-capitalist relation
is characterized by the fusion of political capital of the cadres, [and] the economic capital
of the capitalists” (So 2003: 369). The direct result of the decentralization without political
reform is the continued importance of state power in the distribution of resources to different
social forces.2 As suggested by William Parish and Ethan Michelson (1996: 1044), the newly
emerged social forces still have a continuing “need to have linkages with state bureaucrats
and state-run enterprises.”

The rise of private economy

Since the post-Mao reform, Chinese government gradually legitimized the existence of pri-
vate economy in Chinese society and took measures to encourage its development (Zheng
2004a; Huang 2008; Nee and Opper 2012). The development of private economy in China

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Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

has experienced three major stages: The first stage (1978–1983) is marked by the official
revival of private business. However, in this stage, the CCP only officially recognized the
individual businesses (getihu).3 For example, Article 11 of the 1982 Chinese Constitution
states that “the individual economy of urban and rural working people, operated within the
limits prescribed by law, is a complement to the socialist public economy.” Originally, the
sector of individual businesses was “intended to play a marginal, stopgap role and to act as
a ‘supplement’ to the state and collective sectors, ‘filling the gaps’ they left in the economy,
particularly in the distribution of consumer goods and services and in employment” (Inter-
national Finance Corporation 2000: 8). And the Chinese government’s decision to recog-
nize the individual economy was also a reaction to a practical need, that is, to solve the severe
problem of urban youth unemployment (Chen 1995). During the Cultural Revolution, Mao
Zedong sent millions of urban students to rural China to accept reeducation from peasants.
Since reform, most of these young people have returned to urban areas. This put unprece-
dented pressure on the government and the Party for employment. To handle such a great
influx of youth labor, the government adopted the policy of developing individual economy
to absorb these unemployed youths (Chen 1995).
The second stage (1984–1992) is characterized by the rise of the private enterprises (siying
qiye),4 which are distinguished from the individual business. In April 1988, the National
People’s Congress revised Article 11 of the 1982 Chinese Constitution and allowed private
business to hire more than the previously permitted eight nonfamily employees, thus of-
ficially recognizing the existence of private enterprises (Wang 1997). The new Article 11
states that “the government allows the private economy to exist and develop within the
limits prescribed by law.” Accordingly, in June 1988, the State Council issued the “Tentative
Stipulations on Private Enterprises” to govern the activities of private firms. According to
the “Tentative Stipulations,” private enterprises are profitable economic organizations that
are owned by individuals and employ more than eight people (Wang 1997; IFC 2000: 8).
The individual economy has grown rapidly since the CCP’s new policy of developing the
individual economy. Table 18.1 indicates that by the end of the 1970s, the share of the indi-
vidual economy in national gross industrial output was almost negligible, while at the end of
1980s, the share of the individual economy increased to 5.4 percent. In 1978, when the CCP
relaxed control over the individual economy, only 150,000 people in urban areas were in-
volved in individual businesses; however, by the end of the 1980s, this number had increased
to 806,000 (Chen 1995). The striking growth of the individual economy laid a considerable
amount of wealth in individual hands, and the accumulation of capital in private hands pre-
pared for the emergence of private enterprises. Some successful individual economy grew,
took on more employees and became private enterprises. And “it was estimated that by the
end of 1988, China had 500,000 [individually owned businesses] that could be called private
firms” (IFC 2000: 9). Meanwhile, some private enterprises grew out of the leasing of small
and medium state or collective enterprises to individuals.
It was not until 1988 that the Chinese government officially recognized the existence
of private enterprises. Thus, at this stage, private enterprises had to circumvent the offi-
cial prohibitions in two ways. First, they falsely registered as individually owned business,
but in practice, they employed more than eight employees. For example, many of the spe-
cialized rural households (zhuanyehu) were originally registered as individual economy and
became so specialized that there was no difference between their activities and those of
private enterprises (Young 1994). Second, private enterprises falsely registered as collective
­enterprises—the so-called red hat enterprises. Individuals usually “obtained collective reg-
istration by arrangement with state or collective enterprises, or with organizations such as

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Table 18.1 Gross industrial output in China, 1952–1999

State-owned Collective-owned Individually owned Other types of

Year enterprises (%) enterprises (%) enterprises (%) enterprises (%) Total (%)

1952 41.5 3.2 20.6 34.7 100

1957 53.7 19.0 0.9 26.4 100
1962 87.8 12.2 0 0 100
1965 90.1 9.9 0 0 100
1970 87.6 12.4 0 0 100
1975 81.1 18.9 0 0 100
1978 77.6 22.4 0 0 100
1980 76.0 23.5 0 0.5 100
1985 64.9 32.1 1.9 1.2 100
1990 54.6 35.6 5.4 4.4 100
1991 56.2 33.0 4.8 6.0 100
1992 51.5 35.1 5.8 7.6 100
1993 47.0 34.0 8.0 11.1 100
1994 37.3 37.7 10.1 14.8 100
1995 34.0 36.6 12.9 16.6 100
1996 33.7 36.5 14.4 15.4 100
1997 29.8 35.9 16.9 17.4 100
1998 26.5 36.0 16.0 21.5 100
1999 26.1 32.8 16.9 24.2 100

Source: Calculated from yearbooks of National Bureau of Statistics of P.R. China. www.stats.gov.cn/

street committees or township and village business corporations,” and they paid a regular
“administration fee” to these organizations (Young 1994: 110). By doing so, private entre-
preneurs were able to circumvent the official limits set by the government and to take ad-
vantage of benefits enjoyed by state-owned or collective enterprises, such as tax concessions,
in the first few years of operation.
The third stage (1993 to the present) starts from Deng Xiaoping’s famous southern tour
in September 1992. In this, he called for a continued reform of China’s economy and deter-
mined its future transition to a market economy. In the following Fourteenth CCP Congress
in 1993, the socialist market economy was first endorsed as China’s goal of reform (IFC
2000). After Deng Xiaoping called for further market-oriented reforms in 1992, attitudes
toward private economy changed. The government made genuine measures to encourage
the development of private economy. As a result, the social status of private entrepreneurs
and individual businesses was increased in Chinese society. All these changes and the greater
profits generated by private economy attracted more Chinese citizens, and even party cadres
and government officials became involved in the sector of private economy. After Deng’s
southern tour in 1992, party cadres and government officials were allowed, and even en-
couraged, to become involved in the activities of private economy—the so-called plunging
into the sea of commerce (xiahai). At the end of 1992, party cadres and government officials
were the second-largest group in the private economy sector, but by the mid-1990s, they had
become the largest group among private entrepreneurs (Zheng 2004b: 264).
In September 1997, the Fifteenth CCP Congress recognized the sector of nonstate econ-
omy as an important component of the socialist economy. And in March 1999, the National
People’s Congress revised the 1982 Chinese Constitution and legalized the status of nonstate

259
Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

economy and private ownership (Association of Chinese Private Economy 2003). The re-
form of state-owned enterprises since 1995 accelerated the pace of privatization of the state
economy. In 1995, the central government formulated a policy—the so-called keep the
large ones and let the smaller ones go (zhuada fangxiao)—to reform SOEs. The direct result
of such policy was that most of the small and medium state-owned enterprises or collective
enterprises were privatized (IFC 2000: 8; Dittmer and Gore 2001). And in March 1998, the
government issued a directive requiring all the red hat enterprises to take off the red hat
to show their private ownership. Private entrepreneurs no longer needed the red hat to do
their business. As a consequence of these policies, private entrepreneurs and self-employed
individual businesses expanded rapidly in the 1990s and became the greatest beneficiary of
the Dengist reform (Pearson 1997; Dickson 2003; Chen and Dickson 2008; Huang 2013).
This policy-led growth of private enterprises in China continues into the new mil-
lennium. The Second Plenary Session of the Ninth People’s Congress in 1999 called the
nonpublic economy, including private economy, “the important component of socialist
market economy” and wrote it into the constitution, and the Sixteenth CCP Congress
of 2002 claimed to “unswervingly encourage, support and guide the development of
the non-public sector,” which was reiterated in the Seventeenth CCP Congress of 2007
and followed up with a series of State Council policy papers aiming to fulfill this claim.
Correspondingly, as Figures 18.1–18.3 demonstrate, the period of 2000–2010 5 contin-
ued to witness a boom of private enterprises, and these enterprises even surpassed the
SOEs in terms of total output values, number of enterprises and number of employed
persons.
However, it should be noted that the growth of private sector is still within the boundary
of corporatist design and under the control of the party-state. As Figures 18.1–18.3 show,
though the number of SOEs and their employees decreases over the decade, their output
value actually maintains steady growth and keeps the so-called main body status. In other
words, the shift of balance also works to SOEs’ benefits by enhancing their productivity,

25

20

15

10

0
1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010

State-owned enterprises Private enterprises

Figure 18.1 Total output values of state-owned enterprises vs. private enterprises (1998–2010).
Source: Calculated from yearbook of National Bureau of Statistics of P.R. China. Only enterprises with
output value exceeding 5 million yuan are counted. www.stats.gov.cn/

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 China’s post-Mao reforms

300000

250000

200000

150000

100000

50000

0
1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010

State-owned enterprises Private enterprises

Figure 18.2 Number of state-owned enterprises vs. private enterprises (1998–2010).

Source: Calculated from yearbooks of National Bureau of Statistics of P.R. China. Only enterprises with
output value exceeding 5 million yuan are counted. www.stats.gov.cn/

40

35

30

25

20

15

10

0
1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010

State-owned enterprises Private enterprises

Figure 18.3 Number of persons employed by state-owned enterprises vs. private enterprises
(1998–2010).
Source: Calculated from yearbooks of National Bureau of Statistics of P.R. China. Only enterprises with
output value exceeding 5 million yuan are counted. www.stats.gov.cn/

efficiency and helping maintain their hold on the national economy. On the one hand,
this win-win result again reflects the tacit collusive arrangements between public and pri-
vate stakeholders. It seems that the development of private enterprises has largely alleviated
employment and efficiency pressures, and optimized the market conditions for SOEs. On
the other hand, it demonstrates that the party-state has carefully maintained its grip on the
economic developments. Since 1992, the party and the government have constantly stressed

261
Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

the need to “adhere to the public ownership as the main body” and the priority to reform
SOEs. And the growth of SOEs vs. private enterprises does not seem to go beyond such
policy visions.

The dualist nature of civil organizations

The post-Mao China adopted the state corporatism to restructure the state-society relations
for the purpose of national development and state control. Under the structure of state corpo-
ratism, Chinese government controls, licenses and regulates all of civil organizations (­Minjian
Zuzhi), and grants them the monopolistic power to represent the relevant sector interests
and regulate the activities of relevant sectors. Within such state corporatism framework,
post-Mao Chinese government does not want to dominate the society directly as the Maoist
regime did. With the establishment of quasi-public, state-licensed civil organizations, post-
Mao China allows for the self-regulation by themselves under general state guidance. This
kind of institutional arrangement leaves some space for the autonomy and representation of
civil organizations, without threatening the authority of the state. The principal attraction
of the state corporatism model is the ability to acknowledge the pluralizing socioeconomic
interests induced by market reforms and the continued dominance of the Leninist party-state
(Goldman and MacFarquhar 1999; Coas and Wang 2012; Yu and Zhou 2012). As a result, the
number of China’s civil organizations has increased. In the years between 1979 and 1992, the
number of national civil organizations has risen sevenfold (averaging 48 percent a year), and
the average increase of provincial civil organizations has developed even faster (Pei 1998). In
the end of 2002, there were 133,340 civil organizations in China.
These civil organizations have a dualist nature. On the one hand, these organizations are
licensed by the state and under the directives from the state; on the other hand, these orga-
nizations have a limited degree of delegated self-regulation of the interests of their sectors.
According to Bruce Dickson, civil organizations in China have a dual function: They are
designed to give the state a right to control over organized interests in society and also to
represent their members’ interests (Dickson 2003; Chen and Dickson 2008; Huang 2013;
Hsu and Hasmath 2013, 2014).
A careful examination of the organizations in the sectors of industry, foreign enter-
prises and workers shows that a dualist structure exists. In the sectoral organizations,
such as industrial unions, Jonathan Unger concludes, these agencies provide a two-way
conduit between the party-state center and their constituencies: by top-down transmis-
sion of state directives and control, mobilization of their constituencies for the increase
of production on behalf of the state’s collective good, and bottom-up transmission of
constituent interests (Unger and Chan 1995; Unger 2008). In the sector of foreign enter-
prises, the China Association for Enterprises with Foreign Investment (CAEFI) works as
a bridge that links foreign enterprises with government, in which the government exerts
the control function, and the foreign enterprises articulate their interests. As Margaret
Pearson (1995) argues, the CAEFI’s role is genuinely Janus-faced, and it fits the criteria
central to state corporatism. (1) The state has sanctioned and established the CAEFI and
its branches; (2) it has granted the CAFEI a de facto monopoly—there is only one na-
tional association in the foreign sector, and each locality has only one branch; and (3) a
clear hierarchy exists between the national association and local branches. In the sector
of workers, the All-China Federation of Trade Union (ACFTU) is acting more like a
corporatist institution, representing the appeals from the workers’ interests. At the same
time, it has retained its close ties to the state. In the sector of workers, the ACFTU has

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 China’s post-Mao reforms

two functions: obeying the state directives and performing the regulation function on
behalf of the government, and protecting workers’ rights and interests, which is the clas-
sical dualism (Chan 1993).
Under the corporatist structure, the state controls the activities of civil organizations.
Civil organizations have to register in government agencies and conform to regulations is-
sued by the Ministry of Civil Affairs. In 1989, the State Council issued “Regulations on the
Management of the Registration of Civil Organizations.” This new regulation stipulates that
all new organizations have to be approved by government agencies, which have authorities
over the applicants’ proposed domains of activities before they could register with the offices
of the Ministry of Civil Affairs. Article 16 of this new regulation prohibits the formation of
the “same” or “similar” organizations, which is a necessary condition for the establishment
of the state corporatist structure to allow for monopoly of interest representation (Pei 1998,
2008; Hildebrandt 2011).
It is difficult to make a generalized statement about the autonomy, independence and
functions of the Chinese corporatist organizations. Sector and region are two important
factors. Different organizations in different sectors and in different regions have different de-
grees of autonomy, and perform different functions. While some Chinese civil organizations
have been completely dominated by state agencies, others have shown a surprisingly high
level of independence and a capacity to represent the interests of their members (Pei 1998,
2008). Some organizations can genuinely represent the interests of their constituencies, sim-
ilar to the organizations in the Western industrialized societies.
By comparing the two business organizations in the city of Tianjin, Self-Employed
­Labourers’ Associations (SELA) and the Industrial and Commercial Federation (ICF),
­Christopher Nevitt (1996) concludes that ICF has more autonomy than SELA and is more
active in advocating the constituent interests. After examining the SELA, the Private Enter-
prises Association (PEA) and the ICF in the city of Beijing, Unger concludes that the former
two business organizations, the SELA and the PEA, are overwhelmingly dominated by the
governmental directives. However, in sharp contrast to the SELA and the PEA, the ICF has
been playing an effective role of actively representing the interests of the large private enter-
prises (Unger 1996, 2008).
Among those factors that determine the role and functions of these organizations, the in-
tention of the government policies in establishing the organization and the interests of local
states are most important. There are two goals to achieve when the central government es-
tablishes a new organization: One is to control, and the other is to grant some representation
functions. The balances between these two goals differ in different sectors. The major goal
of the SELA is state penetration and control; on the contrary, the ICF is more like real civil
organization to serve for the purpose of economic development. The decentralization mea-
sures adopted by the central government in the post-Mao era reform grant more freedom for
the interactions between private business organizations and local states. It is the interests of
the local states that may circumvent the regulations of the central government to grant the
local business organizations different functions and autonomy.
In the past ten years, the relationship between the state and civil organizations has under-
gone some gradual but significant changes. First, some civil organizations were initiated in a
bottom-up or spontaneous manner rather than in a state-dominated approach; second, these
organizations had played more roles of social integration, by enhancing communication and
collaborations among different social sectors and strengthening the organizational capacity;
and third, these organizations had generated more policy influences in various areas (Richter
and Hatch 2013; Han 2016). As a result, the characteristics of Chinese corporatism is that

263
Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

“civil society can bloom in the authoritarian context, where the state becomes a consultative
authority in which a mutual learning process” (Han 2016: 49).

The change of political culture

Traditional Chinese political culture has always been regarded as an obstacle to democratic
transition (Pye and Pye 1985; Pye 1988, 1992; Pei 2008; Shi and Lu 2010; Chang 2014).
Confucian culture “emphasized the group over the individual, authority over liberty, and
responsibilities over rights” and “lacked a tradition of rights against the state.” Within the
Confucian society, “harmony and cooperation were preferred over disagreement and com-
petition,” and “the maintenance of order and respect for hierarchy were central values”
(Huntington 1992: 24). Therefore, traditional Chinese political culture is attributed as being
nondemocratic or antidemocratic. Moreover, the Chinese people have often been charac-
terized by political apathy, ignorance of politics, fear of politics and political intolerance
(Nathan and Shi 1993).
In addition, some China analysts suggest that the Chinese people will choose sociopolitical
stability over democracy because they are afraid that the transition to democracy may cause
sociopolitical chaos (Qiao and Chen 1994). The CCP has used the example of sociopolitical
chaos in former Soviet Republics and East European countries after the fall of communist
regimes to persuade the Chinese people that political stability is a prerequisite for national
economic health and the individual’s general well-being (Chen and Zhong 2000; Chen
2004). The evidence from “World Value Survey”6 somehow proves this point. As T ­ able 18.2
demonstrates, when Chinese citizens were asked the question “If you had to choose, which
one of the things on this card would you say is most important?”, they tended to prioritize the
order in the country above other goals (“maintaining order” continuously ranking the top
except in 2012 when the 2008 global recession spread and reached a new peak).
Furthermore, since 1990, nationalism has become increasingly popular within the
­Chinese population; indeed, some empirical studies report that the Chinese people have
demonstrated strong nationalist sentiment (e.g. Chen 2001, 2004; Zhao 2013). It is argued
that the Chinese government has made efforts to promote nationalism in order to block
Western influences and buttress its legitimacy in the 1990s (Zhao 2000; Friedman 2001;
Tang and Darr 2012). Two indicators in China surveys clearly demonstrate the strong na-
tionalism in China.7 First is the variable of national pride. As Table 18.3 shows, over two
thirds of Chinese population in the survey claimed that they are proud to be Chinese. And
such a high level of national pride has been steady over the last two decades.

Table 18.2 If you had to choose, which one of the things on this card would you say is most important?

1990 1995 2001 2007 2012

Maintaining order in this 66.5 71.3 56.9 46.0 30.9

country (%)
Give people more say (%) 14.1 6.0 11.6 14.6 10.5
Fighting rising price (%) 16.8 22.7 26.5 34.4 55.7
Protecting freedom of 2.6 0.0 5.0 5.1 2.9
expression (%)
Number of respondents 995 1,456 873 1,505 2,075

Source: Calculated from China Data of World Value Survey 1990–2014. www.worldvaluessurvey.org

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 China’s post-Mao reforms

Table 18.3 How proud are you to be Chinese?

1990 1995 2001 2007 2012

Very proud (%) 43.2 39.9 26.0 21.3 24.8

Quite proud (%) 38.9 48.5 56.0 56.2 64.5
Not very proud (%) 15.8 10.2 13.9 17.5 9.9
Not at all proud (%) 2.1 1.5 4.2 5.1 0.9
Number of respondents 985 1,467 952 1,948 2,017

Source: Calculated from China Data of World Value Survey 1990–2014. www.worldvaluessurvey.org

Table 18.4 O
 f course, we all hope that there will not be another war, if it were to come to that, would
you be willing to fight for your country?

1990 1995 2001 2007 2012

No (%) 2.6 0.0 3.3 12.9 21.2

Yes (%) 97.4 93.4 96.7 87.1 78.8
Depends (%) 0.0 6.6 0.0 0.0 0.0
Number of respondents 957 1,433 930 1,730 2,145

Source: Calculated from China Data of World Value Survey 1990–2014. www.worldvaluessurvey.org

The other variable examines nationalism by asking the respondents their willingness to
fight for their own country. As Table 18.4 shows, an overwhelming majority of Chinese cit-
izens would be willing to fight for China if it were to have a war and the nationalist rationale
has been kept high since the 1990s. In 2012, when China-Japan disputes over the Diaoyudao
(Senkaku) Islands were exacerbated, a fervor of nationalism broke out in a dozen of Chinese
major cities and it turned into anti-Japan protests and demonstrations, even violence against
Japanese-labeled assets. The protesters were just typical of a great portion of Chinese young
nationalists who grow up roughly during the post-Mao era and are often branded as “angry
youth” ( fenqing).
The direct result of such strong nationalist sentiment is that China’s state-led nationalism
has triumphed over the appeal of democracy (Zhao 2000). A correlational analysis shows
that stronger nationalism among Chinese population is associated with a less emphasis on the
importance of democracy (Pearson’s r = −0.10, significant at 0.001 level).
However, some recent field observations on contemporary Chinese political culture sug-
gest that there is evidence for the emergence of democratic values in China (Nathan and Shi
1993; Chen and Zhong 1998; Dowd, Carlson and Shen 2000; Shi 2000; Chu and Chang
2001; Ogden 2002; Wang, Rees and Andreosso-O’Callaghan 2004; Chen and Dickson
2008). These studies based their conclusions on the results of public opinion surveys and
suggest that Chinese political culture is in transition. As summarized by Suzanne Ogden,
China shows some signs of a democratic political culture (Ogden 2002).
The “World Values Survey” measures the democratic values in a society by asking the
following two survey questions: (1) “How important is it for you to live in a country that
is governed democratically? On this scale where 1 means it is ‘not at all important’ and 10
means ‘absolutely important’ what position would you choose?” and (2)”Would you say
having a democratic political system is a very good, fairly good, fairly bad or very bad way
of governing this country?”

265
Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

The first question examines the importance of democracy to the general public, and the
second question examines the desirability (or appeal) of democracy among them.
Figure 18.4 shows the responses of ranking the importance of democracy from the
­Chinese public. The distribution shows a clear pattern of skewing to the left, meaning that
Chinese people tend to rate high on the importance of democracy. The average rating score
was 8.5 in 2007 and 8.44 in 2012, clearly favoring the view that democracy is important for
the country. To give a better illustration, we recode the scores of 1–5 as “not important”
responses and those of 6–10 as “important” responses, so the results show that in 2007 and
2012, respectively, 93.1 and 94.1 percent of the Chinese respondents agreed that it is import-
ant for them to live in a country that is governed democratically.
Table 18.5 shows the desirability of a democratic political system among Chinese mass
public. In 2012, 35.3 and 55.8 percent of the Chinese public agreed that having a democratic
political system is a “very good” or “fairly good” way of governing this country, respec-
tively; only 8.9 percent answered otherwise. Similarly, in 2001 and 2007, over 90 percent of

40

35

30

25

20

15

10

0
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Figure 18.4 Importance of democracy among the Chinese public.

Source: “World Value Survey” (www.worldvaluessurvey.org), based on aggregated China data of 2007
and 2012, N = 3619.

Table 18.5 W
 ould you say having a democratic political system is a very good, fairly good, fairly bad
or very bad way of governing this country?

2001 2007 2012

Very good (%) 20.9 34.4 35.3

Fairly good (%) 75.4 59.5 55.8
Fairly bad (%) 3.7 5.1 7.1
Very bad (%) 0.0 1.1 1.8
Number of 761 1,217 1,771
Respondents

Source: Calculated from China Data of World Value Survey 1990–2014, www.worldvaluessurvey.org

266
 China’s post-Mao reforms

Chinese citizens would agree with the desirability of a democratic political system in China,
while less than 10 percent would disagree.
Therefore, the evidence presented in China surveys lends strong support to the under-
standing that during the post-Mao reform era, Chinese people have recognized the impor-
tance of democracy and generally desired to have a democratic political system in China.8
This evidence is consistent with the general finding of survey-based studies that democracy
as an ideal political system has achieved overwhelming mass approval throughout the world
(Inglehart and Welzel 2005: 264).
Some scholars argue that the normative or idealist democratic values need to be differ-
entiated with the values of democracy-in-practice, which is concerned with evaluations of
existing political institutions and processes (Inglehart 2003; Shin 2007). So, can we observe
positive dynamics of democratic values among the Chinese public at the practical level? The
answer is yes. The “World Values Survey” asked the following question to tap the practical
democratic values: “How democratically is this country being governed today? Again, using
a scale from 1 to 10, where 1 means that it is ‘not at all democratic’ and 10 means that it is
‘completely democratic,’ what position would you choose?” As Figure 18.5 demonstrates,
more Chinese citizens would like to rate their own country as “democratic” (scores of 6–10)
than as “not democratic” (scores of 1–5). After recoding, the results show that 74.8 and 71.9
percent of Chinese respondents rated China as “democratic,” respectively, in 2007 and 2012.
Therefore, even taking into consideration their assessment of the current Chinese political
system, Chinese citizens appear to show positive dynamics of democratic values.
Of course, these results may overestimate the presence of authentic democratic values
(Shin 2007) among Chinese citizens because factors such as traditional Chinese political
culture and Chinese nationalism might have tainted the popular understanding about de-
mocracy, for example, making Chinese citizens cognitively and psychologically identify the
Chinese government with democracy. Actually, in the post-Mao reform era, democracy and
its synonyms have frequently appeared in the dictionary of party-state ideological education,
such as “democratic centralism.”9 The extent and reality of this cognitive issue are beyond

25

20

15

10

0
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Figure 18.5 Subjective democraticness in own country (China).

Source: “World Value Survey” (www.worldvaluessurvey.org), based on aggregated China data of 2007
and 2012, N = 3386.

267
Chunlong Lu and Ting Yan

this chapter’s goal, but it is reasonable and safe to infer two points out of all the aforemen-
tioned facts. First, the Chinese political culture is changing, and democratic values are on the
increase among the mass public of China during the post-Mao reform era. In 1977, there was
still an ideological debate across the whole country between “two whatevers”10 and “seeking
truth from facts.” The triumph of the latter liberated people’s minds and opened the chapter
of post-Mao reforms. Today, a majority of the Chinese population have shown their support
for and preference over liberal democratic ideas. Second, the changes in Chinese political cul-
ture reflect some dynamics of state corporatism. On the one hand, the party-state has been in-
tentionally releasing the mass aspirations for democracy and encouraging the spread of liberal
thoughts to the extent that those democratic values provide the necessary motivational force
for successful socioeconomic reforms. And the post-Mao reform era has witnessed such an
intended effect among the Chinese population. On the other hand, the party-state has been
carefully framing or constructing the changes in Chinese political culture for the sake of its
legitimacy. Rejuvenation of traditional Confucian values, stress of stability over everything
else and evocation of nationalism to resist Western liberal influence have been such efforts
in this direction. The Chinese public generally has been accommodating such efforts rather
than rejecting them, hence the majority cognitively and psychologically finding a harmony
between the party-state’s legitimacy and democracy in their minds.

Conclusion
China’s post-Mao reforms have been a fascinating subject of study as well as an issue of great
controversy. Some scholars believe that there is an intrinsic contradiction between the rapid
market-oriented socioeconomic system on one hand and the persistent authoritarian rule on
the other hand, so the Chinese Communist Party’s reform strategy—pursuing pro-­m arket
economic policies under one-party rule would not sustain itself (Shirk 2007; Pei 2008;
Chang 2014). Others argue that “[t]he country not only has thus far carved out a unique path
to economic modernization under the rubric of market socialism but also is poised to carve
out an alternative path to political modernization” (Chu 2013: 2). Since China has main-
tained a rapid economic growth during this era for more than thirty consecutive years, the
evidence seems to favor the optimistic thesis. Then the question is how China’s post-Mao
reforms manage to escape the unpleasant fate of most former Soviet Republics and Eastern
European countries in late 1980s?
Inspired by market transition theory and state-centric theory, the authors propose to un-
derstand China’s post-Mao reform era from a corporatism perspective. Basically, we argue
that during the post-Mao reforms era, the Chinese party-state has gradually developed a set
of new corporatist institutions that allow certain autonomy of those nonstate forces and bal-
ance the state-society web of interests. Chinese economic institutions during the post-Mao
era are less centralized, and the local governments have more autonomy compared to the
Soviet model. As a result, a collusive pattern of behavior between local bureaucrats and pri-
vate enterprises is established, leading to the rise of private economy and the growth miracle
under a party-state rule. Similarly, in the sphere of social organizations, post-Mao Chinese
government adopts state corporatism to allow some space for the autonomy and representa-
tion of civil organizations without threatening the authority of the state. This dualist nature
of China’s civil organization leads to the smooth interactions between social forces and local
governments that are geared toward reforms. Finally, in the sphere of political culture, state
corporatism again demonstrates its effect by cultivating democratic values conducive to re-
forms while constructing the state legitimacy among the Chinese public.

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 China’s post-Mao reforms

China’s post-Mao era will soon celebrate its fortieth year, and the debate over the viability
of state corporatism model featuring this era will continue. But this model seemingly will
continue to characterize the politics of post-Mao Chinese reforms. For example, the concept
of public-private partnership (PPP), a typical form of corporatism model, has been officially
encouraged in the latest report by the National Development and Reform Commission,
and this government agency has already publicized several rounds of PPP project listings
(NDRC). Will we witness an expansion of the state corporatism model into vital areas of
reforms? How can we evaluate China’s state corporatism during the post-Mao reforms era
against other corporatism models? etc. Many new fascinating research questions could be
asked on this subject, and hopefully our analysis here can serve as a starting point.

Notes
1 Jean Oi (1992, 1995) termed this collusive pattern between local governments and enterprises
under their jurisdiction “local state corporatism.”
2 For more on this point, please see Bian and Logan (1996); Nee and Matthews (1996); Parish and
Michelson (1996); Zhou, Tuma and Moen (1996); Zhou (2000); Walder, Li and Treiman (2000);
Huang (2008); and Wang (2011). However, on the other hand, the market transition theory focuses
on new market institutions whose advance forges new interests and pushes aside the importance of
political institutions and emphasizes that the emergence of a market economy will substitute the
role of state power in the distribution of resources within Chinese society, for example, see Nee
(1989, 1996, 2005) and Nee and Opper (2010, 2012).
3 The individual businesses are only permitted to employ less than eight nonfamily employees.
4 The private enterprises are those who employ more than eight nonfamily employees.
5 The data of 2011–2016 reveal the same pattern of continuing growth, but they count only en-
terprises with output value exceeding 20 million yuan, while 1998–2010 data target enterprises
with output value exceeding 5 million yuan. For consistency purpose, the 2011–2016 data are not
presented here.
6 World Values Survey Association (www.worldvaluessurvey.org). Aggregate File Producer: ASEP/
JDS, Madrid.
7 The same two indicators were used to measure a country’s nationalism by Professor Ronald Ingle-
hart (1997).
8 The survey data prior to 2001 are not available due to the limits of then-history context. However,
the political culture literature assumes the stability of mass values over time, so it is reasonable to
extend the finding to earlier years of post-Mao China.
9 Article 10 in the Constitution of Communist Party of China stipulates that “the Party is an integral
body organized under its program and Constitution and on the basis of democratic centralism.”
10 The full statement is “we will resolutely uphold whatever policy decisions Chairman Mao made,
and unswervingly follow whatever instructions Chairman Mao gave.”

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 19
China’s foreign policy
Baohui Zhang

China’s rise has transformed the world order in many ways. It is now wielding influences in
many aspects of international affairs. While its rising global influence is fundamentally based
on its new material capabilities, its changing foreign policies have also made contributions.
This chapter examines the evolution of China’s foreign policies in recent decades and the
associated consequences.
Overall, China’s foreign policy demonstrates a far more proactive and ambitious posture
when compared to that of the past. China is pursuing a concerted strategy to expand its
power and influence in international and regional affairs. The results of the shift have both
elevated its impacts in world affairs and increased counterbalancing efforts by other coun-
tries. So, while China has more resources at its disposal than ever to shape outcomes in its
favor, it is also facing rising pressure on its security.
The rest of the chapter is structured as follows. Part one provides a survey of China’s
grand strategy from Deng Xiaoping to Hu Jintao, outlining the shift from a passive inter-
national posture to a proactive one. Part two of the chapter analyzes key aspects of China’s
foreign policies under Xi Jinping. These include China’s US policy, relations with other
key major powers, and peripheral diplomacy. Part three of the chapter examines China’s
new roles in global governance. Under Xi Jinping, it has become an increasingly important
actor in global governance. It has emerged from its role as a passive free rider to become a
new provider of global public goods. The last section of the chapter briefly assesses China’s
foreign policy shifts in recent years.

Grand strategic shift: shedding Deng’s teaching

China’s foreign policies are keenly informed by its grand strategy, which provides an overar-
ching framework for states to pursue their international interests.
From the early 1990s to the 2008–09 periods, China adopted a grand strategy of strategic
restraint. Great leader Deng coined the famous “lying low, biding our time” formula for
China to quietly pursue its rise in the international system (Gill 2007: 7–8). His strategic
tenets were based on the fact that China was then trying to rise in a unipolar order. He was
keenly aware of the strategic dynamics that its rise would generate upon the international

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system. In this context, he laid down a set of guiding principles for China’s foreign policies
to follow, which are represented by “lying low, maintaining coolness, never taking the lead,
and biding our time.”
Deng’s strategic tenets constituted the equivalent of a grand strategy for China, and it pro-
foundly influenced the conduct of its foreign policy for decades. As Avery Goldstein’s study
reveals (2005: 111–114), China relied upon benign signaling to preempt other countries’
motives to counterbalance its rise. For example, China systematically pursued “strategic
partnerships” with all significant countries to avert containment. In fact, its strategic part-
nerships covered not only great powers but also middle powers in all continents of the world.
Moreover, China tried to project the image of a status quo rising power. It sought to
merge with various Western-dominated international regimes. For example, during the
1990s, China joined the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty, the United Nations Human Rights
Convention, and the World Trade Organization.
All in all, China systematically projected an image that its rise will not destabilize the
existing international order. In fact, this attempt was very successful, and China largely suc-
ceeded in convincing other countries, which included both major Western countries and its
neighbors, that it was a benign status quo rising power that was bent on not repeating the
footsteps of Imperial Germany and Imperial Japan.
However, by the 2008–09 period, the aforementioned strategic formula began to unravel.
Beijing’s successful hosting of the 2008 Olympic Games and the great financial crisis of the
West at the time led to a noticeable shift in China’s foreign policy behaviors. Indeed, the
world started to see an “assertive China” that was no longer content with being a quiet and
passive actor in international affairs.
Hu, the then Chinese leader, began to pursue a range of foreign policies that sought to
raise China’s influences in international and regional affairs. For example, China started
to pursue a coherent strategy to expand its soft power. Its strategic elite believed that the
declining US dominance in the world was due to the collapse of its soft power. They thus
concluded that China’s rise could be accelerated by promoting its soft power (Kurlantzick
2007: 37–45). As a result, it generously funded Confucius Institutes in many countries and
expanded the presence of Chinese media in other countries. Moreover, Hu’s China began
to use more assertive approaches to pursue its national interests. For example, it developed
the “core national interests” concept during this period and applied it to different bilateral
diplomatic contexts. If a Western country supposedly violated these core interests of China,
for example, if its leaders agreed to meet with the Dalai Lama, Beijing would apply a variety
of trade and economic measures to punish that country.
Even more worrisome to other countries, China also started to apply the “core national
interests” practice to its territorial disputes with the neighbors. It is reported that in 2009,
China began to designate the South China Sea as part of its core interests, resulting in no-
ticeably more assertive policies toward other claimant states that have stakes in this disputed
water.
This hard-nosed approach toward territorial conflicts culminated during the 2012–13
East China Sea crisis, which involved a nasty conflict between China and Japan over the
disputed Diaoyu/Senkaku Islands. China applied a full range of diplomatic, economic, and
military measures to challenge Japan’s decision to nationalize the islands in September 2012.
Many international observers believed that the crisis almost pushed the two countries toward
the brink of war.
Therefore, by the second term of the Hu administration, which covered the 2007–12 pe-
riod, China’s foreign policy started to show noticeable changes. Its foreign policy behaviors

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began to reveal patterns that deviated from Deng’s strategic tenets set in the early 1990s. A
quiet and passive China was giving way to a more active and even “assertive” China in in-
ternational and regional affairs. Indeed, China was quickly shedding the influences of Deng’s
strategic teaching.

Xi Jinping’s foreign policies

In November 2012, Xi replaced Hu as the new Chinese leader. Under him, China’s foreign
policies have seen transitions toward a new posture that is bold and proactive in cultivating
influences in international and regional affairs.
Soon after he assumed the top leadership post, Xi articulated the “China Dream” slogan
that seeks “a great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation.” International analyses believe that
Xi’s China Dream intends to position China at the center stage of the international system
(Zhang 2014: 73–74). In general, Xi is portrayed by the Chinese media as possessing a truly
global perspective for China’s foreign policies. As suggested by Chinese analyses, he “stands
taller and sees further” in terms of pursuing China’s international interests. Indeed, under
him, China’s foreign policies have begun to articulate new goals and agendas that concern
its relations with other countries and its roles in global governance.
In terms of China’s relationships with other countries, Xi has articulated new approaches
toward the United States, other key major powers, and the neighboring countries.

China’s US policy
One of the most salient foreign policy initiatives of Xi concerns China’s US policy. Soon
upon assuming the top leadership of China, Xi proposed “a new type of great power re-
lations” concept to foster Sino-US cooperation. According to Xi, China and the United
States must jointly make efforts to transcend the tragedy of great power politics, which
often sees military conflicts between rising states and states in relative decline. Chinese
scholars (Xiao 2013: 27) suggest that there are three fundamental elements in this “new
type of great power relations.” First, both parties must respect each other’s core national
interests. This mutual respect is the foundation of peaceful coexistence by China and the
United States. Second, both sides must try to avoid conflicts when they do have differences
over sensitive issues. Third, the two sides should work together to resolve regional and
global challenges.
This three-tiered concept of “a new type of great power relations” is designed by Xi to
stabilize Sino-US relations. However, there are other explanations of his motives. One of
them sees China’s attempts to achieve strategic equality with the United States. By accepting
this formula, the United States would acquiescence to China’s co-super power status. There-
fore, “a new type of great power relations” is seen as China’s covert strategy to accomplish its
rise in the international system. Another understanding of the concept suggests that China
intends to use “a new type of great power relations” to drive the United States out of the
western Pacific, thereby establishing its own regional primacy. It is believed that “mutual
respect of core interests” only implies the United States accepting Chinese dominance in
this part of the region.
No matter what are the true motives of “a new type of great power relations,” Xi has
relentlessly pushed the concept in his policy toward the United States. Initially, the concept
seemed to have gained some support in the Obama administration. For example, Xi’s July
2013 summit meeting with Barack Obama was largely seen as a successful event. The setting

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of the summit meeting, which is a privately owned ranch in California, suggested reminis-
cence of a Cold War summit meeting between the two super powers (Calmes and Myers
2013). At this event, Obama reiterated that the United States welcomes China’s rise and was
willing to work with China on a wide range of regional and global issues.
Xi’s December 2014 summit meeting with Obama, which took place in Beijing, also
seemed to imply China moving closer toward its goals for “a new type of great power
relations.” For example, the two leaders surprised the world by announcing joint commit-
ment to an enforceable multilateral treaty to combat global warming (Landler 2014). This
achievement is consistent with Xi’s idea that China and the United States should together
lead efforts to resolve prominent global challenges.
However, starting in 2015, Sino-US relations began to move in a more ominous direc-
tion. This was largely triggered by the South China Sea conflicts. Starting in 2014, China
started to pursue land reclamations for several of the shoals under its control in the South
China Sea. This move by China was seen by Washington as a revisionist attempt to change
the status quo. Various opinions in Washington demanded that the Obama administration
stand firm against China’s revisionism.
In this context, China’s efforts to build “a new type of great power relations” began to
unravel. When Xi visited Washington in September 2015, the mood was much more sober
than his previous meetings with Obama (Buckley and Perlez 2015). In the latter half of 2016,
the US Navy began to implement freedom of navigation operations in the South China Sea.
China has been highly critical of “US interference” in the South China Sea. Xi’s goal of
building a new relationship with the United States that is based on mutual respect of core
interests and no conflicts seems to have fizzled.

Policies toward other key major powers

Under Xi, China’s relations with other major powers have also shown new trends. In partic-
ular, Xi’s policies toward Russia, India, and Japan deserve special attentions.
In March 2013, Xi chose Russia to be his first country to visit since becoming China’s top
leader. This gesture of Xi’s indicated China’s hedging motives for its great power relations.
While his greatest foreign policy initiative concerns China’s relationship with the United
States, in the form of “a new type of great power relations,” Xi is clearly aware of the pitfalls
of trying to form a truly cooperative relationship with Washington. The Chinese strategic
elite are keenly aware of the dynamics of power transition, which pits the rising state against
the dominant state in relative decline. Therefore, while China seeks to build a new frame-
work to regulate its relations with the United States, it has been simultaneously pursuing a
hedging strategy that strengthens strategic cooperation with Russia.
This hedging strategy explains Xi’s consistent efforts to deepen China’s relationship with
Russia. Indeed, his meetings with Vladimir Putin have been frequent and routine. One re-
sult coming out of the China-Russia strategic partnership has been an energy alliance that
commits Russia to the long-term supply of natural gases that fuel China’s economic rise. In
November 2014, the two sides signed a US$400 billion deal that allows Moscow to supply
Beijing with 38 billion cubic meters of natural gas annually for 30 years through pipelines
into eastern China from fields in eastern Russia (Yep 2014).
More importantly, China and Russia have begun to pursue genuine security cooperation
in an increasing range of areas. For example, in recent years, the two countries have con-
ducted several joint naval exercises in the Pacific. More recently, in May 2016, China and
Russia staged a joint missile defense war game. According to analyses (Clover 2016), this

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particular military exercise carried special significance as it requires the two militaries to
share highly sensitive data and intelligence with one another.
In addition, Russia has upgraded its weapons sale to China. For example, Russia and
China have signed an agreement by which the latter would acquire highly advanced Su-35
fighters from the former. This fighter is considered to be a highly capable platform that may
change the balance of power between China and its neighbors. Further, Russia has agreed
to sell to China S-400 surface-to-air missiles. This air-defense system has one of the longest
ranges among similar systems.
The continuous and deepening relations between Beijing and Moscow are not surprising,
given the strategic quagmires facing both. Since the Ukraine/Crimea crisis, Russia has been
under sanctions by the West. In the meantime, China is facing rising security challenges
from the United States in the South China Sea and a resurgent Japan in the East China Sea.
The balancing logic of international relations suggests that Beijing and Moscow should find
each other convenient partners. So, while China adopts a hoping-for-the-best approach in
its relations with the United States, it is also adopting a preparing-for-the-worst approach
through its deepening security cooperation with Russia.
India is another major target of China’s major power diplomacy. Amid rising mutual
suspicions of each other’s strategic intentions and continuing tension along the Sino-Indian
border, Xi has launched a charm offensive against India to dissuade the latter from drifting
toward the United States and Japan. In September 2014, Xi made a high-profile visit to India
with a mission to project a benign image of China in India (Barry 2014). During the visit, he
celebrated Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s birthday with the him at his hometown.
Moreover, Xi promised that China would assist India in realizing its dream of economic afflu-
ence by heavy investments in its poor infrastructures, like power and transportation. In fact,
Chinese officials hinted before the visit that China might invest as much as US$100 billion
in India.
The charm offensive by China is motivated by the logic of great power relations. China
understands that its rise has triggered security concerns in other countries. In particular,
as John Mearsheimer (2001: 34–35) argues in his book The Tragedy of Great Power Politics,
major countries are particularly sensitive to power shifts. In fact, power rivalry defines great
power relations. China’s rise inevitably worries India. For example, many Indians believe
that China has been pursuing a “string of pearls” strategy to strategically encircle India.
Moreover, China’s increasing naval activities in the Indian Ocean also make the Chinese
navy a looming threat to India.
In this context of rising mistrust of China, Xi pursued an accommodation strategy to
improve relations with India. His charm offensive has on paper paid off. For example, Modi
reciprocated with a visit to China in May 2015, and he issued warm words on the bright
future of Sino-Indian cooperation (Prashantham 2015).
However, the issues that beset their relationship have not improved. First, the lingering
border issue still haunts them. It is quite frequent to see face-offs along the border by the
countries’ frontline troops. While both governments have made efforts to create a mecha-
nism to de-escalate these situations, these incidents have escalatory dynamics that may lead
them into military conflicts.
Second, India is clearly pursuing greater security cooperation with the United States and
Japan. Obama has twice visited India, and he eased weapons export to India. Moreover, India
signed an agreement with the United States in April 2016 to allow the latter to use its naval bases
for recreation and re-supply purposes. Chinese experts view this agreement with great suspicion
and apprehension, fearing that India is abandoning its nonalignment foreign policy tradition.

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Moreover, India has been strengthening security ties with Japan. In fact, the first for-
eign country that Modi visited was Japan. The two countries have been pursuing joint
naval exercises in both the Indian Ocean and the Pacific Ocean. India will also import 12
­Japanese-made US-2 amphibious aircrafts designed for maritime patrol and rescue. Once
completed, this will be the first arms transfer between the two countries.
Therefore, China’s charm offensive under Xi has not achieved its intended goals. As real-
ist international relations theory suggests, states have to hedge against rising powers because
of their assuming-the-worst behaviors under anarchic conditions.
Japan constitutes a different kind of major power diplomacy of China. Ever since the
two countries started a highly destabilizing East China Sea brawl over the disputed Diaoyu/
Senkaku Islands in September 2012, Beijing has maintained a high-pressure policy against
Tokyo. This first started with Chinese patrols inside Japan’s claimed territorial water after
Tokyo nationalized the disputed islands. Now, the Chinese Maritime Police maintains a
regular schedule to patrol around the disputed islands amid protests from Tokyo.
Next, China froze high-level visits between the leaders of the two countries. Beijing
demanded changes in Japan’s decision before willing to resume the visits. The policy was
not changed until November 2014, when China hosted the annual summit meeting of Asia
­Pacific Economic Cooperation in Beijing. As Xi was scheduled to meet individually with
visiting leaders, he was confronted with a dilemma of whether he should accord Shinzo
Abe with the same protocol. The dilemma was only resolved by a last-minute deal be-
tween China and Japan that saw the latter acknowledging that sovereignty dispute over the
­Diaoyu/Senkaku Islands does exist. Previously, Japan did not accept the fact that there were
disputes over the sovereignty of the concerned islands. As a result of this agreement, Xi met
with Abe briefly on 24 November (Kaiman 2014).
In 2015, the relationship between China and Japan seemed to witness minor improve-
ments. For example, China agreed, with South Korea, that their trilateral summit ­meeting
with Japan should be resumed (Mundy 2015). The trilateral summit mechanism was sus-
pended after the China-Japan brawl started in 2012. On November 1, Chinese Prime
­M inister Li Keqiang, Japanese Prime Minister Abe, and South Korean President Park Geun-
hye met in Seoul to talk about normalizing their relationships.
However, the improvement in Sino-Japanese relations has been superficial. The two sides
are deeply bogged down in profound strategic mistrust. Japan views a rising China with
great suspicion, seeing dangerous revisionist intentions. China, in contrast, sees a revisionist
Abe, who has effectively jettisoned Japan’s postwar Peace Constitution. Indeed, Abe’s gov-
ernment has initiated a wide range of security reforms that would allow Japan to play more
active roles in regional security. As a result, the East China Sea remains a dangerous zone of
conflicts between the two countries.

Peripheral diplomacy toward neighboring countries

Xi Jinping’s “peripheral diplomacy” has also shown new and bold initiatives. On the one
hand, Xi’s policy inherits China’s traditional approach toward its neighboring countries. On
the other hand, he has shown the tendency to propose new and big ideas for China’s relations
with these countries.
Since the 1990s, China’s standard policy toward its neighbors, especially those Southeast
Asian countries, was to project a benign image of peaceful rise. China was aware of the con-
cerns in these countries and their incentives to maintain close ties with the United States.
China’s foreign policy goal was to preempt further motives on the part of these countries to

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move closer toward the United States. The standard strategy used by China is to tie these
countries closer to itself by economic means (Shambaugh 2005: 36–37). In fact, China has
become the largest trading partner of every country in the region.
Xi Jinping has continued this broad strategy but also added new ideas. Upon his visit to
Indonesia in October 2013, he articulated “a community of common destiny” concept as
a goal of future China-ASEAN relationship (SCMP 2013). According to Chinese analyses,
this concept embodies a new type of international relations that is based on mutual benefits
and win-win outcomes.
Toward Central Asian countries, Xi has also articulated new ideas to promote their rela-
tionships. During his September 2013 visit to Kazakhstan, Xi proposed the establishment of
a “new Silk Road economic belt” that links China to Central Asian countries.
In 2014, Xi proposed a grander peripheral strategy called the One Belt, One Road ini-
tiative, which includes a land-based economic belt and a sea-based economic belt between
China on the one hand and Southeast Asian, Central Asian, South Asian and West Asian
countries on the other (Su 2016: 7–9).
This ambitious initiative toward China’s neighbors has received different interpretations.
One interpretation emphasizes China’s motives to re-balance the US pivot to Asia in recent
years. It is argued that China needs to initiate a new round of regional initiative to rally other
countries around it (Zheng 2016: 58). Another interpretation sees a more ambitious agenda on
the part of China that seeks to establish a Chinese sphere of influence in the Eurasian continent.
However, the implementation of these new initiatives has been rather spotty, and many
have criticized the One Belt, One Road initiative for being too vague. Others have also
suggested that this ambitious idea could lead to premature strategic overextension by rising
China (Wang 2015).
The greatest challenge to Xi’s new peripheral policies has been rising concerns for China
among Southeast Asian countries. Their concerns have been defeating China’s intentions
to use lucrative economic incentives to woo these countries away from closer ties with the
United States and Japan. The biggest contributing factor for their concerns has been China’s
recent South China Sea policies.
In particular, Beijing’s 2014 decision to pursue large-scale land reclamation at several of
its controlled shoals in the Spratly Islands has triggered greater suspicion of China’s stra-
tegic intentions. By 2015, China’s rapid progress with reclamation, which had seen vast
expansions in the sizes of these shoals, had turned the South China Sea into a test ground
of ­China-ASEAN relations. The ASEAN countries have shown greater unity in criticizing
China’s efforts to change the status quo in the South China Sea.
Therefore, while China has put major efforts into smoothing its relations with its neigh-
bors, it has also managed to damage these relations by its maritime policies.

China and global governance

Under Xi Jinping, China is playing new and increasingly important roles in global gover-
nance. This trend has reversed the past Chinese behavior as a free rider in global governance.
Until recently, Chinese leaders took seriously Deng Xiaoping’s teaching that urged China
not to “take the lead” in international affairs. First, China was then a poor developing
country and the conventional wisdom was that it should therefore focus on domestic affairs,
especially economic development. Second, attempting to be a leader in international rela-
tions would certainly trigger suspicion on the part of the United States, which was then en-
joying the unique status as being the hegemonic power of the world. Therefore, for Chinese

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strategic elite, China should just join Western-dominated global institutions and regimes and
enjoy the benefits accrued through their memberships. China’s role was a free rider.
This thinking dominated Chinese foreign policy thinking until the middle of the last
decade, when more began to talk about China’s need to become a “responsible” great power.
This rising voice was basically induced by China’s rising power and confidence after two
decades of high-speed economic growth.
However, the mainstream strategic consensus remained the same. By the 2008–09 pe-
riod, China still saw itself as a rising developing country that should not bear the burden
of global governance. This mindset was revealed by two episodes. First, at the 2009 UN
Copenhagen Climate Change conference, China, together with India, Brazil, and South
Africa, refused to endorse a binding treaty that regulates emissions of greenhouse gases.
China’s excuse is that developing countries’ first duty was to their own people, who need
high-speed economic growth and the related benefits. Instead, it was Western countries that
should shoulder the costs of global governance and make sacrifices for climate change.
Second, during 2009, the newly elected Obama touted the idea of forming a G2 with
China. The idea was that the two most powerful countries of the world should work to-
gether to enhance global governance. The Chinese leadership, together with the mainstream
­Chinese foreign policy community, rejected the idea. The rational was that China remained a
poor country and that reality obligated it to focus on domestic welfare, not global leadership.
Both episodes proved that China’s free-rider mindset was deeply entrenched because of
the lingering effects of Deng Xiaoping’s strategic tenets. This mindset, however, came to a
quick end when Xi Jinping assumed leadership at the end of 2012.
Xi wants China to become a central actor in world affairs, including global governance.
His China dream envisions a China leading the world and bettering it. As a result of changes
in its leaders’ visions and personalities, in recent years, it has begun to embrace a much more
positive approach toward global governance. Rather than being a free rider, China now
wants to be a new provider of global public goods.
One important change in China’s roles in global governance concerns its new policy for
climate change. No longer rejecting a binding emission treaty for the world community,
China has actively sought to take the lead in formulating global solution to the climate
change challenge. The moment came at the November 2014 summit meeting between Xi
Jinping and Barack Obama in Beijing, when they surprised the world with a bilateral agree-
ment on climate change (Lander 2014). This agreement between the two largest emitters
of greenhouse gases paved the way for the later 2016 Paris Conference on Climate Change.
Another aspect of China’s rising roles in global governance concerns its UN peacekeeping
efforts. While China has long contributed to UN peacekeeping missions in many parts of
the world, until recently Chinese peacekeepers’ roles were confined to noncombat missions.
Under Xi Jinping, China has started to contribute combat troops to UN peacekeeping
missions. In December 2014, China announced that it would dispatch a 700 strong unit of
peacekeepers to South Sudan and their missions could involve combat roles (Smith 2014).
Moreover, at the UN General Assembly meeting in September 2015, Xi surprised the
world by announcing that China was willing to contribute 8000 troops to constitute a
permanent standby force for UN peacekeeping missions (SCMP 2015). As it is commonly
known, the UN’s sluggish responses to humanitarian crises in many parts of the world are
largely due to its lack of a standby force that can perform timely interventions. China’s ges-
ture may profoundly affect the future operations of UN peacekeeping. With a standby force
of this size, the UN Security Council should be able to make speedy decisions regarding
humanitarian interventions in the future.

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In the same speech to the UN General Assembly, Xi also pledged US$1 billion to a
­10-year joint China-UN peace and development fund.
Another area of global governance that is seeing new roles of China concerns development
financing. Until recently, global development financing has depended on W ­ estern-dominated
multilateral institutions, such as the World Bank. In fact, China benefited from many pro-
grams of the World Bank that assisted its economic development.
Now, China wants to become a new source development financing. In recent years,
China has taken a two-pronged strategy to increase its roles in development financing. The
first strategy involves generous bilateral development funding by China’s state-controlled
policy banks, such as the China Development Bank and the Export and Import Bank of
China. According a recent study by The Financial Times, development lending by these two
banks have exceeded the total development lending by six Western multilateral financial
institutions, including the World Bank (Kynge 2016).
Second, China has been attempting to promote its own multilateral development finance
institutions that can rival the World Bank and the Asia Development Bank. The most prom-
inent effort concerns the newly established Asia Infrastructure Investment Bank that was
officially inaugurated in 2016.
This bank, proposed and generously funded by China, is located in Beijing and repre-
sented an alternative to the global governance system so far dominated by the West. With a
reserve capital of US$100 billion, the bank seeks to fund infrastructure projects in develop-
ing countries. While the United States and Japan have refused to join this new multilateral
institution, major European countries have decided to become its members.
These recent developments in China’s roles in global governance indicate a new trend
in its foreign policy. Xi Jinping has clearly abandoned China’s old free-rider mindset and
embraced a new activist approach toward global governance. Indeed, under him, China is
emerging as a new provider of global public goods.

Assessment
China’s foreign policies in recent years have undergone major changes. They indicate that
China has moved away from Deng’s strategic tenets that urged China to abide by a “lying
low” grand strategy. Today, China is confidently exercising influences and pursuing power
in different aspect of international relations.
While the trend toward a more activist foreign policy started during the 2008–09 period,
it is certain that Xi Jinping has officially ended Deng’s strategic influences on China’s foreign
policy. He has proposed new ideas for China’s relations with the United States, key major
powers, and the periphery. Moreover, he has made China an increasingly essential actor in
global governance. These changes have certainly expanded China’s global influences and
status. After all, these are the core goals of “a great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation” as
envisioned by Xi’s “China Dream.”
However, China’s continuous rise and increasingly bolder Chinese behaviors on the inter-
national stage have also caused rising counterbalancing efforts by other countries. This first
begins with the United States, where more and more members of the foreign policy elite are
demanding a tougher approach toward perceived revisionism by China. Recent changes in
the China policy of the United States have led to rising instability between the two countries.
Some of China’s neighbors are also resorting to more balancing measures to hedge against
perceived Chinese revisionism. For example, many Southeast Asian countries are pursuing
closer security cooperation with the United States and Japan.

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So, China’s foreign policy faces a quagmire in that when its power and influences rise, it
is also facing greater pushback efforts by other countries. The logic of balancing in interna-
tional relations indicates that China will face mounting pressure from other countries when
its power further expands. The challenge for the Chinese leadership is how to devise new
strategies to sooth other countries’ concerns.
Unfortunately, hardcore realists also argue that states cannot escape from fundamental
dynamics of international relations that drive them into vicious competitions over power and
influences. If so, China’s rise will lead to more instability and conflicts in the future.

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Guardian, November 24.
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 20
Huaxiaism
A new world view by Mainland
China’s political science

Ye Zicheng and Zhu Xiaolue;1

translated by Steven Levine

This is a chapter outlining Huaxiaism, a new way of looking at the world developed by some
leading scholars in China, particularly Ye Zicheng, a professor of political science at Peking
University who is one of the authors. Zhu Xiaolue, Professor Ye’s coauthor, has also contrib-
uted some of the ideas in this chapter.
Today, there is still considerable disagreement regarding how to assess Chinese traditional
political thought. In step with the process of modernization, Chinese politics have under-
gone constant change. From the New Culture Movement in 1915 to the period of the Great
Cultural Revolution (1966–1976), traditional political thought and feudal monarchy have
been regarded as corrupt and as ideological obstacles to China’s revival,2 even though some
of these ideas constituted the core of political culture and influenced China’s political strat-
egy. Specifically, the New Culture Movement and the Great Cultural Revolution critically
assessed traditional political thought, viewing “tradition” as a synonym for “backwardness
and decadence.” During the first two decades of the 20th century, Chen Duxiu, Lu Xun and
others pursuing the spirit of national modernity rejected traditional thought (Davies 2013).3
Both the Republic of China, which overthrew the rule of the Qing dynasty, and the People’s
Republic of China that followed were rooted in the spirit of a modern political order. This
deepened doubts regarding traditional Chinese political thought, which had not played a
role in the building of modern China. Was there, then, any particular need to study tradi-
tional political thought that had played no role in the process of modernizing the state? How-
ever, in the 1990s, reconsideration of the Great Cultural Revolution stimulated scholars on
the mainland to reassess traditional Chinese culture, including traditional political thought.
In this new era, a number of mainland scholars, including Chen Ming, Zhang Xianglong,
Jiang Qing and Peng Yongjie, resolved to study and propagate political Confucianism (Dong
2011, 135–141).4 In short, these phenomena and impressions indicated people’s interest in the
ideals of traditional political thought. There was a gradual shift from the previous negative
attitude to one of respect and understanding. The various disputes involving differing as-
sessments of traditional political thought reflect the contradictory state of mind of Chinese
political identity in this century (Peng 2011).5
Theoretically speaking, the domestic situation in contemporary China is quite compli-
cated. Setting aside the political realities that it faces during the period of transition, the

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Ye Zicheng and Zhu Xiaolue

phrase “contemporary China” possesses a dual character, embracing both modernity and tra-
dition. The current state structure of China, with its form of government and core socialist
values, originates from the West (namely Marxism). But if one goes a little deeper into the
politics, to the concept of “government for the people,” one will discover that the concept
of “benevolent government” and the concept of “the people’s welfare” permeate traditional
political thought. In conjunction with the rise in China’s national status and self-confidence,
blind faith in individualism gradually receded and became locked in a struggle with tradi-
tional political thought.
So, what does this mean? It means that Chinese traditional political thought is not a
“theory of historical stagnation”; it is not merely a backward, immature autocratic system, as
scholars have viewed it. It is a type of political tradition like that of the West or the Chinese
phrase “并驾齐驱,” which means advancing at equal pace in evaluation. The view prevailing
among mainland scholars of three great models (neorealism, neoliberalism and construc-
tionism) must be supplemented and corrected. Viewed from the standpoint of methodology,
there is an urgent need to bring to bear additional means of studying the issues. On the foun-
dation of structural analysis, one must study the history of thought and employ documentary
analysis. This suggests a return to one’s native linguistic territory (for Western researchers, it
is “crossing the language boundary”), a sine qua non for explaining China’s historical political
ecology. At the same time, this method really helps to explain the background of the con-
temporary Chinese policy of the “collective unconsciousness.” It is in this connection that
Professor Ye of the School of International Studies at Peking University has made his con-
tribution. By drawing upon the essence of traditional political thought, he has constructed a
new political model and linked it to his system of Huaxiaism.
Professor Ye’s interest in traditional political thought is a natural extension of his concern
for contemporary Chinese political problems. First, China’s foreign policy reflects the very
strong influence of domestic factors; in other words, to a very great extent, decisions taken
in the realm of foreign affairs serve the needs of domestic politics. Whether it is a strong
expression of nationalism or one of mutual benefit and mutual interest, they both demon-
strate the dominance of domestic politics in foreign relations. At the same time, patriotism,
nationalism, mutual hostility and ideology significantly limit rational interstate contacts.
These kinds of “passion” can also negatively affect domestic public opinion and mold foreign
policy. Therefore, policymakers must pay great attention to popular opinion. And this type
of foreign policy milieu, akin to a “people-centered” approach emphasizing a nationalist
standpoint, indicates the kinship between contemporary China and ancient China’s political
traditions. Second, ancient China had a long-standing foreign policy tradition. Professor
Ye points out that China’s foreign policy may be traced back to the Eastern Zhou period
(770–256 bce). Mature kingdoms came into being; during the Spring-Autumn (721–476
bce) and Warring States periods (475–221 bce), all the dukes and princes manifested unique
political characteristics. In terms of organization, the dukedoms and principalities all en-
joyed comparative independence, mutually recognized political status, comprehensive for-
eign policy apparatuses and independent militaries (Moody 2011, 15–30).6 Although kinship
ties were the main principle regulating lawful succession to power, in actual practice, this
was trumped by the objective political situation.7 Nevertheless, all of these states, dukedoms
and principalities achieved a common sense of political identity and perceived themselves
as members of Tianxia (天下), recognizing the legitimacy of the Zhou king and his cultural
appeal (Roetz 2009, 359–375).8 Their identification with the order of Tianxia distinguished
them from those isolated feudal kingdoms perpetually engaged in fighting, such as during
the Three Kingdoms Period. Those feudal states sought to obtain the highest power in the

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empire and annex territory via warfare, quite unlike the states during the Spring-Autumn
era (721–476 bce) that strived for an ideal order. Looking further into the development of the
political order during the Spring-Autumn era up to the Warring States era, the seven most
powerful states strived to obtain control of the empire by annexing territory through war-
fare. They maintained a certain balance of power through competition. They had reformed
their economic and political systems, and gradually strengthened their state power. But it was
unlike the “rational order” of the Spring-Autumn era. The term “rational” signifies that in
this period, the international order had not yet become one in which resorting to violence
was the norm; the dukedoms and principalities could obtain support by practicing humane
government and maintaining alliances. The states that practiced the “kingly way” (wang dao
王道) still occupied the leading position in public opinion. Wars frequently occurred, but
a rational international order still functioned. This should be distinguished both from the
quest for “unification” of monarchical politics and the emphasis on “organic unity” of the
Tianxia pattern. It is worth mentioning that this situation was historically unprecedented:
“Menghui the political phenomenon signifies in Chuntisu Era. Regarding due frequency,
species, coverage as well as impacts, it is historically unique in China” (Mo 1996).9 In a
certain sense, the modus operandi of the alliance system during the Spring-Autumn era
(721–476 bce) approximates that of the Westphalian system of a later period. However, its
spirit of unification differed from the loose organization of the Holy Roman Empire. Pro-
fessor Ye’s reflections on the diplomatic experience of the Spring-Autumn era undoubtedly
heralded the concept of Huaxiaism.
Ten years later, Professor Ye published his book Huaxiaism. In it, he further advanced his
studies. He extracted the essence of Confucianism, Daoism and Fa Jia (Legalism), mixed
them in a crucible, and refined them into a new model. While pondering the essence of tra-
ditional political thought, he concluded that three important social elements could impede
China’s rejuvenation:

1 Lack of core values and of social solidarity

2 Vulgar money worship and abnormal worship of political power
3 Degeneration of public ethics and morality.

From a practical standpoint, institutional degeneration may be more harmful than the absence
of social morality. However, Ye believes that a vulgar understanding of Niccolò M ­ achiavelli
led later generations to sever the connection between political institutions and political mo-
rality. However, Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan and neorealism obviously undervalued the im-
portance of morality in politics. Professor Ye adopted Professor Samuel ­Huntington’s theory
of the clash of civilizations, which argued that in the near future, the clash of civilizations
would trump the conflict of ideologies and rise to become the main characteristic of inter-
national relations (Ye 2013).10 Consequently, cultural conflict and differences in moral prin-
ciples would form the main contradiction in opposition to Western Christian civilization.
Professor Ye suggested that in comparison with other world civilizations, the unique
characteristic of Chinese civilization was its consistency of thought. This consistency of
thought was manifest not only in the integration of religious thought and ethical values
but also in the integration of philosophy and political values. Examples are the imperial
examination system, the Confucian concept of outstanding students serving as officials and
the political theory of resigning from an evil court to conserve the gentleman’s conscience.
Due to the influence of Confucianism, China emphasized “benevolence” in the education
and training of the gentleman ( junzi) [君子].11 Daoism provided a philosophical, theoretical

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foundation for the system of traditional political thought. As for the Legalists who had long
criticized the Confucians, in reality, Legalism was the actual spring from which the model
of ancient China’s legal system flowed.12 Notwithstanding the different concrete definitions
supplied by the various schools of thought, “good governance” was the common objective
of traditional Chinese political thought. Confucianism considered good governance to com-
prise a sage ruler; a benevolent government; the state of Qi that governs and pacifies Tianxia,
respecting the rites; and other important elements. Daoism considered the sage ruler as the
core of governance. Abjuring extremes, abjuring luxury and seeking peace are the require-
ments of good governance, and “stopping warfare,” “reducing taxes,” etc. are the concrete
policies to achieve it. From a Daoist perspective on government, a state with sufficient food,
domestic self-sufficiency and an absence of warfare was the hallmark of good governance.
Legalism emphasized “law” as the core institutional element of government. Impartiality,
transparency and decisiveness guaranteed the efficiency of political administration. Even the
ruler could not disobey the authority of the law. In the Legalist definition, good government
meant using the law to govern the state. By synthesizing the best elements of all three schools
of thought, Professor Ye developed the system of political thought called “Huaxiaism.”
Professor Ye first emphasized the dominant position of the Yi Jing (Book of Changes).
The thinking and form of logic of the Yi Jing are unlike anything else. From a comparative
perspective, the law of contradictions is the foundation of logic. The core characteristic of a
concept is that either it is or it is not a particular something. This sort of either-or concept is
closely connected to zero-sum game theory. In the process of formulating a policy, a country
is either an ally or it is an enemy; there is no in-between. After making this point, Profes-
sor Ye shifted his focus to the field of philosophy. The object of the social sciences is more
concrete; it is also more “grounded.” In this process, utilitarianism cannot fully satisfy the
demands of political science. The three main Western theoretical models are limited to the
fundamental premise of the “law of contradiction.” This focus on the “scramble for suprem-
acy” does not accord with the intentions of “good governance” (Husik 1906, 215–222).13
“Good governance” must first respond to the reality of the “clash of civilizations.” In the
Middle East, the application of the Westphalian system encountered major difficulties and
led to the dividing up of the people of this region. The Great Powers – the United States
and the Soviet Union – altered the original regional structure, but the attempt to construct
a democratic order, rooted in modernization theory, did not achieve its anticipated results.
Under the direct influence of zero-sum game theory, tribal conflicts escalated into vio-
lent wars. Therefore, Professor Ye emphasized a mode of thinking that differs greatly from
formal logic, namely that of the Yi Jing. This form of thought has a certain similarity to
dialectics. But from a structural perspective, Socratic dialectics was deficient in its aware-
ness of sequential, logical development. The concept of “deduction” differed from that of
“development” in relation to political matters. The importance of “variables” trumped that
of “constants.” The Yi Jing emphasizes the concept of “variables”; in political affairs, these
are more important than constants. According to a certain special premise, in forecasting the
direction of how things divide (in the Yi Jing, this is the sixth stage), one must simultane-
ously combine the actual situation and the fundamental character of that which is dividing
in order to determine the outcome. Utilizing this premise, political divisions possess greater
practicality and predictability. Comparing this with the law of contradictions, we may dis-
cover that the relations among the principal aspects of Yi Jing thought are not fixed. They
depend upon constantly changing concrete relations, including those between “the enemy
and us,” “symbiosis” and other forms. There is absolutely no doubt that the mode of thought
embodied in the Yi Jing is not a matter of simple logic; rather, it is based upon inductions

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from political experience. Most of the sixty-four hexagrams and the major political events
of the Three Dynasties – Xia, Shang and Zhou – may be explained in relation to the models
presented in “The Beginning,” “The Four Stages” and “The Ending” sections of the Yi Jing.
At the same time, each stage leads to the internal and external “variables.” Although the
determinative relations among the variables are simple, the overall model of thought derived
from this method is elegant. Professor Ye views this as a corrective to the contemporary
decision-making model.14

The Confucian model

In addition, Huaxiaism comprises three main components. First is the Confucian model.
There is no need to expatiate upon the place of Confucian thought in ancient China. Con-
fucius’s place among the ancestral master sages is unshakeable. He was not only the first to
teach commoners but also defined basic terms, such as “benevolence” and other concepts.
The core of “benevolence” is “loving people,” and in governance, it is put into practice by
the gentleman ( junzi). In Confucianism, “good governance” derives from the rule of “sages”
and the core of “loyalty and forbearance” or the core of the “four points.” The importance
of the (Di 帝) declined.15 Permeating this was a new understanding of what constituted
model politics: “human-centered” (Fung 1947).16 The (Di 帝) and the Three Dynasties were
worshiped as constituting a continuous line of succession: The belief of the Xia and Zhou
dynasties in the Di and in their ancestor was the origin of the legitimacy of the “Son of
Heaven.” The Son of Heaven, relying upon kinship relationships, monopolized all power.
They were said to be the descendants of Di. With respect to those who questioned the Son
of Heaven, they were considered together with those who found flaws in religion and were
subject to the most hideous tortures. This was an important result of combining politics and
religion (Sellmann 2006, 49–64).17
Governance during the Three Dynasties was intimately connected with ancestor worship.
Subsequently, government power changed and encountered difficulties. To provide a rationale
for the legitimacy of dynastic succession, the Zhou dynasty introduced virtue (de) [德] as the
variable in the succession to power. No longer was succession a matter of the king alone. The
“people’s will” became the object of “virtue” and the content of “Heaven’s will” in place of
the commands of Di and ancestral blood lineage, and constituted the condition for legitimate
succession. There can be no doubt that this elevation of the “people’s will” was grounded in
the Confucian theory of “human-centered” and “benevolent government.” Confucius pro-
moted the value of “human beings,” and, at the same time, he revered the Zhou rites. The
Confucian notion of the “people’s will” became an important element in “good governance.”
The principle underlying the formulation of policy should be to “readily follow good advice,”
making popular remonstration and the people’s will the foundation of good governance. This
truly appeals to the gentleman ( junzi) to undertake the burden of governing. The thought of
Confucius is not only suffused with the spirit of “taking man as the measure of good gover-
nance” but also leads to the administrative model of government by the people. In concrete
terms, it embodies the spirit of humanism, humanitarianism and meritocracy.
The Confucian model of “humanism” is universally acknowledged. However, apart from
the premise underlying this familiar maxim, the thought of Confucius also possesses addi-
tional important attributes. First is the emphasis on values. Although the founding rulers
of the Xia and Shang dynasties were renowned for their kindheartedness, their successors
did not always attend to the people’s well-being because legitimate political power derived
from the commands of the Di, not from the people’s will. The humanism of Confucius thus

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had a concrete referent: Protect the people. Because the people were always in an inferior
position within the political structure, they required protection. Moreover, with regard to
political affairs, Confucius laid partial emphasis upon the virtuous conduct of gentlemen
( junzi). From his commitment to cherishing the people, he went a step further by oppos-
ing unjust wars waged by the states. What he especially despised were political intrigues
intended to satisfy selfish desires. With respect to economics, he opposed corvée labor, fi-
nancial exploitation and the Legalists’ campaigns to reclaim wasteland. He sought a proper
balance between state and people with regard to trust, grain consumption and the military.
In economics, he stressed agriculture, the management and control of the grain market, and
the importance of subsidies to farmers. One may say that “humanism” is the fundamental
principle of Confucian thought. The concept of “men of talent” in the “Confucian model”
is also worthy of attention. During the Spring-Autumn period, the primary mode of suc-
cession was to the wife’s eldest son, thereby respecting the principle of kinship relations.
Although Confucius did not completely oppose this principle, he later supplemented it with
the theory of “esteeming the worthy.” Worthy persons could be promoted and should be
relied upon to carry out virtuous rule, and one should not rely entirely on class status or
bloodlines. At the same time, the importance of meritocracy ought not take second place
to blood relations. We can say that Confucius’s concept of “worthy men” is also a link in
his theory of “good governance.” Of course, the spirit of the Golden Mean was the guiding
principle of the “worthy man.”
Confucian thought was one of the major components of Chinese culture. The Confucian
model was a fundamental constituent of Chinese political culture and was embodied in the
concept of “good governance,” which suffused traditional political thought. The guiding
concept of “men of talent” in “esteeming the worthy” is even more of a structural guarantee
imbedded in Confucian thought. From the Han dynasty on, following the establishment
of the “Imperial College” and other institutions, and the introduction of official titles, such
as court academician (bo shi), Confucian thought collectively valorized the literati-official
stratum. At the same time, Confucian scholars preserved the habit of remonstrating against
state power, and created an atmosphere at court and among the public in which they could
provide oversight of state power. But most important was the integration of Confucian
thought with the examination system, which facilitated the fusion of cultural education and
political education. This was this historical achievement of applying the Confucian model.

The Shang Yang model

But unlike the religio-sacral attitude of the Confucians of that era, in constructing his the-
ory, Professor Ye objectively expounds and analyzes negative aspects of the Confucians’
monolithic theory. To supplement Confucian thinking, Professor Ye introduced concepts
from the “Shang Yang model.” Viewed from the perspective of political history, we see that
Shang Yang provided definitions of other core concepts in politics. For example, it was from
Lord Shang that the concept of “country” [guo 国] obtained the meaning of “state” [guojia
国家], which differed from the earlier notion of “family country” [ jiaguo 家国]. Prior to
the Qin dynasty, the enfeoffment system of the Xia, Shang and Zhou dynasties was akin to
loose confederal relations. Consanguineal ties and family relations were the foundation for
maintaining relations among all the dukedoms and principalities, the “Zhou rites” bound
them together and culture provided a common identity (Ryckmans 1997, 4918; Sanft 2014,
174–19119). But all the states gradually developed their own separate currency systems, lan-
guage systems, weights and measures, and standards for roads and communications. These

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all contributed to the independence of the dukedoms and principalities in the system of “all-
under-Heaven” (Tianxia). At the same time, all the dukedoms and principalities were seized
with the desire to become the hegemon. In this political situation, Shang Yang made the
state [Guojia] the basic unit of all-under-Heaven [Tianxia], and emphasized the importance
of power. In order to increase state power, he proposed a policy of expanding agriculture by
eliminating footpaths between fields, opening wastelands and rewarding bountiful harvests.
He even pursued a policy of prevailing agriculture over commerce to ensure its paramount
position in the economy and in the state. At the same time, military achievements were the
primary criterion for bestowing awards on the feudal nobility. Shang Yang eliminated the
criterion of family relations and transformed the “family state” (家国) based on blood ties
into the state (国家). In order to ensure the smooth implementation of these reforms, Shang
Yang instituted a series of reforms in the state of Qin based upon law (法).
At least two dimensions were involved. First was the fundamental idea of rule by law;
second were concrete measures of reform. In terms of government structure, Shang Yang
implemented a fundamental reform by instituting a system of prefectures and counties,
completely replacing the traditional government system of “family” (家) (feudal fiefs) and
“states” (国) [dukedoms and principalities] that had resulted in an increasingly divided po-
litical structure. He replaced them with administrative divisions of prefectures and counties.
The basic level of the prefectures and counties were units of five and ten families organized
into administrative units. This organization eliminated the intimate connections among
natural families. The new nobility chosen from among those who had been rewarded for
cultivating wastelands assumed leadership of the prefectures and counties, and succession by
blood relations was eliminated. On behalf of Qin, Shang Yang achieved a thorough reform
both of the political order and administrative structure. Starting as a secondary unit of pop-
ulation in the feudal order, “guo” (国) became a pillar of the law-based system, that is, it
became a political unit with an independent government and its own authority in the realm
of foreign affairs. In this respect, Shang Yang went well beyond the Confucians in empha-
sizing the concept of “interest” (利), including “national interest” (国家利益), and “power”
(力), including “national power” (国家实力). Power and interest should be the foundation
of state-building, and the state (国家) replaced the people (人) as the heart of the political
system. In essence, this was the spirit of classical realism. Shang Yang also laid particular
stress on a notion that is very close to the idea of “utility.” (1) The law restricted “illegal
conspiracies” rather than “unjust schemes.” (2) Administrative disorder and chaos rather than
injustice were what caused the collapse of states. (3) Law could restrain the excessive desires
of human nature and channel them into becoming the pillars of authority and motive power
of the state. These ideas, along with other profound influences he had on politics, were Shang
Yang’s main contributions to traditional political development.
In a certain sense, Shang Yang’s reforms were revolutionary. In the state of Lu, Confucius
served in the office of sikou (司寇), but his view regarding litigation was: “I could adjudi-
cate lawsuits as well as anyone. But I would prefer to make lawsuits unnecessary.”20 In the
Confucian model and Confucian thought, a society governed by litigation was inferior to
one perfected by good government and practicing the rites. Mencius and later generations of
Confucian scholars inherited this attitude of preferring governance via the rites. Similarly,
Confucius was strongly opposed to formalizing the law. Statutory law weakened the rule of
man and made it impossible for the gentleman (君子) to adjudicate political disputes accord-
ing to the specific circumstances of each case. Moreover, Confucius believed that this would
give pettifogging litigators an opportunity to make trouble. But this kind of do-as-you-like
rule of man can also entrain political chaos. Shang Yang believed that government without

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the security of law was undependable. In politics, every person has his or her individual
sense of what benefits them. When government is based on the premise that human nature
is good, it depends upon the gentleman’s subjectivity whereas law guarantees objective adju-
dication and avoids the pitfall of subjective assumptions, hatching of schemes and ingrained
political prejudice. Only by treating everyone equally without discrimination, maintaining
discipline and observing the law can the foundation for “good governance” be created. It
may be said that Shang Yang’s political blueprint emphasized the construction of a man-
made structure rather than the rule of man. His “ideal state” was a unified, powerful and
united ancient state.
Professor Ye strongly emphasized Shang Yang’s theoretical contribution and opposed
those who defamed him. For a long time, the Confucians looked upon the Legalists as ac-
complices to despots. However, Professor Ye clarified the contributions of the Legalists to
institution building, to thinking about the rule of law, and other matters – contributions that
transcended their own historical era. Impartiality, equality and publicly proclaimed sociopo-
litical ideals were not creations of the Confucians but were Shang Yang’s contributions. From
a historical perspective, the Legalists modified the idea of “man as the measure,” which lay
at the center of the Confucian model. The Legalist order and laws respecting high-ranking
persons were responses to the contingent difficulties that afflicted societies governed by the
rule of men rather than the rule of law. Even with the loss of a good gentleman (君子), for
example, due to his passing or moral degeneration, society could still be effectively governed.
Precisely because of the state’s universal objective standards and adherence to such standards
in governance, whether the gentleman was alive or dead was not a crucial matter for the
well-being of the state. Under the rule of law and other aspects, efficiency and objectivity
were twin hallmarks of Shang Yang’s state. These were important conditions in the struggle
for hegemony. In this connection, Professor Ye points out that Han Fei’s thought is actually
a departure from as well as a blow against Shang Yang. The political system Han Fei pro-
posed, which combined law, tactics and power, damaged the impartiality and equality of the
law while simultaneously greatly augmenting the authority of the ruler. And in its tactical
application, it inflicted additional harm to “good governance.” The quintessence of Legalist
thought is rooted in the premise of a “legal system.” Han Fei transformed the “legal system”
into one of “rule by law.” This was a distortion of the Legalist system.
Indeed, ancient politics had not entirely dispensed with cheating and trickery; in written
records, “politics” was often conflated with “plots” as if behind-the-scenes manipulation and
the struggle for power and profit were the essence of politics. Royal families manipulated the
political situation, resorted to betrayal and frequently engaged in diplomatic ­double-dealing.
Han Fei brought all these political tricks together and made them an important element of
Legalist thought, because monarchical power was the only way to maintain the stability of
the state. In this connection, we can see that political “stability” had a different ­meaning – the
interest of the state and of the monarchy coincided. But Professor Ye pointed out that this
was mistaken. The impartiality of the law rejected both plotting and the rule of man. With
regard to the latter, the law of the state of Qin during the era of Shang Yang guaranteed
openness and impartiality even with respect to Shang Yang himself. Everyone was bound by
the law. Legal provisions even regulated the proper time for planting and other obligations
of individual farmers. Obviously, it was meant to supplement and correct the idea of “rule by
man.” With respect to politics, eventually the concepts of “rule of man” and “rule of law”
achieved equilibrium.
Although pursuing the goal of a compassionate administration was uppermost, crimi-
nal law was also emphasized. (In ancient times, the law was basically criminal law.) This

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was a constructive rather than an inappropriate equilibrium. Their logical confluence not
only satisfied the demands of practical politics but was also anchored in the foundation of
metaphysics.

The Laozi model

In addition to the two schools of thought discussed earlier, Professor Ye also pays attention
to a third school that profoundly influenced ancient Chinese politics: Daoist thought or what
might be called the “Laozi model.” Many of the sayings in the “Laozi model” are relevant
to contemporary political forces. For example, “sustainable development,” the “idea of lib-
erty,” the concept of “equality” and so forth. As the most abstract theoretical construct in the
pre-Qin period, Daoist political thought rested on a philosophical foundation. The ultimate
quest of Daoism was to achieve the “Dao” (道), which differed from the personified spirit
of “Di” (帝). Dao was an abstract thing-in-itself; it was the basis of all manner of existing
things. “Good government” was not something that a personified spirit bestowed upon
mankind; rather, it was a state of being attained by cleaving to its inherent character. This
made “good government” possess sufficient uniqueness and an abstract foundation.
Political excesses were rooted in the ruler’s desire for luxury. Confucians hoped to make
progress on the basis of humanism; they sought a foundation for this in human nature, for ex-
ample, the four principles Mencius advocated of benevolence, justice, knowledge of virtue and
reverence of the rites. But Daoism did not make its argument for “good government” from
the perspective of human nature. People are not born to do good, because even born from the
Dao, though they follow their nature and do not seek to attain the Dao externally, still they
may be driven by desires that cause them to slight nature.21 The Dao of Heaven and the Dao
of man are two different models for human society and politics. In this connection, Daoism
puts forward the sage who controls his desires as a model of “good government” ­following the
Dao of Heaven in place of the Confucians’ quest, which ends in the Dao of man.
In Daoist thought, politics is a manifestation of the Dao. Since everything emanates
from the Dao, the object of politics and politics itself must respect and follow the principles
of the Dao. What are the principles of the Dao? “Laozi” provided the ruler “Methods of
Governance.” The principle of the Dao is the self-cultivation of those in power. From an
administrative perspective, the ruler must rid himself of excessive desires. He should govern
appropriately with a light touch. He should not make striving for victory, fame or goodness
the primary means of ruling All-under-Heaven but should implement wuwei (无为). Later
generations interpreted this concept in various ways. The mainstream was to interpret wuwei
as “let things take their own course.” Professor Ye expressed doubt about this interpretation.
The basic meaning of “wuwei” should be the opposite of “you wei” (有为). If the ruler has
an excessive desire for material goods, craves greatness and success or other overabundance,
then he will inevitably seek to satisfy his desires through political means. In pursuit of better
government, or while engaging in wars of annexation, he increases taxes and corvée labor;
but if the ruler is not driven by excessive desires and instinctively respects the Dao, and
makes self-cultivation in pursuit of the Dao the starting point of his governance, then he
will start with the intention to develop society, beginning on a small scale, then expanding
his efforts, and culminating in great achievements. This is “wuwei” (无为). We can see that
“wuwei” is rooted in the universality of “Dao” inasmuch as “Dao” is immanent in every-
thing. Thus, from an individual perspective, simple desires rather than renouncing all desires
will enable one to return naturally to “Dao” itself. This notion that “the ruler minimizes his
desires and simplifies his governance of the people” is obviously different from the notion of

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“going with the flow.” “Wuwei” provides both a general outline and concrete measures for
political action; it is not a prescription for a laissez-faire attitude of letting things happen on
their own without interference (Bai 2009, 481–502).22
In the “Laozi model,” government is not only one of the ways in which human society
organizes itself; it is also a way in which “Dao” manifests itself. This provides a philosoph-
ical foundation for “good governance” in the “Laozi model.” At the same time, the issue of
dominance and subordination, the relationship between royal power and the legal system
is resolved on an abstract foundation by respecting natural law. This kind of internal logic
applied by the Legalists constituted the foundation of the Legalists’ abstract theory. The un-
derstanding of politics in other modes of thought during the Spring-Autumn and Warring
States periods was concrete; with the exception of Laozi, no one else developed politics to
such an abstract level. Confucian thought and the Confucian model brought together the
concepts of “the public will” and “man as the measure,” and emphasized political objec-
tives and values. This was certainly an outstanding contribution, but it overemphasized the
subjective element (民本), thereby impairing objectivity and impartiality. The striving in
Confucian thought to promote “Great Unity” (大同) and “Moderate Prosperity” (小康)
engendered even more disputes. The Legalists stressed power; the “Shang Yang model”
avoided talking about “the kingly way” (王道) and “the Godly way” (帝道) and only dis-
cussed how to augment state power from the perspective of the “way of the hegemon”
(霸道). It has this point in common with contemporary realism. But only the “Laozi model”
upheld the abstract notion of political unity. Government was not an unnatural form of orga-
nization imposed upon people but a form of organization that accorded with human nature.
Judged from this perspective, all government systems that were divorced from human nature
were bad systems. And “good governance” (善政) must be combined with wuwei (无为) and
the spirit of Dao.

Conclusion
Summing up, Huaxiaism helps bring together the three aforementioned models. Moreover, it
deduces a set of immanent political and diplomatic theories from traditional political thought.
At the same time, Huaxiaism possesses considerable practical value as a guide. For example,
the current diplomatic concept of “soft power” is distilled from the diplomatic thought of
the “Laozi model.”23 From a structural perspective, the foundation of Huaxiaism is abstract:
“Good governance” (善政), the ideal of Chinese politics, should have the systemic character-
istics of security and stability. In such a system, morality and law should coexist, and the object
of government policy should be man (人). However, in the process of governing, “legislation”
(立法), “the administration of justice” (司法) and “administration” (行政) should be strictly
distinguished, and men (人) should not be exalted above respect for the law. “Impartiality”
(公正) and “justice” (正义) rather than “benevolent government” (仁政) should be that hall-
mark of governance. Therefore, the state (国家) is still the unit of national government (国
家政治). Huaxiaism succeeds in distinguishing between “humanism” (人文主义) and other
types of political culture. It also parts company with technocracy, elitism and other political
thought that overemphasizes efficiency. The modernization of contemporary societies has
encountered its share of difficulties, and these difficulties derive from structural weaknesses as
well as from ethical deficiencies. Huaxiaism is a comprehensive concept designed to solve nu-
merous problems. In sum, among the many extant systems of thought,Professor Ye has strived
to establish a set of political concepts that possess internal consistency and avoid extremes.
Huaxiaism provides a very good model toward this end.

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Notes
1 Ye Zicheng, Professor in School of International Studies of Peking University, China; Zhu Xiaolue,
Postdoctoral fellow in School of International Studies of Peking University, China.
2 There are two major deprecations onto China’s traditional thoughts, including history, politics and
philosophy. In the 1910s, numerous scholars who had received a Westernized education had been
revolting against the trend of restoration of a monarchy. At that time, Yuan Shikai, the president of
Republic of China, had schemed an accession to the throne. Various newspapers and certain celebrities
had advocated for Confucianism and a reverence for the monarchy. In contrast, democratic thinkers,
such as Chen Duxiu, Li Dazhao and Lu Xun, published their essays and other literary works in the
magazine New Youth to confront Yuan Shikai’s schemes. They chiefly criticized feudalism in China
in favor of democracy and liberty. However, overwhelming political demands helped improve depre-
cation of traditional Chinese thought. In 1915, New Youth magazine was founded, and is regarded as
the commencement of the democratic New Culture Movement in China. Then in 1966, the People’s
Republic of China had aroused another acute criticism of traditional Chinese thought. During that
time, literature researchers would still be obedient to the demand of politics. With endeavors to set
back political intrigues to seize the power, the Communist Party of China had made the decision of
propagating the Great Cultural Revolution, which aimed to terminate traditional Chinese culture,
which they considered “decayed,” so as to serve the CPC’s own political purpose. Confucianism, major
Chinese schools of thought and other associated ideas were denounced, even with material inheritance
damaged. Those movements had affected the evaluation of China’s political tradition even today.
3 “As a leading advocate of baihua, or vernacular, Lu Xun tried to set an example with his own writ-
ings, balancing a need to pursue his own style without bowing to more radical calls to eschew all
aspects of the classical language.” See Gloria Davies. 2013. Lu Xun’s Revolution Writing in a Time of
Violence. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
4 Certain scholars attempted to restore Confucianism’s superiority both religiously and politically,
and managed to extend their theories to political and social lives. Although being divided into var-
ious schools, they have obtained similar political views of contemporary China. For instance, Chen
Ming had preferred an organized religion, in contrast to orthodox philosophic Confucianism,
Zhang Xianglong inclined to establish a Conservative Reserve to protect the Confucian lifestyles.
Jiang Qing upheld the supremacy of religion in Confucianism, and regarded it as the ultimate
form of ancient China’s civilization. Peng Yongjie claimed the future of organic Confucianism
instead of official mechanic Confucianism. See Dong Lingli. 2011. A Review of Reconstruction of
Confucianism during the Past Decade: Theoretical Approach, Organizational Practice and Future
Trend. Journal of Social Science 12: 135–141.
5 See Peng Yongjie. 2011. Procedure of Chinese Religion of Confucianism: Ten Years between
2001 and 2011. Shi Jiazhuang: Hebei University Press.
6 “The name of the era implies the Warring States were constantly at war with each other, and the
era is sometimes adduced to show the cross-cultural universality of the principles of balance of
power. The actuality was a little more confused. There developed during the time a rich and usu-
ally entertaining literature on diplomatic practice, subtle explorations of the logic of power and the
remote consequences of particular actions, focusing on how to preserve the power you have and,
where possible, expanding it.” See Peter R. Moody. 2011. Han Fei in His Context: Legalism on
the Eve of the Qin Conquest. Journal of Chinese Philosophy 38: 15–30.
7 For example, there were power transferring between different families in one country, as the rulers
of Qi (Tian’s family substituted for Jiang’s family) and Jin (three major ministers assumed power
and divided this state into Zhao, Wei and Han). Blood ties were invalidated in those cases.
8 “Arguments to the effect that Chinese culture, inasmuch as it has been influenced by Confucian-
ism, is traditionalistic sometimes have a linguistic dimension. Wolfgang Bauer, for one, has argued
that in China any attempt for innovation has come to nothing because of the two basic powers, the
family system and the structure of the language. The spell of timelessness due to the nonexistence
of tempus markers inhibits the idea of a future distinct from the past. Chad Hansen, too, has based
his thesis of Confucian hyper-traditionalism on a linguistic theory that has also been basically
endorsed by Hall and Ames.” See Heiner Roetz. 2009. Tradition, Universality, and the Time Par-
adigm of Zhou (周) Philosophy. Journal of Chinese Philosophy 36: 359–375.
9 During the Warring States period, the Meng hui had lost its supremacy between states. Official
conferences were held for particular political, marital or martial incidents. Meng hui were held at
random. In more than two hundred years during the Warring States period, Meng hui concerning

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states occurred a mere 12 times.” See Wu Jinbo. 1996. Transferring of Meng hui system between
states in Chuntsiu Era. History Monthly: 14–18.
10 Ye Zicheng, Long Tsuanlin. 2013. Huaxiaism. Beijing: Renmin Press.
11 The word Junzi can be interpreted in many ways, but none of them should appropriate the or-
igin of Junzi. Regarding the current apprehension to the word “gentleman,” this English word
should befit Junzi’s meaning. But Sapien vir translated by Angelo Zottoli in Cursus litteraturae sinicae:
neo-missionariis accommodatus (1879–1882) would be a better option, for Christian godfathers in the
18th century would have maintained closer contacts to China. Their innate preferences to ecclesi-
astical Latin words, with a certain spectacular liking to moral sense, would behave more accurate
in interpreting the concept of the Junzi.
12 “Another change that affected the household structure was the institution of laws intended to
change it and discourage the formation of extended-family groups. One part of these was penal-
izing families with multiple adult sons residing at home, which was condemned for harming the
structure of society. Another was the slightly later prohibition of male relatives sleeping in the same
room.” See Charles Sanft. 2014. Shang Yang Was a Cooperator: Applying Axelrod’s Analysis of
Cooperation in Early China. Philosophy East and West 64: 174–191.
13 “To understand the nature of this truth it is necessary to define what is meant by ‘opposite attri-
butes’. Examples are plentiful: white-not white; good-not good; true-not true; in general, A-not
A.” Isaac Husik. 1906. Aristotle on the Law of Contradiction and the Basis of the Syllogism. Mind
15: 215–222.
14 “Hence the West will increasingly have to accommodate these non-Western modern civilizations
whose power approaches that of the West but whose values and interests differ significantly from
those of the West. This will require the West to maintain the economic and military power neces-
sary to protect its interests in relation to these civilizations. It will also require the West to develop
a more profound understanding of the basic religious and philosophical assumptions underlying
other civilizations and the ways in which people in those civilizations see their interests. It will
require an effort to identify elements of commonality between Western and other civilization, for
the relevant future, there will be no universal civilization, but instead a world of different civili-
zations, each of which will have to learn to coexist with the others.” See Samuel P. Huntington.
1993. The Clash of Civilizations? Foreign Affairs 72: 22–49.
15 We shall expound the actual meaning the Di (帝) here. Di have numerous meanings, one of them
is the “ancient governor.” Huang Di (黄帝, not the word 皇帝) is the most illustrious Di in legend.
But in the Xia, Shang and Zhou dynasties, Di (帝) chief denotes a sacred god. He is the ancestor
of earthy governors of every dynasty, and turned to the ultimate god after his death. Inscriptions
on bones or tortoise shells of the Shang dynasty chiefly referred to that Di (帝). We also accept that
usage in this chapter.
16 “In addition, he was China’s first teacher. Hence, though historically speaking he was only a
teacher, it is perhaps not unreasonable that in later ages he was regarded as the teacher.” See Fung
Yulan. 1947. A Short History of Chinese Philosophy. New York: The Free Press.
17 “To injure, or to mutilate that body was considered a great disgrace not only to oneself, but also to
one’s whole lineage. Tattooing, for example, could only work as a punishment on a filial ‘Chinese’
son who considered tattooing to be a disgrace. There are many references in ancient Chinese liter-
ature to the non-Chinese tribal peoples who tattooed their bodies—some of them still do. Because
some of the tribes enjoyed tattoos, it follows that tattoos could not be used as an effective means of
punishment for those people. Hence, tattooing as a punishment could not have originated with the
tribes; rather the Chinese could use it as an effective punishment because it shamed the Chinese
criminal, making him look like a tribal-barbarian because he acted like an uncivilized person by
breaking the custom-law.” See James D. Sellmann. 2006. On the Origin of Shang and Zhou Law.
Asian Philosophy 16: 49–64.
18 “I have always heard that what worries the head of a state or the chief of a clan is not poverty but
inequality, not the lack of population, but the lack of peace. For if there is equality, there will be
no poverty, and where there is peace, there is no lack of population; and then, having attracted
them, make them enjoy your peace. But now, with you two as his ministers, your master is in
capable of attracting people from far away, his land is racked with divisions and unrest, he cannot
hold it together any longer—and yet he wants to wage war against one of his own provinces!”
See Confucius. 1997. The Analects. Translated by Pierre Ryckmans. New York: W.W. Norton &
Company, Inc.

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19 “Axelrod specifically notes that Hierarchy and organization are especially effective at concentrat-
ing the interactions between specific individuals. Structures like bureaucracy bring individuals
into contact more often than they would otherwise. Setting up prefectures with dedicated ad-
ministrators and appointing heads of the pentads were by definition hierarchical and bureaucratic
arrangements. And although it does not number among the reforms I listed earlier, Shang Yang
also suggested that the movement of the population be controlled, and Qin law in fact did this:
both changing residence and personal travel required official approval. These restrictions lent rela-
tionships a durability they might otherwise have lacked and limited the potential for contact with
new people, thus promoting cooperation.” See Charles Sanft. 2014. Shang Yang Was a Cooperator:
Applying Axelrod’s Analysis of Cooperation in Early China. Philosophy East and West 64: 174–191.
20 “I could adjudicate lawsuits as well as anyone. But I would prefer to make lawsuits unnecessary.”
See Confucius. 1997. The Analects. Translated by Pierre Ryckmans. New York: W.W. Norton &
Company, Inc.
21 “The Tao works to use the excess, and gives to that which is depleted. The way of people is to
take from the depleted, and give to those who already have an excess.” Laotzu. 1997. Tao Te Ching.
Translated by Gia-fu Feng. New York: Random House, Inc.
22 This “go-with-the-flow” attitude is likely to be found in the Zhuangzi, although the latter does not
seem to have a universal principle of eternal return. But for Laotzu, although all movements, under
the master principle of eternal return, are cyclic, there is nevertheless a preferred cycle. Within
this cycle, human perversions (unnatural desires) are under control, and do not lead to cycles of
violent rising and falling. There remain ups and downs in this cycle, but they are neither violent
nor drastic. Human beings are born, mature, age and die, but they are not killed in a conflict
caused by greed. They work but only to get enough food to survive. In this preferred cycle, we are
returned to our roots – the apparent stillness that actually consists of peaceful, smooth and slow
cyclic movements. According to Liu, such a state was considered natural by Laotzu. I should add
here that naturalness should be understood normatively. Descriptively, all things move in cycles,
violent and smooth. But Laotzu has a moral preference for the smooth cycle, anointing it as natural
(in a normative sense). See Bai Tongdong. 2009. How to Rule without Taking Unnatural Actions
(无为而治): A Comparative Study of the Political Philosophy of the Laozi. Philosophy East and West
59: 481–502.
23 See Ye Zicheng, Chen Changxu, 2015. A Theoretical Analysis of Soft Power of Joseph Nye: Trans-
ferring From Soft Power to Chinese Rou Shi Li. International Review: 54–70.

References
Bai Tongdong. 2009. How to Rule without Taking Unnatural Actions (无为而治): A Comparative
Study of the Political Philosophy of the Laozi. Philosophy East and West 59: 481–502.
Confucius. 1997. The Analects. Translated by Pierre Ryckmans. New York: W.W. Norton & Company,
Inc.
Davies, Gloria. 2013. Lu Xun’s Revolution Writing in a Time of Violence. Cambridge: Harvard University
Press.
Dong Lingli. 2011. A Review of Reconstruction of Confucianism during the Past Decade: Theo-
retical Approach, Organizational Practice and Future Trend. Journal of Social Science 12: 135–141.
Fung Yulan. 1947. A Short History of Chinese Philosophy. New York: The Free Press.
Huntington, Samuel P. 1993. The Clash of Civilizations? Foreign Affairs 72: 22–49.
Husik, Isaac. 1906. Aristotle on the Law of Contradiction and the Basis of the Syllogism. Mind 15:
215–222.
Laotzu. 1997. Tao Te Ching. Translated by Gia-fu Feng. New York: Random House Inc.
Mo Jinshan. 1996. Transferring of Meng hui System between States in Chuntsiu Era. History Monthly.
January 1996, 1: 14–18.
Moody, Peter R. 2011. Han Fei in his Context: Legalism on the Eve of the Qin Conquest. Journal of
Chinese Philosophy 38: 15–30.
Peng Yongjie. 2011. Procedure of Chinese Religion of Confucianism: Ten Years between 2001 and 2011. Shi
Jiazhuang: Hebei University Press.
Roetz, Heiner. 2009. Tradition, Universality, and the Time Paradigm of Zhou (周) Philosophy. Journal
of Chinese Philosophy 36: 359–375.

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Ye Zicheng and Zhu Xiaolue

Sanft, Charles. 2014. Shang Yang Was a Cooperator: Applying Axelrod’s Analysis of Cooperation in
Early China. Philosophy East and West 64: 174–191.
Sellmann, James D. 2006. On the Origin of Shang and Zhou Law. Asian Philosophy 16: 49–64.
Ye Zicheng and Chen Changxu. 2015. A Theoretical Analysis of Soft Power of Joseph Nye: Transfer-
ring from Soft Power to Chinese Rou Shi Li. International Review 2: 54–70.
Ye Zicheng and Long Tsuanlin. 2013. Huaxiaism. Beijing: Renmin Press.

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 21
China’s foreign energy policy
From realism to idealism

Qinhua Xu

China has made tremendous efforts to grow its clean energy sector and has had significant
success in reaching its reduction targets and increasing its commitment to research and devel-
opment projects in this area. Consequently, today, Chinese enterprises are the world’s dom-
inant players in hydropower and the largest installers of wind power and solar energy plants.
Nevertheless, China is still a developing nation that needs the support of the international
community to continue its progression toward becoming a low-carbon economy.
The fact is that China is faced with a challenging future in which it will become ever
harder to strike a balance between the rapidly increasing demand for energy, the respon-
sibility to preserve environmental limits and the need to develop its economy to meet its
people’s expanding demands. Based on this situation, China’s global energy strategy has been
transiting from realism to idealism, which changed from the former self-independence and
mode of zero-sum thought and trying to reach its balanced target through the international
energy cooperation.
Realists who are realism addicts believe that States are inherently aggressive and obsessed
with security. This aggressive buildup leads to a security dilemma whereby increasing one’s
security may bring along even greater instability. Thus, security becomes a zero-sum game
in which a nation should pursue its energy security only through competition for the energy
sources, while idealists believe that even under the anarchy status quo, States of the interna-
tional society can be safeguarding their security through cooperation.
China, which has been designated a major energy consumer and potential competitor
for energy supplies of the twenty-first century, shares with the U.S. a number of interests
in the energy sphere (Shaffer 2009: 5). Therefore, China catches the world’s eye in terms of
how the country’s global energy policy has been working. This chapter tries to explain the
changes in China’s foreign energy policy and its motivations since 1978 as well as the role of
the Belt and Road Initiative in its current whole policy.

Differences in understanding key notions of energy policy

A variety of energy cultures exist in the world due to the different development levels of
economies and energy industries, ways of using energy, cultural and historic backgrounds,

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living and production environments, foreign strategies and political and economic systems
(Shi 2006: 10–11).
China has its own special interpretation of some key terms and concepts of energy pol-
icy, like energy security, energy efficiency, energy law, energy independence, dependence
on overseas supply, foreign policy on energy, state-owned company, international energy
cooperation and energy shortage, etc., which display a profoundly distinct Chinese energy
culture.

Energy security v energy safety

As mentioned in Asia Pacific Energy Research Centre (APERC 2007), the definition of
energy security has changed over time. After the oil shocks of the 1970s, the definition of
energy security was related to the risk of oil supply from the Middle East. With the diversi-
fication of energy sources, oil security evolved into energy security; however, the security of
supply was still the priority. According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), “Energy
security, broadly defined, means adequate, affordable and reliable supplies of energy”, and
many Westerners have the same point of view as the IEA.
APERC classifies the elements relating to security of supply into availability (elements
relating to geological existence), accessibility (geopolitical elements), affordability (economic
elements) and acceptability (environmental and societal elements). A similar definition is
provided by B. Delgado Muñoz (2011): “Energy security can be classified into security of
energy demand for energy exporters and security of supply (SOS) for energy importers”.
After the 1970s oil shortage, most of the then developed nations endeavored to reduce
their national dependence on external supplies through diversifying supply sources, energy
conservation and using alternative fuels as much as possible. With the self-sufficiency rate
increasing, the key point of energy security has moved from supply security to the balance
of the 3Es, which is the balance between economic development and energy, the balance
between energy and the environment, and the balance between environmental concerns and
economic development, which creates a triangle.
A revolution in understanding happened after the Fukushima tsunami catastrophe awoke
even advocates of nuclear energy to the realization that this poses a serious safety issue.
Y. Yamashita (2011), from the standpoint of safe nuclear power, pointed out in 2011 that
there are four elements of energy security, i.e., 3E+S (Safety).
For China, the concept of energy security has also been evolving as mentioned, from oil
supply to energy supply with 4As, and from 3Es to 3E+S; however, the current understand-
ing of energy security is more akin to energy safety, and officials of the Chinese government
use this term instead of “energy security”. As B. V. Lundin (2013) states, “China is commit-
ted to the development of renewable energy in order to ensure the safety of national energy,
according to Liu Qi, deputy director general of the National Energy Administration”.
After more than half a century of development of the energy industry in China, a new vi-
sion of energy security has matured. At the G8 summit in St Petersburg in July 2006, ­China’s
former president Hu Jintao promoted this new vision in these terms:

The fundamental content of energy strategy of China is that keep making energy use
efficiency as the top priority, center on the domestic condition, make diverse develop-
ment, protect environment, strengthen the international mutually beneficial coopera-
tion and make effort in building up the stable, economic and clean energy supply system
to jointly maintain the global energy security.

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Therefore, there are three elements in the new vision of energy security in China: Energy
security—reduction of energy intensity is embraced as the primary means of overcoming
energy-related obstacles and is considered of national strategic importance; environmental
protection—slowing the growth of energy usage and eliminating inefficient and heav-
ily polluting energy users are the cornerstone of China’s approach to addressing environ-
mental challenges; and long-term economic growth to depart from a resource-intensive
growth trajectory—energy efficiency is considered necessary to sustain long-term eco-
nomic growth.

Energy policy v energy law

It is well known that energy policy refers to the statement of national policy regarding
energy planning, generation, transmission and usage. Energy policy includes legislation on
commercial energy activities (trading, transport, storage, etc.) and fiscal policies related to
energy products and services (taxes, exemptions and subsidies; instructions for state-owned
energy sector assets and organizations; etc.).
Energy laws govern the use and taxation of energy, both renewable and nonrenewable,
and are the primary authorities for all case laws, statutes, rules, regulations and edicts related
to energy. Energy policy is not equivalent to energy law, but it can be transformed into law.
In China, up to now, there has not been an energy law. There is a draft, but it is still at
the review and public hearing stage, though there are laws in place on renewable energy
and energy conservation. China’s energy development is thus governed by policy but not by
energy law. Hence, policies are often ad hoc or temporary.
The differences with other nations are not only between policies and laws. Even regard-
ing the policies, the natures or the objectives of the energy sector, China is not the same as
others, for example, the U.S. or the European Union.
The energy policy of the U.S. was established in statutory form under the Energy Policy
Act of 2005. However, individual states may adopt differing policies that best meet their in-
terests, e.g., the California Global Warming Solutions Act of 2006. The E.U. energy policy
is based upon the Treaty of Lisbon of 2007, which mandates solidarity in matters of energy
supply and changes to the energy policy within the E.U. Hence, E.U. countries adopt uni-
form regional energy rules.
China’s energy policy, in contrast, is a set of goals, objectives and instructions that may
never become laws. If necessary, laws will be amended to achieve the policies. The energy
policies are issued following the guidelines of each Five-Year Plan (FYP). The provinces
must follow and meet the targets of the energy policies set by the central government.
The basis of the U.S. energy policy is to ensure domestic jobs for the future, with secure,
affordable and reliable energy (see Energy Policy Act 2005). The E.U. energy policy aims
to provide a sustainable, secure and affordable energy system while protecting the envi-
ronment, in particular combating climate change and improving energy grids (European
Commission 2012). China’s energy policy under the eleventh FYP was to support economic
development while considering energy security and protecting the environment.

Energy efficiency (EE) v energy efficiency and conservation (EE&C)

Energy efficiency measures extend to the elimination of outdated plant capacities on a rela-
tively large scale, thus making way to introduce more efficient plants. Energy conservation
introduces a cap on the quantity of energy use that may, in fact, induce energy efficiency.

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Energy conservation refers to reducing energy by using less of an energy service. Energy
conservation differs from efficient energy use, which refers to using less energy continuously.
China is still using the entire suite of policies and activities to meet the objective of reducing
energy consumption.

Going Out v international cooperation

China’s Going Out policy contains a double meaning. On the one hand, it means Chinese
enterprises going out to make direct investments in other countries; on the other hand, it
also means attracting foreign direct investment into China. Misconceptions and misunder-
standings about China’s quest for energy security exist both inside and outside China.
Inside China, criticisms of investment in overseas oil fields in order to strengthen energy
security are that China’s oil imports outpace its overseas equity oil production, that it is not
cost-effective to transport oil to China and that there is no evidence that overseas equity oil
would be cheaper or more accessible to Chinese consumers in a supply crisis.
Outside China, the unnecessary fear exists that it will exhaust the world’s energy supply.
This is a misconception, however, for the following reasons: Its entire overseas production
is less than that of just one of the major oil companies, Chinese overseas investments con-
tribute to stability in the global market as they are more willing to take risks and operate in
more hostile environments, and about 75 percent of the Chinese companies’ output is within
China. Its domestic oil production is currently the fourth largest in the world. If the Going
Out policy could be understood as an international energy/resources cooperation policy,
there might not be as much domestic criticism or unnecessary fear from abroad.

Energy dependence rate v oil dependence rate

Energy dependence refers to a country’s reliance on imports of oil and other foreign sources
of energy. Different from energy independence, the energy self-sufficiency rate is the ratio
between national primary energy output (coal, oil, natural gas, nuclear, hydraulic and re-
newable energies) and the consumption of primary energy in a given year. This rate may be
calculated for each of the broad energy types or overall for all types of energy. A rate of over
100 percent (as is the case for electricity in China) indicates a national production surplus in
relation to domestic demand and therefore net exports.
In China, the energy dependence rate is less than 16 percent, much less than the oil de-
pendence rate of around 60 percent. When the oil dependence rate is used to judge China’s
energy dependence rate, it is not surprising that expressions like “China energy threat” have
become popular internationally.

Energy independence v energy interdependence

Although almost all the economies in the world seek national energy independence, absolute
energy independence is impossible. While China, like the U.S., has an interest in becoming less
dependent on imported fossil fuels, the two countries share with most if not all countries an in-
terest in stable world energy markets, a more sustainable environment and climate, a prosperous
and growing world economy and peaceful relations with their neighbors. In a word, we are all
interdependent, however much any country decides that it would like to be more independent.
Policies must therefore strike the right balance between self-reliance and creating the gover-
nance arrangements that allow for a stable global economy, energy market and environment.

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Energy foreign policy (energy diplomacy) v foreign energy policy

Energy diplomacy means the employment of tact to gain strategic advantage or to find mutu-
ally acceptable solutions to a common challenge in the energy business and politics. Foreign
energy policy means dealing with energy relations in an international context and a range of
policies to gain various national benefits by means of deployment of energy supply and demand.
China has energy diplomacy but has not established a mature foreign energy policy. Since its
new leader, President Xi Jinping, has proclaimed the so-called Belt and Road Initiative both on
land and sea, China seems ready to realize the potential of its foreign energy policy.

Twenty-year review of China’s foreign energy policy (1993–2012)

Since 1993, China has become a net importer of refined oil and, since 1996, a net importer of
crude oil. In the early 1990s, in order to implement the central government’s policy of ‘full
use of both resources and both markets both at home and abroad’, China began to implement
the ‘going out’ strategy and to actively conduct international energy cooperation. If 1993 was
the first year of China’s international energy cooperation, 2012 marked the twentieth year
of China’s foreign energy policy implementation, and 2013 marked the first year after the
convening of the 18th National Congress of the Communist Party of China.
This section presents a review of China’s international energy cooperation over the past
two decades, with discussion of the results and the policy reasons for the results.

Policy results
With two decades of exploration and development, China’s international energy coopera-
tion has made remarkable results and entered a stage of rapid development. These results are
presented in the following.
First, energy diplomacy has achieved significant results. Through high-level government
visits and various summits, China has signed intergovernmental energy cooperation agree-
ments with many countries around the world and energy framework cooperation agree-
ments with several national organizations, which have laid a solid foundation for it to carry
out bilateral and multilateral international energy cooperation.
China has implemented more than 100 international oil and gas cooperation projects in
33 countries around the world. It has designated five major international oil and gas cooper-
ation regions: the Africa region based on projects in Sudan, the Middle East region based on
projects in Oman and Syria, the Central Asia-Russia region based on projects in Kazakhstan,
the Americas region based on projects in Venezuela and Ecuador, and the Asia-Pacific region
based on projects in Indonesia. Thus, there is a global regional mode for China to carry out
international cooperation in oil and gas resources.
China has established a foreign energy trading system. The initial establishment of the
energy import and export trading system was mainly based on oil, liquefied natural gas
(LNG), natural gas, coal and uranium. These are transported mainly with tankers supple-
mented with pipelines and railways, and traded in a variety of ways, such as stocks, futures
and long-term purchase agreements in the international market. Chinese energy companies
have greatly improved their own international competitiveness.
After twenty years of development, Chinese national energy corporations have not only
mastered the operation model for international energy cooperation projects but also accumu-
lated rich experience in capital operation, contract negotiation, etc. They have continuously

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improved their effectiveness in overseas investment, with growing strength and international
influence. In 2012, both China National Offshore Oil Corporation and CNPC entered into
Canada, which is a concrete manifestation of their strength.
China’s international energy cooperation has experienced great changes in the aspects
of channels, contents, mechanisms and partners. Overall, these changes show the following
three features:

1 The types of energy cooperation continue to diversify. China’s international energy co-
operation was mainly in oil and natural gas initially, and it gradually extended to various
fields, including natural uranium, coal, electric power, wind energy, biofuels, energy
conservation, energy technology and equipment, etc.
2 The subjects of international energy cooperation are constantly enriched, not only with
state actors but also with non-state actors, such as the international governmental and
nongovernmental organizations. China has established bilateral energy cooperation
mechanisms with nearly forty countries, such as the Sino-U.S. energy policy dialogue,
the Sino-U.S. Oil and Gas Forum, the Sino-Russian energy negotiation mechanism,
the Sino-Kazakh Energy Sub-Committee, the Sino-Japan Energy Minister dialogue
and the Sino-Indonesia Energy Forum. Partner countries have been gradually extended
from the initial neighboring countries and the Middle East to the vast areas of Central
Asia, Africa, the Americas and Oceania, covering the world’s major energy-producing
countries and consuming countries, and the pathway countries.
3 More innovative ways of cooperation. On the one hand, this innovation appears as
‘the constant intervention of the financial elements’, namely taking the advantages of
China’s foreign exchange reserves to implement a package for cooperation on energy
and finance within international energy cooperation, such as a variety of ‘oil-for-loans’
agreements in recent years. On the other hand, it represents ‘the participation of non-
state-owned enterprises, with the growing number of cooperation body’, that is, to
form a multi-level, multi-country, multi-ownership cooperation body that is mainly
based on state-owned companies, with the participation of non-state-owned companies
from the resource-producing countries and the investing countries.

Policy background
The main reason for the rapid development of international cooperation in China’s energy
sector is due to the fact that China’s concept of energy security has fundamentally changed.
In other words, China has undergone a fundamental change in the policy basis for formulat-
ing the foreign energy policy from a realist perspective to an idealist perspective. This shift is
reflected in official government policies on energy security and economic activities of energy
enterprises but also the changes of mode for China to participate in international energy co-
operation. The change in the concept of energy security led to a series of multilateral trends
in energy cooperation and also prompted energy companies to gradually enter the markets,
which played the main role in breaking down the form of energy cooperation that was char-
acterized as ‘government being first to pave the way for the enterprise’.
The discovery of the Daqing oil field in 1959 was a turning point in the Chinese oil in-
dustry and in the history of China’s energy development, achieving oil self-sufficiency and a
small volume of exports for a time. However, with the sustained economic development in
the 1990s, China’s oil demand was climbing. In 1993, China became a net importer of oil,
and consequently, dependence on foreign oil has increased year by year. China’s oil industry

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is now inextricably linked with the international oil market. At the same time, China’s coal-­
dominated energy consumption structure increases carbon emissions, and under enormous
international pressure, China is actively carrying out various measures to reduce emissions.
Since the reform and opening up, the evolution of China’s energy security concept may
be divided into two stages. The first stage was the beginning of the reform and opening up
(from 1978), developing from energy self-sufficiency toward energy international coopera-
tion. The second stage was the eleventh FYP (2005–2010) period, developing from the oil-
and-gas-based energy supply security concept to the energy security concept of the balanced
development of multiple energy sources.
In 2006, Chinese President Hu Jintao proposed a new energy security concept at the G8
summit in St Petersburg. So far, China’s energy security concept has shifted from isolated
national security of self-supply, going through the 4A energy security concept that meets
the four requirements of adequate supply, affordable price, accessible transportation and ad-
missible environment, gradually shifting to the 3E+S energy security concept we discussed
earlier that combines the concerns on energy, economy, environment and social security,
paying more attention to the energy use security concept with common development of a
variety of energy resources.
After the 18th National Congress of the CPC, the concept of energy security is also
increasingly connected with the ecological civilization of society as a whole, focusing on
sustainable development.

Interpreting the changes in China’s foreign energy policy

Since China first began importing petroleum products in 1993, it has gradually internation-
alized its energy policy. Driven by supply and demand considerations, it has encouraged the
expansion of National Oil Corporations (NOCs) and private companies. China’s foreign
policy now primarily resembles energy diplomacy, with the government and NOCs func-
tioning as envoys; their main objective is to secure energy, especially oil, to meet oil con-
sumption demand. Though from the first FYP till the eleventh, China’s energy dependence
rate has been remaining around 11 percent; oil is its Achilles’s heel, especially since the tenth
FYP, which reached 65.5 percent foreign dependence (Xinlang 2017) after the twelfth FYP.
Xi’s and Li’s governments unveiled China’s energy-based foreign policy during trips to
Russia, the U.S., Central Asia and Southeast Asia, in which they made strategic proclama-
tions about a New Silk Road Economic Belt and a Sea Silk Road. China’s transition from a
national to an international energy policy has now begun as its embryo, foreign-based energy
policy, has come into being. Three important conclusions are embedded in this transition.
First, China’s foreign policy has merged with its energy policy. People’s collectives along-
side state-owned, private and joint-venture enterprises are the players, and they often move
faster than the government in combining energy goals with foreign policy goals. Now that
the third Plenary Session of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China, held
in Beijing, has deregulated crude oil imports since the year 2015 ; thus, more private capital
than ever will flow to the overseas upstream out of China.
Second, state-encouraged expansion means opening the midstream segment of China’s en-
ergy market to private and foreign capital and opening the downstream (i.e., consumer) segment
to foreign technologies, especially those promoting energy efficiency and environmental pro-
tection. Therefore, whether or not to import and how much depend on market prices (afford-
ability), transportation (accessibility) and regional preferences in energy sources. For example,
seafront provinces prefer importing liquid natural gas from Australia and coal from Indonesia.

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Third, in seeking the optimal mix of energy sources, currently 70 percent coal (the “dirty
energy”), China realized that achieving energy security requires shifting its perceptions
from the old line of thought, that is, from realism in international relations to a more con-
temporary Liberal Institutionalism. The success of shale gas development could have shocked
China’s old-line energy policymakers, much as the Second Iraq War shocked its military into
a wave of construction.
Enthusiasts of energy began to consider eliminating the border between domestic and
international and abandoning their faith in self-sufficiency. China became more actively in-
volved in the global energy arena by shifting from bilateral to multilateral cooperation with
partners offering advantaged technologies and cooperative policies.
Fourth, facing global climate change and domestic pollution, China now favors a low-­
carbon energy mix that involves less coal and more gas and renewable energy. It has over-
come the failures of the eighth through eleventh FYPs to reshape China’s energy mix.
Overall, China regards itself as a member of the global energy market for the first time by
connecting investment capital, energy resources and international policy. It seeks a big role
in that market and will certainly attain one in Asia as the region’s largest oil importer and
second-largest producer and consumer of energy. Whether as producer or consumer, China
has become a welterweight competitor in pipelines and tankers and an important conduit
for energy as evidenced by the Sino-Russia oil pipeline, the Sino-Kazakhstan oil pipeline,
the Sino-Myanmar oil and gas pipeline, and the Sino-Central Asia gas pipeline. What will
be the scenario if the Sino-Russia gas pipeline succeeds? What will be its influence on
Northeast Asia?
However, multilateral is China’s short slab in energy cooperation. On the one hand,
China lacks confidence, while, on the other, it lacks experience compared with transnational
oil companies, such as Exxon, Shell, BP and their parent countries. Compared to Southeast
and Central Asia, Northeast Asia has a limited history of multilateral energy cooperation be-
cause the region lacks cooperation mechanisms despite Russia being a major energy producer
and China, Japan and Korea being major energy consumers.
The global “energy culture” comprises nations with diverse ways of using energy, dis-
similar experiences of developing energy, differing degrees of technological inventiveness
and economic development, and variations in societies, institutions and regional politics
(often driven by crises). Nations need new thinking to resolve energy relations with each
other. China has begun to demonstrate its distinctive energy culture in its new energy-based
foreign policy.

The role of The Belt and Road Initiative in the policy

When Chinese President Xi visited Central and Southeast Asia in September and
­October 2013, he raised the idea of jointly building the Silk Road Economic Belt and the
­t wenty-first-century Maritime Silk Road, usually referred to as the Belt and Road Initiative.
At the China-ASEAN Expo in 2013, Chinese Premier Li Keqiang emphasized the need to
build the Maritime Silk Road oriented toward ASEAN, and to create strategic propellers
for hinterland development. According to the initiative, accelerating the building of the Belt
and Road can help promote the economic prosperity of the countries along the Belt and
Road and regional economic cooperation.
By now, the initiative has been developed into a Chinese foreign strategy and gained
a response from sixty-four nations. Therefore, there are now sixty-five countries under
the cooperative Belt and Road framework, and these are categorized into six areas plus

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China: the Southeast (eleven countries), CIS (six countries), South Asia (eight countries),
West Asia and North Africa (sixteen countries), Central and Eastern Europe (sixteen
countries) and Central Asia (five countries). In consideration of the importance of their
reserves and their geo-economic implications for China, the initiative lists two countries
separately, Mongolia and Russia (China Daily 2015).
Among the sixty-five countries, we find there are three types of energy nations. The first
group is composed of the energy exporters, mainly in the Southeast Asia, West Asia and
North Africa and Central Asia regions, such as Russia, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Saudi Arabia,
Iran and Indonesia; the second group is composed of the energy importers, mainly in Central
and Eastern Europe and South Asia regions, such as China, India, Poland, and the Czech
Republic. The third group is composed of the countries who are along the pipeline routes,
which are mainly CIS countries, such as Ukraine and Azerbaijan.
Each type of energy nation has its own specific understanding of energy security (Wang
and Xu 2012). Take the first group to start with. To the energy exporters, the nations who
rely on the revenue procured from the selling of energy resources and products, such as
Russia, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Indonesia, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan, energy security
means enough market and favorable energy prices to cover their budget; to the energy im-
porters, such as China, India, the Czech Republic, Poland and Tajikistan, energy security
means enough economical and environmental energy to sustain the national economy. To
the countries that energy transits through, such as Ukraine and Georgia, energy security
means they can fully enjoy returns from the energy transported through them.
Some countries like China are an energy exporter, importer and also a transit nation.
China has now become the largest oil importer, largest energy producer and second-greatest
consumer of energy. China also has the highest amount of carbon emissions and conversely
the greatest investment in, installation and consumption of renewable energy. That is the
reason why it is China who takes the lead in the Belt and Road Initiative; China feels the
economic security challenges suffered by most of the Belt and Road countries, especially
the energy security challenge.
We can see, through the energy cooperation, inside Asia there has gradually formed a
complete, circular demand and supply (DS) system. The system is composed of three sorts
of countries, the exporters, the importers and transit countries, which can help reduce the
Asian gas premium and high oil prices. The exporters mainly include Russia, Central Asian
countries (Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan) and Australia; the importers include
China, Japan, Korea, India and Singapore; and the transit countries include Myanmar and
Central Asian countries.
In all, the One Belt and One Road Strategy triggers the global energy strategy of China
really from the realism to the idealism of multiple cooperation.

Conclusion
In the development process of foreign energy policy and policy implementation, China’s
energy security concept is turning from the initial concept of energy independence to the
concept of energy interdependence, from the focus on the security of energy supply to the
security of energy demand. This represents a corresponding change in the mode for China
to participate in international energy cooperation, which reflects the changes from the realist
concept of energy security to the idealist concept of energy security.
If we take China’s energy security concept as the independent variable, and the mode
of China’s international energy cooperation as dependent variable, then, with the constant

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Qinhua Xu

evolution of the concept of energy security, China began to actively participate in multilat-
eral international energy cooperation in the early twenty-first century.
In the twenty-first century, with the greater opening up to the outside world and the
profound changes of the world energy situation, China’s participation in multilateral and
bilateral cooperation shows rapid growth trend. So far, China has established a relationship
of exchange and cooperation with the world’s major energy-producing countries, as well as
consuming countries and the IEA.
Currently, China is an official member of the International Energy Forum (IEF), the
World Energy Council (WEC), the Energy Working Group of the Asia-Pacific Economic
Cooperation (APEC), the Central Asia Regional Cooperation Energy Coordination Com-
mittee and other multilateral energy cooperation mechanisms.
Moreover, China is an observer of the Energy Charter, with close cooperation with the
IEA. China has also established the normal mechanisms of cooperation with the Gulf Co-
operation Council, the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries, the E.U. and other
regional organizations.

References
Asia Pacific Energy Research Centre. 2007. “A Quest for Energy Security in the Twenty-First Cen-
tury.” Paper presented by Institute of Energy Economics, Japan. Available at www.ieej.or.jp/aperc.
China Daily. 2015. “Action plan on the China-proposed belt and road initiative”, March 30.
Lundin, B. V. 2013. “China ensuring its nation’s energy safety”. FierceEnergy website. Available at www.
fierceenergy.com/story/china-ensuring-its-nations-energy-safety/, January 8.
Muñoz Delgado, B. 2011. “Energy Security Indices in Europe”. Paper presented at the Economic
Challenges for Energy Workshop in Madrid, February 7–8.
Odgaard, Ole and Jørgen Delman. 2014. “China’s energy security and its challenges towards 2035”,
Energy Policy, p. 110.
Robinson, D. and Q. Xu. 2013. “Implications for China of North American Energy independence”,
OIES, March 27.
Shaffer, Brenda. 2009. Energy Politics, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, p. 5.
Shi, Dan. 2006. “Nengyuan xiaolv de diquchayi yu jienengqianli fenxi”, Zhongguo gongye jingji, 2006
(10), 1.
Xu, Qinhua and William Chung. 2014. China Energy Policy in National and International Perspectives: A
Study Fore-and-Aft 18th National Congress, Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press.
Wang, Haiyun and Qinhua Xu. 2012. An Introduction to Energy Diplomacy, Beijing: Social Sciences
Academic Press (China), pp. 144–160.
Yamashita, Y. 2011. “Asia/World Energy Outlook 2011”. Lecture paper of Baoao Forum Global
­Energy & Resources Roundtable in Qingdao, China, November 5.

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 22
India’s democratic a
­ daptations
and experiments
Ajay K. Mehra

The joy of the crowd is there, but not in me is any satisfaction. Anything lacking in me?
Mahatma Gandhi on independence in a letter to his disciple Mirabehn (Madeleine Slade)
a few days after independence. (Payne 1997, 537)

Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we shall redeem
our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight
hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which
comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and
when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. […] The achievement we celebrate
today is but a step, an opening of opportunity, to the greater triumphs and achievements that
await us. Are we brave enough and wise enough to grasp this opportunity and accept the
challenge of the future?
Jawaharlal Nehru on 15 August 1947

We must make our political democracy a social democracy as well. Political democracy cannot
last unless there lies at the base of it social democracy. What does social democracy mean? It
means a way of life which recognises liberty, equality and fraternity as the principle of life. […]
On the 26th of January 1950, we are going to enter into a life of contradictions. In politics
we will have equality and in social and economic life we will have inequality. […] We must
remove this contradiction at the earliest moment, or else those who suffer from inequality will
blow up the structure of political democracy which this Assembly has so laboriously built up.
B.R. Ambedkar on 25 November 1949
(Constituent Assembly Debates Vol. IX 1989, 979)

Introduction1
The three epigraphs depict three moods of the new Indian nation born on 15 August 1947
after two centuries of colonial rule following the horrors and tragedies of partition. The vivi-
section of the subcontinent on the All India Muslim League’s (AIML) ‘two-nation t­ heory’
and the resultant brutal violence dividing, aside from the territory, individuals, families and
communities saddened the father of the nation, making him sombre, with a void within

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Ajay K. Mehra

and without any jubilation or a perspective on independent India. Jawaharlal Nehru, the
first prime minister, in cautious optimism, considered independence as ‘a step, an opening
of opportunity, to the greater triumphs and achievements’. B.R. Ambedkar, a jurist with a
key role in drafting the constitution, cautioned about the prospects of protecting the consti-
tutional and democratic edifice crafted following two years, three months and twelve days
(834 days) of intense debate due to prevailing socio-economic inequity. Each of the three
genuine sentiments reflected multiple challenges filtering out of the independence prism.
This chapter attempts to analytically record the challenges India faced as she embarked on
her democratic republican journey on independence by reviewing her democratic engage-
ment with framing the constitution and the dynamics of political processes that came to life
with institutions over decades.
In real terms, the challenge was to stabilize a socially and economically backward, but
culturally rich and diverse country with an equally diverse huge landmass inhabited by 345
million persons, the second largest in the world. It was for the first time in 200 years that
India was going to shape its own future, keeping in view the needs of the people. However,
before that, it had to survive the challenges of partition, which witnessed millions crossing
the newly drawn Radcliffe Line on the British India’s eastern and western boundaries amidst
communal violence, killing over a million on both sides who needed to be resettled with
shelter, employment and livelihood. The country withstood the challenges.
Despite the interplay of numerous ideological currents that displayed suspicion r­ emnant
of partition (Nigam 2008), in less than five years, the world’s largest constitution was
drafted, enacted and inaugurated, general elections were successfully conducted at both
the levels and the first Parliament and state Legislative Assemblies were constituted.2 At
both the levels, there were elected governments by May 1952, and Indian constitutional-
ism based on popular sovereignty came into operation. Granville Austin has described the
Indian Constitution as a social document aiming at ‘social revolution’ based on consensus
and accommodation, despite having been framed by a one-party assembly, which ‘was
­representative of India and its internal decision-making processes were democratic’ (1966,
2). In fact, ‘(t)he Assembly, the Congress and the government were, like a point of a triangle,
separate entities, but, linked by over-lapping membership, they assumed a form infinitely
for India’ (Austin 1966, 9).
In the days, months and years to follow, the institutional structure supporting consti-
tutional democratic government in India was designed and put in place. In the process,
the framers of the constitution dealt ably with the three challenges they faced: first, the
maintenance of national unity with the bitter experience of partition; second, social issues
that crippled the nation, such as untouchability, poverty and illiteracy; and third, India’s
standing in the international arena (Mehta 2010, 15–27). Constitutions are meant to bridge
democratic deficit (Baxi 2008). The Indian Constitution was created in a situation in which
constitutional democracy had to be implanted. Thus, it was part of multiple and frequent
transitions that the country and the society were making towards greater democratization.
Though sure that it provided a solid base to the new polity, Nehru aptly described the flux
in the Indian case: ‘While we want this Constitution to be as solid and as permanent as we
can make it, nevertheless there is no permanence in Constitutions’ (CAD, Vol. 7, 1999, 322).
India took giant steps in a short span to settle gigantic issues of transition of a traditional
society to a constitutional democratic republic amidst the mayhem of violence caused by par-
tition. Indeed, partition itself was a highly charged sociopolitical as well as a prickly manage-
rial issue of dividing the economic, even quotidian housekeeping, assets (Collins and Lapiere
2011). The leadership managed the social, political and democratic adaptations deftly.3

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 India’s democratic ­adaptations

The constitutional framework

Framing a republican constitutional architecture, where none existed, was the biggest chal-
lenge India faced that had to be achieved while providing stability to the polity. The draft
constitution signed by 284 of the 299 members (fifteen were absent on that day) of the Con-
stituent Assembly (CA) on 26 November 1949 was arguably the greatest political venture
since the feat achieved by the Philadelphia Congress in 1787. As it was enacted, the expert
opinion was that ‘The Indian constitution expresses the will of many, rather than the needs
of the few’ (Austin 1966, 9). The Preamble of the constitution, underlining the prevailing
liberal democratic values of justice, equality, freedom, fraternity and dignity, underscored
the attempt to achieve administrative and political unity, and an economic and social rev-
olution, and is a celebration of popular sovereignty. So substantive is this statement that Sir
Ernest Barker opened his book Principles of Social and Political Theory (1951, ix) with the Pre-
amble of the Indian Constitution without a comment. The Supreme Court of India has ruled
through three cases – Berubari (1960), Kesavananda Bharti (1973) and Bommai (1994) – that
spells the philosophy of the constitution and thus is of value to interpret its provisions, and it
indicates the ‘basic structure’ of the Constitution.4
Importantly, the Preamble eloquently asserted the Indian republic’s popular sovereignty:
‘We the people of India … adopt, enact and give to ourselves this Constitution’. Equally
significantly, by overriding the clause of the Indian Independence Act, 1947, which did not
allow the government of independent India either to proclaim India’s constitution or to pro-
claim India a republic, and which were to be done by the British parliament, the popular will
was asserted. The Gazette of India Extra-ordinary of 26 January 1950, under the signature
and seal of Governor General C. Rajagopalachari and in his presence, wiped off the colonial
yoke and invoked popular sovereignty (Chaube 2009, 19–20). This assertive invocation with
the parliament as its institutional colonnade on the foundation of republican constitutional-
ism, the Constituent Assembly in its role as the provisional parliament laid the tradition and
foundation of a responsible government in India (Sen 2007, 1–40).5
The assertion of popular sovereignty would not have been realized had citizenship and
the electorate of the young republic been qualified with any socio-ethnic or economic con-
siderations. Since involvement and greater participation of the citizens were prerequisites for
the nascent democracy, political equality was considered a major prerequisite. Thus, univer-
sal identity of the ‘citizen’ was incorporated into Part II of the constitution that empowered
all the people of India with a single identity, irrespective of their religion, caste or gender.
Over the course of intellectual churning during the independence movement, the Motilal
Nehru Committee Report (1928) and Karachi Congress (1931) had affirmed universal adult
franchise in independent India. Thus, despite the apprehensions amongst a few members
that ‘an illiterate populace would fail to exercise its choice in the “correct” way’, the CA
overwhelmingly opted for ‘adult suffrage’, clearly ruling out any discrimination ‘on grounds
of religion, race, caste or sex’ (Article 325), and but for mandatory legal disqualifications,
Article 326 entitled the voting rights to ‘every person who is a citizen of India and who is not
less than 216 years of age on such date’ (CA Debates Vol VIII 1999, 915–32). This expression
of faith in the ‘subjects’ of the ‘Raj’ being transformed into active and participative ‘citizens’
of a new ‘republic’ erected on the foundation of an old tradition-bound society deepened the
democratic process through recognition of new demands expanding the democracy at the
grass roots (Datta Gupta 2013). By instituting mass adult suffrage, the framers of the con-
stitution opted for ‘full democracy’ as well as tolerance for religious and cultural diversity,
which strengthened the foundations of modern democratic India (Kohli 2001, 19).

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Ajay K. Mehra

The construction of republican citizenship with universal voting rights made a bold
constitutional statement of political equality and the empowerment of the postcolo-
nial ­India. Since citizenship sans rights, particularly given the Indian reality of a chasm
­between social and political equality, is not complete, the Constitution focussed on the
entire spectrum of rights. Part III’s elaborating the justiciable rights and Part IV’s contain-
ing rights as well as policy directives to the Indian state that were made non-­justiciable
were innovative adaptations of individual and group rights in the evolving Indian con-
stitutionalism. Even though the entire tradition of evolution of rights was taken into
consideration, the CA adapted the available body of rights to end the social stratification
and deep-rooted discrimination in the Indian society. The CA had to go beyond the US
model of individual rights and focus on group and community rights given inequalities,
discrimination and exploitation rooted in Indian history. The right to equality was par-
ticularly used for this purpose.
Of greater significance in this context was the use of the Irish constitution’s Directive
Principles of Social Policy to factor in positive and welfare rights in Part IV of the constitu-
tion that elaborate The Directive Principles of State Policy (DPSP) that have been accorded
sanctity equal to the Fundamental Rights by the Supreme Court of India since the 1970s.
The apex court has looked at the DPSP as supplementing the rights and recommended that
they work in harmony so much so that a policy framed in accordance with the DPSP must
not be struck down on the grounds that a Fundamental Right has been violated (Bakshi
2014, 13–110; Mehta 2002, 180).

Constitution and democratic adaptations

Rather than being an inert document, the Indian Constitution has been alive to India’s dem-
ocratic dynamics. The changes in the constitution since 1950 combine the desire and com-
pulsions of the political leadership and demands arising from the society. Thus, the country’s
interactive ‘living constitution’ has created tussle between the executive and the judiciary on
the one hand and the political parties of different hues on the other. Two examples of this
dynamic are the basic structure doctrine (Chopra 2006; Krishnaswamy 2009) and Public
Interest Litigation (PIL) on the one hand and an attempt to change/review the constitution
during the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led National Democratic Alliance (NDA) rule in
1998–2004 on the other (Government of India 2002; Kashyap, Khanna and Kueck 2000;
Mehra 1999, 2000a).
The Supreme Court of India’s pronouncement of the basic structure doctrine7 in
­Kesavananda v. State of Kerala in 1973 transformed the constitution and its discourse. On 22
February 2000, the Atal Bihari Vajpayee government appointed a National Commission for
the Review of Working of the Constitution under the chairmanship of Justice (retd.) M.N.
Venkatachalliah, which submitted its report on 31 March 2002. In fact, the desire to modify
the constitution to meet the aims and objectives of the executive has been on since the First
Amendment Act, 1950, and later, in the 1970s, the unease with the basic structure doctrine
led to the Swaran Singh Committee, which made a comprehensive recommendation to alter
the constitution.8 Of course, the Forty-Second Amendment Act, 1976 during the emer-
gency, which was partially undone by the Forty-Third and Forty-Fourth Amendment Acts
in 1978, as well as Supreme Court judgement in the Minerva Mills case, used the Swaran
Singh Committee Report to substantially change the powers of the judiciary and several
other aspects of the constitution.9

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Diversity and asymmetrical citizenship

Religion and caste were significant aspects of India’s social and civic life that needed engage-
ment both at political and constitutional levels in the new democratic set-up. The leadership
obviously expected social engagement to naturally emerge from political and constitutional
initiatives. Second, the role of the political sphere in bridging the gulf with civic interactions
and policy initiatives would have to be put under the microscope.
The CA’s engagement with religion had to be significant. The constitution needed to
neutralize the logic of the partition that religion could be the basis of nationhood in the
new multi-religious and multi-ethnic country, where 35.4 million (9.8 per cent of the total
population as per the 1951 census) Muslims had still opted to stay on. For the emerging
­Indian nation, a delicate balance was needed in the land where multiple religions, faiths and
beliefs criss-crossed at various points (Mehra 2000b). Walking atightrope keeping individ-
ual, ­communities, the society and the state in an unprecedented synergy at a time when the
British India was bifurcated on the two-nation theory10, and an unprecedented communal
violence engulfed the subcontinent in 1946–47, the constitution linked equality, freedom
and justice with fraternity in the Preamble, the fundamental rights and the DPSP.
However, the word secularism was avoided in the Preamble, which was declared as part
of the basic structure of the constitution in the Kesavananda Bharati case (1973). Secular-
ism was added in 1976 through the Forty-second Amendment, making secularism part of
the basic structure. Further, the chapter on fundamental rights appears to take off from the
equality, freedom and justice to create space for ‘religion in the public domain as also for
state intervention in matters of religion’ (Mahajan 2008, 308). In directing the Indian state
not to discriminate against religious institutions and exclude them from public resources,
the Indian adaptation seeks to subsume religion in its scheme of ‘secularism’, defined in
Gandhian discourse as sarva dharma sambhav or treating all religions equal. However, despite
the declaration that the Indian state has no religion, paradoxically, ‘State involvement in
religious institutions and, to some extent, in facilitating the practice of religion…’ (Mahajan
2008, 308) is a reality in India.
Article 29(1) of the Indian Constitution lays down that ‘Any section of the citizens resid-
ing in the territory of India or any part thereof having a distinct language, script or culture
of its own shall have the right to conserve the same’. Read with Articles 30, 25 and 28,
the Indian Constitution, this provision guarantees protection to group rights in general, as
also a range of protection to religious groups. Indeed, the assertion of ‘cultural nationalism’
based on Hindutva, more particularly since the 1980s, has created stresses on India’s ‘unity
in diversity’ project, particularly with regard to religion. The questions of individual and
groups rights have been discussed intensely, and they continue to be part of public discourse,
the constitutional debates, judicial pronouncements and, of course, various layers of politics
(Chandhoke 2000).
The engagement with caste came with ceding social, political and policy spaces to the
marginalized who had been exploited for centuries. However, beyond the ‘untouchables’, a
caste-class debate confounded the debate and politics. Even though affirmative action was
experimented with since 1925 (in the Madras Presidency) during British rule, the commu-
nal award (4 August 1932) awarding seats to different communities, including the Sched-
uled Castes (Dalits) in various provincial assemblies and Mahatma Gandhi’s fast unto death
against separate electorate to Dalits, resulting in the Poona Pact (24 September 1932), had
changed the political equation between the leadership of the Congress and Ambedkar.

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Ajay K. Mehra

The CA witnessed a tussle on how to reconcile the demands for undoing historical wrongs
without granting separate electorate. Eventually, a system of reserved seats on a population
basis was agreed upon for the Scheduled Castes (former untouchables, also addressed as
­Harijans or Dalits) and the Scheduled Tribes (also known as Adivasis or Girijans) for ten years,
which has since been renewed every ten years. Despite some resentment amongst the upper
castes, these reservations have had political acceptability. However, despite strong support
from Ambedkar, a decision on affirmative action for backward classes and minorities did
not succeed in the CA, which has been attributed to a strong upper caste dominance of the
country’s politics and the resulting bias ( Jaffrelot 2008; Jaffrelot and Kumar 2009, 2–4).
Marc Galanter (2000) has pointed out that decades of churning since the 1920s to deal
with India’s century-old caste-based discrimination and inequalities was reduced to ‘res-
ervations’ both in terms of political discourse and policy initiatives as much for political
mobilization, as in common perception. It still continues to be so in India’s public sphere.
Terminologies such as affirmative action, protective discrimination and compensatory dis-
crimination emerged later with Western academic influence and are used interchangeably in
academic discourse. Beyond the nomenclature, this policy initiative nonetheless attends the
critical question regarding creating a fast track for economic development and status upgra-
dation for the historically and structurally marginalized communities in democratic polities
committed to meritocracy, and it is a major instrument of democratization too. Despite an
agreement on its need, there have been controversies over its extent.
Additionally, the extension of this policy to the Other Backward Classes has been a
controversial measure. Though Article 340 of the constitution empowers the President to
appoint a Commission to investigate the condition of the backward classes and suggest mea-
sures for their upliftment, very early in the life of the Indian republic, the government was
faced with the need to tweak the section on Right to Equality (Article 15 in the part on
Fundamental Rights) to empower the government to make ‘special provision for the ad-
vancement of any socially and educationally backward classes of citizens or for the S­ cheduled
Castes and the Scheduled Tribes’ (First Constitution Amendment, 1951). It was further but-
tressed over five decades later (Ninety-third Constitution Amendment, 2005) to enable the
government to make a

special provision, by law, for the advancement of any socially and educationally back-
ward classes of citizens or for the Scheduled Castes or the Scheduled Tribes in so far as
such special provisions relate to their admission to educational institutions including
private educational institutions, whether aided or unaided by the State, other than the
minority educational institutions.

Nehru was opposed to making caste the criterion for determining and seeking the solution
to backwardness. Aware as he was that caste and class overlapped in the country, he thought
that caste-based backwardness would be taken care of by attending to backwardness in class
terms.11 The first Backward Classes Commission (appointed on 29 January 1953, submit-
ting its report in 1955; chair Kaka Kalelkar) used caste as the sole criterion and looked for
a ‘reservation’-based solution. Of course, the Commission also looked at broader measures
to mitigate the conditions of those caught in the whirlpool. Kalelkar had reservations with
caste as the basis for backwardness as also with several recommendations, which the gov-
ernment rejected.12 The issue, however, continued in the policy realm, and in 1961, the
Union government asked the states to prepare their own Other Backward Classes list; some
even had their own backward classes commissions and job reservation based on them. The

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 India’s democratic ­adaptations

post-emergency Janata Party government (1977) appointed the second Backward Classes
Commission chaired by B.P. Mandal in 1979. Its 1980 report recommended 27 per cent
reservation in public employment for the OBCs on caste criteria.13 Indira Gandhi, back in
power in 1980, did not accept the report. In 1990, Prime Minister V.P. Singh decided to
implement the report that was broadened further in 2006 by then Human Resource Devel-
opment Minister Arjun Singh for enrolment in educational institutions. The assessment of
these measures has been mixed. Thus, India’s democratic experiments with preferential dis-
crimination have been interesting, and they have achieved some results, but their limits have
been succinctly summarized by Galanter (2000, 306): ‘It is time to upgrade its effectiveness
while acknowledging the limits of what can be accomplished with it’.

Elections and political parties

Representative and processual democracy received the top most priority since the enactment
of the constitution in 1950. The evolution of India’s electoral system since 1951–52 has been
unique, effective and sustained in its own boisterous fashion; it continues to be an unflagging
and ever-evolving process with periodic reforms for greater efficaciousness. The party sys-
tem that crystallized with the national movement also evolved into a dynamic, complemen-
tary network reflecting the Indian plurality (Mehra 2003, 2013a; Mehra and Sharma 2009).
The Constitution of India provides for an independent Election Commission (Article
324), which was set up on 25 January 1950 as a one-member body with a Chief Election
Commissioner. Following debates on impartiality and increasing intensity of the elections,
it was enlarged to a three-member body on 1 October 1993.
Before The Two-Member Constituencies (Abolition) Act, 1961,14 the general election in
India was conducted with a combination of single- and multi-member constituencies. The
first general election (1951–52) elected 489 Members of Parliament (MP) from 401 constit-
uencies (314 with one seat, 86 with two seats and one with three seats). Fourteen national
parties took part in the election. The second general election (1957) witnessed contest for
494 seats in 403 constituencies (312 single-member and 91 two-member). The number of
national parties was reduced to four. From the third general election 1962, India’s First Past
the Post (FPTP) simple majority system has been in operation.
India has since held 16 general elections to constitute the Lok Sabha (House of the People),
the popularly elected house of Indian Parliament, 363 election to Legislative Assemblies of
States, biennial elections to the Rajya Sabha, several bye-elections as well as 14 Presidential
and Vice Presidential elections during 1951–2016.15 The elections to the two layers of India’s
democratic institutions during the past 66 years reveal adaptations around transformation of
the electoral process, representative democratic institutions, the electoral system, patterns of
electoral participation and representation and the party system.
Electoral reform has been a recurring theme in India, as the change to single member
constituency since 1961 showed. Among the major lacuna emerging early in the election
process was impersonation, known as ‘bogus voting’.16 The introduction of electronic vot-
ing machines since 1989–90 (first on an experimental basis in six constituencies and then
countrywide) has done away with this anomality.17 The FPTP system has been intensely
debated for deficiencies in giving a representative result. That an elected candidate getting
the largest number of votes in plurality does not have majority support in the constituency
also causes wastage of a large percentage of votes. The system also produces vote-seat dis-
proportionality and even a small swing in votes can effect a much larger swing in seats. Two
proposals were made in 1999 by the Law Commission of India18 – first, the German model of

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a mixed FPTP-cum-PR system that has introduction of a list system along with the existing
FPTP system, and, second, a two-ballot majority run-off system. In effect, this means an
increase of 25 per cent seats (138), to be filled in on the basis of list PR, in the current 550
Lok Sabha seats, bringing the total to 688. The second system that was considered by the
Law Commission of India, which it did not recommend, is a majority run-off system where
only candidates polling over 50 per cent of the votes cast would get elected in the existing
single member FPTP system. This was, however, recommended in the consultation papers
of the National Commission to Review the Working of the Constitution in 200119 (Sridharan
2002, 346–52). Even though electoral processes in India – electoral rolls, ballots (earlier pa-
pers and boxes, now electronic voting machines), allotting election symbols, scheduling (at
times in several phases), codes of conduct for political parties and candidates, certain aspects
of accountability structures – have been streamlined, substantive issues of electoral reforms
await political consensus.
Successive elections since 1951–52 at each level have broadened participation as well as
deepened representation. The voter turnout in general elections to the Lok Sabha has fluctu-
ated between 61.2 per cent in the first general election to 66.38 per cent in the sixteenth general
election in 2014. Voting percentage in the state Legislative Assembly elections, however, has
crossed 70 per cent in some instances.20 This participation upsurge among the poor, marginal-
ized and lower castes, beginning 1967 and intensified since 1989, has significantly transformed
elections (both the processes and the result), the party system, representation in the parliament
and the legislative assemblies ( Jaffrelot and Kumar 2009) and the Indian democracy. Yadav
(2000) describes this process as the second democratic upsurge. The new patterns of political
organization and electoral mobilization and consequent increasing community-based (caste
included) voting since 1989 have been characterized as the Third Electoral System. The char-
acterization emanates from the transformation of the electoral participation from what it was
during 1952–67, to what it emerged during 1971–89 and what it stabilized as between 1991
and 2014 as well as fundamental changes in the party system (Yadav 1991, 2393–99). The
sixteenth general election witnessed both changes and continuity in the electoral system as
well as in the party system. However, a theorization on a possible advent of a Fourth Electoral
System has not emerged despite post-2014 elections in states, which according to experts on
Indian elections have ‘emerged as the effective arena of electoral choice’ (Yadav and Palshikar
2008), throwing results indicating that despite certain features of the Third Electoral System
persisting, the Indian electoral behaviour is throwing up fresh patterns.
The party system in India that shaped up with the electoral system evolved since the
founding of the Indian National Congress on 25 December 1885 in Bombay. As this plat-
form organized by A.O. Hume, a retired British civilian, for the educated urban Indians
to air their grievances became the fulcrum of the Indian National Movement and emerged
post-independence as the Duvergian epochal party (Duverger 1979, 308), it also gradually
became the nucleus of a party system since 1906 during the national movement, soon af-
ter independence and since 1951 when the electoral process began (Mehra 2003).21 As the
Congress towered over India’s political scene in the first three general elections (1952, 1957
and 1962) with several national and state parties competing alongside, many of them had
originated from the Congress, the Indian party system was theorized as ‘one-party dominant
system’, ‘Congress system’, with little competition, lack of alternation and opposition from
within (Kothari 2012; Mehra 2003; Morris-Jones 1978, 196–232; Weiner 1957, 16–17). The
highlight of the analyses was organization of the Congress and the social coalition it built
during the independence movement and during the general elections and its conciliatory
role in the society (Manor 1988, 65; Morris-Jones 1978; Weiner 1964, 830–49).

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India’s setback in the Indo-China war in 1962 and Nehru’s failing health amidst paling
popularity a year later, and his death in May 1964, prompted a process of wearying and im-
plosion within the party reflected in reversals in the fourth general election (1967) nationally
and in states despite two smooth transitions of power and a military victory (1965 against
Pakistan). The ‘Congress system’ still in place ended with the party’s eventual implosion
during 1967–69. Indira Gandhi’s return in the fifth general election (1971) with a two-thirds
majority in the Lok Sabha and in most of the states in 1972 brought back a one-party dom-
inant system, with a multiplicity of parties around that were unable to stir popular imagi-
nation, but her stranglehold and the shallow roots of the Congress she led were unlikely to
bring back the Congress system. The bracket-suffixed Congress – Congress ( J), (R), (I), et al. –
she created and predominated was not the Indian National Congress founded in 1885 and
led the national movement. The national emergency she imposed in 1975 was as much
due to crisis of governance as a reflection of a brittle party and a fragile party system that
was weakened further as the Congress turned into a familial party with the induction of her
younger son Sanjay Gandhi as the heir apparent, and brought in her elder son Rajiv Gandhi
after Sanjay’s air crash death in 1980.
The post-emergency interlude – 1977–80 – of emergence of a two-party system nation-
ally with a multiparty system in states only flattered to deceive. The come-back Congress
under Indira Gandhi (1980–84) and after her assassination in 1984 under her son Rajiv
Gandhi (1984–89) were replicas of the 1970s minus some of the towering grass roots leaders
it had in the earlier decade. Though this period witnessed growth of state/regional parties
in different parts of the country, the national party system was without any possibility of an
alternation during the 1980s.
The end of the Congress as the largest umbrella party by the end of the 1980s, despite its
return to the Lok Sabha as the single largest party and to power in the tenth general election
(1991), triggered a tussle for power between the parties at the centre and left of the centre and
at the right of the centre BJP. The latter, having displaced the Congress as the single largest
party in the eleventh general election (1996), emerged as the pivot of a winning coalition
named NDA in the twelfth (1998) and the thirteenth (1999) general elections. As the state/
regional parties emerged key to government formation since 1996, the party system was
theorized as being federalized (Arora 2003). As the new millennium dawned, the Congress
was back with its version of pacts with state/regional parties in the fourteenth (2004) and fif-
teenth (2009) general elections as United Progressive Alliance (UPA). The party system was
analysed as consisting of two nodes, simply described as centring point of two component
parts, i.e. binodal, which did not symbolize any serious ideological or principled differences
(Arora 2003; Arora and Kailash 2013), and bipolar (Shastri 2013), implying an alliance system
with two rival alliances with one key player in each that represented opposites, not just ideo-
logically but in terms of political choices, styles, priorities and/or policy priorities. Congress
and BJP formed the two nodes/poles. However, with the sixteenth general election (2014)
approaching the party system appeared getting out of these formulations as not only the idea
of a third front backed by the Left parties appeared alive, there were attempts to raise a fourth
alliance as well (Mehra 2013b).22 The victory of the BJP in the sixteenth general election
(2014), first time for the rightist party advocating Hindutva 23 and for any single party since
the ninth general election in 1989, broke the myth of a plural India decisively entering a
coalition era. It also brought out the significance of leadership in party politics and electoral
success as Narendra Modi emerged as the first leader since Indira Gandhi with a national
appeal. The BJP nonetheless retained the alliance NDA nurtured since 1998–99 to keep a
two-thirds majority edge in the Lok Sabha. It also underlined that the political surface was

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still fragile and the party wanted to keep its alliance flock intact lest they are poached and
weaken the party in case of a future setback as well as to maintain a regional reach.
The coalition system since 1989 and the bipolar/binodal system since 1998 were built with
state/regional parties, which arrived on national stage with considerable influence on policy-
making (Mehra and Sharma 2008).24 Such parties have been varied in character and their ex-
panse, some have had reach in one, two or a few states, some have been ethnic in composition
and some have also been technically granted national status.25 Only six of the 464 political
parties that contested the sixteenth general election (2014) were accorded national party status
and 39 were recognized as state parties; 419 were registered (unrecognized) parties.26 Such
parties have had varied leadership (origin, appeal and political sustenance), organizational
structure, strategies of political mobilization, social base and political appeal. While some
originated before independence, many soon after, many others since the 1980s when disen-
chantment with the Congress grew without any faith in other alternatives. Some of them have
had ethnic, even religio-ethnic, origin, some originated with ethno-territorial claims. Some
have had ephemeral existence, while many have survived for decades despite splits. Most such
parties have grown with patronage politics that continues to be their strategy even now. These
continue to be integral to Indian politics, as also in redefining India’s democratic adaptation.27
Some of the oldest parties, such as Dravida Munnetra Kazhagham in Tamilnadu,
­Shiromani Akali Dal in Punjab and Jharkhand Party in Bihar/Jharkhand, are ethnic parties.
Of the parties that have emerged since the 1980s, Samajwadi (socialist) Party and R ­ ashtravadi
Janata Dal (even though not professedly ethnic, the support base is expressedly ethnic for
both), Bahujan Samaj Party, Asom Gana Parishad, Mizoram National Front are some of the
ethnic parties. Aam Aadmi Party, which grew out of an anti-corruption movement since
2011, is a state party with national ambition.
India’s electoral system and the party system, which have been evolving with Indian de-
mocracy since the independence movement and particularly since independence, have both
been impacting India’s democratic upsurge and being impacted by it. Indeed, the questions of
institutional and democratic deficits have arisen, discussed and reform processes have also been
set in motion; some of which have been successful, some not, but they make India’s continuing
democratic adaptions unique in the developing world, as also in the democratic world.

Political institutions
Political institutions are key to democratic adaptations, stabilization and experimentations.
And institutionalism begins with a dynamic constitution, which India was able to frame and
enact in a record time. The world’s largest constitution supporting democracy in the world’s
largest democracy combines some paradoxical features, particularly the provision relating to
‘procedure established by law’ (Article 21), which was mysteriously preferred over the rec-
ommended ‘due process of law’, but following the ‘basic structure’ doctrine enunciated by
the Supreme Court of India in 1973 in the famous Kesavananda Bharati case, the ‘due pro-
cess’ has been brought in through the judicial back door, some experts feel (Chopra 2006).28
Yet the Indian constitution, like the constitution of the United States, which originally gave
‘due process’ to constitutionalism, has been described as a living constitution. In fact, what
Howard Lee McBain observed about the US constitution, characterizing it as a living con-
stitution, in 1927 applies to the Indian Constitution as well:

The constitution of the United States was not handed down on Mount Sinai by the Lord
God of Hosts. It is not revealed law. It is no final cause. It is human means. The system

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of government which it provides can scarcely be read at all in the stately procession of
its simple clauses. Yet its broad outlines are there sketched with deft strokes. Through
long unfolding years it has been tried in the crucible of men’s minds and hearts. It lacks
alike perfection and perfectibility. But it has been found good – exceedingly good. It
is not to be worshipped. But it is certainly to be respected. Nor is to be lightly altered,
even if that were possible.
(McBain 1927, 272)

The Indian Constitution too has not been inert and as living document it has made the Indian
polity, the system of government and institutions as evolving entities not only in terms of years
and decades but also in terms of how they have been looking at and approaching the issues
that have been arising since the constitution came into existence. The last three sentences of
McBain on lack of ‘perfection and perfectibility’, it having been found ‘good – exceedingly
good’, it should be respected and not worshipped and it must not ‘be lightly altered, even if
that were possible’, applies to the Indian Constitution too. The institutional structure de-
signed by the constitution has also developed with the times, perceived needs and politics of
the country.
Following an intense debate over the Westminster parliamentary and the US Presidential
systems, the CA opted for the former because, as Dr Ambedkar said,

The Parliamentary system differs from a non-Parliamentary system in as much as the

former is more responsible than the latter but they also differ as to the time and agency
for assessment of their responsibility…. The Draft Constitution, in recommending the
parliamentary system of executive has preferred more responsibility to more stability.29
(CAD Vol. VII, 32–37).

Even though this clinched the issue in favour of parliamentary system, there were equally
strong sentiments in favour of the presidential system too, for it was felt that the former had
‘failed in the west and it will create hell in the country’ (CAD Vol. VII, 32–37).
In incorporating the Westminster model into the constitutional framework of the nascent
Indian republic, aside from a bicameral parliament with an indirectly elected ‘upper house’
(a 250 member Council of States/Rajya Sabha) and a directly elected ‘lower house’ (a 55030
member House of the People), the Cabinet system and an indirectly elected (by the elected
members of the two houses of parliament and Legislative Assembly of states and two Union
Territories by proportional representation by means of single transferable vote – Article
55[3]) President of India.
The President as the Head of the State – in place of a hereditary Crown – was designed
to represent the republic and the nation and be the conscience keeper of the Indian democ-
racy. Originally mandated to work with the ‘aid and advice’ of the Council of Ministers, the
controversial Forty-second Amendment during the emergency in 1976 made it mandatory
for the President to work on such an advice. The Forty-fourth Amendment brought in
(1978) by the post-emergency Janata government (the first non-Congress government at the
Centre) committed to undo the ‘excesses’ of the emergency, modified the concerned Article
74, providing for the President to ask her/his Council of Ministers to reconsider the advice
tendered, but if after a reconsideration the same advice is tendered again, the President is
bound to assent the advice.31
The ‘cabinet system’ inherited from the British has been deepening and strengthening
since independence in 1947 with all its Westminster baggage.32 Hence, the collegial executive

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vs. prime ministerial predominance continued to be an intense discourse in India at least till
the 1980s. The competitive leadership structures of the ruling party at different points of time
governed whether India had a cabinet government in true sense, or it had given way to prime
ministerial hegemony. Coalition politics changed the way this system functioned under
Nehru, Shastri, Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi. Morarji Desai, V.P. Singh, P.V. Narasimha
Rao, H.D. Deve Gowda, I.K. Gujral, Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Dr Manmohan Singh func-
tioned with different kinds of compulsions imposed by smaller partners asserting substantially
in politics and policies. In any case, this continually evolving structure of governance has
adapted to the homogenous politics. Indeed, the issue of centralization and decentralization
of power indicating stresses and strains between the professed collegiality and collective re-
sponsibility of the cabinet and increasing ‘prime-ministeriality’ threatening the primus inter
pares status of the prime minister has continued to be a major discourse from Nehru through
Indira Gandhi to Narendra Modi (Mehra 1998; Pai Panandiker and Mehra 1997).
The Indian Parliament celebrated its diamond jubilee in 2012 and the review of the six
decades and since have been mixed. The Manchester Guardian comparing the Indian Par-
liament with the disappointing Asian experience observed, ‘All that is happening in Asia
throws a spotlight on the Parliament in Delhi as the one institution of the kind which is
working in an exemplary way…. Mr. Nehru without boasting may say that Delhi is the
school of Asia’ (Quoted by Morris-Jones 1957, 327). That W.H. Morris-Jones in his compre-
hensive study found the first Indian Parliament positive and ‘earnest’, despite ‘a perceptible
difference of atmosphere between the House and the Council’, meant that parliamentary
democracy in India began on a sound footing in the best Westminster tradition and carrying
forward the optimism in the CA:

The result is a less tense and more friendly tone of debate – to which the urbane and
good humoured personality of the Chairman contributes greatly…. This is not to say
that the House of the People is ill-tempered or unfriendly. It is simply that it is busy and
has serious work to do, and that it is main arena of struggle. Seriousness, however, does
not make for dullness. In fact, the House is dull neither to look at or to listen to.
(Morris-Jones 1957, 143)

Despite a few hiccups arising out of economic backwardness, inequality and lack of educa-
tion,33 parliamentary government took root in India and the Parliament shaped as a vibrant
representative institution, enthusing the voters to come out in large numbers to participate
in elections. Not only the voting percentages have risen in parliamentary elections and in
the legislative assembly elections in the states, citizens on the margins have come out in
large numbers (Palshikar, Suri and Yadav 2014; Shastri, Suri and Yadav 2009), impacting the
socio-economic base of representatives ( Jaffrelot and Kumar 2009; Prakash 2003; Shankar
and Roderigues 2011).
The fourth general election (1967) is a benchmark for politics, government, constitution-
alism as well as the institution and politics of parliament. If we cross-refer the discussion here
with those on elections and parties earlier, the legislatures in New Delhi and in state capitals
were in for a major power shift as well as parliamentary courtesies and culture. They became
more cacophonous and rambunctious, even cantankerous, which eventually began impacting
transaction of their representative and legislative functions. Surya Prakash (1995) was the first
to analyse increasing tendency of ‘street politics’ within the two houses of Parliament, leading
to less and less business being transacted. Analyses of the business transacted in the Parlia-
ment since then revealed that irrespective of party in power – since 1995 most of the political

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parties have occupied space on both sides of the parliamentary aisle – the situation has not
changed substantially, even though during 2014–16 the utilization of parliamentary time was
better (Mehra 2006, 2007, 2013c, 2014).34 The stance on their parliamentary role has changed
for the parties depending on which side of the aisle they were sitting (Mehra 2018).
A report by a Government of India appointed committee (October 1993; Chair: then
Union Home Secretary N.N. Vohra) on nexus among criminals, politicians and bureaucrats,
which continues to be confidential but portions of it were released, rocked the parliament and
public conscience. Interestingly, over two decades since the report, the country has witnessed
six prime ministers belonging to three parties, some of whom cried hoarse for making it pub-
lic, but none put it in public domain. The report has expositions from Director Intelligence
Bureau, Director Central Bureau of Investigation and the heads of some key departments,
which expose Achilles’s heel of Indian democracy (see Mehra 2015b for a detailed discussion).
A PIL was filed by a voluntary group of ex-academics Association for Democratic Re-
forms (http://adrindia.org/) in Delhi High Court for disclosure of criminal cases pending
against each candidate contesting parliamentary or a state legislative assembly election to file
affidavit regarding criminal cases pending against them. Based on this, the Supreme Court
of India, on 2 May 2002 made such a disclosure necessary. Following this, the Election
Commission of India issued a notification to that effect on 28 May 2002.35 The analyses of
the criminal cases pending against the law makers in India since then, which the ADR and
parliament put on their websites regularly, have given alarming figures and triggered intense
debates, even political acrimony, on the extent and nature of criminalization of politics in
India (Mehra 2015b). Leading politicians combatively questioning the fingers raised at them
and deflecting the charges against them has stalled any preventive measure.36 Even though
discussed extensively in the context of the Parliament since, the need for a qualifier has been
felt as some marginalized groups have claimed over the years that the dominant and upper
castes implicate their leaders in false cases; also some of the cases result from protest politics
(Mehra 2007, 2013c, 2017b). These nonetheless expose a persisting major crack in the edifice
of Indian democratic experiment.
Indian Judiciary has played a significant role in transforming constitutionalism with its
pronouncements on several constitutional amendments, the doctrine of basic structure and
bringing justice closer to the people with PIL. Indeed, its judgments in the Golaknath (1967)
and the Kesavananda Bharati (1973) transformed both constitutionalism in India as well as
relationship between the state and citizens. In the former, the court took the view that the
Parliament could not amend or alter any fundamental right in Part III of the constitution
and asserted that no constitution could allow its own subversion. Kesavananda six years later
qualified the parliamentary power to amend any part of the Constitution so long as it did not
alter or amend ‘the basic structure or essential features of the Constitution’. The case that was
heard by the full constitution bench of the Supreme Court (thirteen judges) in a 7:6 wafer
thin majority judgement made a difference between the legislative power of the parliament
and its constituent powers. It pronounced the constituent powers superior to the legislative
powers, for under this the constitution is amended with prescribed special majority vote in
parliament.37 Since then the doctrine has been invoked in different cases a couple of dozen
times and has restricted parliamentary supremacy within the constitution’s basic structure as
interpreted by the judiciary.38
A logical progression held the judiciary from putting the constitution at par with the par-
liament in bringing in substantive ‘due process’ parallel to ‘procedure established by law’
has been to undertake ‘activism’ by situating the citizens and their interests as the centre of
legislation and governance. PIL is one of the seminal contributions of the Indian judiciary

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in democratizing the judicial process and services. The PIL emanates from Article 39A of
the Indian constitution dealing with legal aid to poor that was inserted by the Forty-second
Constitution Amendment in 1976.39 In fact, even before the Amendment, the 1970s witnessed
judicial concern for the hiatus poverty caused in achieving justice. In a report in 1971 Justice,
P.N. Bhagwati spoke of changes ‘whereby the judge is given participatory role in the trial so as
to place the poor, as far as possible, on a footing of equality with the rich in administration of
justice’. The Committee on Legal Aid Justice presided over by Justice V.R. Krishna Iyer (1973)
mentioned the PIL option to bridge the poverty law gulf. A committee consisting of Justice
Iyer and Bhagwati in 1977 recommended a draft legislation on Social Action Legislation, to
bring justice to the underprivileged. During the rest of the 1970s and the 1980s, the concept
and practice of PIL was encouraged and developed by the judiciary as the Supreme Court used
the American Supreme Court’s initiative of the 1960s to give a go by to complex legal proce-
dures and accept even a post card as a formal complaint in the form of ‘epistolary jurisdiction’.
On 1 December 1988, the Supreme Court issued a notification with a detailed guideline as to
what could be considered a PIL (Desai and Muralidhar 2011). However, the judicial activism
through the PIL, through the use of social science research to arrive at a judgement on social
issues and on its suo motu cognizance of issues, many arising out of the executive’s remission of
its designated functions, has come under a critical lens (Mehra 2001, 2011).
The judiciary’s institutional stress, however, has not been more acute ever before as
in recent years as the system of appointment of judges to the higher judiciary in practice
since 1993 through the collegium system, consisting of the Chief Justice of India and four
­senior-most judges, has been challenged by the executive. The Parliament came up with a
National Judicial ­Appointments Commission that was challenged in the Supreme Court, and
a five-judge Constitution Bench struck down the concerned Ninety-ninth Constitutional
(Amendment) Act on 17 October 2015, though it admitted shortcomings in the Collegium
System and stressed its reform. The current controversy preceded two major cases of super-
session of senior judges in the appointment of the Chief Justice of India – the first in 1973
when three judges were superseded and the second in 1977 when one judge was superseded.
Through the three Judges’ Case in 1983, 1993 and 1998, the Collegium System came to be
established. In the first (S.P. Gupta vs. Union of India), the executive supremacy in appoint-
ment of judges was asserted; in the second (Supreme Court Advocates-on Record Associ-
ation vs. Union of India), the Collegium System of the CJI and four senior-most judges of
the SC recommending candidates to the President for appointment to the higher judiciary
was established, and it was reaffirmed in 1998 in a presidential reference from the then Pres-
ident of India Dr. K.R. Narayanan.40 The debates and controversies are yet not over; for,
the executive thinks that the appointment of judges to the higher judiciary must be more
transparent and the collegium system is translucent, if not opaque, and the judiciary too has
lately admitted that it calls for some reforms to make the system transparent.
The growth of the Indian judiciary, which is today burdened with 25 million pending
cases41 and is struggling with its own bench strength,42 into an innovative people-centric
institution in India has been slow but steady. Its judgments and judicial interpretations have
been integral to democratic adaptations and experiments, yet its efforts to assert and main-
tain its own status has not been without controversy.

In the Indian case, the court’s concern for their own authority has meant a reading of
the political tea leaves, as it were; the judicialization of politics and the politicization of
the judiciary have turned out to be two sides of the same coin.
(Mehta 2006, 165)

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Local democracy
Among the most paradoxical aspects of the Indian project on representative democracy is
a suspicious approach to local democracy adopted by the CA, which was divided between
the Gandhians, who would press for the realization of his dream of gram swaraj (rural self-­
governance) and those who were focussed on modernism where the Gandhian model of
village republic was utopian. Two major complementary strands that considered local de-
mocracy not conducive to post-independence nation building were Nehru’s altered view of
democracy and devolution in India as the Chairman of the Union Powers Committee:

Now that partition is a settled fact, we are unanimously of the view that it would be
injurious to the interests of the country to provide for a weak central authority which
would be incapable of ensuring peace, of coordinating vital matters of common con-
cern and of speaking effectively for the whole country in the international sphere. At
the same time, we are quite clear in our minds that there are many matters in which
authority must lie solely with the Units and that to frame a constitution on the basis of a
unitary State would be a retrograde step, both politically and administratively. We have
accordingly come to the conclusion – a conclusion which was also reached by the Union
Constitution Committee – that the soundest framework for our constitution is a federation, with
a strong Centre. {Italics intended}.
(CAD: I-VI 1999, 58–59)

While the apprehensions of centrifugal forces following partition, brought in a ‘strong cen-
tre’ federal structure, the local went missing in this exercise.
When Ambedkar, chairman of the Drafting Committee, explained the design of the
draft constitution on 4 November 1948 to the CA, he stressed why individual, rather than
village, was the basis of the proposed constitution and why the confidence in villages among
the Indian intellectual community, based on Charles Metcalf ’s analysis on self-sufficiency of
village communities, was misplaced:43

The love of the intellectual Indians for the village community is of course infinite if
not pathetic…. The question is on what plane they have survived. Surely on a low, on
a selfish level. I hold that these village republics have been the ruination of India. I am
therefore surprised that those who condemn Provincialism and communalism should
come forward as champions of the village. What is the village but a sink of localism, a den of
ignorance, narrow-mindedness and communalism? [Italics intended] I am glad that the Draft
Constitution has discarded the village and adopted the individual as its unit.
(CAD:VII 1999, 38–39)

Indeed, local democracy is not about the ‘rural’ alone but the ‘urban’ as well, constitut-
ing only 20 per cent then. Both the constituents of the local as the locus of democracy in
the post-independence Indian constitutionalism and governance architecture went missing.
Though local governance was conceived as early as 1870 in Viceroy Lord Mayo’s resolution
and organized further following the Ripon Resolution (1882), but both focussed on towns
and cities as the British and the Europeans were concentrated there. They provided for local
bodies consisting of a large majority of elected non-official members (sic!) and presided over
by a non-official chairperson. Hence, on independence, India had a legacy of urban local
bodies that could not trickle to the ‘rural’ and provide a democratic platform at any level.

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The Indian efforts between 1957 and 1993 to weave the ‘local’ into the governance
structure and democratizing has been half-hearted at best. The Balwant Rai Mehta Com-
mittee (1957) recommended democratic decentralization, which was meant to create apolit-
ical institutional structures to reach the developmental programmes descending down from
the Planning Commission as the uttermost level of the delivery chain.44 It recommended a
three-tier Panchayati Raj System with Gram Sabha (Village Assembly) as the grass root unit
with non-party elections and Panchayat Samiti at the intermediate level and Zilla Parishad
at the district level. The system initiated since 1960 by state governments began crumbling
within a decade in the absence of a constitutional guarantee, indifference of the state units
of political parties, leaders and the bureaucracy. In any case, there was little democracy in
it. The structural deficiencies leading to the absence of democracy in decentralizing to the
local were highlighted in a major review by the first non-Congress government in 1977. The
Asoka Mehta Committee (1978) constituted to review the local democracy and recommend
measures to revamp and revitalize it said,45

Part of the disappointment arises from the syndrome that they have not been assigned
significant functions and tried continuously and with zest. The development pro-
grammes were not channelled through them. Some of the comments like the emergence of
oligarchic tendencies are inherent in the social milieu, and some others are common to other tiers of
the polity also.
[Italics intended]

After fits and starts of several committees and an attempt by Rajiv Gandhi to bring the
­Sixty-fourth Constitutional Amendment Bill 1989 that could not get through the Rajya
Sabha, the 73rd and 74th Constitutional Amendment Acts, 1993, gave statutory protection
to the local democracy in India. Inserted in Part IX (The Panchayats; Articles 243–243O)
and IX A (The Municipalities; Articles 243P–243ZG), the constitutional provisions that
reserve one-third seats for the women and also provide for the chair (called Sarpanch) to be
rotated amongst the women and the Dalits, are enabling Acts for the states to enact their own
laws for local democracy in accordance with their objective situation.
However, the assessments of the local democracy in academic studies during the past two
decades do not give an encouraging picture. First, there have been emphases on decentral-
ization and governance, in that order as the latter concept developed in the 1980s and was
refined in the 1990s, and except for the use of ‘democratic decentralization’ in the 1960s,
democracy has been the biggest void in India’s ‘local’. Over the years, there has been a pro-
liferation of a variety of actors – omnipresent bureaucracy, politicians, contractors and the
voluntary sector – who criss-cross the universe of democratic structure of the ‘local’ weak-
ening the institutional and accountability dimensions. As Niraja Gopal Jayal says,

The emergence of these, along with the constitutional institutions of local self-­
governance, suggests that there has occurred a transformation in the complex interre-
lationships that obtain at the local level: between panchayat institutions, the local state
and bureaucracy, the non-governmental organization, user committees, and self-help
groups, among others.

She further observes,

In some cases we even find that communities that have historically negotiated their
social relationships through indigenously evolved, reasonably egalitarian, mechanisms

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become fractious and conflict ridden as decentralization brings with it development

funds and new opportunities for the concentration of social power.
( Jayal 2006, 2–5)

Thus, while the states – their organized power structures at political, social and bureaucratic
levels – have ensured deterioration of the institutions and their democratic fabric, the emerg-
ing institutions, social power relations and competition to corner development funds have
throttled the local democracy. The Indian ‘local’, thus, now needs to emerge out of the post-­
independence/post-partition apprehensions of the centrifuge and make a better adaptation of
the traditional structures to new democratic imperatives with innovative experimentation.

Overview
India’s modern democratic experiment and consequent adaptations began with the period
of renaissance beginning in Bengal in early nineteenth century. A seven-decade period that
witnessed, despite the great revolt in 1857, growth of reformation, awareness, ideas, the urge
for knowledge and education and associations that eventually culminated in the founding
of the Indian National Congress in 1885. The associational, ideational, ideological, political
and democratic progression of the Congress since the beginning of the twentieth century
witnessed dispersion (horizontally) and deepening (vertically) of democracy in India with
the churning to throw off the colonial yoke and build democratic institutions brick by brick
as well as simultaneously bring in the marginalized and the oppressed into the democratic
process (Bandyopadhyay 2004; Desai 1976; Mehra 2003; Pande 1985; Ray, Kumar and Das
1985; Seal 1971). It also became the nucleus, literally, of the party system in India since 1906
till the 1980s, deepening and galvanizing the democratic process, as most parties emerged
either as a result of splits from it or as a reaction to its politics (Mehra 2003). Put succinctly,

Rather more expansively, the period of Indian history since 1947 might be seen as the
adventure of a political idea: democracy. From this perspective, the history of indepen-
dent India appears as the third moment in great democratic experiment launched at the
end of the eighteenth century by the American and French revolutions.
(Khilnani 2012, 4)

Lloyd and Susanne Rudolph described India in their classic study of Indian political econ-
omy in 1987 as ‘political and economic paradox: a rich poor nation with a weak-strong state’.
They describe India thus because of

the paradox of state that has over the four decades since independence, alternated be-
tween autonomous and reflexive relations with the society in which it is embedded. The
strength of this state derives from the institutions and expectations created by 350 years
of Mughal and British subcontinental rule.

The resulting ‘stateness’ in India is part of the paradox (Rudolph and Rudolph 1987, 1). The
paradox further accentuates as India’s ‘command polity’ backed by a strong party, a strong
leadership and a strong state supported by a strong bureaucracy and institutional structure
transforms to ‘demand polity’ where political mobilization takes place, even if by a deinsti-
tutionalized party and party system and a plebiscitary leadership, and there is greater stress
on the system.46

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Ajay K. Mehra

The apprehensions on India’s cacophonous and volatile politics also bring in analyses on
its ‘crisis of governability’. Expressing concerns similar to the Rudolphs, Atul Kohli (1990)
refers to the decline and deinstitutionalization of the Congress and absence of such an insti-
tutionalized party structure. He refers to the rise of violence and a lack of conflict-­resolving
institutions. However, a decade later, Kohli (2001) focusses on ‘the success’ of India’s de-
mocracy along with nine social scientists to caution on a Cassandra approach to Indian
politics. Concluding that Indian democracy is a well-established fact, Kohli thus sums up the
nine well-researched essays in the volume: ‘… an important lesson from India’s successful
­democratic record is this: within the framework of a centralized state, moderate accommo-
dation of group demands, especially demands based on ethnicity, and some decentralization
of power strengthens a democracy’ (2001, 19).

Notes
1 An essay covering India’s seven-decade long political journey since independence, with occasional
peep in the period that shaped both the independence movement and a vision for an independent
democratic India, is an austere and humbling task. One is compelled to seek support of colleagues
and peers to traverse this course. I acknowledge the support extended to me by Ms. Ankita Shree,
Assistant Professor, Shaheed Bhagat Singh Evening College, University of Delhi in researching
some crucial aspects of India’s constitutional history. I also gratefully acknowledge the comments
and suggestions offered by Prof. Subrata Mitra, Director, Institute of South Asian Studies, Na-
tional University of Singapore, and Prof. Sandeep Shastri, Pro-Vice Chancellor, Jain University,
­Bengaluru, India. Needless to say, if there are still certain weaknesses in the chapter, I alone remain
responsible and would welcome suggestions.
2 Nehru ‘felt sure that the creation of the Constituent Assembly would give rise to such power in
India that no one would be able to withstand it’ (Wolpert 1996, 240).
3 Sir Anthony Eden, former British Prime Minister, thus appreciated India’s beginnings in his
memoir:
Of all the experiments in government, which have been attempted since the beginning of
time, I believe that the Indian venture into parliamentary government is the most exciting. A
vast sub-continent is attempting to apply to it tens and hundreds of millions a system of free
democracy which has been slowly evolved over the centuries in this small island. It is … so far
remarkably successful…. If it succeeds, its influence on Asia is incalculably for good. Whatever
the outcome, we must honour those who attempt it.
(Quoted in Narayanan 2011, 159)
4 www.legalservicesindia.com/article/article/the-judicial-pronouncement-of-the-preamble-of-­
indian-constitution-501-1.html (accessed on 25 July 2016).
5 Sarbani Sen (2007) defines parliament, or representative institutions, as the expression of popular
sovereignty and constitutionalism a product of people exercising their sovereign authority for col-
lective self-determination.
6 Sixty-First Constitution Amendment Act (28 March 1989) lowered the voting age to 18.
7 This intensely debated doctrine given by the Supreme Court of India puts procedural limitations
on the amending powers of the Parliament. Krishnaswamy (2008) justifies it as a sound doctrine,
while it does introduce the due process doctrine in the Indian constitutionalism, which is based on
‘procedure established by law’ (Mehra 2006).
8 Set up by Congress President Dev Kant Barua in 1976 to review the constitutional scheme, Swaran
Singh Committee’s objective was, ‘difficulties have been thrown up from time to time in the inter-
pretation of some of its provisions, more particularly where they concern the right of Parliament to
be most authentic and effective instrument to give expression and content to the sovereign will of
the people’. http://www.ebc-india.com/lawyer/articles/76v2a4.htm (Accessed on 26 August 2016).
9 For a comprehensive analysis of this aspect, see Mehra (2015a).
10 Poet Mohammad Iqbal’s presidential address to the AIML on 29 December 1930 is seen by some as
the first exposition of the two-nation theory in support of what would ultimately become Pakistan
(Wolpert 2005).

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11 This has been brought out by several National Sample Survey Organization reports.
12 www.ispepune.org.in/PDF%20ISSUE/1991/JISPE2/report-backward-classes-comission.pdf (ac-
cessed on 31 August 2016).
13 www.ncbc.nic.in/Writereaddata/Mandal%20Commission%20Report%20of %20the%201st%20
Part%20English635228715105764974.pdf (accessed on 31 August 2016)
14 Act No. 1 of 1961 [9 March 1961].
15 http://eci.nic.in/eci/eci.html# (accessed on 2 September 2016).
16 Bogus voting (i.e. impersonation in casting votes) and booth capturing developed into a major
exercise to use muscle power to win an election by capturing voting booths. It was first reported
in the second general election in 1957 in Rachiyari village in Begusarai district in Bihar. http://­
timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/patna/Where-booth-capturing-was-born/articleshow/1020435.
cms (accessed on 2 September 2016).
17 http://eci.nic.in/eci_main1/evm.aspx (accessed on 2 September 2016).
18 www.lawcommissionofindia.nic.in/lc170.htm (accessed on 2 September 2016).
19 http://lawmin.nic.in/ncrwc/ncrwcreport.htm (accessed on 2 September 2016).
20 http://eci.nic.in/eci_main1/ElectionStatistics.aspx (accessed on 2 September 2016).
21 The motives, circumstances and events leading to the founding of the Congress conform to the
formulation of LaPalombara and Weiner that political parties emerge in a political system ‘when-
ever the notion of political power come to include the idea that the mass public must participate
or be controlled’. Their emergence at any given time also reflects the situation in which ‘the tasks
of recruiting political leadership and making public policy could no longer be handled by a small
coterie of men unconcerned with public sentiments’ (LaPalombara and Weiner 1966, 3–4).
22 For a comprehensive review of the Indian party system since the 1990s, see Mehra, Khanna and
Kueck (2003) and Mehra (2013a).
23 Ashis Nandy describes Hindutva as the desire of those Hindus
living with the burning ambition of breaking into the upper echelons of modern India and yet
fearful that they may be pushed into the ranks of the urban proletariat by the upper classes,
not on ground substance, but of ‘style’. For the believers in Hindutva, the pseudo-secularists
represent those who have the style and now doing the pushing; the Muslims represent the fear
of being proletarianised.
www.sscnet.ucla.edu/southasia/Socissues/hindutva.html (accessed on 10 September 2016).
24 For a comprehensive list of regional parties in India, see Mehra and Schmidt (2014).
25 Defining state/regional parties has been difficult, hence either an Election Commission of I­ ndia-
based definition has been used, or a characterisation of polity-wide parties for national parties and
one-state, two-state (and so on) party has been used for smaller parties.
26 http://eci.nic.in/eci_main/archiveofge2014/3%20-%20List%20of %20Political%20Parties%20
Participated.pdf (accessed on 10 September 2016).
27 For a detailed discussion on regional parties, see Kumar (2003), Palshikar (2003), Chandra (2004),
Mehra and Sharma (2008), Sridharan (2012) and Mehra and Schmidt (2014).
28 For a comprehensive discussion on this issue, the volume by Pran Chopra is among the best. For
the discussions in the Constituent Assembly on this issue in the same volume, see Mehra (2006).
29 Both the Union Constitution Committee and the Provincial Constitution Committee recom-
mended ‘parliamentary executive’ for the country. The latter said, ‘it would suit the conditions of
this country better to adopt the parliamentary system of constitution, the British type of Constitu-
tion with which we are familiar’ (CAD. vol. IV, 578.).
30 Article 81(a) and (b) provides for Lok Sabha consisting not more than 530 members elected from
States and 20 from Union Territories. However, the Lok Sabha presently consists of 543 members.
Seven seats allocated to the areas of Jammu and Kashmir in possession of Pakistan, remain vacant.
31 The structure was replicated at the state level with the Governor appointed by the Union Govern-
ment as the Head of the state, a design emanating from the fear of the centrifugal forces.
32 The Constitution mentions only Council of Ministers to aid and advice the President, it has no
mention of the Cabinet. However, the Cabinet emanates and draws its constitutionality from
­A rticle 77(3) that states that ‘The President shall make rules for the more convenient transaction of
the business of the Government of India, and for the allocation among Ministers of the said busi-
ness’. The Transaction of Business Rules and the Allocation of Business Rules framed under this
provision mention Cabinet led by the Prime Minister as the main collegial executive body.

325
Ajay K. Mehra

33 Muchaki Kosa, an illiterate Scheduled Tribe MP from Bastar in Madhya Pradesh, who could speak
only in local Mari dialect, defeated the local Congress stalwart. He reached New Delhi helped by
the Maharaja of Bastar, but his trials and tribulations in travel, the city and Parliament, where he
was completely lost and was found sobbing in the corridor once, reflected the tough journey ahead
for the Indian democracy! (Palmer and Tinker 1959: 115–36).
34 See http://blogs.wsj.com/indiarealtime/2015/05/14/indias-parliament-just-had-the-most-­productive-
session-in-years-heres-how-it-did-it/ (accessed on 15 September 2016).
35 http://eci.nic.in/archive/press/current/PN_28062002.htm (accessed on 15 September 2016).
36 On 31 August 1997, the Parliament passed a resolution commemorating golden jubilee of Indian
independence that read, ‘That more especially, all political parties shall undertake all such steps as
will attain the objectives of ridding our polity of criminalization or its influence’.
  Mulayam Singh Yadav, the Samajwadi Party chief from Uttar Pradesh, the then Union Defence
Minister (1996–98) and thrice Chief Minister of UP (1989–91; 1993–95; 2003–07), added a qual-
ifier, as it were, to this resolution in the course of the discussion: ‘the N. N. Vohra Committee
Report had talked of a nexus between judges and criminals, and bureaucrats and criminals as well.
But only the nexus between politicians and criminals is mentioned’ (The Pioneer, 29 August 1997).
37 The perceptive comment by Professor Dietrich Conrad, formerly Head of the Law Department,
South Asia Institute of the University of Heidelberg, Germany, in a lecture delivered in February
1965 must be read to comprehend the issue (Quoted by A.G. Noorani. ‘Behind the “Basic Structure”
Doctrine’). www.frontline.in/static/html/fl1809/18090950.htm; accessed on 18 September 2016).
38 Kesavananda had challenged a slew of constitutional amendments by Indira Gandhi, including the
bank nationalisation abolition of the privy purses to former princes. The judgement did not clearly
lay down the elements of the basic structure with different judges giving a different list. www.
humanrightsinitiative.org/publications/const/the_basic_structure_of_the_indian_constitution.
pdf (accessed on17 September 2016). Later verdicts have differently stated what basic structure is.
39 Article 39A: Equal justice and free legal aid—The State shall secure that the operation of the
legal system promotes justice, on a basis of equal opportunity, and shall, in particular, provide free
legal aid, by suitable legislation or schemes or in any other way, to ensure that opportunities for
securing justice are not denied to any citizen by reason of economic or other disabilities.
40 www.abplive.in/blog/njac-dialogue-needs-to-be-initiated-to-minimise-subjective-decisions.
(accessed on 21 September 2016).
41 http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Over-2-5-crore-cases-pending-in-Indian-courts-LS-
speaker/articleshow/46247632.cms?gclid=CI6zkJH9n88CFdUSaAodw2kHVg (accessed on 21
September 2016).
42 http://lawcommissionofindia.nic.in/reports/Report245.pdf (accessed on 21 September 2016).
43 For Charles Metcalf ’s observation on Indian villages, see Srinivas and Shah (1960, 1375).
44 Chaired by Balwant Rai G. Mehta, the ‘Team for the Study of Community Projects and National
Extension Service’ was constituted in 1957 by the Committee on Plan Projects of the Planning
Commission to decentralize the delivery system and enhance local participation in d­ evelopment and
planning. See www.panchayat.gov.in/documents/401/84079/Balvantray_G_Mehta_­Committee_
report.pdf (accessed on 25 September 2016).
45 www.panchayat.gov.in/documents/401/24254/Asoka%20Mehta%20Committee%20Report.pdf
(accessed on 25 September 2016).
46 For the analysis on command polity and demand polity, see Rudolph and Rudolph (1987, chs. 7–8).

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Yadav, Yogendra and Suhas Palshikar. 2008. ‘Ten Theses on State Politics in India’. Seminar 591.
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 23
India’s foreign policy
Shibashis Chatterjee

India is a subcontinental state with enormous diversities in all dimensions of life. By most
macro indicators, India is a major power. Its total land area is 3,287,263 km,2 and according
to the provisional reports of the Indian Census released on March 31, 2011, the population
had increased to 1210 million (1.21 billion) (Census of India 2011). The gross domestic
product (GDP) in India was worth 2066.90 billion US dollars in 2014. The GDP value of
India represents 3.33 percent of the world economy (India GDP 1970–2016). In 2015, India
set aside approximately Rs. 2,46,727 crores (US$40.4 billion) for defence, which exceeded
allocation in 2014 by 7.7 percent (Behera 2015). Yet it continues to be a land of considerable
poverty and social exclusion, and despite enormous progress in lifting millions over the
poverty line and ensuring educational, health, and other social welfare measures in the last
two decades in particular, considerable economic disparity plagues the state, thereby com-
plicating its claims to be a major world power. In contrast to many other postcolonial states,
however, India has always espoused a remarkably strong interest in international a­ ffairs, and
Indian elites across party affiliations have considered foreign policy to be one of its highest
priorities. This emphasis is the result of three factors: economic necessities, identity con-
sciousness as a civilizational state destined to play a major role in world affairs, and impera-
tives of national security.
This chapter is an attempt to sketch the major dimensions of India’s foreign policy since
independence. It evolves through the following sections: Section I outlines India’s post-­
independence foreign policy; Section II discusses the end of the Cold War and a new power
imagination; and Section III outlines India’s forays into new multilateralism, with the final
section offering concluding comments.

Post-independence foreign policy

The basic contours of Indian foreign policy were laid during the freedom movement against
British colonial occupation by the events after World War II, the relative decline of the
forces of imperialism, and the evolution of democratic forces. The Indian National Con-
gress, the principal political force that sought to liberate India from the clutches of ­British
colonialism, always wanted the country to have an active foreign policy, particularly in the

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neighbouring states. Unfortunately, the prevailing domestic circumstances did not allow
any sustained focus on world affairs. However, Jawaharlal Nehru, a leading figure in India’s
­anti-colonial movement who became the first Prime Minister of independent India, was
deeply interested in foreign affairs and wanted foreign relations to occupy the centre stage. In
1927, he was instrumental in drafting the country’s first major foreign policy statement that,
inter alia, made anti-imperial war and anti-racism critical drivers of India’s foreign policy
during the interwar period. It, therefore, supported the cause of nationalism in the colonial
world and opposed Fascist imperialism by aligning with the Allied Powers. However, the
newly constituted Congress ministries resigned during World War II as India’s participation
was determined in colonial terms. Nehru represented the INC in several international con-
ferences, including the one in Brussels that unequivocally rejected imperialism and unerr-
ingly supported the newly liberated countries.
The Nehruvian foreign policy was cast in ideas that shaped the post-independence po-
litical consensus in India. Euphemistically called the “Congress system,” it consisted of sev-
eral key features, like commitment to liberal/pluralist democracy, secularism, economic
self-sufficiency and autarky, and a nonaligned foreign policy. Nonalignment emerged as the
language or narrative of the moral power of a materially weak but civilizationally conscious
state. While historical experiences conditioned foreign policy choices, the dominant centre
with Nehru’s preeminence and weak provinces ensured its unconditional acceptability. As
Ramchandra Guha points out, for Nehru, foreign policy was a means of making India’s
presence felt in the world. Through his long tenure, he simultaneously served as the foreign
minister of the government of India. He personally supervised the creation of the Indian
Foreign Service, transferring to its cadre able officers of the Indian Civil Service and making
fresh selections from the young (Guha 2012). Sumit Ganguly infers that at a personal level,
Nehru sought to pursue an ideational foreign policy (Ganguly 2010), and thus, the overall
rubric had found its mould. Andrew B. Kennedy, in contrast, describes Nehru’s approach as
a form of moralism in tandem with the national interest. In his words, “Nehru’s diplomacy
cannot simply be labelled ‘idealist’ or ‘realist’. Instead … efforts to transform international
norms and institutions can – at least in some cases – reflect both lofty moral principles and
narrow national interests” (Kennedy 2015, 100).
Stephen Cohen argues that India’s belief in a manifest destiny flowing from its rich civi-
lizational heritage and its practical consequences led Nehru to moralize and account for the
Indian propensity to lecture other powers, great and small (Cohen 2013). Did ancient texts
and traditions impact critically upon India’s foreign policy? Harsh Pant and Kanti Bajpai are
sceptical of the view that the canonical texts, such as the Hindu vedas, upanishads, puranas,
and Manusmriti; epics such as the Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Bhagavad Gita; and Kautilya’s
Arthashastra, influenced India’s strategic thinking. In their view, to claim that the elite who
made India’s foreign policy carried a “deep knowledge even of the Hindu epics would be sur-
prising” (Bajpai and Pant 2013, 4). They are more assured of the influences of first-generation
politicians like C. Rajagopalachari, Ram Manohar Lohia, and K.M. Panikkar (in addition to
Nehru), and civil servants, academicians, military academies (National Defence College and
Indian Military Academy), and other civilian institutions (Indian Council of World Affairs
and Institute for Defence Studies and Analyses) (Bajpai and Pant 2013, 5). Rahul Sagar has
demonstrated convincingly that the Indian elite could think coherently and systematically
about a national strategy, though the most distinctive aspect of the Indian experience is in-
deed the extent to which moral politik remained an overarching concern (Sagar 2015, 77).
Nonalignment sought to espouse a solid foundation for a new world order that would
ensure peace and security for all and lend voice to the aspirations of the newly independent

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states that sought space to consolidate their independence and provide an alternative ideol-
ogy dedicated to peace, development, multilateralism, and anti-hegemony. The commit-
ment to a new world order based on principles of peace, collective security, development,
and justice was encapsulated in the philosophy of panchasheel that provided the normative
structure within which Indian foreign policy took shape. However, nonalignment did not
mean that India would abstain from violence in the face of threats. It used force to drive out
the Portuguese from Goa and engaged in wars with Pakistan in 1947 and 1965, and with
China in 1962 (Bandyopadhyaya 2003). However, the disastrous defeat at the hands of China
in 1962 exposed the limits of India’s policy, as high moral discourse did not work to secure
her against the aggression of a state that had been the very basis of its policy of peaceful coex-
istence (Maxwell 1999, Devereux 2009). Indian foreign policy gradually changed thereafter,
whereupon “…non-alignment was stripped of its missionary connotations. It was no longer
used to allow the exhortation – or admonition – of the great nations of the world. Instead, it
was applied in a more modest geographic context” (Levi 1977, 138–39).
Nehru’s idea of an “area of peace” for South and Southeast Asia did not materialize.
The political disunity of Asia meant the partial elimination of the foundation upon which
India raised her international prestige. Second, India found it impossible to stay away any
longer from great power dynamics and thus found the heady idealism of the 1950s difficult
to ­sustain. Third, the South Asian states began to emerge in the game of balance of power
politics, drafting some of the outside powers into the region. Lal Bahadur Shastri prioritized
domestic issues over foreign policy and actively sought pragmatic adjustments over the wooly
idealism of his glamorous predecessor. India and Pakistan fought a second, militarily incon-
clusive war in 1965, leading to significant great power moderation that ultimately resulted
in the Tashkent Declaration and a temporary ban on weapons exports to both combatants
by the United States.
The 1960s was a particularly harsh decade for India as droughts ravaged millions, eco-
nomic growth remained pegged to a depressing equilibrium, and external threats loomed
large as China and Pakistan forged a highly effective military alliance, besides Islamabad’s
strategic partnership with Washington as part of the Cold War military alliance structure
in Asia. India’s relations with the United States remained cold and acrimonious, barring a
brief period of military assistance following India’s war with China. India’s nonaligned for-
eign policy stood in the way of the normalization of ties with the United States, and as the
Vietnam War gained momentum, anti-Americanism soared in India. American President
Lyndon Johnson’s decision to withhold food transfers to India under PL480 to force it to fall
in line on Vietnam further exacerbated relations.
Though ties with the Soviet Union had started to improve with the burgeoning Sino-­
Soviet rift, India found it difficult to find its feet in world affairs, particularly when it came to
expanding its influence in Asia. Cold War dynamics also alienated India from the Southeast
Asian states, and it ceded vital grounds to China, who sought to build excellent business ties
with the ASEAN states despite its political commitment to socialism.
While nonalignment did not contribute significantly to India’s material power, it worked
to improve its moral and ideational standing as New Delhi crusaded consistently in ­favour of
Third World rights. From Palestine to Vietnam, India unleashed a strident political campaign
against imperial domination and Cold War militarism, along with calibrated campaigns for
reforming the international economic order and ushering in global nuclear disarmament.
Nonalignment provided discursive power to a materially weak postcolonial state, enabling
it to play a disproportionately influential role in world politics. Anti-racism was the other
cornerstone of India’s foreign policy, with it playing a stellar role in support of Africa’s

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anti-colonial struggles in general and crusading against apartheid South Africa in particular
(Dalmia and Malone 2012).
The 1970s brought increasing populism and authoritarianism to India’s domestic pol-
itics and led to the collapse of the old Congress system. Indira Gandhi’s foreign policy
evolved primarily within the normative framework of her father, but she took an increas-
ingly tougher stand in the interest of national security, which deteriorated sharply because
of global, regional, and domestic developments. The Sino-US rapprochement mediated
through Pakistan brought unprecedented security challenges to India and, as a natural cor-
ollary, forced her to cultivate a much closer relationship with the Soviet Union. Near home,
the Sino-Pakistan military alliance evolved further, causing considerable tension across the
volatile international borders of Kashmir. With domestic trouble brewing in East Pakistan
that ultimately saw General Yahya Khan’s military regime unleash a reign of terror against
the democratic forces in East Pakistan, a steady influx of refugees began to pour into the east-
ern provinces of India, putting enormous strains on an already struggling economy. Sheikh
Mujibur Rahman, the charismatic leader of Awami League (the principal political party in
East Pakistan), spearheaded the armed resistance against Pakistan. India provided sanctu-
ary to the liberation fighters who were soon fighting a war of secession with New D ­ elhi’s
blessing.
The civil war in East Pakistan ultimately led to full-scale war between India and P­ akistan
in 1971. While Pakistan received military and diplomatic assistance from the United States
and China, India signed the Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation with the Soviet Union
as a balancing move (Kapur 1972). This was technically not a military pact but was un-
doubtedly a quasi-military arrangement, with each state pledging to intervene in the case of
military aggression against the other. Despite considerable American and Chinese threats,
neither actually interfered directly into the war, and India succeeded in decisively defeat-
ing the Pakistani military forces in East Pakistan that paved the way for the liberation of
­Bangladesh. This resolved the problem of India’s military vulnerability in the eastern sector
for good (Sisson and Rose 1990; Blood 2002; Bass 2013; Raghavan 2013).
India’s wars with Pakistan (1947–48, 1965, 1971) during the Cold War years were fought
before they had acquired nuclear capabilities. As one of the leading Indian scholars on the
subject puts it,

Despite the enormous significance of the state of Kashmir to both India and Pakistan
and the obvious significance of the creation of Bangladesh, all three conflicts can be de-
scribed as small wars; they were of limited duration, were fought with limited resources,
and had externally imposed constraints on firepower and strategy.
(Ganguly 1995, 168)

None of these wars could solve the Kashmir issue, which remained the primary bone of con-
tention. In fact, the military defeat of Pakistan in 1971, while improving India’s security in
the eastern sector, hardened Pakistan’s resolve to foment trouble in India on every available
opportunity, and its strategy of low-key conflict proved highly efficacious in the long run.
The 1970s, therefore, saw India deviating from strict nonalignment as national security
imperatives pushed her much closer to Moscow. The Soviet Union not only became the
most reliable source of India’s military hardware, but its support was also crucial in the UN
Security Council to veto attempts by Pakistan and its friends to internationalize the Kashmir
issue (Thakur 1999). India also undertook its maiden peaceful nuclear explosions (PNEs)
in the Thar Deserts of Rajasthan, thereby crossing a critical threshold in achieving nuclear

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weapons capabilities. At the same time, India continued to play a leading role in forums like
the Group of 77 (G-77) and the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development
(UNCTAD). India was one of the leading voices demanding reforms in the international
economic order as a vital structural precondition of the economic regeneration of the devel-
oping world. It remained highly critical of the West, and as the informal military alliance
with the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) took shape, India’s relations with the
United States reached their nadir.
The domestic situation began to deteriorate sharply in India after 1974. A new culture
of insecurity marked its approach to politics, culminating in the proclamation of national
emergency at home. India also developed the so-called Indira Doctrine – the avowed ten-
dency to intervene in South Asian states if India’s interests were violated – as its approach
to its immediate neighbourhood. The national emergency cast a dark shadow upon it for
two years (1995–97). Subsequently, the Congress lost power in 1977 to a disparate coali-
tion government called the Janata Party, which assumed office with Morarji Desai as Prime
Minister. Though the coalition finally came off in July 1979, the Party succeeded in leaving
its imprint upon foreign policy. The Janata foreign policy was masterminded by Atal Bihari
Vajpayee, the then Foreign Minister, and was marked by an effort to correct deviations in
nonalignment committed by Indira Gandhi. Vajpayee was also instrumental in breaking the
ice with China and beginning a process of tortuous normalization with Beijing. This period
saw new warmth in Indo-US relations and the then US President Jimmy Carter undertook a
visit to New Delhi between January 1 and 3, 1978. While major differences were not ironed
out, and American sanctions over the export of nuclear fuel for the Tarapur nuclear plant in
India remained in place, the bitterness created during and after 1971 War was largely buried.
The Janata period also saw attempts to better ties with neighbours, including Pakistan, and
overall relations improved with Bangladesh and Nepal in particular.
Indira Gandhi was back in power in 1980, and the old patterns returned with her. While
she wanted to move away from overtly left-leaning economic policies and took the first steps
to reform an underperforming and over-regulated economy, her term was marked by polit-
ical difficulties at home. India’s national security scenario got further complicated by muted
reaction to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 (Ganguly and Mukherjee 2011). India
became bogged down in internal conflicts, with terror strikes occurring in Jammu, Kashmir,
and Punjab with considerable Pakistani involvement and the provinces of Assam, Nagaland,
and Manipur undergoing insurgencies (Marwah 2003).
Rajiv Gandhi became India’s Prime Minister by default after the assassination of Indira
Gandhi at the hands of her own Sikh bodyguards, who held her responsible for the army
action against Sikh militants inside the Golden Temple in Amritsar. Rajiv Gandhi wanted
to bring rapid technocratic modernization and create a welfare-oriented liberal economy
and a modern telecommunication industry and liberalize the economy by investing in the
areas of science and technology. Though untrained in foreign affairs, he made attempts to
normalize ties with the United States and took a bold decision to meet his Chinese coun-
terpart, the then Chinese premier Li Peng, in December 1988. Rajiv Gandhi’s visit was
the first by an Indian Prime Minister to China in 34 years. He also held discussions with
the Chinese President Yang Shangkun and the then Chairman of China’s Central Military
Commission, Deng Xiaoping. These talks happened in the backdrop of the Sumdrong Chu
mini-crisis (Hoffmann 1990), and it is noteworthy that before visiting China, Rajiv Gandhi
decided to confer full statehood to Arunachal Pradesh amid loud Chinese protests. The visit
ultimately paved the way for setting up joint groups on normalization of tensions across the
disputed border.

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Rajiv Gandhi was also noted for his utopian goal of complete nuclear disarmament. He
visited the UN General Assembly in New York and the Six-Nation Five-Continent Peace
Initiative in Stockholm, presented the Indian point of view, and received appreciation for his
thoughts and efforts. He pointed out,

They argue that nuclear weapons keep the peace. This is false. We must change the
thinking of establishments. If nuclear weapons exist, they will one day be used. And, on
the last day, it will make little difference whether their use was by design or by accident.
The nuclear debris will bury all hopes of a reprieve. There will be no going back, no
survival, none to tell the tale. There will be no lesson to be drawn for the future — or
there will be no future.
(Gandhi 1988)

Unfortunately, Rajiv Gandhi’s South Asia policy bore mixed results, and India’s relations
with Sri Lanka and Nepal deteriorated considerably due to military interventionism in the
ongoing Sri Lankan Civil War in 1987 against the Tamil militant nationalist organization
called the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). India also sent troops to the Maldives
in 1988 and saved the government against an attempted coup. India imposed a protracted
blockade of goods and commodities moving to the Himalayan landlocked state of Nepal in
1989, which created deep disaffection among the people against New Delhi.
A massive insurgency began in the province of Jammu and Kashmir in 1989, and as India’s
political legitimacy came to be challenged by the Jammu Kashmir Liberation Front ( JKLF)
and the All Parties Hurriyat Conference (APHC) formed in March 1993, Pakistan took the
opportunity in aiding and abetting various terror groups operating in the state. By the end
of the 1980s, not only China but also South Korea and the ASEAN states had handsomely
surpassed India on economic performance. While the Soviet Union was reforming under
­President Mikhail Gorbachev to remain in business, India’s overt dependence on Moscow
did not cease. India was still committed to nonalignment, despite major changes near and
afar. It needed systemic jolts, like the end of the Cold War, the implosion of the Soviet Union,
and a massive balance of payments crisis at home, to rethink its foreign policy options.

The post-Cold War era

Systemic changes were largely responsible for major changes in Indian foreign policy in the
1990s (Sahni and Rajagopalan 2008). The transformation started as the Soviet Union col-
lapsed, and an unprecedented economic crisis forced India to change its economic policies
from a socialistic mixed economy to an increasingly market-oriented one, which necessi-
tated major changes in foreign policy as well. Necessary adjustment to its foreign policy
had to be made as new economic priorities emerged that demanded the forging of a new
relationship with the West in general and the United States in particular, slow normalization
of ties with Israel, a new concept of an extended neighbourhood in South-east Asia, and a
cautious/complex process of negotiation with China.
P.V. Narasimha Rao headed a minority Congress government but managed to remain
in power for the full term (1991–95). He steered India to the path of full-scale economic
reforms, along with his Finance Minister Dr Manmohan Singh. The continuity in Indian
foreign policy during his reign consisted of subjecting external relations to India’s eco-
nomic needs. This period saw major improvement in Indo-US relations, with commercial
and business ties becoming paramount. The American perspective on South Asia, after the

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tumultuous events of the Gulf crisis and the initial buzz of activities in the Middle East to
find a just solution to the Arab-Israeli conflict, came to settle on rather narrow nonprolifer-
ation concerns, with democracy and human rights being other, less serious, goals. To carve
a new power imagination, constrained by the logic of structural unipolarity, India now
resorted to a curious mixture of bandwagoning and balancing vis-à-vis the United States.
Narasimha Rao was also instrumental in putting India’s national nuclear security and
ballistic missile programs on firm foundations, though New Delhi apparently submitted to
US pressure and refrained from conducting nuclear tests in 1995, despite having achieved
the required technological capacity (Burr 2013). Rao was an unrepentant realist and took
bold decisions to increase outlays for the Indian armed forces to counter manifest threats
emanating from Pakistan and China. He was successful in crushing terrorism in Punjab,
and though he did not achieve comparable success in Kashmir, he did not surrender to
terrorist ­k idnappings and blackmailing tactics. He shored up India’s intelligence and used
rather paltry available resources to counter Pakistani propaganda on human rights violations
in ­K ashmir. He mended ties with Israel and cultivated relations with Iran. He improved
ties with China and was the chief architect of India’s Look East Policy, which sought to re-
work its partnership with the ASEAN states without neglecting healthy ties with traditional
friends like Vietnam (Chatterjee 2007).
Political instability and weak coalitions continued to rock India after Congress lost the
election in 1996, though no party could win a decisive majority in the Parliament. H.D.
Deve Gowda led a United Front (UF) coalition government from June 1996 to April 1997,
followed by Inder Kumar Gujral, who ran office between April 1997 and March 1998. ­Gujral
propounded the Gujral Doctrine as the Union Minister of External Affairs in 1996–97. This
was a new approach to unilateral accommodation of neighbours in South Asia crafted on
the basis of asymmetric and non-reciprocal concessions to the smaller states. This policy
was largely successful in repairing India’s ties in the subcontinent, though no fundamental
alterations took place in India’s contentious ties with Pakistan that structurally bedevilled the
prospects of a healthy regionalism in the subcontinent.
Atal Bihari Vajpayee became India’s Prime Minister in 1998. He led the National
­Democratic Alliance (NDA) government, a coalition with BJP as the main party. The coa-
lition was in power from 1998 to 2004. He undertook a three-pronged approach to India’s
foreign policy. First, he acted boldly and authorized Pokhran tests in 1998 before the existing
nonproliferation order could shut the door on India’s ambition to acquire nuclear weapons as
a deterrent to China and Pakistan. This was followed by an arduous process of repairing ties
with the United States, so that from Clinton’s policy of using sanctions against India over
alleged violations of nuclear nonproliferation norms after the Pokhran tests of 1998, the two
states were able to forge a very special relationship by 2004. Post 9/11, India supported the
US action in Afghanistan, and India’s difference with the P-5 states over its positions on the
Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT) and the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of ­Nuclear
Weapons (NPT) also became narrower. It began to signal its willingness to sign these in-
struments if the P-5 states were willing to accept it within their ranks, with similar prestige
and responsibilities. On Iran, India mostly prevaricated. However, on other issues, Vajpayee
continued to differ with the US-led West. India did not support the US war in Iraq in 2003,
though it refrained from expressing hostility overtly. There still remained problems over the
issue of obtaining a permanent seat on the United Nations Security Council, and over the
ambit or scope of its nuclear program.
Second, Vajpayee stood up to the Chinese threat and brought a new strategic orientation
to India’s dealings. Third, Vajpayee sought to unleash a vigorous peace policy with Nawaz

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Sharif ’s Pakistan and undertook the famous Lahore Bus Journey to break the ice in their rela-
tions. While the initial response to this initiative was very encouraging, the army in Pakistan
sabotaged the peace process and in 1999 war broke out between two nuclear states in the
Kargil sector that saw Vajpayee’s international diplomacy succeeding in completely isolating
Pakistan. With General Pervez Musharraf assuming power in Pakistan through a coup in
1999, relations declined precipitously as a number of daring terrorist attacks were launched
against India, including the infamous attack on the Parliament. While India contemplated
the option of limited wars under deterrence, the risks of a possible nuclear Armageddon tied
its hands (Basrur 2006). However, Vajpayee and Musharraf engaged in a series of talks to
resolve the Kashmir issue though failed to resolve the Gordian knot (Sarma 2001).
The United Progressive Alliance (UPA) under Dr Manmohan Singh came to power in
2004 and remained in office until 2014. In the words of C. Raja Mohan,

The fact, however, is that Manmohan Singh’s foreign policy was not very different
from that of Vajpayee. Whether it was India’s nuclear strategy or the Look East policy,
the engagement with great powers or an emphasis on the economic integration of the
subcontinent, Singh travelled on the path cut by Vajpayee.
(Raja Mohan 2014)

However, though Singh made great starts initially, his foreign policy got stuck up in oper-
ational maladies as, unlike Vajpayee, Singh was largely constrained by a difficult coalition
with an intransigent left that blocked progress on Indo-US nuclear deal, and was fatally
weakened by a dualistic power structure within the Congress party, with Sonia Gandhi, the
party supremo vetoing Singh’s major initiatives on both economic and foreign policies (Raja
Mohan 2014). The disastrous consequences of the US war in Iraq and the global recession
that got underway through the subprime crisis in the US banking and real estate markets
from July 2008 further queered his pitch. Relations with Pakistan plummeted with the
Mumbai terror attacks masterminded from Islamabad (Riedel 2009), and despite Singh’s
efforts to revive talks, the fears of a possible Hindu backlash against any such move on the
part of India, tied his hands. The government also got involved in a number of financial
scams during the second term, and serious frictions were reported in civil-military relations
for the first time. A number of border violations by an increasingly assertive China and
India’s lacklustre efforts to counter China’s concerted attempts to encircle also went against
the government. While India’s Sri Lanka policy came to be dictated by Chennai, Singh’s
government led the initiative to transform relations with Bangladesh stymied by the West
Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee (Raja Mohan 2014).
Four elements stand out in Indian foreign policy during the post-Cold War period.
­Relations with the United States, China, West Asia, and the immediate neighbourhood have
remained critically important to India’s foreign policy in the post-Cold War years. Since
1991, India and the United States succeeded in forging a special relationship. This helped
the United States to retain its influence in Asia and benefit from investing liberally in India’s
burgeoning markets while allowing New Delhi to expand its national power. Although this
growth in capabilities leads India inexorably to formally demand a “multipolar world, the
leadership in New Delhi has been realistic enough to understand that American primacy is
unlikely to be dethroned any time soon and certainly not as a result of the growth in Indian
power” (Tellis 2005, 8). It is felt that issues and areas where India would want to project this
power are consistent with US interests or definitely would not contradict them. However,
India did not give in to the unipolar international affairs and held on to its own agency. The

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idea of nonalignment, under the guise of “strategic autonomy,” uncertainties induced by the
political compulsions of coalition politics, modalities of dealing with Iran’s quest for nuclear
weapons, and India’s firm resistance to any “unilateral exercise of US military power against
recalcitrant regimes” continued to divide India and the United States (Ganguly 2012).
The post-Cold War period has also lent a renewed garb to India’s relationship with
China, which remains the primary economic and security challenge. Major territorial dis-
putes divide the Asian giants and despite several rounds of negotiation, no solution has
emerged. In the last few years, despite dialogue and hotline communications, the People’s
Liberation Army (PLA) has made several incursions into territories held by India leading to
acrimonious exchanges. China’s military relation with Pakistan is a major irritant for New
Delhi. China’s increasingly assertive presence in the Indian Ocean and the South China Sea
also creates frictions. While their power competition is inevitable, there is also a realization
that this rivalry would have to be managed in a world of myriad interdependent ties and
economic linkages, where the spoils would have to be carefully invested into the relation-
ship to ensure that none of the players succeed in leveraging the benefits unilaterally. This
is an exceedingly complex challenge for both the states, and India’s great power potential
would hinge significantly on how she manages her relations with her sprawling and powerful
northern neighbour.
However, West Asia remains a major theatre of operation for Indian foreign policy
(Abhyankar 2008). India’s relations with West Asia did not witness any radical metamorpho-
sis in the last two decades. For India, the West Asia-North Africa (WANA) region is of vital
strategic importance, and it has tried hard to maintain good diplomatic ties with all states of
the region, which are home to more than 5 million Indians contributing over US$30 billion
in remittances every year. India’s overall economic and commercial engagement with these
countries is around US$160 billion per annum. The region still supplies the bulk of India’s
oil and gas requirement and hence remains critical for its energy security. However, despite
India’s unconditional support for the Palestinian issue, Pakistan easily stole a march over it
on a number of sensitive issues, including Jammu and Kashmir. The riots in India after the
destruction of the Babri Masjid also did not go down well with a number of governments.
More crucially, India did not receive the kind of support it expected on terrorism-related
issues throughout the 1990s and the early part of the new millennium. Things were not im-
proved by the major developments in the region that saw American military operations and
the fall of the Bath regime in Iraq with which India had a fairly stable relationship.
As a result, for a long time, India had been doing a complex balancing of interests, with-
out overtly joining with any of the antagonistic parties in the region. The rise of Islamic
forces in a number of West Asian states on the one hand and India’s national security im-
peratives to move closer to Israel in strategic and defence-related matters on the other have
further caused problems.
India has also balanced its relations with Iran (Fair 2007); while it has not supported Iran
on the nuclear issue, and even voted against Tehran a few times at the UN, it has adroitly
played on the issue of sanctions, invested liberally in that state, started to import oil again,
inked the agreement to build the Chabahar Port, and sought to open up an energy corridor
through Iran via Afghanistan, bypassing Pakistan in the process, and largely stood by Iran
resisting the Saudi-Pakistani axis that works largely against Indian interests.
India’s immediate neighbourhood remains fraught, though India has improved its ties
with Bangladesh, Myanmar, and Sri Lanka to a certain extent. India adopted certain mea-
sures like the Look East Policy in 1991 to generate stronger economic interdependence and
offered more concessions to its smaller neighbours in South Asia. However, India’s rise,

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unfortunately, remains contested in the South Asian context. The accusation points to I­ ndia’s
insensitivity and arrogance borne of power. As Subrata K. Mitra and Jivanta Schottli point
out, the lack of regional trade, the traditional ganging-up of the smaller countries against the
perceived bully, India, and the involvement of “external actors,” like China and the United
States, have long been obstacles to Indian hegemony in the subcontinent, real or perceived
(Mitra and Schottli 2007).

Modi’s foreign policy

Prime Minister Narendra Modi came to power with a thumping majority in the 2014 elec-
tions. Unlike Singh, Modi leads an NDA government by name; the BJP has actually a com-
fortable majority that makes him implement policies far more forthrightly and without strings
of any sorts. Modi has embarked on a very active foreign policy drive and sought to introduce
a far more strategic orientation to India’s foreign policy. He has prioritized relations with
the United States and Japan, and there is an increasingly visible convergence between the
­A merican idea of the pivot in the Asia Pacific and India’s articulation of the Indo-Pacific as
the new theatre of its foreign policy engagement (Raja Mohan 2015). Modi has increased
India’s defence budget considerably and invested in augmenting intelligence and commu-
nication facilities. He has also signalled intentions of a more proactive maritime policy and
embarked on ambitious plans to modernize India’s war-fighting capabilities. India under
Prime Minister Narendra Modi has sought to re-engage with the United States following
upon the track laid by Vajpayee and Singh, though he has involved the Indian Americans in
a much bigger way to influence the corridors of power in American foreign policy-making.
Modi engaged with India’s neighbours far more actively. Modi invited all South Asian
heads of states to his swearing-in ceremony in May 2014, wherein he rendered clear his pri-
ority to regain India’s “lost ground in the backyard” (Chellaney 2014). An impromptu and
“friendly” visit to Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif in Pakistan in December 2015 was preceded
by extensive, scheduled, high-profile trips to Bhutan, Nepal, Bangladesh, Mongolia, South
Korea, Afghanistan, Singapore, Malaysia, the United Arab Emirates, and various countries
of Central Asia throughout the year. But at the same time, Modi’s Pakistan policy has been
tough with India refusing to resume dialogue unless Pakistan gave up on its policy of aiding
and abetting terrorist activities against India (Ganguly 2016).
Modi has also tried to institutionalize the idea of “Asian solidarity,” defined through
three key markers: the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP), a cyberse-
curity architecture for the ASEAN Regional Forum, and the settlement of disputes through
multilateral rules. On maritime concerns in Asia, Mr. Modi has calibrated the Indian po-
sition, without straying too far from the traditional line. The India-Japan Joint Statement
of 2015 referred to the “Indo-Pacific,” officially bringing this strategic phrase into India’s
foreign policy lexicon. However, the Prime Minister’s speeches on the subject themselves
allude to the Asia-Pacific and the Indian Ocean as distinct regions connected by history and
destinies, “however, we choose to define them” (Sukumar 2015). Thus, as India struggles to
settle on national narrative(s) of foreign policy moves, its search for external legitimacy in the
neighbourhood continues to remain increasingly complex and challenging.
Modi’s Act East Policy, a new inflection given to the Look East Policy initiated by the
Indian Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao way back in 1991, underscores the immense im-
portance that the extended neighbourhood in Southeast Asia holds for India’s economic and
strategic interests (Das and Thomas 2016). As the idea of the Indo-Pacific has assumed increas-
ing policy relevance for states like India, Japan, South Korea, Australia, and the United States,

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Shibashis Chatterjee

along with the ASEAN states, as a possible deterrent to intrusive Chinese claims in the region,
the entire region stretching from Vietnam to Australia has become vital to India’s maritime
security. As business relations with Southeast Asian and Asia-Pacific states have grown steadily,
this region has emerged as one of the most important zones of engagement for India.
Despite criticisms by hardliners, India’s approach to security has evolved. It has invested
in acquiring ballistic missile capabilities, developed commendable blue water navy, and con-
siderably improved its technological infrastructure in line with the requirements of mod-
ern communications and information-based weapon systems, and engaged with the United
States, Japan, Australia, and many other states in joint military exercises. According to Sumit
Ganguly, “After six decades of independence, India’s record on its national security presents
distinctly mixed results” (Ganguly 2015, 157). However, this promise remains bedevilled by
a string of financial scams over the purchase of weapon systems and vital spare parts, incon-
sistency in budgetary allocations, lack of sufficient investment in manpower and related fa-
cilities, and the absence of a national security policy providing a sense of direction in defence
and national security-related issues.

New multilateralism
India had in the past mostly staked its international standing of multilateral institutions, such
as the nonaligned movement, the UNCTAD, and the UN General Assembly. The post-
Cold War era saw its entry into the World Trade Organization. The primary aim in these
institutions has remained the securing of national economic and security interests. India has
also entered into formal and informal coalitions with several developing countries, such as
Brazil, China, Indonesia, and South Africa, to serve specific purposes, such as gaining time
to modernize targeted sectors while providing protection to key domestic constituencies.
Cohen observes that a clear shift in negotiating strategies at the multilateral forums was a
clear indication that India wanted to get rid of its traditional image as a country that almost
always opposed Western policies (Cohen 2001, 66–91).
While India no doubt benefits from multilateralism and interdependence, it also faces the
challenge of gaining sufficient autonomy under unipolarity – the norms on interdependence
and other issues are shaped primarily by the hegemon and its allies rather than by the other
members of the international system. Thus, India’s search for power through multilateralism
remains delicate – it seeks to engage the support of the United States where their vital in-
terests converge and explores alternative modes to push her interests where they clash with
American priorities (Gupta and Chatterjee 2015). The post-Cold War reality has forced
India to articulate a sense of positive autonomy, and work out how to navigate the global
order under the new circumstances. Despite these challenges, most Indian scholars (Mehta
2009) are convinced that only interdependence and multilateral engagement can open up
new opportunities for India.
Consistent with the demands of a more rule-based order, which India has championed
since its post-independence days, Indian policy-makers continue to seek major structural and
functional reforms of the UN and other international organizations. This approach towards
multipolarity, in general, and the UN, in particular, continues despite a belief that “India
gives much to the United Nations, but gains very little from it” (Sreenivasan 2009). Despite
a lack of reciprocal advantages, India has taken part in 43 out of a total of 68 peacekeeping
operations the UN has undertaken since 1948 (Ministry of External Affairs 2013). India
has pursued its claim for a permanent membership in the Security Council on the basis of
its civilizational legacy, its status as the world’s largest and most vibrant democracy, and the

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fourth largest economy in terms of purchasing power parity. Its claim further arises from its
unswerving commitment to the ideals and activities of the UN and its impressive record of
participation in UN Peacekeeping Operations. While these bases of claim arise from a “nar-
row major-power claim,” India’s earliest advocacy of UN reform comes from a normative
position on the representativeness of UNSC and predates India’s rise as an emerging power
(Malone and Mukherjee 2013, 114). India anchors its claim to the permanent seat not only
as part of the G-4 (Germany, Japan, Brazil, and India) but also as an active member of L-69,
a larger coalition of developing countries advocating UN reform.

Conclusion
While India’s post-Cold War foreign policy has undoubtedly changed, its ideological for-
mulation has lagged behind. The great advantage of the Nehruvian model was its cognitive
sophistication, no matter what applied maladies it produced. Through peaceful coexistence
and strategic autonomy, it was able to put together an alternative discourse that did not
blindly ape the Western categories but sought to invest in the democratic virtues of critical-
ity and plurality in keeping with India’s commitment to create a new world order based on
equality, justice, and dignity for all. While this undoubtedly encouraged a mode of perennial
denial and caused complications in its relations with major powers, the idea of a nonaligned
foreign policy that preferred autonomy over alliances suited the cause of a postcolonial state
that needed resources from all quarters and wanted to play a major role in world politics,
regardless of its material capabilities. As India has grown into a major power, and as the
world moved away from bipolarity to complex multipolarity, the traditional discourse of
nonalignment no longer works. Yet, given India’s decision not to institutionalize as yet a
full spectrum strategic alliance with the US-led West and its major problems with China, a
flexible hub and spokes kind of foreign policy gradually took shape.
Strong relations with the United States and Japan, an increasingly strategic approach to
China, prioritizing relations with East Asian states and maintaining friendly ties with other
Asian and African states are the major attributes of India’s foreign policy in contemporary
times. India also engages with its neighbourhood far more vigorously although its relation-
ship with Pakistan remains tense and acrimonious. Proactive multilateralism, and seeking
more leverage for it at international platforms, have become more important than the past
zeal for representing Third World interests, per se. As its claim to a major power has grown,
it has become more sensitive to its geopolitical interests. From policing major international
chock-points in the Indian Ocean to undertaking joint naval exercises with a host of like-
minded states, its strategic footprints have grown considerably in the last two decades. As
its economy continues to grow and markets expand, foreign policy has become a very im-
portant tool to facilitate this process. Therefore, while adjusting to global power shifts, the
traditional goals of Indian foreign policy in harnessing resources for development and main-
taining autonomy befitting of a major power have remained in place.

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 24
Japan’s foreign policy
Sebastian Maslow

Ambivalence between Asia and the West

Japan’s foreign policy and its relationship with Asia is marked with ambivalence.1 Indeed,
since the formation of the modern Japanese state in the 19th century, discourses on its foreign
policy oscillated between a Western and Asian identity (Suzuki 2009). Following the Meiji
Restoration in 1868, prominent intellectuals, such as Yukichi Fukuzawa, advocated a course
of rapid modernization through an embrace of Western values and a “de-­A sianization” of
Japan (datsua ny ūō). In contrast, discourses emerging in the early 20th century began to f­ocus
on the Asian region as Japan’s civilizational space. The slogan “same culture, same race”
(dōbun dōshu) was a result of this discourse and evolved alongside a Pan-Asianist movement
in Japan (Saaler 2006). Propagating the “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere,” the in-
tellectual discourse on cultural identity was overtaken by Japan’s imperial expansion into
Asia. The dismantling of Japan’s wartime state under US occupation was quickly followed
by years of rapid economic growth, which marked the return of Japan to the international
stage. Japan’s colonial legacy, however, has shaped its relationship with its Asian neighbors
ever since, as did its postwar economic recovery.
As the region’s economic center and key US security ally, Japan sought to reconcile its
relations with states in North- and Southeast Asia during the 1960s and 1970s. Arguably, the
industrial and trade policies of Japan’s postwar developmental state have built the foundation
for growth and modernization in large parts of postcolonial Asia and thus represent a crucial
condition for the region’s central role in economic globalization (Berger 2003). Meanwhile,
the end of the Cold War and regional power shifts converging over China’s economic and
military ascendancy have triggered debate over Japan’s international role. Thus, amidst histor-
ical animosities over its wartime past and unresolved territorial disputes, Tokyo’s latest efforts
to renegotiate its postwar pacifist security system have triggered widespread concerns over a
return of Japanese militarism in Asia as well as a scholarly debate on future directions of Japan’s
foreign policy.
Japan’s current foreign policy remains marked with ambivalence. Japan’s dual role as key
source for trade, investment, and developmental aid, as well as key US military ally, has
placed Japan at the intersection of Asia’s security and economic regional orders. Thus, shifts

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in Japan’s foreign policy continue to impact Asia’s complex political and economic dynamics.
As was the case in Meiji Japan, Tokyo’s political elite remains divided on the course of Japan’s
foreign and security policy. During the early 1990s, key leaders have advocated an active role
for Japan in promoting Asian regionalism and community building. China’s rise in military
capabilities and North Korea’s ongoing security crisis, however, have caused strategists in
Japan to advocate a robust security relationship with the United States. Indeed, this cleavage
between an Asianism on the one hand and bilateralism centered on the US-Japan security
alliance on the other represents a defining feature of contemporary Japan’s foreign policy
(Hook et al. 2012).
The return of Shinzō Abe and his Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) to power in 2012
was followed by his pledge to restore Japan’s role in international politics by “taking Japan
back” from the constraints of its pacifist postwar regime. Advocating a strategic shift towards
a “proactive pacifism,” the Abe administration broadly altered the parameters of Japan’s
foreign and security policy. These changes were accompanied by a new Asia policy comple-
menting the US “Pivot to Asia.” Thus, in an effort to hedge China’s growing economic and
military role in the Asia-Pacific, Japan has expanded its strategic posture in Asia, combining
economic cooperation with the establishment of new security partnerships.
This chapter examines Japan’s foreign and security policy as it has evolved in close inter-
action with its Asian neighbors and the broader international community. For this purpose,
this chapter is structured as follows: First, I describe the formulation and entrenchment of
Japan’s Cold War foreign policy consensus, which has combined a low-key military posture
with a high-profile foreign economic and trade policy. I will then move on to outline the
process of post-Cold War realignment in Japan’s foreign policy, which has resulted in the
evolution of a “proactive pacifism,” placing Japan on track to play an active military role
in international security affairs. In the second part of this chapter, I will outline changes in
Japan’s foreign policy, particularly in relation to Asia. In the conclusion, I will look at some
of the most recent challenges faced by Japan’s foreign policy as tensions in the East and South
China Seas prevail, and new uncertainties emerge over the future of the US-Japan alliance.

Historical and institutional parameters of Japan’s

postwar foreign and security policy
Formation and entrenchment of Japan’s foreign policy and security principles
Following its defeat in World War II and US occupation, Japan’s primary objective was to
seek political rehabilitation and economic recovery. As it signed the San Francisco Peace
Treaty in 1951, Washington and Tokyo concluded a mutual security treaty on the sidelines.
Amidst the unfolding Cold War in Asia, epitomized by the Chinese Communist Revolu-
tion in 1949 and the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950, Japan entered a close security
alliance with the United States. To bolster Japan’s role in Cold War US strategic planning,
­Washington extended its nuclear umbrella over Japan, while Tokyo promised to host US
troops on Japanese soil (Hara 2014).
The United States had pressured Japan to remilitarize. Thus, in accordance with the US
and Japan Mutual Defense Assistance Agreement, Japan established its Self-Defense Forces
(SDFs) in 1954 (Shibayama 2010). Yet Japan’s postwar leadership deflected further US pres-
sure for a strong military posture by referring to the US-sponsored 1946 pacifist constitu-
tion, which, in its Article 9, prohibits Japan from possessing any military force and renounces
war as sovereign right of the nation (Dower 1999). Named after postwar Prime Minister

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Sebastian Maslow

Shigeru Yoshida, Japan’s foreign and security policy unfolded in the form of the “Yoshida
Line,” combining a low-profile defense posture with a high-profile foreign economic policy
(Nakajima 2006: 91–122).
Entrenchment of the “Yoshida Line” as the basis of Japan’s postwar foreign policy was
fostered by a strong antimilitarist culture (Berger 1993). While conservative elites promoted
constitutional revision to allow for a more robust Japanese defense posture, foreign and se-
curity policy evolved into a key cleavage structuring Japan’s postwar politics (Igarashi 1985;
Choi 1997). This cleavage further manifested itself in the so-called “1955 system,” pitting
the conservative ruling LDP against the opposing Japan Socialist Party – with both parties
being established in 1955. As public opposition erupted in the late 1950s over the LDP’s
course of extending the US-Japan security alliance, the conservative mainstream embraced
a political realism in line with key positions of the political left. Further, to secure its mo-
nopoly of power in the 1960s and 1970s, the LDP shifted its policy focus away from security
issues to economic growth and social welfare.
After Japan joined the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade in 1955 and the United
Nations (UN) in 1956, its status as a global power gained attention as its economy grew to
become the world’s second largest after the United States in the 1960s. In this period of LDP
policy adaption, the core principles of Japan’s pacifist postwar foreign and security system
were formulated (Calder 1988a). In 1967, it imposed restrictions on arms exports, which
were further extended in 1976. Also in 1967, it formulated principles that prohibited the
production, possession, and introduction of nuclear weapons in Japan. Also in the late 1960s,
it committed itself to the peaceful use of space and restricted the deployment of its SDFs
overseas. Finally, in 1976, it introduced a one percent of GDP ceiling on its defense budget
(Hughes 2009).
Meanwhile, following its defeat in the Vietnam War, the United States amended its for-
eign and security policy objectives in Asia in the form of the 1969 Nixon doctrine and
engaged in diplomatic rapprochement with China in the early 1970s. In Japan, these policy
shifts have triggered fears of abandonment by the United States. In response, Tokyo formu-
lated for the first time a clear outline of its defense policy in the form of the 1976 National
Defense Policy Outline and expanded the regional and functional scope of the bilateral US
security partnership through the 1978 Guidelines for Defense Cooperation, thus finalizing
the formation of US-centered security bilateralism as a main feature of Japan’s postwar for-
eign policy (Yoshida 2012). Reassessing the fundamental changes in the global economy and
security throughout the 1970s, Japan carefully readjusted its foreign policy. While building
on the “Yoshida Line,” it has adopted a new foreign policy strategy known as “compre-
hensive security” (sōgō anzen hosh ō). Thus, this strategy explicitly emphasized the use of
economic and diplomatic means in pursuit of Japan’s national security interests in contrast to
military instruments (Akaha 1991). In the eyes of many, Japan’s approach to foreign policy
as foreign economic policy has served as proof for the country’s successful postwar return to
international politics.

Japan’s response to post-Cold War geostrategic changes

The parameters of Japan’s foreign and security policy shifted with the end of the Cold War.
Internationally, the first Gulf War, following Iraq’s invasion and annexation of Kuwait
in 1990, has caused debate over Japan’s role in international affairs. While it contributed
13 ­billion US dollars in support of the coalitional forces led by the United States to liberate
Kuwait, Tokyo’s “checkbook diplomacy” was dismissed as insufficient, particularly in the

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United States. What was consecutively narrated as Japan’s “Gulf War trauma” in academia
and Tokyo’s policymaking circles has in part been strategically framed by long-term propo-
nents of a more active Japanese foreign policy capable of exercising military force in inter-
national security affairs (Hisae 2015). Most prominently, the stage for this debate was set by
the former LDP Secretary General Ichirō Ozawa who, as an advocate of internationalism,
has called for a “normal Japan” able to deploy its military capacities in support of UN peace-
keeping operations (PKO) (Ozawa 1993).
As a result of this debate, Japan has passed legislation enabling the dispatch of troops
under UN command. Based on a mandate constraining overseas dispatches to noncombat
areas, Japan deployed its SDF for the first time in postwar history to a UN PKO mission
in Cambodia in 1992 (Dobson 2003). It should be noted that despite criticism of Japan’s
passive role in international affairs, in addition to its US-centered security bilateralism,
Tokyo also embraced a UN-centered internationalism. As such, Japan has for decades
served as the UN’s second largest financial contributor after the United States. Tokyo has
exercised leadership in pushing the UN agenda on issues such as human security, envi-
ronmental protection, and African development assistance (Green 2003: 205–207). This
effort is closely connected with Japan’s attempt to mobilize support for a reform of the UN
with the goal of securing a seat for itself as a permanent member of the Security Council
(Drifte 1999).
Meanwhile, post-Cold War Japan’s incremental departure from its postwar pacifism
was accelerated by changes in the Asian security environment. Briefly put, concerns over
North Korea’s missile and nuclear program since the early 1990s have triggered policy
and institutional changes in Japan’s security system. North Korea’s Nodong-1 missile test
in 1993 and the launch of the Taepodong-1 missile over Japan’s airspace in 1998 have
demonstrated to the Japanese public and policymakers the threat that North Korea’s ac-
quired missiles pose to their country as Pyongyang’s missile arsenal is capable of striking
all of Japan’s territory. These security concerns were further amplified by North Korea’s
efforts toward developing nuclear weapons. In response, Japan has engaged in managing
the North Korean nuclear crisis, first in 1993–94 as part of the Korean Peninsula Energy
Development Organization and in 2003 as a member of the Six-Party Talk framework.
While both of these initiatives have failed to denuclearize the Korean Peninsula, they
do provide evidence of Japan’s effort toward shaping multilateral security cooperation in
Northeast Asia.
While North Korea has become a priority item on Japan’s foreign policy agenda, official
diplomatic relations remain absent and thus remain a reminder of Japan’s wartime legacy.
In fact, since 1990, both countries have repeatedly tried to open a diplomatic path towards
normalizing diplomatic ties, which even resulted in a summit meeting between Japanese
Prime Minister Junichirō Koizumi and North Korea’s Kim Jong-il in 2002. This summit
has been praised as a key success in post-Cold War Japanese foreign policy as it has pro-
duced the Pyongyang Declaration, outlining a roadmap for diplomatic rapprochement, with
North Korea agreeing on a moratorium of its missile and nuclear program. Yet any progress
since the 2002 summit was forestalled by domestic outrage in Japan over North Korea’s
state-sponsored abduction campaign of Japanese citizens during the 1970s and 1980s – a fact
publicly acknowledged by Kim at his meeting with Koizumi (Funabashi 2007). Thus, in
response to the mounting domestic pressure, Japan began to prioritize the abduction issue,
limiting its own potential role in contributing to regional security cooperation in solving the
threat posed by North Korea’s missile and nuclear weapons proliferation (Hagström 2009;
Mason 2014).

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In addition to the threat posed by North Korea, Japanese foreign policymakers and
defense planners were increasingly concerned with China’s growing military capabilities.
­Beijing’s effort of consolidating its security interests in the region were forcefully brought
to the attention of strategists in Japan during the Taiwan Strait crisis of 1995–96. Thus,
as China has moved towards expanding its military presence in the East and South China
Sea, this poses challenges to Japan’s sea lanes of communication in the region, which link
Japan’s market to the world and are thus vital for its economic security as a resource-scarce
trading nation (Graham 2006). These anxieties are further amplified by China’s recent
challenges of Japan’s sovereignty claim over the Senkaku/Diaoyutai islands in the East
China Sea (O’Shea 2012).
Japan has responded to these security challenges primarily by strengthening the US-­
Japan security alliance and by implementing changes to its defense posture. Concisely put,
the North Korea and Taiwan Strait crisis has propelled a redefinition of the security alli-
ance in the form of the revision of the US-Japan Guidelines for Defense Cooperation in
1997, which, in turn, resulted in Japan’s Law Concerning Measures to Ensure the Peace and
­Security of Japan in Situations in Surrounding Areas. Essentially, these measures expand the
US-Japan security alliance beyond the defense of Japan while specifying its role in providing
rear-area logistical support to the United States during military conflict (Tamaki 2012). In
addition, in response to North Korea’s missile and nuclear threat, Japan has developed its
own surveillance satellite capabilities and introduced the US-sponsored ballistic missile de-
fense system in 2002, thus further consolidating the US-Japan security alliance as a pillar of
Japan’s foreign and security system.
In addition to the geostrategic changes unleashed by the end of Cold War, a second
critical juncture in Japan’s trajectory towards a proactive foreign and security posture were
the terrorist attacks on the United States on September 11, 2001, and the following “war
on terror” (WOT). Under the leadership of Prime Minister Koizumi, Japan dispatched its
Maritime Self-Defense Forces to the Indian Ocean to provide logistical support as part of
Operation Enduring Freedom in 2001. Building on the momentum triggered by the WOT,
Japan joined the “coalition of the willing” in 2004 and dispatched 600 Ground and Air
Self-Defense Forces to southern Iraq to participate in a noncombat reconstruction mission
(Pekkanen and Krauss 2005).
Despite domestic political turmoil and a high turnover of prime ministers in the 2000s,
consecutive governments have continued this course of bolstering the US alliance and of
setting Japan on track towards a more proactive foreign and security policy in Asia and
beyond. For example, in 2011, Japan has dispatched 170 SDF members to Djibouti to par-
ticipate in the international fight against piracy in the Gulf of Aden (Black 2014). 2 More-
over, in 2012, Japan has dispatched 400 troops to the UN mission in South Sudan. 3 These
efforts should also be seen as part of Japan’s commitment to a human security agenda and its
contribution to development assistance. In fact, introduced in 1954, Japan’s official develop-
ment assistance (ODA) was often criticized as mainly serving Japan’s economic interests; yet
Japan remains one of the largest donors in support of grant aid and technical cooperation.
Japan’s hosting of the Tokyo International Conference on African Development (TICAD)
since 1993 offers additional evidence for Japan’s evolving role as a civilian or humanitarian
power in international affairs (Hook and Son 2013). In sum, post-Cold War realignment of
Japan’s postwar foreign and security system witnessed the evolution of a proactive foreign
policy centered on US-centered security bilateralism as a pillar for Japan’s Asian foreign
and security policy and an internationalism promoting a stronger profile for Japan in global
security affairs.

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Domestic determinants of Japan’s foreign policy:

institutional change and political leadership
In addition to the geostrategic changes, the shift in Japan’s foreign and security policy was crit-
ically driven by shifts in Japan’s domestic politics. Most importantly, the collapse of Japan’s po-
litical left in the 1990s has opened space for conservative forces to promulgate ideas for a new
foreign policy. The dismantling of the “1955 system” was followed by a mix of domestic insti-
tutional changes, which increased the public focus on foreign policy issues. A reform of Japan’s
electoral system in 1994 and of the central bureaucracy in 1998 has enforced political debate
on foreign policy issues, while the role of the core executive in the form of Japan’s prime min-
ister office (Kantei) in foreign policy decision-making increased significantly (Shinoda 2013;
Catalinac 2016). For example, as reform of Japan’s bureaucracy went into force in 2001, Prime
Minister Koizumi was able to increase his personal leadership in foreign policymaking using
an empowered Kantei to smoothly implement Japan’s support for the US “war on terror.”
In the past, Japan’s foreign and security policy has been driven by many actors and in-
terests. In fact, Japan’s “reactive” foreign policy has been causally traced to the multitude of
conflicting interests and bureaucratic sectionalism in the making of Japan’s foreign policy
(Calder 1988b). For example, as Japan emphasized trade and economic growth, the Ministry
of International Trade and Industry (MITI, since 2001 Ministry of Economy, Trade and In-
dustry: METI) played an important role in shaping Japan’s foreign policy agenda in the past.
Though, Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) plays the leading role in managing the
US-Japan security alliance. Japan’s postwar tradition of civilian control meant that MOFA
and bureaucrats of the National Police Agency occupied key positions within the Japan
­Defense Agency ( JDA), while mediating influence of military personal to the prime minister
(Hisae 2015). However, as Japan’s foreign and security policy adapted to the multitude of
post-Cold War challenges, the formation of a new conservative generation of politicians has
sought to revise Japan’s pacifist security system (Samuels 2007). Thus, for example, during
his first term as prime minster, the LDP’s Abe upgraded the JDA to a full-fledged Ministry
of Defense in 2007, increasing the role of the military in security policymaking.
In contrast, government change in 2009 from the LDP to the Democratic Party of Japan
(DPJ) has not served as a critical juncture in Japan’s foreign policy. The DPJ under Yukio
Hatoyama has pledged a shift in Japan’s foreign policy away from the US-Japan security alli-
ance towards an “Asianism” focusing on the establishment of an East Asian Community alike
to the European Union based on the vague notion of “yūai” or “fraternity” (Sneider 2011).
Yet, as the Hatoyama administration failed to deliver on its promise to relocate the Futenma
US air base out of Okinawa, the DPJ-led government quickly returned to a political realism
continuing the evolution of a proactive Japanese foreign policy in line with the US-Japan se-
curity relationship (Hughes 2012). As a result, the DPJ government under Naoto Kan initiated
a shift towards a “dynamic defense force” (dōteki bōeiryoku), thus replacing the Cold War con-
cept of “basic defense force” (kibanteki bōeiryoku). This shift implies the buildup of maritime
surveillance and defense capabilities on the southern borderlines of the Japanese archipelago in
direct response to China’s increased presence in close proximity to Japan’s maritime territory.
In addition, the DPJ has also moved forward easing bans on Japan’s arms exports, thus per-
mitting arms deals with Australia, the United States, and NATO members. In addition, the
March 11, 2011, triple disaster of earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown in the northern
Tohoku region has resulted in an increase of public trust and support of the US-Japan alliance,
as Washington has launched “Operation Tomodachi,” using the Japanese term for friend, and
dispatched its troops to Tohoku for immediate disaster relief (Samuels 2013).

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Japan’s approach to Asia

Rapprochement and regional cooperation

In light of Japan’s wartime past, its relationship with modern Asia unfolded in the form of
a victim/aggressor chasm (Berger 2012). In the subregion of Northeast Asia, Japan has en-
gaged in reproaching South Korea and China. As a result, Tokyo has normalized relations
with Seoul in 1965 and Beijing in 1978. Circumventing reference to Japan’s colonial legacy
Beijing and Tokyo sought to consolidate their relationship throughout the 1980s and early
1990s, as did Seoul and Tokyo (He 2009; Dudden 2014). As for the broad strokes of Japan’s
foreign policy towards Northeast Asia, a key role must be assigned to MOFA’s influential
“China school” as well as to pragmatic leaders from within the conservative mainstream
of the LDP in the form of former prime ministers Kakuei Tanaka, M ­ asayoshi Ohira, or
Takeo Fukuda. Tanaka and Fukuda also shaped postwar Japan’s return to S­ outheast Asia in
the 1970s. Thus, despite anti-Japanese protests throughout Southeast Asia at the occasion of
Tanaka’s tour through the region in 1974, Japan sought to improve relations using its eco-
nomic power. Based on the “Fukuda doctrine” taking its name from Prime Minister Takeo
Fukuda, Japan committed itself to the promotion of peace and prosperity in this s­ ubregion
and quickly became the largest ODA donor to ASEAN member states (Lam 2013). Through-
out both regions, Japan expanded its production networks and thus critically contributed to
Asia’s integration through trade and investment (Hatch and ­Yamamura 1996).
However, China’s economic rise in the 1990s has narrowed the gap between Tokyo
and Beijing, thus making this particular relationship more vulnerable to political conflict.
Vice versa, Beijing became more concerned with Tokyo’s efforts to consolidate its security
relationship with Washington. It is in this context that bilateral distrust and nationalism
unfolded as a feature of contemporary regional affairs in Asia (Rozman 2004). Thus, as his-
torical animosities over conflicting interpretations of Japan’s wartime past have frequently
strained Tokyo’s relations with its Asian neighbors, the dominant modus of Japan’s regional
diplomacy was a separation of political and economic interests (seikei bunri). As a result, inter-
dependence between Japan and Asia’s economic development intensified, as Japan relies on
its production networks in the region, while Asia depends on Japanese investments (Calder
and Ye 2010; Hatch 2010).4

Sino-Japanese rivalry and the unfolding of Asian regionalism

In addition to Japan’s role in shaping market-driven regionalization in Asia, Tokyo has
also attempted to shape the intergovernmental process of regionalism. Multilateralism has
evolved significantly since the mid-1990s and has expanded its functional scope in the after-
math of the Asian financial crisis of 1997 (MacIntyre et al. 2008). For example, in response
to the financial crisis, Japan has proposed the creation of an Asian Monetary Fund (AMF)
with a portfolio of 100 billion US dollars. This initiative gained the sport of South Korea
and ASEAN member states but was eventually shot down by the United States and the
International Monetary Fund (IMF), as well as China who saw in it a plot for enhancing
Japanese leadership in East Asia. However, as China grew more vulnerable to instability at
the global financial and economic markets in the process of its growing share in world trade,
Beijing embraced regional financial governance supporting the ASEAN Plus Three (APT)
bilateral swap arrangement in 2000 known as Chiang Mai Initiative (CMI). Paralleling its
own previous AMF plan, Japan has embraced the multilateralization of the CMI scheme in

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2010. Yet China has taken the leadership in financial regionalism, appointing the director
of the 2011-established CMI APT Macroeconomic Research Office as Beijing has used this
scheme to counter the influence of the IMF. In contrast, Japan lobbied for an open regional-
ism including the role of global financial institutions (Rathus 2011).
The Japan-China rivalry over the future of East Asian regionalism first emerged in the
crafting of East Asia Summit (EAS) in 2005. Beijing promoted an EAS centered on the
APT region opposing participation of the US, while Japan promoted an open regional-
ism involving US interests through the inclusion of US allies, such as Australia and India.
As such, Japan has also played a critical role in linking dynamics of East Asia regionalism
to US geostrategic interests (Katzenstein 2005). Furthermore, the rise of “competitive re-
gionalism” in the form of regional free trade agreements (FTAs) has also demonstrated the
new Sino-Japanese rivalry over the future of Asia. Thus, while China has launched an FTA
with ASEAN in 2001, a previously reluctant Japan quickly followed in promoting its own
bilateral FTAs with Asian countries starting with Singapore in 2001 (Solis et al. 2009). In
2006, Japan promoted the EAS-based Comprehensive Economic Partnership for East Asia
(CEPEA) as a counterproposal to China’s East Asia Free Trade Area (EAFTA). In 2013,
­Japan announced its participations in the Trans-Pacific Partnership Agreement (TPP), which
excludes China. Finally, in 2015, China launched its Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank
(AIIB), which excludes Japan and the United States, and which represents a counterpoint to
the Asia Development Bank, launched in 1966, traditionally led by Japan.

The emergence of Japan’s “proactive pacifism”

The China factor in Japan’s new security system

After his return to the post of prime minister in 2012, Abe promised to “take Japan back”
from the constraints of Japan’s postwar pacifist security system and to restore a “strong Japan”
in international affairs. This pledge resulted in a strategic readjustment of Japan’s foreign
policy advocated under the slogan of a “proactive contribution to peace” or “proactive pac-
ifism” (sekkyokuteki heiwashugi) as it became known. Japan’s strategic readjustment unfolded
in large part as a result of the geostrategic changes converging over the rise of China and its
implications for Asia (Maslow 2015a).
While throughout the 2000s, Japan and China examined joint exploitation of natural
resources in the East China Sea (Manicom 2014), this process was stalled after the standoff
over the Senkaku/Diaoyutai islands escalated in late 2010 triggered by the collision of a
Chinese fishing trawler with Japanese coast guard vessels (Hagström 2012). The conflict
escalated further as the DPJ-led government of Yasuhiko Noda purchased the Senkaku is-
lets from their private Japanese owner in September 2012, triggering massive anti-Japanese
protests in China. While criticism over the DPJ’s crisis management vis-à-vis China has
contributed to its rapid decline in voter support, the LDP returned to power in late 2012.
While Sino-Japanese security relations further deteriorated in early 2013, the newly elect
Abe sought the momentum and to push its security agenda (Pugliese 2015). In November
2013, China reacted to Japan’s more robust public stance and announced the establishment
of an air defense identification zone over the East China Sea and thus the disputed territory.
In the meanwhile, incidents in which Japan scrambled fighter jets to intercept Chinese planes
have also increased dramatically between 2010 and 2013 (Erickson and Liff 2016).
Against this background, Japan’s conservative government led by Abe has amplified the
need for a new foreign and security policy (Liff 2015; Maslow 2015b). First, the changes

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Sebastian Maslow

proposed by Abe included a new state secrecy law. Introduced in November 2013, this
law is designed to increase Japan’s control of sensitive information with regard to defense,
diplomacy, or counterterrorism measures. This law was passed as a precondition for the
establishment of Japan’s National Security Council (NSC), also in November 2013. Based
on the American model, the NSC was introduced in order to improve Japan’s capabilities in
intelligence analysis, policy coordination, and crisis management particularly in the context
of the US-Japan security alliance. The NSC is directly attached to the Kantei and headed by
Shotarō Yachi, a former top MOFA bureaucrat. Together with Nobukatsu Kanehara, Yachi
has long served as Abe’s top diplomatic adviser and is considered the architect of Japan’s
­current diplomatic roadmap and known as a proponent of a resolute security strategy on
hedging China (Pugliese 2016). Second, in December 2013, the Abe government released a
new National Security Strategy (NSS), which redefined Japan’s international role by advo-
cating a “proactive pacifism.” Explicitly stating Japan’s concerns for the declining role of the
United States in Asia vis-à-vis the implications of China’s rise for Asia’s geostrategic status
quo, the NSS proscribes Japan the role as a regional balancing power. Third, to achieve
this, the Abe government has in December 2013 revised Japan’s National Defense Program
Guidelines and Mid-Term Defense Plan to promote the acquisition of new defense technol-
ogy, including amphibious landing units to recapture islands, F-35 stealth fighter jets, and
Global Hawk surveillance drones. Since 2013, the Abe government has gradually restored a
growth in its defense budget.
These changes were implemented as a precondition for Japan’s push to participate in
collective self-defense operations alongside the United States. In order to achieve this, the
Abe government altered the interpretation of Japan’s pacifist constitution in July 2014 and
subsequently passed a set of security bills to build the basis for a new robust foreign and se-
curity posture. Amidst parliamentary deliberation of this legislation, Japan and the United
States announced an “Alliance of Hope” as they revised the Guidelines for US-Japan Defense
Cooperation in April 2015 to account for a proactive Japan in bilateral security framework.
Finally, in line with the new “proactive pacifism” doctrine, the Abe government has lifted
Japan’s long-standing ban on arms exports and actively engages in joint development of
weapons technology in arms exports to states such as the United States, Great Britain, and
Australia, and revised its ODA guidelines to allow for the use of development aid in support
of foreign armed forces.

Japan’s “pivot to Asia”

It is worth noting that the strategic currents for Japan’s newly evolving foreign and security
policy were already formulated during Abe’s first term as prime minister (2006–2007). Abe
promoted a value-based diplomacy (kachikan gaik ō) in an attempt to hedge China. Based on
this initiative, Japan launched a campaign known as “arch of freedom and prosperity” ( jiyu
to han’ei no k ō) with the aim of establishing Japan as a “thought leader” in Asia (Schulze
2013). Following his return to power in 2012, Abe reinitiated this campaign in calling Japan
“Asia’s democratic security diamond” and advocated a strong focus of Japan on maritime
security in Asia in response to China’s attempt to turn the South China Sea into a “Lake
Beijing” (Abe 2012).
As a result of Japan’s securitization of Asia’s maritime space, Japan attempts to consol-
idate its presence in South and Southeast Asia, as this region is deemed vital for hedging
China. The Abe government has promised new investments in infrastructure projects as a
counterpoint to China’s “One Belt, One Road” initiative while facilitating new security

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partnerships with India, Vietnam, the Philippines, and Australia (Wallace 2013). For exam-
ple, Japan has provided the Philippines with new patrol vessels and surveillance aircraft to
strengthen Manila’s defense capacities vis-à-vis China in the South China Sea. Japan has also
expressed its support for the US “freedom of navigation” operations in the South China Sea
in response to China’s construction of military bases in the area of the Scarborough Shoal
and the Spratly Islands. Linking China’s handling of its territorial disputes in this maritime
area to its own conflict with Beijing in the East China Sea, Japan has even announced to
participate actively in multilateral military maneuvers in the South China Sea, thus suggest-
ing that Tokyo is willing to further entangle itself in the South China Sea and to securitize
Asia’s maritime space to reconstitute its own security institutions (Wirth 2016; Drifte 2016).
In sum, as Japan developed its own regional security strategy, Tokyo became a vital part of
the US “rebalancing to Asia” strategy adopted under Obama in 2012.

Whither Japan’s role in Asian politics?

Along the structural realist/social constructivist divide in the study of international relations,
scholarly debate has long been divided over the trajectory of change in Japan’s post-Cold
War foreign and security policy. Whether Japan will depart from the constraints of its post-
war pacifist institutions and embrace a proactive military role was indeed the main concern
in this scholarship (e.g. Pyle 2007; Samuels 2007; Singh 2013; Oros 2015). However, as
outlined, recent developments in response to the multitude of geostrategic changes in Asia
suggest that Japan has indeed embarked on a pathway towards becoming a “normal country”
capable of playing an active role in international security.
Under the banner of its “proactive pacifism,” Japan applies a mix of military, economic,
and political instruments to its foreign policy, as Tokyo has opened a legal path towards
participation in collective self-defense operations alongside its US ally. Japan’s current for-
eign policy in Asia is driven by the strategic objective of hedging China’s rise. As such,
Tokyo has invested heavily in consolidating its presence in Asia through the establishment
of new security partnerships. At same time, Japan has engaged in further consolidating its
security alliance with the United States. As a result, Japan’s foreign policy in Asia is marked,
both, with increasingly autonomous policy initiatives and a sustained focus on US security
­relations. It is worth noting that Japan under Abe has improved ties with South Korea in
an attempt to resolve conflicts over Japan’s wartime past. Despite political turmoil in South
Korea converging over the presidency of Park Geun-hye, both countries have even signed
a General Security of Military Information Agreement to share intelligence in late 2016. In
addition, Abe has also engaged in reopening dialogue with China, after meeting with Xi
Jinping at the 2014 APEC meeting, in an attempt to temper tensions over the Senkaku dis-
pute and Chinese outrage over Abe’s visit to the controversial Yasukuni Shrine in late 2013.
Finally, while Japan has invested heavily in strengthening the US-Japan alliance, the un-
folding political changes in the wake of Donald Trump’s victory in the 2016 presidential race
have caused concerns over the future of this partnership. As such, Trump has called on Japan
to step up its financial and military burden sharing in the alliance (despite Japan’s already
high 75 percent contribution to all costs related to the alliance) and suggested a gradual with-
drawal from Asia in his “America-first” approach to international affairs. Reference was even
made during Trump’s campaign to a nuclear armament of Japan and South Korea. Trump’s
promise to withdraw US participation from the TPP would cause a major pillar of Japan’s
current strategic planning for the Asia-Pacific to collapse. As this would open up space for
China to expand its presence in the region still further, Japan would then be presented with

353
Sebastian Maslow

a choice of active balancing or active integration into Asia embracing Beijing’s new role
(cf. Hughes 2016). Either way, Japan’s response to the increased geostrategic uncertainty will
have a profound impact on Asia politics.

Acknowledgment
This work was supported by a JSPS grant-in-aid research funding ( JP16K17067). The author
also wishes to acknowledge the kind support of Jon Morris.

Notes
1 While the definition of what constitutes the geographical and cultural space referred to as Asia is
contested, in this chapter, I refer to an East Asia understood as a regional complex consisting of the
sub-subregions of Northeast Asia and Southeast Asia, respectively, thus excluding the South Asian
subcontinent (cf. Buzan and Weaver 2003).
2 It is worth noting that Japan has built its first permanent overseas military base in Djibouti.
3 Since 1992, Japan has continued to dispatch troops to UN PKOs including to Mozambique (1993–
95), Rwanda (1994), Golan Heights (1996–2013), East Timor (2002–2004), Nepal (2007), and Sudan
(2008).
4 Exports from Japan to East Asia grew from 96.3 billion US dollars to 469.2 billion US dollars
during the period from 1990 to 2011, while imports from this region to Japan expanded from
66.2 billion US dollars to 354.1 billion US dollars during the same period. As such, as of 2011,
East Asia’s overall share in Japanese trade (imports 42.9% versus exports 56.9%) surpassed that of
other world regions, thus demonstrating the overall importance of East Asia for Japan’s economy
(Shirata 2014).

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 Part III
Issues and problems
 25
Multilateral institutional
­development in Asia
Competing pathways to regional order

Yong Deng

Introduction
Asia, particularly East Asia, is highly integrated economically. Yet the region remains thinly
institutionalized. The contemporary relevance of the ancient China-centric tributary sys-
tem is debatable and has been questioned by many, both in and outside the region. The
U.S. hegemony during the Cold War left little legacy to build on in terms of overarching
multilateral institutions. The various initiatives proposed by Tokyo when Japan emerged as
Asia’s number one have largely become distant memory. The golden age of Asian multilat-
eralism in the 1990s has since given way to heated geopolitics rivalries, eminently played out
through institutional contestation.
Despite setbacks to multilateral institution building, Asia marches on with its economic
integration in intra-regional trade, investment, and finance. The paradox of thickening in-
terdependence amidst geostrategic rivalries has come to characterize international relations
in Asia. The lack of interstate militarized conflict in East Asia in recent memory can create
an impression that institutions do not matter. Worse still, decades of relative peace can lull
the region to slacken off efforts to institutionalize regional architecture.
The geopolitics, not least galvanized by the rise of China, are certainly not the most
conducive to integrative regionalism. But, since the 1960s, the region has never ceased in
looking for answers to pressing economic and security issues through institutional entre-
preneurship. Even while major powers are jockeying for position in an unsettled regional
hierarchy after the global financial crisis in 2007–08, the region has seen frenetic activities in
multilateral institution building. The salience of institutional contestation reflects an Asian
style of status competition. Shifting geopolitical fissures give rise to competing designs, but
none seems to stick, much less fundamentally change the regional status quo. Asia’s order
has been transformed by the power reconfiguration and what’s going on in the marketplace.
Yet, how the institutional rivalry plays out will decisively determine whether the region can
avoid a violent path of power transition to create a unified Asia-Pacific security architecture.
This chapter starts with a brief overview of the historical legacies of multilateral insti-
tutional development in Asia. Then it discusses the golden age of regionalism in the 1990s.
The third section discusses the competing designs for regional institutions. The final section

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examines institutional development and heightened strategic rivalry, particularly after the
global financial crisis. The conclusion briefly highlights the enduring strength of regional
institution building and warns against exclusive regional designs.

The historical legacies

Fully developed during the Ming and Qing dynasties (1368–1911), ancient China’s centric
tributary system was not as structured and certainly not as legalistic as typical contemporary
institutions in international relations. The units within were not sovereignty states. The
system was formally hierarchical and revolved around China’s claims to be the center of civ-
ilization. As Mark Mancall argues, “the tribute system functioned to intermesh rather than
integrate the Central, East, and Southeast Asian societies that were derivative of, or periphery
to, China and the region’s preponderant Confucian society and tradition” (Mancall 1984, 15).
Today, scholars continue to debate over whether the system was cultural or commercial, who
benefitted, and whether China acted magnanimously. Such debates are often entangled with
contemporary political relations and, as such, can never be settled.
The ancient East Asian order did feature a clear hierarchy, Confucian culture, and the
institution of tribute missions. Contrary to the conventional focus on the cultural practice
surrounding China, the Japanese historian Takeshi Hamashita has shown that the tribute
system was profoundly commercial and widely practiced beyond China’s relations with its
periphery. It was not the only center to receive tribute missions from Korea, which “also sent
missions to Japan during the Tokugawa period (1600–1868). And Vietnam required tribute
missions from Laos” (Hamashita 2008, 18).
After the Meiji Restoration (1867–68), to strive for “civilization and enlightenment,”
the Japanese elites felt that they must sever Japan’s Asian affinity and follow in the footsteps
of the West to colonialize the region. Ultimately, imperial Japan embraced a brand of pan-­
Asianism, which both despised Asia and fed into the sense of a mission to save and unite Asia.
The result was the disastrous East Asian Co-prosperity Sphere in the 1930s and 1940s, which
was heavily defined by nativist, racist, and statist veins in Japanese Asianism (Koschmann
1997). The historical legacies were to leave a lasting struggle for self-identity between Asia
and the West in contemporary Japanese Asian regionalism (Katzenstein and Shiraishi 2007).
With the Korean War (1950–53), the division between the pro-Western countries and the
communist regimes became clearly demarcated. In Europe, the United States successfully
created a multinational security organization in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization
(NATO), but it failed to do the same in Asia. The Southeast Asia Treaty Organization
(SEATO) never really took off. The strategic landscape in Asia was too fluid and complicated
to allow for a NATO-like security organization in the region. The weakness and indepen-
dent spirit of Asian countries, coupled with a racial prejudice among the decision-making
elites in Washington, precluded any serious U.S. attempt to create a multilateral security bloc
that would require trusting its Asian allies with the same responsibility and authority as it did
their European counterparts (Hemmer and Katzenstein 2002).
The United States instead pursued a series of bilateral alliances under what is known as
the hub-spoke strategy. By the early 1950s, the United States had signed security treaties
with Japan, Korea, the Philippines, and Australia. The alliances were underpinned by shared
security and commercial interests, but they effectively created a network of bilateral ties that
sustained a U.S.-centered hierarchy in the region (Lake 2012).
While the United States opted to forgo multilateral institution building, the small coun-
tries in Southeast Asia established the Association for Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN)

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in 1967. Originally with five members, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, the Philippines,
and Thailand, ASEAN’s mission was to focus on intra-regional affairs, namely the con-
cerns within and between member states. In 1971, it publicly announced that its goal was
to turn Southeast Asia into a Zone of Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality, signaling its focus
on Southeast Asia and its disavowal of any extra-regional power’s interference in regional
affairs.
By the 1960s, Japan had begun to recover economically and psychologically from the
total defeat of the Pacific War. Sensitive to its “legitimacy deficit” and historical shadow
of war guilt, Japan quietly made a return to Asia. Multilateral institutions seemed to be the
least intrusive way for that. As a result, the Asian Development Bank (ADB) was created in
late 1966. The Japanese official Takeshi Watanabe was appointed the first president of ADB,
which is headquartered in Manila, the Philippines. Japan subsequently floated a number of
ideas for multilateral institutions, with a goal to reestablish ties in Asia and position itself as
a bridge between Asia and the West. Japan’s quiet leadership would prove instrumental in
the creation of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) in 1989, although Australian
Prime Minister Bob Hawk was the front man pushing the idea.
When considering institutional development in Asia, the prevailing view is to hold
­Europe as the standard. With such a comparative perspective, the conclusion is invariably
that Asia is weakly institutionalized. And there is little historical legacy to build upon. But
if one treats the ancient tributary system as seriously, both for its historical significance and
contemporary relevance, as does David Kang (2010), one might trace contemporary Asian
institutional development to the ancient era. But even if there is a revival of some features of
the tribute system, there is no historical continuity of the institution to speak of, much less
any agreement or certainty over how the past may still matter. Amongst the institutions born
during the Cold War, the ADB and APEC have persisted. But by now neither institution
has shown significant potential or interest in becoming an engine in regionalism. In fact,
both have shown signs of stalling. After asserting its centrality in Asian regionalism during
the 1990s, ASEAN is confronted with unprecedented crisis in managing China’s rise and
the U.S. pivot. In the 21st Century, China’s rise has prompted a flurry of new institutional
initiatives. Amidst heightened power competition, it remains an open question if any of the
efforts can ultimately succeed to transform the regional order.

The golden age of multilateralism

The 1990s turned out to be the golden age of multilateralism in Asia. During the decade,
APEC received a major boost with expanded membership and agenda. ASEAN vigorously
exercised its centrality and cultivated its style of diplomacy. It even created the ASEAN
Regional Forum (ARF), the first Asia-Pacific security platform. China, after decades of
aversion to multilateral diplomacy, warmed up towards regional institutions, and the Asian
financial crisis added impetus for East Asian regionalism.
APEC successfully negotiated a formula to include China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong at
the Seoul meeting in 1991. By 1998, APEC had concluded its membership expansion to its
current 21 economies. At the second unofficial summit held in Bogor, Indonesia, in 1994,
APEC achieved a landmark agreement that advanced economies would liberalize trade and
investment by 2010, and developing economies would follow suit ten years later. APEC had
struggled to implement these ambitious goals, but it did help energize the process of liber-
alization and globalization amidst heightened concerns over regional trade blocs arising in
Europe and North America (Deng 1997).

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Having led a diplomatic campaign to drive Vietnam out of Cambodia through the 1980s,
ASEAN emerged as a strong and widely respected institution. It immediately redefined
its identity to be a central player in shaping the regional architecture in Southeast Asia
and beyond. The organization carefully cultivated an Asian style of diplomacy featuring an
informal and non-legalistic approach, heightened sensitivity to sovereignty, and a process-­
oriented mode of interstate relations (Acharya 2009; Johnston 2012).
While promoting the ASEAN style of diplomacy, the organization also took steps to
play the central role in Asian international politics. Through the 1990s, it completed its
expansion to the current membership of ten. ASEAN also served as a major platform for
then Singaporean leader Lee Kuan Yew and Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad
to promote “Asian values,” a set of cultural norms and ideas supposedly distinctive from
Western values.
In 1994, ASEAN created the ARF, a multilateral security institution. ARF was the
first Asian-initiated multilateral security mechanism and today remains the only inclusive
Asian security institution. Through ARF, ASEAN sought to apply its Treaty of Amity and
­Cooperation (TAC), which upholds the principles of sovereignty and peaceful ­resolution of
conflict to transform regional international relations. The ARF’s approach is to maintain the
ASEAN centrality in promoting confidence building through official meetings and unofficial
Track II dialogue. ARF socialized Chinese elites to be comfortable with multilateral institu-
tions and to embrace a new security concept in which multilateralism featured prominently
( Johnston 2008). Three years later, ASEAN institutionalized ties with Northeast Asian pow-
ers, China, Japan, and Korea, through the ASEAN Plus Three (APT) arrangement.
China’s embrace of multilateralism was a transformative event for Asian diplomacy and
Chinese foreign policy. By the early 1990s, Chinese ruling elites had started to see partici-
pation in international institutions as integral to its opening policy. Eager to integrate itself
into the world’s most economically dynamic region, China was rather indiscriminate in
terms of deciding which institutions to join. Beijing joined APEC, ARF, and notably even
publicly supported Mahathir’s East Asian Economic Caucus (EAEC), an economic zone
that would only include East Asian economies, in the early 1990s. Beijing not only was an
eager participant but also showed itself to be a good citizen in both economic and security
institutions, such as APEC and ARF. China’s turn from being an outsider to an active mem-
ber added momentum to regional institutional building, strengthened ASEAN’s inclusive,
accommodative style of diplomacy, and unexpectedly paved the way for China to assert itself
in institutional diplomacy in the 21st century.
The Asian financial crisis during 1997–98 had a lasting impact on institutional develop-
ment in Asia. While hitting the Republic of Korea (ROK), Thailand, and several ­Southeast
Asian economies particularly hard, the financial crisis devastated the region as a whole
and deflated regional hubris about “Asian values.” The United States and the International
Monetary Fund were widely blamed for inadequate and even callous reactions to the re-
gion’s worst financial crisis, which even brought down the long-standing Suharto regime
in Indonesia. As a result, the APT mechanism was launched in 1997, cementing ties be-
tween ASEAN and the Northeast Asian three, namely China, Japan, and ROK. The crisis
also vindicated China’s multilateral diplomacy among its policy elites. Through the crisis,
China earned widespread recognition by resisting pressures to devalue its own currency and
contributing rescue packages to the hardest hit economies. While Japan’s idea of an Asian
Monetary Fund was immediately rejected, APT created a set of bilateral currency swap
agreements, known as the Chiang Mai Initiative, designed to cope with a sudden liquidity
crisis in its member states.

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While the 1990s saw notable strides of the infrastructural development for Asian multilat-
eral institutions, the decade left a mixed legacy for later efforts to create a lasting Asia-Pacific
architecture. ASEAN succeeded in establishing its centrality, while it also articulated and
evolved its own style of diplomacy. But the financial crisis revealed the materialist constraints
of the relatively weak Southeast Asian economies. ASEAN had to draw close to China,
Japan, and Korea. The APT provided a platform to promote economic cooperation, some
inchoate regionalism, and an inkling of an Asian community. ASEAN’s effort for East Asian
regionalism gave the Northeast Three a shared purpose, helping foster a sense of common
Northeast Asian identity (Calder and Ye 2010). In the short span of a decade, China trans-
formed itself from a skeptic outsider to an ambitious leader poised to reshape the institutional
landscape in Asia.
During the decade, ASEAN was able to assert its centrality and the “ASEAN way” on
institutional building. The regional organization proved to be adaptable in meeting the do-
mestic and regional demands and deftly dealing with the various emerging challenges in the
region. This was possible, as Yuen Foong Khong and Helen E.S. Nesadurai (2007, 79) point
out, because the decade saw “a respite from the crises and wars (internal and external) that
bedeviled the region during the Cold War.” No major power was capable of or willing to
challenge the status quo or to take the lead in institutional building. But the relative calm and
muted great-power competition was soon to end. Besides, even during the relatively halcyon
years, historical animosities and realpolitik politics remained potent and stood in the way of
a shared regional vision (Rozeman 2004).

Contested regionalism
At the start of the new millennium, ASEAN would continue to assert its centrality, and APT
would multilateralize its earlier Chang Mai Initiative (CMI). But soon, the auspicious start
of East Asian regionalism would give way to great power contestation. Various political and
security initiatives would arise. Institution building became a central front of great power
rivalry centered on U.S.-China competition over economic and security influence.
At the outset, ASEAN remained a focal point of Asian regionalism. Under ASEAN lead-
ership, the East Asian Summit (EAS) was created in 2005 to serve as a regional political
forum. China concluded a massive free trade agreement (FTA) with ASEAN in 2002, as
part of the Ten Plus One mechanism. Beijing also signed ASEAN’s TAC and a Declaration
on the South China Sea, pledging not to take unilateral steps to destabilize the disputes.
Also, remarkably, APT managed to multilateralize in 2009 the formerly bilateral CMI with
a pledged $120 billion funds. The ASEAN’s symbolic centrality was instrumental to tame
the Sino-Japanese rivalry making possible the conclusion of the CMI agreement. Shared in-
terest in financial cooperation even spawned the idea of Asian Bond Markets designed to tap
regional capital to finance East Asia economies (Grimes 2009). CMI’s practical significance
has not been tested, as East Asia never experienced the kind of liquidity crisis as it did in
1997–98. However, the fact that China and Japan could find an equitable leadership both lit-
erally and figuratively by each contributing a 33 percent share of the initial fund was perhaps
more remarkable than the very idea itself. In 2012, ASEAN also initiated the negotiations
of a multilateral trade agreement known as the Regional Comprehensive Economic Part-
nership (RCEP) that is based on APT and also includes India, New Zealand, and Australia.
Such inchoate regionalism was to be trumped by emerging rivalry among major players.
As Table 25.1 shows, with different preferences and agendas, the United States, China, and
Japan have proposed divergent ideas and initiatives on how to organize Asia. As a status quo

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Table 25.1 A
 pproaches to regional institutional development: China, Japan, and the United States
(2001–)

China Japan The United States

Preferences on East Asia-centered Open to the United Status Quo concern to

Regionalism regionalism; Economically
based institutions.
-------------------------- --------------------------
Initiatives and ASEAN Plus One (2002–);
Ideas Shanghai Cooperation
Organization (SCO) (2001–);
Six-Party Talks (2003–2009);
Conference on Interaction
and Confidence-Building
Measures in Asia Summit
(2002–);
Regional Comprehensive
Economic Partnership
(RCEP) (2012–);
The Belt and Road
Initiative (2013–); Asian
Infrastructure Investment
Bank (AIIB) (2015–)
States and democracies, maintain US hegemony
such as India, Australia, in region; central
and New Zealand; stress concern to maintain
on democratic values. bilateral alliances and
define economic “rules
of the game.”
-------------------------- --------------------------
Asian Monetary Fund EAS (joined 2011); TPP
(1997); Quadrilateral (led the negotiations;
Dialogue Initiative agreement signed in
(2007; Resurrected in 2016; abandoned by
2017); “Arc of Freedom President Trump)
and Prosperity”
(2006); “East Asian
Community” (2009);
Trans-Pacific Partnership
11 (TPP 11) (2017–)

power, the United States is concerned about how to solidify its primacy and the established
global institutions to facilitate China’s evolution into a “responsible stakeholder.”1 Losing its po-
sition as the number one in Asia, Japan is more concerned about how to get the better of China
through institutional designs than about regionalism per se. Reflecting its growing power and
ambitions, China has become the leading force behind regional institutional building.
The United States has historically been opposed to the geographically limited East Asian re-
gionalism since Mahathir’s EAEC in the early 1990s. Such proposals tend to threaten traditional
U.S. influence. With a top priority on preserving and strengthening its bilateral alliances, the
United States is wary of the corrosive effect of multilateralism on its traditional security approach
(Cossa 2003). The concern has dampened U.S. enthusiasm for region-wide institutions. And it
has actively intervened to present regionalism from gravitating towards an Asian-only grouping.
The United States also attempted to shape the agenda of regional institutions to suit its
interests and policy agenda. After the 9/11 events, the Bush administration tried to intro-
duce an anti-terror agenda with APEC traditionally averse to such any security agenda.
Having run his presidential campaign on multilateralism as opposed to Bush’s unilateralism,
President Obama put a high premium on institutions in Asia. But it was the U.S. strategic
rebalancing towards Asia led to the rediscovery of multilateralism. Hailing multilateral di-
plomacy challenges the bullying tactics behind China’s bilateral approach to the maritime
disputes in South China Sea. With the U.S. pivot strategy, the Obama administration no
longer saw its alliance structure and regional multilateral institutions as mutually exclusive.
Instead, regional institutions were instrumental in solidifying U.S. primacy and isolating the

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assertive China (Sutter 2015). The Obama administration signed ASEAN’s TAC and joined
the EAS. The United States stepped up cooperation with ASEAN, having established an
ambassadorial-level diplomatic mission with the regional organization in Jakarta, Indonesia.
An annual U.S.-ASEAN Summit was also in place to complement the Ten Plus One (the
United States) engagement through the EAS.
Of course, the most remarkable institutional leadership under the Obama administration
was manifested through the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP). While the genesis of TPP was
the four-country trade deal in 2005 among Chile, New Zealand, Brunei, and Singapore, the
Obama administration seized on the agreement and expanded it to include 12 economies.
The United States led the multilateral efforts to negotiate a high-quality trade agreement that
effectively removes trade barriers and opens up investment opportunities while addressing
issues such as intellectual property rights, labor standards, and the environment. In early 2016,
TPP was signed by member states after the conclusion of the negotiations several months ear-
lier. TPP acquired its strategic significance not least because China was not a member. And
it was considered an essential part of the U.S. pivot, at the time when, according to President
Obama, “China wants to write the rules for the world’s fastest-­g rowing region.”2
Nowhere was the impact of China’s rise felt more acutely than in Japan. In 2010, China
overtook Japan in nominal gross domestic product (GDP) as the second largest economy in
the world and Asia number one economy. Since then, Japan has been grappling with how
to utilize multilateral institutions to deal with China’s growing material advantage. Japan
has relied on its values diplomacy, seeking to get the better of China by building political
solidarity with like-minded democratic states. Leading up to the creation of EAS, Tokyo
insisted on including Australia, New Zealand, and India, in contrast to China’s preference
for an East Asia-only membership (Kazhuhiko 2008).
Under Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi, Japan started to openly promote the idea of
an “Arc of Freedom and Prosperity” in Asia. He was a leading voice in the Quadrilateral
Dialogue Initiative in 2007, which included Japan, the United States, Australia, and India.
But “the Quad” was soon replaced by the more inclusive “Asia-Pacific Community,” an
Australian idea proposed by the newly elected Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd. In 2009, Prime
Minister Yukio Hatoyama of the Democratic Party of Japan touted the idea of “East Asian
Community,” which suggested a renewed emphasis on Asian solidarity. After a brief fanfare,
the idea never took off.
With international institutions being a central platform of postwar Japanese foreign re-
lations, Tokyo naturally looked to institutional assistance in dealing with China. Yet Asia
seemed resistant to a values-based institutional architecture. And Japan continued to struggle
in defining its identity between Asia and the West, and in finding the balance between in-
dependent leadership and reliance on its alliance with the United States (Krauss and Pempel
2004). The result is a string of ideas, but none have stuck.
India and Russia have made some inroads into the regional institutional setting in Asia.
After its “look east” in the 1990s, India finally saw the most opportune time to establish itself
in the Asia-Pacific. India was wooed by leading democratic powers, particularly Japan, but
it is also courted by Russia and China. Russia, guided by a new doctrine of “Eurasianism,”
began to turn away from fixation with Europe and to gain a foothold in Asia (Sergunin
2004). When it comes to institutional building, both new comers want to be involved, but
neither is capable of a leadership role.
Australia, ASEAN, and ROK are not major powers, but they are central players and key
stakeholders in Asian institutional building. These middle powers rely on institutions to
incorporate China in the existing regional order, while they also seek to tame U.S.-China

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rivalry. They share a set of interests that fundamentally are against an unmitigated U.S.-
China rivalry.
Thus, Rudd used the “Asia-Pacific Community” idea in 2008, and ASEAN relied on
ARF and EAS to ensure them the continued benefit of the security order historically led by
the United States and the benefit of economic ties with China (Goh 2007/08; White 2014).
China’s first success with institutional development in the 2010s was the creation of the
Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO), headquartered in Beijing. It started from the
Shanghai Five mechanism designed to deal with border demarcation and confidence build-
ing between China and four former Soviet Republics, including Russia. After Uzbekistan
joined, the Shanghai Five evolved into the SCO in 2001. SCO decided to expand its mem-
bership only once to India and Pakistan in 2015, although it has steadily increased its ob-
server states and dialogue partners.
The SCO evolved from a border security mechanism to an organization devoted to com-
bating terrorism. A few years into its creation, SCO had become a comprehensive interna-
tional organization that has served well China’s economic, political, and security interests.
The organization has proven valuable in safeguarding China’s vital interests in combatting
what Beijing calls Uyghur “terrorism, religious fanaticism, and separatism.” Economically,
the multilateral institution was instrumental in solidifying China’s resources ties, trade, and
investment in the region. SCO helped reduce Western political influence and evict U.S.
military presence in Central Asia. It has also lent support to China’s position on territorial
disputes from Taiwan to South China Sea. Ultimately, the organization facilitated the rise of
China’s influence in a strategic important area to its west.
SCO’s success encouraged China to pursue even more vigorously institutional building
under the strategy of “One Belt, One Road” (OBOR). The newly inaugurated President
Xi Jinping first announced the “economic belt” idea in a speech at Nursultan Nazarbayev
University on September 7, 2013. While visiting Indonesia in October 2013, Xi unveiled
the Maritime Silk Road initiative to complement the land-based economic belt along the
Euro-Asian landmass. Drawing on the ancient “Silk Road” originating some 2,000 years
ago during the Han dynasty, OBOR is to pave a massive economic zone extending from
China and East Asia to Europe.
According to the Chinese official plan issued in March 2015,

The Silk Road Economic Belt focuses on bringing together China, Central Asia, Russia
and Europe (the Baltic); linking China with the Persian Gulf and the Mediterranean
Sea through Central Asia and West Asia; and connecting China with Southeast Asia,
South Asia and the Indian Ocean. The 21st-Century Maritime Silk Road is designed
to go from China’s coast to Europe through the South China Sea and the Indian Ocean
in one route, and from China’s coast through the South China Sea to the South Pacific
in the other.3

Under OBOR, which was later changed to the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), China
has spearheaded several international institutions. Beijing created a Silk Road Fund of
$40 ­billion managed by the Chinese government. Working with the newly emerging econ-
omies, Brazil, Russia, India, and South Africa, China was instrumental in establishing the
Shanghai-based BRICS Development Bank. Most importantly, China created the Asia In-
frastructure Investment Bank (AIIB), devoted to regional and global development. It took
about two years from its initial announcement to its official setup in Beijing, with nearly 60
inaugural member states. With Beijing pledging half of the initial capital of $100 billion, the

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bank would facilitate Chinese foreign investment to address its pressing overcapacities across
its industry and orchestrate a westward strategic shift. By May 2017 when Beijing hosted its
first BRI International Forum, AIIB’s membership had expanded to 80.
On the security front, China rather unwittingly became the host of the Six-Party Talks
starting in 2003 due in part to the Bush administration’s rejection of one-on-one talks with
North Korea. Before the diplomatic process was put on hold in 2009, several rounds of talks
were held in Beijing. The talks did manage to issue a joint statement in 2005 outlining a
collective commitment to denuclearization on the Korean Peninsula and the political, eco-
nomic, and security roadmap towards that goal. The Talks initially earned Beijing signifi-
cant credit as a responsible power. But Beijing’s attempt to project itself as an honest broker
floundered with North Korea’s continued defiance on proliferations and brinkmanship on
Peninsula security.
There has been an agitated activism in institutional building in the new millennium.
ASEAN’s centrality seemed to have been rendered to symbolism. Both the major powers
and the middle powers tried to assert their roles. New stakeholders, Russia and India, were
keen to establish their presence in any regional architecture. Japan has scrambled to harness
multilateral efforts to compete with China. Japanese approach tended to put a premium on
democratic values and its various ideas proved to be ad hoc and unsustainable. Asia remains
a region hardly conducive to value-based regionalism.
The frenetic activities overall failed to facilitate the creation of a regional architecture
that all major powers bought in nor did it lead to a security community. Instead the region
seems to be divided by the contending visions of China’s Asian regionalism and American’s
Pacific regionalism. This is manifested in Xi’s emphasis of “Asian” security order. And on
the economic front, China lent support to the ASEAN-centered RCEP. The Obama Ad-
ministration, in turn, expanded its bilateral alliances and partnership on security while at
the same time it was promoting the TPP. Such divergent regionalism dissipated the spirit of
unified Asia-Pacific, despite APEC and the fact that politicians continued to pay lip service
to Asia-Pacific cooperation.

Institutional building amidst status transitions

International institutions define the international status quo. Created “after victory,” they
reflect the interests and preferences of the reigning power, albeit in different ways (Ikenberry
2001). But in Asia, institutional building is taking place amidst accelerated status transitions
under a frayed regional arrangement. In the power transition theory in International Rela-
tions, the focus is on the war proneness when a rising power overtakes the established power.
Graham Allison (2017) simply calls the danger of war “the Thucydides trap” referring to the
Peloponnesian War (431–404 BCE) between the rising Athens and the reigning Sparta. But
in Asia, what’s driving the ongoing geopolitical rivalries is not just power change but also
competition over international recognition and national ambitions in a struggle to realign
regional hierarchy (Deng 2008; Paul, Larson, and Wohlforth 2014). Such status transition is
heating up, although the United States still enjoys a commanding lead, even over China, in
terms of materialist power.
Institutions prove invaluable in status competition. States in international institutions are
supposed to follow “generalized principles of conduct…without regard to the particularistic
interests of the parties or the strategic exigencies that may exist in any specific occurrence”
(Ruggie 1993, 11). On the contrary, in Asia, states enlist institutions to serve its interests
and to gain an advantage in strategic competition. As argued earlier, Japan promoted values

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Yong Deng

diplomacy to contend with China’s economic diplomacy. Even ASEAN uses institutions
as a key component of its balancing strategy towards extra-regional powers (Goh 2007/08,
144–146). China clearly sees institutional development as a way to enhance its own influence
and to diminish U.S. hegemony in the region. Liu Xuecheng, a leading think tank analyst
affiliated with the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, argues, “Once Asian countries or
the Asia-Pacific region put in place a unified, regional cooperative organization, the United
States undoubtedly would lose its dominance in the region.”4 President Xi Jinping artic-
ulated an “Asian security concept” more than once at the Conference on Interaction and
­Confidence-Building Measures in Asia, implying an Asia-based security architecture anti-
thetical to the U.S.-led status quo.
In response, as a precursor to the Obama administration’s rebalancing towards Asia, while
in Hawaii in October 2010, then Secretary of State Hillary Clinton warned against any
multilateral efforts to exclude the United States. She declared, “If consequential security,
political, and economic issues are being discussed, and if they involve our interests, then
we will seek a seat at the table.”5 A year later, Secretary Clinton would return to Hawaii to
proclaim the U.S. vision of an “America’s Pacific Century” featuring a robust U.S. leadership
in multilateral institutions.6 In June 2012, at the Shangri La Dialogue, an annual regional
security forum held in Singapore, Defense Secretary Leon Panetta announced a centerpiece
of the U.S. strategic rebalancing towards Asia that “by 2020 the Navy will reposture its
forces from today’s roughly 50/50 percent split between the Pacific and the Atlantic to about
a 60/40 split between those oceans.” 7 To balance China’s power, Prime Minister Shinzo Abe
has repositioned Japan as the Proactive Pacifist committed to a “free and open Indo-Pacific
strategy.” Since 2017, he has stepped up to revive the Trans-Pacific Partnership without the
United States (TPP 11) and the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue first proposed 2007.
For major powers in Asia, multilateral institutions also prove invaluable to simply wield
their political influence and standing in a fast-evolving regional order. The leading state may
use a multilateral institution to curry favor from member states beholden to its largess. Japan
has skillfully and effectively used its control over ADB lending decisions to secure its rotat-
ing membership at the UN Security Council and its broader UN agenda (Lim and Vreeland
2013). Such calculation of institutional influence undoubtedly figured in China’s creation of
the AIIB. Indeed, after the Philippines brought a case in 2013 to a UN arbitration court in
The Hague against the Chinese territorial claim in the South China Sea, Beijing refused to
participate in the proceedings citing its own interpretation of the United Nations Conven-
tion on the Law of the Sea. China was able to enlist some political support from SCO and
member states in the Silk Road to delegitimize the court ruling. Even more profoundly,
these institutional initiatives have facilitated China’s political ascendancy in Asia.
Such institutional rivalries, however, do not seem to have much effect on economic in-
tegration in Asia. Over the past several decades, East Asia has made remarkable strides in
interdependence, as demonstrated by intra-regional trade, investment, and finance. Eco-
nomic cooperation is largely driven by market forces. In the 1970s and 1980s, Japan and the
newly industrializing East Asian economies, Korea, Taiwan, Singapore, and Hong Kong
led the way in economic opening to China and in the regionalization of production. Then
China became the driver of regional trade through commodities imports, and more im-
portantly, by serving as the hub of trade in intermediary goods and the location of final
assembly. ­Chinese foreign direct investment has accelerated under the Silk Road program,
even though it suffered setbacks, notably the 2011 cancelation of the Myitsone Dam and the
Letpadaung copper mining projects in Myanmar and the 2015 suspension of a port con-
struction project in Sri Lanka. The region has seen decades of countless “noodle bowl” like

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­ evelopment

FTAs, a phenomenon that The Economist calls “Asia’s FTA mania.”8 Regional institutions,
such as APEC and the CMI at best promote a “soft regionalism” that contributes to the ethos
of interdependent growth.
While subregional initiatives have a competitive edge to them in geopolitics, they are not
tightly knit alliances designed for power balancing or mutually exclusive groupings. The
United States and Japan are not the founding members of AIIB, but the bank includes some
of the major U.S. allies in Europe and Asia. After initial opposition to AIIB, both countries
became more open-minded about it. The World Bank has welcomed the new multilateral
development bank, and the Japanese-led ADB has collaborated with AIIB on loans to fund
infrastructural development in Asia. Officially, TPP remains open to China’s membership.
Few members in either organization are willing to choose between the United States and
China. And the United States and China have created over 90 bilateral institutions and
mechanisms between themselves indicating a shared commitment to manage the differences
in their regional interests.
The security effect of these institutions has so far been limited. But the danger remains if
Asian institutional development evolves into competing security spheres marked by China’s
Asian regionalism and America’s Pacific regionalism. Historically, Asia had its share of “Asia
for the Asians” regionalism. The idea was notoriously associated with Japanese imperialism
in Asia. Mahathir’s East Asian Caucus in the early 1990s grew out of a sentiment of Asian
solidarity against the West. Xi’s China has proposed the idea of Asian security, but there is
no institutional infrastructure to back it up. Beijing has not created any multilateral security
or political institution in Asia.
The Silk Road program or BRI, if successfully implemented, will open up strategic space
for China to the West counterbalancing the eastward pressure by U.S. pivot. It will expand
circles of nations friendly to China’s interests, and Europe will gravitate towards Asia on
both economic and political terms. Fundamentally, it is not in China’s interest to create an
exclusive China-centric block nor is it possible. In fact, with the Silk Road program, Beijing
is preoccupied with addressing domestic issues, such as the Uyghur separatism, industrial
overcapacities, and stalled economic reforms. Through the BRI, Beijing hopes to address
the Uyghur discontent through economic development of China’s “great west.” Chinese
foreign investment would also provide much needed relief to the severe industrial overcapac-
ity created by the earlier massive government stimulus package. More importantly, the Xi
government hoped to use the BRI to galvanize the new round of economic reforms. These
complex motives, some of which are domestically oriented, heavily condition the geopolit-
ical objectives behind China’s Silk Road program.
Without a stable hierarchy, multiple players jockey for position in a fast-evolving regional
order. Institutional contestation, however, does not represent a traditional balancing strat-
egy. Instead they speak to an Asian style of revisionism. With possible exception of North
Korea, China virtually has no formal allies. To the extent that they add to Chinese power,
multilateral institutions become particularly valuable to counter the United States, whose
many alliance “subordinates have served as force multipliers for America’s own military ca-
pability” in Asia (Lake 2014, 267). The United States and China form different subregional
groupings, but these institutions do not lock members in an exclusive bloc. Instead, member
states often choose to enjoy the economic and security benefits by working with both pow-
ers. Ultimately, these institutions do not vitiate economic globalization to create fragmented
economic zones.
But with the lack of centripetal institutional strength, Asia’s “capitalist peace” (Gartzke
2007) rests on shaky ground. While East Asia has seen no interstate war in several decades,

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the region has seen a paradoxical development of impressive interdependent growth being
juxtaposed with heightened security dilemma, great power rivalry, territorial disputes, and
nationalism (Goldstein and Mansfield 2012; Liff and Ikenberry 2014). The region’s security
architecture is eminently unsettled.

Conclusion
Compared to Europe, international relations in Asia are both over-institutionalized and
­under-institutionalized. There are myriad initiatives, but there is no overarching institution
to ensure a binding regional order. Multilateral security institutions are particularly weak.
But economic integration has steadily grown since the late 1970s. Interest in institutional
building has not waned. Postwar Japan relied on multilateral institutions to return to Asia
and to gain some legitimacy in regional leadership. Reformist China sought participation
in regional institutions to facilitate its economic integration into the economically dynamic
East Asia. ASEAN asserted its central role in various multilateral initiatives. With a secure hi-
erarchy buttressed by robust bilateral alliances in East Asia (Lake 2014), the United States tra-
ditionally adopted an approach of benign neglect to these various forms of “soft regionalism.”
Today, however, with the U.S. hegemony being challenged, an unsettled regional hier-
archy has spurred fierce status competition among major powers. Interestingly, multilateral
institution building has taken the center stage in the great-power politics of the region.
There are more players and stakeholders than ever before. And China’s leadership in multi-
lateral institutions, as demonstrated in RCEP, SCO, and AIIB, has raised fear that Asia may
be reorganized according to the Chinese design. The United States has promoted a Pacific
regionalism or an Indo-Pacific idea to counter China’s ascendancy. But the region is unlikely
to evolve into exclusive blocs respectively led by the United States and China. There is little
constituency in the region or in the two countries to support the prospect of a divided Asia.
By withdrawing from TPP, the Trump administration has on surface lessened competi-
tion with China over the regional institutional design. But Trump’s first extended visit in
Asia in November 2017 also featured his attendance of the APEC Summit in Vietnam and
the East Asian Summit in the Philippines. At the same time, his administration publicly
revitalized a strategic Indo-Pacific vision breathing new life to the idea of an Asian NATO.
Meanwhile Tokyo was keen to resuscitate TPP even without the US participation. The
stakes of managing competition in this arena are high. The path to a new regional architec-
ture is not likely to go through war but through institutional contestation.

Notes
1 The policy of encouraging China to become a responsible power was most forcefully articulated
in Deputy Secretary of State Robert B. Zoellick, “Whither China: From Membership to Respon-
sibility?” delivered at the National Committee on US-China Relations, September 21, 2005, at
www.state.gov/s/d/former/zoellick/rem/53682.htm.
2 President Obama. 2015. State of the Union Address. www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/
2015/01/20/remarks-president-state-union-address-january-20-2015.
3 China National Development and Reform Commission, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and Min-
istry of Commerce. 2015. Vision and Actions on Jointly Building Belt and Road. http://news.
xinhuanet.com/english/china/2015-03/28/c_134105858_2.htm.
4 People’s Daily (Overseas edition). June 3, 2016. 10.
5 Hillary Rodham Clinton, “America’s Engagement in the Asia-Pacific,” October 28, 2010,
­Honolulu, HI http://m.state.gov/md150141.htm (accessed June 9, 2016).

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6 Hillary Rodham Clinton, “America’s Pacific Century,” Speech at the East-West Center, Hawaii,
November 10, 2011, www.state.gov/secretary/rm/2011/11/176999.htm.
7 Leon Panetta, www.iiss.org/conferences/the-shangri-la-dialogue/shangri-la-dialogue-2012/speeches/
first-plenary-session/leon-panetta/ (accessed August 22, 2012).
8 “The noodle bowl: why trade agreements are all the rage in Asia,” The Economist, September 3,
2009, at www.economist.com/node/14384384.

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 26
Human rights in Asia
Li-ann Thio

International human rights law has become the dominant 21st-century global moral lan-
guage shaping international relations. Human rights are considered the primary method for
advancing human flourishing by asserting rights based on a universal theory of justice, which
influences domestic legal orders by shaping the contours of freedom and authority within a
polity. Asian states have at various times supported and resisted the development and deploy-
ment of human rights standards as criteria for evaluating government legitimacy.
Two points are commonly highlighted in discussing human rights in Asia. First, this
region produced the ‘Asian values’ discourse of the 1990s, driven by political leaders and
diplomats, particularly from China, Singapore and Malaysia. They credited their nation’s
economic success to cultural values and to restraining civil-political rights to secure the
political stability crucial to attracting foreign investment and trade. This foray into cultural
relativism was criticized as an apology for authoritarianism, threatening the universality of
human rights. Second, ‘Asia’ alone lacks a regional human rights system based on a human
rights instrument establishing supervisory and enforcement institutions. This is not to say
that there is no vibrant human rights discourse in Asia or import the absence of any protec-
tive mechanisms. Both do exist, as does the gap between theory and practice, and lip service
and authentic commitment.
This chapter explores the context and contour of human rights practice and culture in
Asia; it identifies factors shaping how Asian states negotiate human rights, which together
with the rule of law and democracy form the prescriptive triumvirate of ‘good governance’.
This includes the colonial histories and immense diversity extant in Asia in terms of culture,
religious faiths, political systems and levels of economic development. A key document ex-
amined is the 1993 Final Declaration of the Regional Meeting for Asia of the World Confer-
ence on Human Rights (‘Bangkok Declaration’). This represents the latest collective human
rights statement of Asian governments, providing insights into the particularities, problems
and priorities informing Asian human rights discourse, which transcends the ‘Asian values’
debate. Asian states accept the concept of human rights and obligations under Article 55 of
the UN Charter to promote and protect “human rights and fundamental freedoms for all
without distinction as to race, sex, language or religion.”

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Asian states have been socialized into engaging with human rights issues by becoming
party to human rights treaties, particularly the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms
of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) and the Convention on the Rights of the
Child (CRC). However, the potential transformative domestic impact of such treaties may
be truncated by extensive reservations or unwillingness to incorporate treaty standards into
legislation. All UN members are subject to the Universal Periodic Review (UPR) process,
in which the international community, including Asian non-governmental organizations
(NGOs), scrutinizes and discusses state-authored human rights reports. States issue recom-
mendations to their peers, often referencing core human rights treaties that the reviewed
state may not be party to. Asian states have become used to responding to human rights
criticisms and may be moved to take remedial steps.
UN Special Rapporteurs have been given country mandates over egregious human
rights violators like Myanmar and North Korea. Many Asian nations have adopted judi-
cially enforceable constitutional rights paralleling human rights. Some, like Indonesia, the
­Philippines, China and Sri Lanka (UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Handbook,
2002), have adopted national human rights action plans and actively engage in human rights
dialogues before international fora. Since 1991, for example, China has published human
rights white papers in English; at least since 1998 (Tiezzi, 2016), it has issued critical reports
about the United States’ human rights failings, showing a desire to engage and counter
hypocritical posturing as no state has a monopoly of virtue in relation to human rights
compliance.
However, divergent views about the foundation, scope and content of human rights per-
sist. For example, the universality of human rights rests on the principle of inherent dignity.
Foundational documents like the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR)
treats this as a self-evident proposition in speaking of “the equal and inalienable rights of
all members of the human family.” It is ambiguous whether the UDHR embodies a spe-
cific ideology demanding a uniform political and economic system or if it finds normative
resonance with plural philosophies, thereby framing the range of human rights-compatible
political and economic systems beyond the dominant one of liberal individualism.1 Asian hu-
man rights discourse grapples with what ‘dignity’ requires and how to balance rights against
competing rights, duties and public goods.
This dialogue is not just between governments but includes international civil society,
which broadens the informational streams and range of views non-state voices offer. A good
example is the 1993 Declaration on the Rights of Asian Indigenous Peoples adopted by the
Indigenous Peoples Pact. This expresses concerns over traditional land conservation, pre-
serving indigenous identity and group autonomy, and is distinct from statist priorities over
development and modernization, which sit in tension with indigenous peoples’ rights. More
deleteriously, it heightens the prospect of what Joseph Raz (2010: 47) described as the “reck-
less activism” of non-state actors. This manifests through shrill ‘human rightism’ (Pellet,
2000) or militant ‘human rights fundamentalism’ (Kinley, 2007) in which political agendas
and claims are cast in the garb of legal rights and in which human rights are dogmatically
touted as the panacea for all social ills. This can be anti-democratic as framing a controver-
sial interest as a ‘new right’ operates to terminate debate by insulating a claim from scrutiny.
Human rights are not merely invoked as legal rights before judicial bodies but also as political
claims before public forums, as seen from the contemporary proliferation and politicization
of human rights claims. This has precipitated a call by some Asian governments to differen-
tiate between universally accepted ‘core’ human rights, such as the UDHR, as opposed to
‘contested’ claims (Wong, 1993). Asian scholars have pointed out that NGOs and dissenting

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activists are not necessarily more legitimate or representative than elected governments,
which ‘represent the people as a whole’ (Yasuaki, 1999: 105), and, indeed, may be prey to
or funded by foreign powers or organizations with their own political agendas (Glendon,
2001: 229).
This may be one factor stoking the broader fear that human rights constitute a form of
neocolonial moral imperialism adverse to Asian cultures, religious faiths and development
priorities, and that human rights embody the latest incarnation of the standard of civilization
declared by Western powers. They invoked this to justify colonial rule as a sacred trust by
which Western powers tutored backward African and Asian peoples until they were deemed
qualified to enter the family of nations. The humiliation some Asian states feel towards their
colonial past sustains the jealous guarding of their sovereign prerogatives; colonial history
has fuelled resentment where ‘Western’ (Euro-American) countries use human rights to crit-
icize Asian governments. These Asian states view this as an intervention in internal affairs
and exercise in double standards, as colonialism is considered a gross human rights violation.
While accepting the concept of human rights, some Asian states hold particular views
about how to best implement them, which critics view as undermining the understanding
that “all human rights are universal, indivisible” (Vienna Declaration, 1993: para 5). The
states also differ in terms of which institutional mechanisms and what methods of engage-
ment best protect human rights. This chapter examines human rights implementation in
Asia by focussing on initiatives at the domestic (courts and national human rights institu-
tions), subregional and international level to secure human rights compliance. In particular,
it examines the subregional turn towards institutions and the negotiation of sovereignty costs
in adopting human rights processes and structures within the Association of Southeast Asian
Nations (ASEAN).

Preliminary observations
‘Asia’ is a vast continent of more than 4.4 billion inhabitants; it does not import a monolithic
or cohesive concept or identity in any political or cultural sense. Some have described Asia as
‘not Europe’ (Ruskola, 2011), implying Asia’s failure to live up to the European standard of
civilization (Gong, 1984) in terms of politics and culture. This standard shaped the content
of international law, which Asian states did not participate in making until after the era of
decolonization (Anghie, 1999). This Eurocentric idea can be traced to the designation by the
Assyrians, who conquered Mesopotamia, of lands to the east as Asu and to the west as Ereb,
which approximate the categories of Asia and Europe.
There are multiple conceptions and contested visions of ‘Asia’ in both material and ide-
ational or spiritual terms (Acharya, 2010). Within Asia, an Asian identity arose in opposition
to the Western colonial system and anti-Western sentiment. However, any move towards a
pan-Asian movement was quelled by the strong nationalist orientation in many Asian states,
mitigated by a desire for regional cooperation and interdependence in matters like security
and trade. This has produced intergovernmental institutions like ASEAN, the South Asian
Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) and the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooper-
ation (APEC). Only ASEAN has set forth its normative vision of human rights in its 2012
Human Rights Declaration, which received criticism from various quarters in Asia and
beyond. This is significant, as ‘human rights’ was not a founding objective of ASEAN in
1967 but featured in the 2007 ASEAN Charter. This sought to formalize the now expanded
ten-member ASEAN grouping in its shift towards a rules-based regime and to fortify com-
munity identity and objectives, of which respect for human rights was an express component.

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A working description of ‘Asia’ would encompass Northeast Asia (China, Japan, M

­ ongolia
and Korea), South Asia (India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Bhutan, Nepal and the
­Maldives) and Southeast Asia (the ten ASEAN nations and Timor Leste). The UN geo-
scheme for Asia would include states in Central Asia (affiliated with the Commonwealth of
Independent States) and Western Asia (encompassing the ‘Middle East’).

Asian states and human rights standards: key

milestones from birth to Bandung to Bangkok

The United Nations Charter and Universal Declaration of Human Rights: 1940s
The historical record reveals that certain Asian nations were at the forefront of human rights
standard-setting initiatives. During the drafting of the League of Nations Covenant (1919),
Japan’s proposal to include a racial equality clause was rejected for fear it would delegitimate
colonial rule or the race-based immigration laws in states like Australia (Lauren, 1998). It
was the three ‘Big Powers’, the United States, Great Britain and the Union of Soviet Socialist
Republics, that wanted to minimize the mention of ‘human rights’ in the draft text of the
UN Charter as this would interfere with their sovereignty. Indeed, their Jim Crow, immi-
gration and press control laws could not pass muster. Ironically, the ‘sovereignty argument’
mirrored what China articulated in its 1991 white paper on human rights; it was the Repub-
lic of China delegate Wellington Koo who unsuccessfully pressed for the inclusion of a clause
underscoring ‘the equality of all states and all races’ in the UN Charter. The higher profile
human rights assumed in the final Charter was largely the efforts of small- and ­medium-sized
states as well as NGOs at the San Francisco Conference in 1945 (Lauren, 1983).
Asian experts and states made an impact in drafting the first and only universal human
rights document, the UDHR. Some critics argue that the UDHR’s authors attempted to
universalize a particular set of ideas and impose them on the rest of the world, who did not
participate in its drafting. Mary Ann Glendon has convincingly presented a case against
this view, arguing that the drafters represented a broad range of cultures and considered
the UDHR to be an important milestone rather than the final word on universal human
rights. Six members of the General Assembly Third Committee were from Asia (China,
India, Pakistan, Burma, the Philippines and Siam). Among the most active members of the
Human Rights Commission were PC Chang (China), Charles Malik (Lebanon), Carlos
Romulo (the Philippines) and Hansa Mehta (India) (Glendon, 2001: 225). It was Mehta who
ensured that Article 1 inclusively referred to ‘all human beings’ rather than ‘all men’. The
Filipino and Chinese delegates were responsible for adding specific content to Article 25 and
the socio-economic rights to food and clothing. The Pakistani delegate objected to a Saudi
Arabian proposal with respect to Article 16 in insisting that marriage required the consent
of both spouses (Waltz, 2002: 444). Further, the UDHR had features that were more in
line with the communitarian vision of society many Asian nations favour, such as references
to brotherhood, duties, public goods and the ‘dignitarian’ drafting of rights clauses, which
recognizes the non-absolute character of rights.

Bandung Conference: 1950s

It has been argued that human rights questions were seriously engaged, through an enthu-
siastic third world lens, by Afro-Asian countries at the 1955 Bandung Conference, con-
vened to promote cultural and economic cooperation (Burke, 2006). There was a clear

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anti-colonialist and anti-racism tenor in the Final Communiqué, which ‘took note’ of the
UDHR as the common standard of achievement for all as a matter of consensus, affirming
that self-determination was a precondition for the enjoyment of human rights.

Bangkok Declaration: 1990s – challenges to universality and indivisibility

The 1993 Bangkok Declaration articulated the collective view of Asian governments to-
wards human rights. The UDHR as the normative baseline was affirmed, and the ratifica-
tion of the 1966 Covenants on Civil and Political Rights and Economic Social and Cultural
Rights (ICCPR & ICESCR) was encouraged. This shows broad Asian support for what is
collectively known as the ‘International Bill of Rights’.
However, disquiet was expressed on several fronts. The upcoming world conference was
an opportune time to “review” human rights to ensure a “just and balanced approach,”
suggesting something was out of joint. Grievances included the need to increase the repre-
sentation of developing countries in the Human Rights Centre and to redress the lopsided
focus on one category of rights (civil-political) contrary to the principle of indivisibility.
The Declaration urged an objective and non-selective approach towards implementation to
avoid double standards and the politicization of human rights, particularly through attaching
human rights conditionalities to development assistance (paras 3–5). Human rights were not
to be used as an instrument of political pressure, and the principles of national sovereignty
and territorial integrity were to be respected (para 5). Human rights should be realized
through international cooperation and consensus, not confrontation and ‘the imposition of
incompatible values’.
What is worthy of note is the emphasis placed on certain rights as well as the attitude
expressed towards the universality of human rights.
The chief problems occupying Asian states related to political and economic self-­
determination, with emphasis accorded to the right of states to freely determine their po-
litical systems and economic development (para 6). No discrete human rights violations in
relation to free speech or religious freedom was highlighted; the accent was on systemic gross
human rights violations, such as racism, apartheid, ethnic cleansing (para 14) and terrorism
(para 21). The collective right to self-determination for peoples “under alien or colonial
domination and foreign occupation” (para 12) was underscored, though its exercise was not
to undermine the territorial integrity, political independence and national sovereignty of
states (para 13). Cursory reference was also made to the rights of ethnic minorities, indige-
nous peoples and vulnerable groups like migrant workers and refugees (para 11), as well as
women and children (paras 22–23). More unusually for its time, the third-generation ‘soli-
darity’ right to a healthy environment (para 20) was affirmed.
However, another third-generation collective human right assumed central importance
in the text and continues to dominate Asian human rights discourse: that of the human right
to development (RTD), described as a fundamental and inalienable right. This was key to
addressing the pressing problem of poverty (para 19), a “major obstacle” hindering the full
enjoyment of human rights. The Declaration on the Right to Development (DRD) (1986)
was mentioned twice in the preamble and operative text (para 17); international coopera-
tion was needed to realize this right as no state possessed sufficient resources to do so as the
problem was structural, existing at the ‘international macroeconomic level’ as evidenced by
the widening North-South gap between the rich and poor (para 18). Although Article 2 of
the DRD states that the human person is the “central subject of development” and should
actively participate and benefit in the RTD, sceptics fear that this right is a state rather than

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a human right as it would in practical terms be exercised by an institutional right-holder,

the state (Sengupta, 2006). It empowers the state with the discretion and duty to formulate
appropriate national development policies designed to promote popular participation in all
spheres and to ensure socio-economic reforms to promote equity and end social injustice;
while this would enhance human welfare, the progressive realization of the RTD would
be hard to measure and monitor; this could sustain the unaccountable state. Furthermore,
international cooperation is necessary to realize the RTD, although the right itself does not
specify determinate obligations. This raises concerns that this vague ‘right’ embodying wor-
thy aspirations cannot be meaningfully operationalized.
Nonetheless, the RTD and its linkages to poverty eradication remain a priority of many
Asian states. A 1991 Chinese white paper stated that the ‘right to subsistence’ was the most
important human right, without which securing all other rights were “out of the question.”
It underscores the importance of meeting basic needs (Kent, 1993) as “To eat their fill and
dress warmly were the fundamental demand of the Chinese people who had long suffered
cold and hunger.”
The need to prioritize socio-economic welfare is implicit in one aspect of the ‘Asian
values’ school, which asserts a sort of ‘trade-off’ or ‘economics first’ approach in advocating
restricting civil-political rights and restraining democratic excesses to secure the social dis-
cipline and stability needed for economic development. With economic growth, in theory,
political liberalization should ensue, although this empirically based approach was shaken
by the Asian financial crisis of the late 1990s (Fukuyama, 1998). Nonetheless, challenges to
the idea of ‘indivisibility’, that all human rights be simultaneously promoted, persist. The
critique is that developing countries with limited resources should be able to plan the se-
quencing of human rights realization in accordance with developmentalist priorities. They
should be able to concentrate on certain rights first, such as the right to education, and make
judgement calls as to which rights, such as a right to a court interpreter, to delay or accord
less resources to (Nickel, 2008).
With respect to the universality of human rights, the Bangkok Declaration ambiguously
recognizes the universal nature of human rights but stresses that they must be considered
“in the context of a dynamic and evolving process of international norm-setting, bearing
in mind the significance of national and regional particularities and various historical,
cultural and religious backgrounds” (para 8). It expressly recognized that Asian countries
could contribute to the forthcoming World Conference in Vienna, drawing from “their
diverse and rich cultures and traditions.” This belies the non-participation of many Asian
states, then colonies, in authoring key human rights instruments and the desire to have
their views duly considered. The Vienna Declaration adopted in June 1993 at the World
Conference noted this point about particularities while insisting states were obliged to
protect and promote all human rights “regardless of their political, economic, and cultural
systems” (para 5).
However contested, regions like Europe can speak meaningfully about a degree of cul-
tural unity, drawing from Judeo-Christian and Greco-Roman worldviews; the same cannot
be said about Asia. This is unsurprising given the vast divergence in terms of economic de-
velopment and wealth, which impacts the progressive realization of socio-economic rights.
A wide range of political systems exist in Asia, from authoritarian or organicist states like
North Korea with its statist juche ideology, to socialist states like China, Vietnam, Laos,
and to communitarian and liberal democracies, such as Singapore, India, Japan, Cambodia.
­Political culture determines the degree of political freedoms civil society enjoys.

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 Human rights in Asia

If human rights embodies a liberal project, a form of politics and not a neutral ideol-
ogy, the ‘Asian values’ school may be apprehended as a counter-cultural challenge. Not all
Asian states view liberal democracy as normatively desirable. Instead, communitarianism,
with secular or theocratic elements, is favoured. The cultural dimension of the Asian Values
school challenges the hyper-individualism, adversarial ethos, demise of the common good
and social decay associated with Western liberal democracies. There is a Neo-Confucianist
tenor to many ‘Asian values’, which include prioritizing community interests and solidar-
ity over individual interests and autonomy, responsibilities over rights, consensus-seeking
through consultation over adversarial contention, respect for authority and a strong work
ethic. Critics characterized this alternative model of law and development as an apology for
power; it was invoked to shield domestic abuses from external scrutiny. They questioned
the ability of governments to authentically represent the people of Asia, particularly where
democratic rights and media freedom were restricted.
There is some truth to these competing views. Examining human rights in Asian states
provides insight into whether the human rights corpus mandates universalism (requiring
a uniform political and economic system) or accommodates universality (recognizing that
legitimate particularities exist), in a plural and postmodern world. Particularities are illegit-
imate where local or regional human rights standards dilute global standards, and legitimate
where they enrich global norms. Asia has both. The usual litany of violations of personal and
civil freedoms through excessive national security laws, corrupt judiciaries, gender discrim-
ination, extensive limits on religious freedom, speech, conscience and association, rights to
food and housing undoubtedly exist (Muntarbhorn, 2000). However, there are positive in-
stances in which Asian states have norms that exceed universal standards, such as community
rights to public hearings before decisions with significant environmental impact are made
(Thai Constitution). Other Asian constitutions recognize special rights for senior citizens,
consumer rights, or the right of citizens to disobey illegal orders affecting their fundamental
freedoms and to access personal data (Timor Leste Constitution).
Within Asia, worldview and ideological diversity is broadened and deepened by religious
faiths beyond the Western liberal paradigm, which feeds the dominant strain of human
rights. Religion is a vital force in private and public life. One cannot discount the influence
of public religion in shaping both state and society, such as Islam in Muslim-majority states
(Malaysia, Brunei and Indonesia), Catholicism (the Philippines and Timor Leste), Buddhism
(Bhutan, Thailand and Sri Lanka) and Hinduism (Nepal and India). Integration and Co-
operation of religion and state is the norm, rather than a separationist model preferred by
liberal secularity. Religion (which is not a monolithic category) is variously seen as both an
obstacle to realizing human rights and a normative resource for developing human rights
values (Witte and Green, 2012: 18) and promoting support for human rights within religious
communities through cross-cultural dialogue (An-Naim, 1990). Taking religion seriously is
necessary to understanding Asian human rights discourse.
Religions with comprehensive worldviews, such as Islam, are better framed as a compet-
ing universalism in relation to human rights universalism, rather than a cultural relativist
challenge (Sachedina, 2007).
Some states, in Asian and beyond, have demonstrated disquiet against the perceived radical
secularist basis of human rights. This has fuelled the adoption of alternative religiously based
human rights declarations, such as the Organisation of Islamic Conference (OIC) Declaration
of Human Rights in Islam (1990). This contains norms clearly incompatible with the UN-
based human rights corpus, violating norms on gender discrimination, religious freedom and

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expressive freedoms that must not be contrary to the Islamic shariah. Sixteen of the OIC’s
57 members come from Asia, broadly understood. Islamic jurists and Muslims do differ on
human rights issues. Some, such as Malaysia’s Sisters in Islam, work to demonstrate the com-
patibility of Islamic values and human rights (Akbarzadeh and MacQueen, 2010: 139).
When religious norms influence law and public policy, this can affect the scope and con-
tent of human rights, in degree and in kind. For example, while Singapore and Malaysia were
the chief proponents of ‘Asian values’, they differ dramatically in their understandings of re-
ligious freedom. While freedom of religious conscience for all is protected in Singapore, the
position differs in Malaysia where Islam is the religion of the Federation. Malaysian courts2
have upheld apostasy laws that prevent Muslims from changing religion as this is viewed not
as an individual right but as a public order matter (Saeed and Saeed, 2004). This is a differ-
ence in kind as the Malaysian approach truncated religious freedom but excising the right to
have or change a religion or belief, as Article 18 UDHR recognizes.3
A difference in degree is evident in contrasting the free speech laws of both Singapore and
Malaysia with Western jurisdictions. Free speech is a generally recognized human right, but its
scope differs between jurisdictions. Both multiracial Asian countries rejected the primacy the
United States accords free speech. This is evident in their criminal and sedition laws, which
penalize speech that wounds the religious feelings of citizens, causing ill-willing and enmity
between the races and classes. The shared history of racial and religious riots has contributed
to making racial and religious harmony a public good, which restricts expressive rights.
Non-religious factors also restrict free speech, such as culture with respect to Thailand’s
strict lese majeste laws, which impose onerous penalties on speech that insults the revered Thai
royal family (BBC News, 2016). Another factor is security concerns, as reflected in South
Korea’s National Security Law permitting restrictions on speech, which “praises, incites or
propagates the activities of an anti-government organization” (Kraft, 2006).
Contextual factors like religion, culture, security must be closely examined to appreciate
why free speech is accorded generous or parsimonious protection as constitutional and hu-
man rights texts tell us a right is recognized but not whether it is realized.
Culture and religion shape moral values; unsurprisingly, Asian states do not take uni-
form stances towards morally controversial issues framed as human rights issues. They differ
on whether capital punishment violates human rights law. China, India, Japan, Thailand,
­Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia have retained the death penalty, while Bhutan, the
­Philippines, East Timor and Hong Kong have abolished it. This evidences a lack of general
consensus that must support every customary international legal norm. Marked divergence
exists over issues of abortion, euthanasia, anti-sodomy laws and same-sex marriage, where
these are advanced by protagonists as ‘human rights’. Thus, while Hong Kong decriminalized
sodomy, on the basis that anti-sodomy laws violated privacy rights or equality, they have been
upheld by the apex courts in Singapore and India.4 The proposition that discrimination on
grounds of ‘sexual orientation’ is a human rights violation remains a heavily contested one.
A review of national approaches within and beyond Asia yields only dissensus. This sharp
divergence in matters implicating public morality is to be expected in a plural world. Indeed,
the European Court of Human Rights recognizes a margin of appreciation, which leaves a
matter to the democratic deliberation of contracting states where little or no common ground
exists between them with respect to sensitive issues, such as same-sex marriage: Schalk and
Kopf v Austria, no. 30141/04. This stems from the different cultural, historical and philosoph-
ical differences of these states. In a more diverse global setting, a global margin of appreciation
may be deployed to manage politicized rights claims, in acknowledging fundamental value
divergences and the importance of pluralism, democratic politics and subsidiarity.

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 Human rights in Asia

Normative developments: 2000s

The Bangkok Declaration (1993) remains the only region-wide official human rights instru-
ment. NGOs like the Asian Human Rights Commission have authored ‘people’s charters’,
such as the Asian Human Rights Charter (1998), drawing on the expertise of jurists and
academics.
There have been subregional human rights standard-setting initiatives within ASEAN.
The centrepiece is the 2012 ASEAN Human Rights Declaration (AHRD), adopted as part of
a broader community-building exercise. It sets the framework for human rights cooperation.
Other human rights-related instruments include the 2004 Declaration on the Elimination
of Violence against Women in the ASEAN Region, 2007 Declaration on the Protection and
Promotion of the Rights of Migrant Workers and the 2015 Convention against Trafficking
in Persons, Especially Women and Children.
The declarations are non-binding and framed as state duties rather than individual rights,
while the convention contains legal norms obliging member states to promote interna-
tional cooperation in relation to transnational offences. The AHRD alone speaks of the
rights of “every person” though it does not provide for any institutional processes for raising
complaints.
This subregional instrument terminates the position that human rights are merely po-
liticized imposition of foreign standards. It conclusively accepts that human rights are the
common heritage of mankind, applicable irrespective of geography. It sets out the range of
rights subscribed to, specifically mentioning the UDHR, UN Charter, Vienna Declaration
and Programme of Action and “other international human rights instruments” to which
ASEAN member states are parties, as indicated later (Table 26.1).
The AHRD clearly identifies core human rights, declaring that it affirms all civil-­political
and socio-economic rights in the UDHR (paras 10, 26), although various rights are diluted.
For example, the right to ‘freedom of thought, conscience and religion’ (para 22) is trun-
cated, compared to Article 18 of the UDHR, which also recognizes the right to change
religious belief and to manifest this belief alone or in community. The unqualified right to
life in Article 3 of the UDHR provides stronger protection as the clawback clause in para 11
AHRD provides that a person may not be deprived of life ‘save in accordance with law’.
The AHRD expands on established rights like the right to health, by specifically obliging

Table 26.1 A SEAN state parties to major UN human rights treaties

No. of ASEAN state

Instrument parties or signatories Non-parties

ICESCR 6 Brunei, Malaysia, Myanmar, Singapore

ICCPR
Convention against racial
discrimination
CEDAW
CRC
Convention against torture
Migrant workers convention
Disabled persons convention
6 Brunei, Malaysia, Myanmar, Singapore
7 Brunei, Malaysia, Myanmar
10
10
6 Brunei, Malaysia, Myanmar, Singapore
3 Brunei, Lao, Malaysia, Myanmar,
Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam
10

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Li-ann Thio

states to adopt measures to overcome the stigma associated with communicable diseases
like HIV/AIDs (para 29(2)). Collective or third-generation rights figure prominently, such
as the RTD (paras 35–37). This is elaborated upon: The RTD must be fulfilled in a way
that meets intergenerational developmental and environmental needs, be oriented towards
poverty alleviation and equitable sharing of benefits to narrow the development gap within
ASEAN. The need for a favourable international economic environment and international
cooperation is acknowledged; further, the lack of development cannot excuse violations of
recognized human rights. In addition, the more novel ‘right to peace’ is declared (para 38).5
In general, the non-absolute nature of human rights was affirmed, qualified by corre-
sponding duties (para 6) and public goods (para 8), as well as the need to consider the
regional and national contexts, while supporting principles established in the Vienna Decla-
ration that human rights are “universal, indivisible, interdependent and interrelated.” Civil
society groups have denounced the AHRD as falling short of international standards, decry-
ing the omission of rights, such as indigenous peoples’ rights, associational rights, freedom
from enforced disappearances and the LGBT agenda (Human Rights Watch, 2012; Chooi,
2012). Others urged optimism as the AHRD was a “remarkably realistic” (Severino, 2013)
instrument, the basis upon which quiet diplomacy may be conducted that can actually im-
prove lives, which pointless “bluster or threats” could not do. It is the lengthiest elaboration
of human rights within ASEAN, records member states aspirations and will form the basis
for future human rights dialogue and expectations.

Implementation of human rights

International level
At the multilateral level, Asian states engage with the UN human rights regime and are sub-
ject to the treaty-based state reporting system and the channels of dialogue and non-binding
recommendation by supervisory bodies. UN procedures generally cannot produce individ-
ualized justice, although various optional protocols provide a forum for individuals to raise
petitions alleging human rights violations.
However, Asian states are reluctant to become parties to these protocols. For example,
some 26 Asian states have signed or are party to the optional protocol of ICCPR and 5
in relation to the ICESCR optional protocol. Treaty monitoring committees may provide
observations on whether a treaty provision has been violated but cannot issue binding judge-
ments. Still, it can be a moral comfort and form of vindication for victims of human rights
violations who did not receive a domestic remedy, as in the case concerning Filipino Karen
Vertido6 who invoked the optional protocol to CEDAW. The CEDAW Committee held that
the prohibition against gender stereotypes was violated as the judge had acquitted a rapist,
relying on a sexist gender stereotype in finding Vertido did not sufficiently resist or try to
escape robustly enough and so must have consented to sex. This process provides a limited
degree of accountability although remedies are rarely forthcoming; nonetheless, a supportive
decision by a human rights committee may promote human rights consciousness and public-
ity, spurring future domestic political and legal reform domestically.

National level
There have been significant changes in the law and political culture of many Asian states
in the 21st century. At the domestic level, human rights may be promoted and protected

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through courts and non-judicial national human rights institutions, like petitioning parlia-
mentarians; these remedies differ in terms of accessibility and efficacy.
Many Asian constitutions contain chapters on rights, but the degree of protection this af-
fords depends on the range of rights protected, whether these are judicially enforceable, and
the judicial philosophy, including the attitude towards human rights standards, which shape
how constitutions rights are interpreted and balanced against competing interests.
China has a constitution with extensive civil-political and socio-economic rights, but
after the anomalous case of Qu Yuling, which recognized a constitutional right to education,
the Supreme Court has held that the constitution is non-justiciable and cannot form the
basis of the judgement of courts (Kellogg, 2009). Japanese courts have referenced interna-
tional human rights law to augment the meaning of existing constitutional provisions or to
found independent rights. In Bourtz v Suzuki,7 a Japanese court gave indirect effect to the
anti-race discriminations of CERD, extending the constitutional prohibition against racial
discrimination beyond state bodies to private persons. Article 27 of the ICCPR was also
invoked in Kayano v Hokkaido Expropriation Committee (Levin, 1999) to underscore the rights
of indigenous groups to culture. Human rights standards may influence courts to acknowl-
edge, weigh and sometimes apply international values. Asian courts, as in Singapore, have
acknowledged customary international law norms, such as the prohibition against torture,
cruel and inhuman punishment as codified in Article 5 UDHR; this could influence how
the constitutional right to life and personal liberty is interpreted. The Singapore court dis-
puted whether ‘death by hanging’ fell within the ambit of cruel and degrading punishment,
drawing support from Campbell v Wood, a US Court of Appeals decision.8 Indian courts have
been particularly creative in seeking to protect certain human rights, although the record
is mixed (Rajagopal, 2006). Although its fundamental liberties chapter contains only civil
and political rights, it has famously interpreted the Article 21 right to life and personal lib-
erty to include socio-economic rights, such as the right to livelihood, education, healthy
environment and food. The ‘starvation death’ cases, such as the Supreme Court case People’s
Union for Civil Liberties v Union of India,9 issued orders requiring government authorities to
resume mandatory school meals, stipulating the number of calories categories of schoolchil-
dren should receive. This delves into the realm of governance. Indeed, Indian courts have
produced extraordinary remedies, such as ‘legislating’ ‘guidelines’ against workplace sexual
harassment, drawing from CEDAW standards in Vishaka v State of Rajasthan,10 which would
be legally binding until the derelict legislature enacted suitable legislation.
The 1993 Vienna Declaration encouraged the establishment of national human rights in-
stitutions (NHRI) in accordance with the “Principles relating to the status of national insti-
tutions” (Paris Principles).11 The Bangkok Declaration welcomed the role played by NHRI
in “the genuine and constructive promotion of human rights.” Both instruments recognized
the right of states to choose what type of NHRI to adopt.
Many Asian states adopted NHRIs after 1993. In 1996, various NHRIs banded to-
gether to form a currently 22-member coalition – the Asia Pacific Forum of National
Human Rights Institutions (APF) – to develop independent NHRI. This includes NRHIs
from South Asia (India, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Sri Lanka), South-East Asia (Indonesia,
­M alaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Thailand, and Timor Leste) and North-East Asia
(Mongolia and South Korea). These represent countries at all stages of development. Con-
versely, Singapore has resisted having a NHRI, pointing to the courts and Parliament as
venues for raising rights issues, and preferring to focus on results rather than institution
building (Thio, 2004). Bills for an independent NHRI in Japan, first submitted in 2003,
have not obtained traction.

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Li-ann Thio

NHRIs occupy a third space in mediating between civil society and the government.
The mandates of NHRI as non-judicial institutions vary but generally relate to human rights
education, research, drawing attention to alleged violations, reviewing domestic law against
international standards and proposing reform, and in some instances, investigating and me-
diating complaints. To sceptics, NHRIs are seen as placatory initiatives to deflect human
rights criticism without effecting real change for lack of independence, weak powers, insuf-
ficient resources or inadequate engagement with civil society. However, NHRIs as official
agencies do play a role in localizing global standards and developing a human rights culture.
They may adopt a ‘carrot and stick’ approach, in publicizing human rights deficiencies or
praising positive developments, through open letters and reports freely available on the in-
ternet. Despite operating in an authoritarian environment, the Myanmar National Human
Rights Commission (MNHRC) has done this and even issued statements criticized discrete
human rights abuses, such as misuse of police powers in fatally firing upon demonstrators
(Zaw, 2015).
While they cannot issue binding judgements or require remedies, their greatest weapon
is publicity, which serves the ‘name and shame’ pressuring strategy. For example, the
­Philippines Human Rights Commission in 2015 agreed to launch an inquiry in response
to a complaint filed by typhoon victims against 50 ‘carbon majors’ or international fossil
fuel companies charged with violating human rights by driving climate change. This is a
formidable challenge, but such publicity may elicit change as company reputation is at stake
(Goering, 2015).
NRHIs in Asian states also raise concerns with each other where the human rights of
their nationals are at stake. The MNHRC urged Thailand to protect the process rights of
two Burmese migrant workers sentenced to death for murder (Finney, 2015). The ­Indonesian
human rights commission officially asked Japan to reconsider a $4 billion thermal power
plant project it partially funded because of human rights violations committed during the
land acquisition process ( Japan Times, 2016). This promotes some degree of transparency,
which feeds into promotional activities. Asian NHRIs are also subject to an accreditation
process based on the Paris Principles administered by the International Coordinating Com-
mittee for National Human Rights Institutions; the prospect of being downgraded is a pres-
suring tactic insofar as national prestige is at stake; in 2015, it featured in Malaysian human
rights discourse (Ar, 2015).

Subregional level
Paragraph 26 of the Bangkok Declaration recognized the “need to explore the possibilities”
of establishing an Asian human rights system, which, to date, does not exist. However, the
ASEAN human rights mechanism has emerged at the subregional level. This was inaugu-
rated by the 2007 ASEAN Charter, which lists amongst its purposes and principles the pro-
motion and protection of human rights in conjunction with promoting democracy and the
rule of law (arts 1(7), 2(i)). Article 14 provided for the establishment of “an ASEAN human
rights body,” which eventually took the form of the ASEAN Inter-Governmental Commis-
sion on Human Rights (AICHR) (Thio, 2007).
In times past, ASEAN preferred to deal with human rights issues within member states
through quiet diplomacy, keeping the matter within the ‘family’ and stressing the principle
of non-intervention in internal affairs as part of the ‘ASEAN way’. Constructive engage-
ment with states like Myanmar, then under military rule, was favoured over confronta-
tional, sanction-based approaches (Thio, 1999: 37). This aligns with the “balanced and

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non-confrontational” approach the Bangkok Declaration (para 3) advocated. However, prior

to 2007, ASEAN states hardened their approach towards Myanmar, advocating ‘flexible
engagement’ and ‘enhanced consultations’ in response to egregious or embarrassing viola-
tions. In 2009, ASEAN issued a statement of concern over the detention and trial of then
opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi, which the military junta denounced as interference in
internal affairs ( Joshi, 2009).
The increasing focus ASEAN was according human rights is evident in the turn towards
institutionalization, creating ASEAN bodies with general and specific human rights man-
dates. The ASEAN Committee to Implement the Declaration on the Protection and Promo-
tion of the Rights of Migrant Workers (ACMW) was established in 2007, charged primarily
with promotional functions, including developing a binding ASEAN migrant workers in-
strument. In 2010, the ASEAN Commission on the Promotion and Protection of the Rights
of Women and Children (ACWC) was established with the specific mandate of upholding
CEDAW and CRC rights, treaties ratified by all ASEAN states.
In 2009, AICHR came into being; a consultative body, it operated on the principle of
consultation and consensus as does the ACWC, Its terms of reference focus on promotional
activities like dialogue, cooperation, technical assistance, research and drafting the AHRD.
No ASEAN human rights body has protective functions in the sense of receiving complaints
and issuing binding judgements (Ciorciari, 2012).
At its inception, AICHR was criticized as a ‘toothless’ entity (Wall Street Journal, 2009).
ASEAN states had mixed motives towards establishing AICHR. Some were ideationally
motivated by the persuasive force of human rights, viewing themselves as ‘progressive’. For
others, it was a rational decision, based on cost-benefit analysis of some sort, in hopes that
the system could help socialize states like Myanmar into practicing the rule of law and ob-
serving basic human rights. This would terminate the embarrassment of having any ASEAN
member states be viewed as an egregious human rights violator and pariah before the inter-
national community. The pressure to assimilate and to adopt common standards relating to
the decent treatment of individuals and their welfare would account for the motives of other
members (Munro, 2011). Given this range of attitudes, realists were not expecting the hu-
man rights body to assume the form of a human rights court with compulsory jurisdiction,
after the European model.
Nonetheless, its focus on education, research and cooperation, its lack of power to receive
and investigate complaints and the delay in addressing how to deal with civil society12 proved
frustrating to many stakeholders; NGOs published reports13 criticizing the composition, pow-
ers and performance of AICHR, and its failure to take action over cases brought to its atten-
tion, such as the 2013 disappearance of Lao activist Sombath Somphone (Ponnudurai, 2013).
The creators of AICHR embodied their preference for an evolutionary rather than revo-
lutionary approach towards developing human right norms in paragraph 2.5 of the ­A ICHR
Terms of Reference. AICHR and other related ASEAN bodies also are evolving and argu-
ably, what is not prohibited is not proscribed. At present, the ASEAN system works pri-
marily through promotional activities and peer pressure, seeking periodic accounts for
non-­progress, though certain ASEAN states like Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines
as well as civil society hope future developments will include stronger protective functions
like powers to conduct regular reviews, to initiative investigations and on-site visits and
to receive individual complaints. State and non-state action influences how AICHR as an
institution may evolve; Indonesia, for example, takes the approach of ‘converting’ ASEAN
states to good human rights practices leading by example and not proselytization, such as
voluntarily initiating a human rights dialogue with AICHR in 2013.

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Li-ann Thio

The ASEAN human rights institutions were a product of political will and compromise,
the offspring of pragmatism and starting somewhere, with a view to building momentum
for incremental changes. It signalled ASEAN’s interest in human rights to the international
community, acknowledging the basic rights of citizens in ASEAN states. This subregional
development has added a new dimension to human rights discourse, from being one of mar-
ginal dissent and resistance, to also being a language of good governance. This institutional
platform for dialogue and experience sharing is conducive to the transmission and socializing
effect of human rights values. Only time will tell whether the ASEAN human rights sys-
tem will develop positively, by accretion rather than design, and help form a people-centric
ASEAN community within the southeast Asian subregion.

Conclusion
There is evidence of active human rights discourse within Asia as well as subregional insti-
tutional developments. In an era of globalization, fears about new types of human rights vi-
olations have emerged. Asian scholars number among those who identify wrongs committed
by transnational corporations or the negative impact of austerity programmes imposed by in-
ternational financial institutions, which curb the flow of resources given to socio-economic
rights, to the especial detriment of women and children (Baxi, 2006).
Human rights violations are a universal phenomenon. In Asia, the realization of human
rights has to be coupled with increased democratization and public participation within Asian
states as well as economic development to fund socio-economic welfare. Although human
rights dominate the field of emancipatory possibility, in Asia, there are alternative approaches,
such as ‘human development’. This focusses on government duties to execute programs that
promote development in aid of securing human welfare, which includes basic freedoms and
basic needs. Whether human rights form the best moral language is also questioned by Asian
scholars as rights languages operates in the key of adversarial assertion of claims, rather than
what Baxi (2009: 177) calls the historic role of lived relations “of sacrifice, support and soli-
darity,” of kinship and the common good rather than the valorization of individual autonomy.
It is clear that although human rights are not considered absolute and determinative
trumps, they have become a relevant, if not important factor in the deliberations and policies
of governments in Asia, many of whom eschew utopian idealism in favour of pragmatic ap-
proaches to human rights. This centres on consolidating consensus on core rights, agreeing
to disagree on contested claims and developing institutions in incrementalist fashions. None-
theless, human rights remain the benchmark by which states and non-state actors criticize
and assess government legitimacy.
To counter criticisms that human rights is a vehicle for West-centric universalism and
self-righteous diplomacy, the inclusive participation of Asian states and non-state actors in
global and regional dialogues about human rights and foundational questions concerning
human dignity and the human good is necessary. In this ‘Asian Century’, it appears states in
Asia are increasingly disposed to engage vigorously in this conversation and to take steps to
actualize aspiration, even if the pace is cautious and progress is modest.

Notes
1 The Committee overseeing the Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights has noted
that the Covenant does not preclude or require “any particular form of government or economic
system” provided it is “democratic and that all human rights” are respected: General Comment 3:
(Art 2(1), Fifth Session, 1990, para 7.

386
 Human rights in Asia

2 Compare Nappalli Peter Williams v Institute of Technical Education [1999] 2 SLR 569, 575G-H (Singa-
pore Court of Appeal) with the Malaysia Lina Joy litigation: [2004] 2 Malayan Law Journal (MLJ)
119 (High Court); [2005] 6 MLJ 193 (Court of Appeal); [2007] 4 MLJ 585 (Federal Court).
3 Notably, Saudi Arabia, which abstained from voting for the UDHR, objected to this aspect of
religious freedom.
4 Koushal v Naz Foundation (Civil Appeal No. 10972 of 2013, Indian Supreme Court); Lim Meng
Suang v AG [2014] SGCA 53 (Singapore Court of Appeal).
5 See art 23, 1981 African Charter on Human and Peoples Rights.
6 Communication CEDAW/C/46/D/18/2008.
7 Judgement of 12 Oct 2000, Shizuoka District Court (2007) 16 Pacific Rim Law and Policy Journal,
translation by Timothy Webster.
8 18 F 3d 662 (1994), cited by the Singapore Court of Appeal in Nguyen v Public Prosecutor [2005] 1
SLR(R) 103.
9 Supreme Court Order, Nov 28 2001.
10 AIR 1997 SC 3011. It was only in 2013 that the Sexual Harassment Act was enacted.
11 UN Doc A/48/49 (1993).
12 Guidelines on AICHR’s relations with Civil Society Organizations were adopted on 11 February
2015.
13 Since 2010, FORUM-ASIA and SAPA Task Force on ASEAN and Human Rights have pro-
duced annual reports on the performance of the ASEAN human rights mechanism: http://
humanrightsinasean.info/activit y/launching-annual-report-performance-asean-human-
rights-mechanism-2014-bangkok-14th-october.

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 27
The politics of the Internet
and social media in Asia
Mobilization, participation,
and retrenchment?

Jason P. Abbott

It is hard to believe that the primary tools and websites that we associate with Internet
use today are at most a little more than a decade old. Facebook and Flickr were founded
in 2004, and Reddit, Twitter, and YouTube were founded in 2005. China’s social media
giant Qzone was founded in 2005, Sina Weibo was founded in 2009, and most recently
founded was WeChat in 2011. In this relatively short period of time, social media has
become the most visible if not the defining feature of contemporary Internet use. More-
over, tools and applications that were primarily designed to facilitate innocuous commu-
nication have become sophisticated tools in social and political movements worldwide.
From the Arab Spring protests of 2011 that led to the overthrow of authoritarian regimes
in Tunisia and Egypt to the Occupy Wall Street movement of late 2011 or Hong Kong’s
Umbrella Movement in 2014, social media has been openly utilized to organize and pub-
licize protests, to counter dominant media narratives and propaganda, and to disseminate
information both among protestors and with the outside world.1 Most of the tools we
associate with such movements (social networking, microblogging, video sharing, live
streaming, etc.) were originally designed to facilitate banal conversations and communi-
cation among millennials, and yet these applications have had dramatic social and political
consequences.
Perhaps the most transformative effect of the proliferation of such applications is that
Internet users have been transformed from passive recipients of information and content to
‘produsers’ [sic] of information and content (Bruns 2009), exemplified most in the rise of citi-
zen journalism. As Zeynap Tufekci (2014) comments, “the advent of blogging and the rise of
cheap cell phones with video cameras ... created major changes as activists started acquiring,
publishing, and circulating video evidence of the many grievances that made everyday life
difficult for citizens” (Tufekci ibid.: 5). Furthermore, since a user can instantly network with
hundreds or thousands of friends and followers, their impact can quickly reach a critical mass
that can make their message go viral (Konnikova 2014). As the Global Day of Action for
Burma on October 6, 2007 demonstrated, a movement could now grow from a handful of
people to a global organization in less than a month.2

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 Politics of the Internet and social media

The ubiquity of the modern smartphone means that ordinary people now have the tools to
challenge the power of the mainstream media to control the news agenda, ushering in with it a
politics of visibility (Yang 2016). Especially in regimes in which censorship and state-controlled
narratives have been prevalent, these tools offer a much wider “variety of first hand accounts”
(Bruns ibid.: 72) unmediated and uncensored by the editor, the proprietor, or the government.
Such accounts enable the emergence of a ‘monitorial citizenship’ able to fact check what is
reported, discern omissions, and challenge propaganda. These capabilities have already been
further extended in 2015 with the advent of applications such as Periscope and Meerkat, which
now enable citizen journalists to deliver live video over their social media applications.
Much of the debate on the impact of this has been dominated by a discourse that contests the
transformative potential of new technology for radical political change (e.g. Rheingold 2002;
Van de Donk et al. 2004; Shirky 2008; Ambinder 2009) with a deeply skeptical view that stresses
the banality and superficiality of most online participation (Morozov 2009; Gladwell 2010).
While the former position argues that such ‘liberation’ technologies (Diamond 2010) open up
new arenas for disobedience and contestation in which to “confront non-democratic regimes”
(Golkar 2011), the latter claims that the very idea that liberalization is an inevitable consequence
of the widespread use of the Internet is erroneous (Druzin and Li 2016: 38). Proponents of such
views argue that there is nothing deterministic about the Internet, which, much like earlier
forms of communication technology, can be used for good or ill. Indeed, several skeptics argue
that far from fostering freedom and democracy, the Internet can be utilized “as a tool to solidify
autocratic survival” (Rød and Weidman 2015: 348),3 with a growing number of regimes becom-
ing increasingly sophisticated in their ability to mitigate the progressive effects of new informa-
tion communication technologies. As the case studies in this chapter will show, there is evidence
that autocrats are learning from the strategies of information control in countries such as China
and Russia to become much more sophisticated in their management of the Internet. Such strat-
egies include sophisticated filtering technologies; denial of service attacks; the deployment of
­regime-friendly Internet activists and bloggers; as well as periodic crackdowns on online dissidents,
which serve as warnings to the public as a whole, thereby encouraging self-censorship by users.
Whereas much of the immediate work on social media and protest participation consisted
of ethnographic observations and qualitative interviews, in recent years, the number of studies
that have conducted quantitative analyses of the effects of the Internet on political activity and
behavior has grown. Many of these now show that rather than encouraging weak levels of po-
litical engagement (Gladwell’s now infamous ‘slacktivist’ claim), precisely the opposite is true:
In other words, Internet users are often more likely than nonusers to be politically active, and us-
ers of social media such as Facebook are even more so (Hampton et al. 20114; Bode et al. 2014).
Others have attempted to measure the influence of online activism on real-world protest
(e.g. Jungherr and Jürgens 2013; Vasi and Suh 2013; Recuero et al. 2014; Gainous, Wagner, and
­Abbott 2015, 2016). Ion Vasi and Chan Suh’s study of the Occupy Wall Street movement, for
example, found that Internet searches had a direct influence on the emergence of online activ-
ism and that Facebook and Twitter streams positively affected the spread of offline protests (ibid.:
322). Such findings confirm those by Sarah Gaby and Neal Caren (2012), and Jennifer Earl et al.
(2013), which also concluded that both Twitter and Facebook streams were strongly connected
to on-site events. Earl’s research supported arguments that have long been made in interviews
with participants in protest movements, namely that Facebook use tends to be largely used to
organize rallies, whereas Twitter usage was used on-site to coordinate protests (ibid.). Many of
these studies are confined to US political behavior5 and other Western countries,6 not least be-
cause of the lack of data from the non-Western world and nondemocratic regimes in particular.
Jason Gainous et al. (2015) is one exception.7 Using data from the Asian Barometer series, the

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authors test whether use of the Internet leads to increased political participation. Their results
show that in nondemocratic regimes, increased Internet use results in a decline in traditional
forms of political participation but an increase in nontraditional forms of participation such as
demonstrations, protests, and strikes. Francis Lee, Hsuan Chen, and Michael Chan’s (2017)
analysis of the use of social media in Hong Kong during the Umbrella protests similarly found
that social media use impacted on movement support and participation and that the sharing of
information in particular deepened people’s participation in those protests.
While such studies are by no means exhaustive, they are nevertheless indicative. Taken
together, such research means that we can move beyond the debate over whether social me-
dia use has a political impact to focus instead on the ‘magnitude’ of those effects on political
behavior, communication, and participation. Since Asia is geographically vast and extraor-
dinarily diverse, it is not possible in the confines of a single chapter to explore such effects
across the region as a whole. Similarly, Asia consists of the full range of political regimes,
from parliamentary liberal democracies (Bangladesh and India) to an absolutist monarchy
(Brunei), a military government (Thailand), constitutional monarchies (Bhutan and Japan),
presidential systems (Indonesia, the Philippines, South Korea, and Taiwan), single-party
Communist rule (China, Laos, North Korea, and Vietnam), and regimes that fall in the
gray areas between authoritarianism and democratic rule (e.g. Cambodia, Malaysia, and
Singapore). Any analysis, then, is going to have to consist of a select few cases with which
to illustrate and analyze the effect that the Internet and social media has. If we accept the
premise that the Internet does have a discernible effect on political participation and mobi-
lization, we can posit that such effects are likely to be more pronounced and destabilizing in
regimes that are not democratic. Consequently, this chapter selects three mini-case studies
from which it will provide comparative and illustrative examples. The three cases are drawn
from three of the four nondemocratic regime types: single-party Communist rule (China),
military government (Thailand), and quasi-democratic (Malaysia).8

An overview of Internet use and social networking in Asia

Before discussing the impact of the Internet and social media in Asia, it is necessary to look
at the number of Internet users in the region, how much that user base has grown since the
turn of the century, and the popularity of different social media platforms. In 2001, it was
estimated that there were 332 million Internet users worldwide, of which 72 percent were
located in Europe and North America (excluding Mexico). By 2016, that number had risen
to a staggering 3.5 billion users, with almost half (49.5 percent) located in Asia in contrast to
just 26.2 percent in Europe and North America combined (Internet World Stats). While the
growth of the Internet worldwide has risen exponentially over the past decade and a half, the
growth in the number of users in Asia far outstripped that of the West. Between 2000 and
2016, Asia’s Internet population grew by an astonishing 1,445 percent against 485 percent in
Europe and only 196 percent in North America. Today, East Asia has eight of the twenty larg-
est Internet populations in the world (see Table 27.1): China (1), India (2), Japan (4), I­ ndonesia
(8), Bangladesh (13), Vietnam (14), the Philippines (15), South Korea (17), and Thailand (18).
In addition, Malaysia has an Internet penetration rate that not only exceeds the Asian average
(44.2 percent) but also those found in a number of European countries. For example, with an
Internet penetration rate of 68.1 percent, Malaysia has a larger share of its population online
than Greece (63.2 percent), Serbia (66.2 percent), and Poland (67.6 percent).
But what about social media? How extensive is social media in Asia, and which applica-
tions and tools do Asian publics use? With over 1.6 billion users worldwide, Facebook has

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 Politics of the Internet and social media

Table 27.1 A sian countries by Internet population (over 20 million)

Total # Internet users (million) Internet penetration (%)

China 721.4 49.5

India 462.1 28.3
Japan 115.1 91
Indonesia 88 34.1
Bangladesh 53.9 33.1
Vietnam 49 51.5
The Philippines 47.1 43
South Korea 45.3 92.1
Thailand 41 60.1
Pakistan 34.3 17.8
Malaysia 21 68.1

Source: Internet World Stats. Data for June 2016.

Table 27.2 Facebook visitor reach as a percentage of Internet users. Top 15 countries 1st quarter 2015

Country rank Country Percentage of reach (%)

1= The Philippines 91
1= Mexico 91
3= Argentina 90
3= Indonesia 90
3= Thailand 90
6= Vietnam 89
6= India 89
8= Brazil 88
8= South Africa 88
8= Malaysia 88
8= Turkey 88
12 Taiwan 85
13 UAE 84
14 Hong Kong 81
15 Singapore 80

Source: Statista; Internet World Stats.

grown to dominate social networking services and has become a core measure in any survey
of Internet use. As of June 2016, it was estimated that approximately a third of all Facebook
users were located in Asia, with 9 of the top 15 markets for the company9 found in the re-
gion. Across Asia, Facebook is by far the most popular social network, reaching an average
of 87 percent of users across those nine countries (see Table 27.2). Twitter, while the next
most popular social media application, is a long way behind, with a reach of only 38.7 ­percent.
With 157 million users, India is not only the largest market for Facebook in Asia but is
also the company’s second largest market worldwide. Indonesia ranks globally as Facebook’s
fourth-largest market, with China and the Philippines fifth and seventh, respectively (­China’s
presence in the top ten is of particular note since the social media site is officially blocked
by the Chinese authorities). In terms of Twitter, Indonesian Internet users have become avid

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Jason P. Abbott

Table 27.3 T
 op 15 social networking applications worldwide

Social networking application Active users in millions

Facebook 2,061
YouTube 1,500
WhatsApp 1,300
Facebook Messenger 1,300
WeChat 963
QQ 850
Instagram 700
Qzone 606
Tumblr 368
Sina Weibo 361
Twitter 328
Baidu Tieba 300
Skype 300
Viber 260

Source: Based on Statista 2017.

Sites italicized are all Chinese language social media applications.

fans of the microblogging site. Measured by the number of Twitter users as a proportion of
total Internet users, Indonesia is the “most Twitter addicted nation on the planet” with 69–74
percent of Indonesian netizens using the microblogging site (Sidner 2010; Reuters 2016a;
Statista.). Moreover, in terms of the number of users actively tweeting monthly, Indonesia
ranks third after the United States and Japan, generating 6.5 percent of all tweets globally.
Since China blocked Facebook in 2008, and Twitter and YouTube in 2009, Chinese
microblogging websites have taken full advantage of consumer demand for social media plat-
forms. The two main social media applications within China are Qzone and Weibo. While
Qzone is usually compared to Facebook and Weibo to Twitter, both social networks com-
bine elements of Facebook and Twitter in their respective platforms. Most notably, unlike
on Twitter, Weibo users can insert images, videos, and music directly into their posts, while
comments are visible as an attached thread rather than separately in Twitter’s @mention tab.
Since Qzone was launched in 2005, it has grown into China’s largest social network, with ap-
proximately 640 million (Statista) monthly active users (MAUs). Weibo, founded four years
later, is the second largest, with 282 million MAUs and used by approximately one-third
(33.5 percent) of Chinese Internet users (CINIC 2016; China Internet Watch 2016). Rank-
ing both networks globally, Qzone is the sixth most popular social network, and Weibo is
the 13th (Statista). However, such figures include instant messaging services (see Table 27.3),
which functionally are very different from social networking services, like Facebook, or
microblogging services, like Twitter and Weibo. If we exclude these from the count, then
Qzone is the second-largest social network behind Facebook, with Weibo in sixth place.10
Clearly then, Internet and social media use in Asia is now ubiquitous. While early studies
of the Internet highlighted a number of digital divides that potentially would exacerbate
technological disparities between developed and developing world countries (Abbott 2001),
most of these have been overcome by the development of mobile Internet services and the
proliferation of smartphones. Similarly, the development of icon-driven and voice-activated
applications, as well as non-English language content, have reduced the barriers that were
posed by literacy and language (Venkatraman 2014).11 Given such pervasiveness, what can

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we discern about the social and political consequences this is having? The following sec-
tion seeks to address this by analyzing the cases of Malaysia, Thailand, and China. These
­m icro-cases are selected to be illustrative of both the potential effects the Internet and social
media can have and the broader theoretical debate between the contending libertarian and
skeptical interpretations of such effects.

Malaysia: letting the genie out of the bottle?

Malaysia has proved to be a fertile ground for studies on the potential liberalizing effects of the
Internet in countries in which civil liberties face considerable constraints (Abbott 2012; Weiss
2012; Tapsell 2013a; Yun-han and Welsh 2015). Much has been made of the emergence of a
vibrant alternative online mediascape in the aftermath of the Asian financial crisis of 1997 and
the political turmoil that it set in motion. Moreover, Internet access and penetration developed
rapidly as a result of the specific targeting of the information communications and technology
sector as an engine of future growth. The Mahathir administration in particular launched a
much-vaunted megaproject, the Multimedia Super Corridor, with a purpose-built knowledge
hub called Cyberjaya at its heart (Sklair 2010). In order to entice international investment into
the project, the Mahathir administration created an international board of advisors that was
composed of prominent tech gurus and global IT CEOs (CNN 2000), and enshrined a com-
mitment against Internet censorship into the project’s Bill of Guarantees (Huff 2002).
The combined effect of these measures resulted in the rapid emergence of online media
platforms that provided a critical voice to opponents of the regime (Postill 2014). While
some of these were little more than accusatory diatribes, others soon matured into relatively
sophisticated media outlets of which perhaps the most famous, and most discussed, is the on-
line news portal Malaysiakini (e.g. Steele 2008). The significance here of Malaysiakini is that
in a country in which the traditional print media displays evident bias toward the governing
parties and is either directly or indirectly owned by them, Malaysiakini was able to establish
itself as a respected alternative source of news and information. In addition, it soon became
one of the country’s leading websites, its success spurring the establishment of a host of sim-
ilar ‘independent’ news portals.
Opposition political parties were also quick to develop a web presence and in so doing cir-
cumvent restrictions that could be imposed on their print publications by the Printing Presses
and Publications Act. The opposition Islamic political party, PAS, for example, responded
to the government’s restricting the publication of its newspaper Harakah from biweekly to
bimonthly in March 2000 by pouring resources into an online version, HarakahDaily (Rodan
2002: 73). Within a year, it had already incorporated video feed and continued to add greater
functionality at an impressive rate. Today, HarakahDaily includes a Malay- and an English-­
language site; multimedia resources; RSS; a Twitter feed; podcasts; a version for cell phones;
letters pages; columns; and a link to its Facebook page, which has almost a million likes.
The other significant online development in Malaysia was the rapid growth in the popu-
larity and influence of blogs, and political blogs in particular, between 2003 and 2008. Such
was the rapid early adoption of blogging in Malaysia that in 2010, it had one of the highest
proportions of bloggers per head in the world and despite its relatively medium-sized popu-
lation ranked third in Asia in terms of the total number of blogs (Sysomos 2010). Among the
most notable political bloggers during this period were Jeff Ooi and Tony Pua; Ooi’s “Screen-
shots” blog, which he began in 2003, won the Asia category of the Freedom Blogs Award
from the press freedom advocacy group Reporters Without Borders in 2005 and became
one of the most read blogs in Malaysia. Indeed, Joseph Liow and Afif Pasuni (2010), Andreas

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Ufen (2008), and Ibrahim Suffian (2010) have argued that bloggers played an important role
in the 2008 Malaysian general election, in which the governing coalition lost its two-thirds
majority for the first time since 1969. In particular, bloggers were seen as playing a role in mo-
bilizing first-time voters in urban and semi-urban areas. At that election, several prominent
bloggers, including Ooi and Pua, stood for office and were elected to parliament (Lim 2009).
While blogging had a disproportionate influence in the 2008 election, five years later,
blogs had largely been surpassed by social media, with Facebook and Twitter becoming key
battlegrounds for younger, urban, and more educated Malaysian voters (Tapsell 2013b). That
is not to say that political blogging no longer attracted attention: The former ­Malaysian
Prime Minister Mahathir, for example, became a surprisingly vocal critic of the government
and has attracted over 20 million hits (Malaysiakini 2016). Rather, it is to say that social me-
dia applications now became the principal terrain on which online political critique, debate,
parody, and satire took place. At the 2008 election, both Facebook and Twitter were rela-
tively new and not widely used at the time. This time, however, members of the governing
Barisan Nasional coalition were as quick to take advantage of these platforms as members
of the opposition, although some commentators questioned whether overall there still re-
mained a significant news media competency gap between the two sides (Weiss 2013: 601).
Social media made arguably its biggest impact in Malaysia, however, in the mobilization
and coordination of a series of high-profile mass demonstrations by the Coalition for Clean
and Fair Elections (BERSIH). While the organization had held its first mass protest in 2007,
it turned heavily to social media in order to mobilize the public for its second major demon-
stration in July 2011, particularly following decisions by the government to declare both the
proposed rally and BERSIH itself illegal (Gooch 2011). Despite such actions approximately
20,000 people took part in the protest, and on the day Twitter use spiked as protestors took to
the microblogging site to inform each other of the location of riot police (Weiss ibid.) as well
as to share eyewitness accounts and documentary evidence of police brutality via Twitter’s
infamous hashtag function. Postill (2014), for example, notes that between June 9 and August
14, 2011, 263,000 tweets were sent with the hashtag #bersih. BERSIH subsequently orga-
nized two further demonstrations in April 2012 and August 2015. What was notable about
both these was that social media was used to coordinate an international day of protest with
the Malaysian diaspora mobilized to organize companion rallies worldwide (FMT 2012).
For commentators such as Chin-Huat Wong, James Chin, and Norani Othman (2010),
Meredith Weiss (2012, 2013), Bridget Welsh (2011), and John Postill (ibid.), what these examples
reveal is that for all of the restrictions on civil liberties in Malaysia the Internet and social media
have potentially ushered in a new era of grassroots politics in which social media is enabling
civil society to overcome the ethnic divisions that have long been the principal societal cleavage
in Malaysian politics. While some, such as Postill, are more optimistic than others about the
impact this may have, these examples do appear to support the hypothesis that the Internet can
bring about a liberalizing effect on politics in closed or semi-closed states. Indeed, recent survey
work demonstrates that there is a correlation between the use of the Internet in Malaysia as a
primary source of information and news and the proclivity to take part in nontraditional forms
of political participation, such as demonstrations (Gainous, Abbott, and Wagner 2016).

Thailand’s battle royale on the Internet

For over a decade now Thailand’s political system has been wracked by almost continuous
political turmoil. The May 2014 military coup d’état was the latest stage in a seemingly
endless impasse between the country’s traditional royalist-military elite and the supporters

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of populist political forces that first elected Thaksin Shinawatra as prime minister in 2001
(McCargo 2005). Despite reengineering the country’s constitution in 2007, as well as its
electoral rules, pro-royalist groups were unable to prevent successors to Thaksin’s Thai Rak
Thai party from winning nationwide elections in 2007 and 2011 (Prashanth 2016). Anger
and frustration on both sides led to frequent mass demonstrations, with escalating violence
between pro-royalist ‘yellow shirts’ and their ‘red-shirt’ pro-Shinawatra counterparts that
were in part used as an excuse for the latest military takeover.
Alongside this struggle on the streets has been a simultaneous online ‘battle royale’
(Thammo 2009), first with anti-Thaksin websites playing a prominent role in the mobili-
zation of anti-government and pro-monarchy groups (Thammo 2009; Chaisukkosol 2010),
followed subsequently by red-shirt organizations especially after the ouster of Thaksin in the
2006 coup.12 More recently, the military launched a crackdown on online dissent in general
that has seen it utilize existing legislation against freedom of speech as well as pass new laws
that attempt to curb Internet activities (Tan 2014). The crackdown starkly reveals the nature
of online political confrontation, specifically the strategies adopted by both political author-
ities that seek to curb online expression and activists who wish to circumvent them. In the
case of Thailand governments have used a panoply of tactics from existing legislation against
defamation and sedition to laws specifically passed to counter online dissent, as well as exten-
sive filtering (Saksith 2014a), website blocking (Prachatai 2014), and deploying pro-regime
activists online to troll and inform on government critics (Saksith 2014b).
The main legal tools used to restrict Internet use in Thailand are the 2017 Computer Crime
Act (CCA) and the country’s infamous lèse majesté law. The CCA allows terms of up to five
years imprisonment for publishing content that is false or that may endanger individuals, the
public, or national security. The use of proxy servers to access restricted material is also crim-
inalized (Freedom House 2015a), while the Act allows the government to block websites and
suppress content. Among a series of provisions directed at hacking and data security. Article
14 of the CCA allows authorities to charge Internet users with infringing on national security
or for viewing any website deemed “illegal, offensive or obscene” (WikiLeaks). In addition,
by making content via a computer subject to offenses that are already crimes in the Thai penal
code, the Act ensured that the lèse majesté laws applied to computer-mediated communica-
tion. The lèse majesté law was first introduced in 1900, when it became a crime to defame the
monarchy. However, the current law, which makes it an offense to defame, insult, or threaten
the King, Queen, heir apparent, or Regent, was introduced as Article 112 of the 1957 Crim-
inal Code. The scope of this definition was widened further in the 2007 Constitution, which
was introduced a year after the military coup that overthrew the Thaksin government, to state
that “No person shall expose the King to any sort of accusation or action” (Streckfuss 2011).
Since the 2006 coup there has been a sharp escalation in the government’s campaign against
Internet dissent with Thai authorities charging more Internet users and Internet ­Service Pro-
viders with these offenses than any others. According to data from Freedom House, between
2007 and 2011, 325 people were charged under the CCA of which 66 percent related to vi-
olations of content. Of these 100 were defamation charges and a further 46 were lèse majesté
violations (Freedom House 2013). Overall, the number of people charged with violations
of the lèse majesté law has increased sharply, from an average of five to six cases a year in
the previous two decades to 33 (Streckfuss ibid.: 194ff ) in 2005, peaking at 478 in 2010 fol-
lowing red-shirt protests (Pilling 2011). In the 12 months immediately following the 2014
coup, lèse majesté charges again climbed with 47 charged with violating Article 112 (FIDH
2015). Moreover, after the coup the jurisdiction for all cases involving lèse majesté offenses
was transferred to military tribunals, a situation that “has pushed the lèse majesté law into

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worrying territory” (IBA 2015). Of those charged all but four were denied bail with nearly
two-thirds detained for at least a year awaiting trial. In addition, “nearly 75 per cent of lèse
majesté arrests, detentions and imprisonments have been related to the exercise of the right to
freedom of opinion and expression” (FIDH 2016: 7), including many notable cases involving
Internet and social media content. The following examples, although by no means exhaustive,
serve to illustrate the extent to which the military junta has cracked down on online dissent.
Following the coup, former Education Minister Chaturon Chaisang and the social ac-
tivist Sombat Boonngamanong were called to report to authorities in what have been sub-
sequently dubbed ‘attitude adjustment’ sessions (Amnesty International 2014). Both men
refused and turned to social media to show their protest. As a result, both were charged un-
der the Sedition Act as well as the CCA. In addition to Facebook posts signaling his refusal to
report to authorities, Chaturon made a speech in May to the Foreign Correspondents Club
of Thailand criticizing military rule, which was subsequently posted on Facebook while
Boonngamanong famously goaded authorities “to catch me if you can” in a post (The Nation
2014). In addition, Boonngamanong called for flash mob protests at which participants were
encouraged to wear masks and to post selfies of them making the three-finger salute from the
dystopian science fiction movie series The Hunger Games. The irony of a protest salute against
a fictional totalitarian regime was not lost on the international media. Indeed, in November
2014, six students were detained by police for making the sign at a speech given by the Prime
Minister Chan-o-cha in the northeastern province of Khon Kaen (The Telegraph 2014).
Other notable examples of the arrest of activists for social media use include Thiensutham
Suthijitseranee, Sam Parr (Phongsak), Rung Sira (Sirapop Kornhaut), and Patnaree Chankij.
Thiensutham was arrested and found guilty of five counts of defaming the monarchy in a series
of Facebook posts between July and November 2014.13 In these, he posted messages and images
that were primarily critical of the military government, but which allegedly also ‘mentioned’
the institution of the monarchy. When he was sentenced on March 31, 2015 to 50 years im-
prisonment, this was the harshest sentence passed against a social media activist. Thiensutham’s
sentence, however, was surpassed five months later during the trial of Phongsak. Arrested in
December 2014, he was found guilty of six counts of defaming the monarchy in a series of
Facebook posts. Despite confessing to being drunk and depressed when he made these posts,
he was sentenced to 60 years in prison, which was reduced by half because he pleaded guilty
(Wongwat 2016a). One of the most interesting features of the case of Phongsak is that testimony
suggests that he had been coaxed and encouraged online by an officer over the course of four
to five months (ibid.). Unlike Yai and Phongsak, poet and cyber activist Sirapop has refused to
plead guilty to charges of lèse majesté for posting satirical pictures and poems that were critical
of the ruling elite (Wongwat 2016b). Held without bail since his initial arrest in June 2014, he
challenged whether the military court had the jurisdiction to try him for these alleged crimes.
Sirapop’s challenge was dismissed by the Court Jurisdiction Committee in January 2016, and if
he is found guilty of lèse majesté, he could face up to 45 years in prison. In contrast to the earlier
examples, Patnaree’s arrest in August 2015 was for the seemingly innocuous act of replying ‘yes’
to a private Facebook message from the friend of her son that was critical of the Thai monarchy.
Patnaree denies any wrongdoing, accusing the government instead of targeting her because her
son Sirawith Seritiwath is a prominent student dissident and vocal critic of the regime. If found
guilty, Patnaree could be sentenced to 15 years’ imprisonment (Reuters 2016b).
While Thailand has a long history of censoring websites (WikiLeaks), it has to date not
deliberately blocked or throttled Internet or cell phone connections for political reasons. Nev-
ertheless, since the coup blocking of websites and takedown requests have increased sharply
(Freedom House 2015a). Whereas prior to the coup, it was necessary to secure a warrant to

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block websites, now it is the responsibility of public officials and Internet Service Providers to
use their judgment as to whether sites contravene a series of decrees from the National Coun-
cil for Peace and Order that banned content that could cause conflict and disorder. Within
days of the coup, the military blocked over 100 websites, including the nonprofit online news
site Prachatai, the website of the British newspaper The Daily Mail (Watson 2014), and briefly
Facebook (Franceschi-Bicchierai 2014). By December this had risen to over 1,200, making
the total number of websites blocked since the previous coup in 2007 over 150,000 (Asia
Sentinel 2016). In addition, the Secretary-General of Thailand’s National Broadcasting and
Telecommunications Commission asked Facebook and YouTube to remove content that was
critical of the Thai monarchy. Google, who own YouTube, was specifically asked to expedite
the process by which governments can request that specific sites be blocked (Asian Corre-
spondent 2016). While the Internet giant refused, it has in the past agreed to requests from the
Thai government to remove content that was deemed to insult the monarchy.
In an effort to improve the monitoring of Internet activity, Thailand’s Technology Crime
Suppression Division published a series of documents in January 2016 outlining procurement
plans to build a surveillance system that would allow them to monitor all posts on Facebook,
Twitter, and the Thai portal Patnip. The system, if it is ever realized, would be able not only
to monitor the content of users but also all interactions with it, including all likes, shares,
and comments (Sambandaraksa 2016). Alongside this, the government has also made efforts
to improve and increase the effectiveness of Internet monitoring and have encouraged pri-
vate citizens to report online content. Beginning in 2010 the government launched a cyber
scout project to create a network of almost 400 cyber scouts from across the country (Saksith
2010). In July 2014, shortly after the coup, the Ministry of Information Communication and
Technology announced it would expand this by a further 500 (Saksith 2014b).
As the selection of examples earlier demonstrate, the Thai government has largely de-
ployed the existing criminal code against Internet activists to stymie online dissent. As in
the case of other authoritarian regimes one can suggest that the purpose of passing dispro-
portionate sentences against activists that have posted critical content is to force Internet
users in Thailand to censor themselves in fear of retribution. Nevertheless, despite all of the
measures discussed earlier, the Internet continues to be a site of opposition to the military.
In January 2016, for example, hacker group Anonymous defaced 15 Thai police websites
in protest at the treatment of two Burmese men accused of killing two British backpackers
(Holmes 2016). Declaring ‘war’ on the Thai government, the group launched the campaign
#BoycottThailand, which has since resulted in additional attacks by hackers. Ten days after
the initial attack, a Burmese affiliate of Anonymous, the Blind Hacker Group, launched de-
nial of service attacks on hundreds of Thai court websites that exposed over 1 GB of data that
belonged to the Supreme Court (Sasiwan 2016). Moreover, while the military is attempting
to silence Internet dissent, social media continues to grow in popularity in the country with
more than 90 percent of Thailand’s 41 million Internet users on social media. In addition, cell
phone subscriptions exceed the country’s population, with 86 million phone subscriptions for
67 million people (Privacy International, 2016). Although most cell phones in Thailand are
still feature phones, since 2013, the number of smartphones sold has grown rapidly. Across
Thai phone networks, one of the most popular applications in the country is the Japanese
messaging service Line, which allows users to exchange texts, images, audio, and make free
voice-over IP video calls. With over 30 million users, Line is almost as popular as Facebook
(Russell 2016). While the company has been accused of sharing information in the past with
the Thai military, the launch of end-to-end encryption for sending messages in October 2015
presents dissidents with the opportunity to evade the junta’s recent crackdown (Russell 2015).

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China: Internet activism behind the firewall

If Malaysia, at least until very recently,14 presented an example of the impact that the Internet can
have when online activity is relatively unimpaired, then China presents, in some ways, the polar
opposite. In comparative studies of the Internet China usually attracts intense scrutiny because
of the extensive array of banned and blocked websites, Internet controls, filtering, monitoring,
and surveillance that the Communist regime conducts. Collectively this is more commonly
referred to as the “Great Firewall of China,”15 although frequently the nature of this firewall is
misunderstood or misinterpreted to suggest that the Internet in China operates like a closed in-
tranet cut off from the broader world wide web. The Great Firewall, however, is only an aspect
of the regime’s larger project of censorship and control, known as 金盾工程 (jīndùn gōngchéng)
or Golden Shield, by which the Chinese government attempts to prevent individuals from using
the Internet in any way that could “harm” national security or the wider interests of the state and
society. Such activities were first proscribed in the 1997 Computer Information Network and
Internet Security Protection and Management Regulations (Lehman and Xu n.d.).
Initially, the Golden Shield project was envisaged as a comprehensive “nationwide digital
surveillance network linking national, regional and local security agencies with a panoptic
web of surveillance” (Walton 2001: 28). However, the rapid growth of the Internet in China
necessitated rapid adjustments to the project that shifted the locus of control to restricting
what individual users could access using filtering technology at the eight main network
gateways16 that connect China’s information network to the broader world wide web. What
this means in practice is that the Chinese government is able to deploy a variety of technical
controls on traffic at these points to ostensibly restrict access to ‘undesirable’ content and
websites, including Domain Name Server (DNS) blocking, IP address blocking, Uniform
Resource Locator (URL) filtering, and deep packet inspection (DPI).
The first layer of control in the Golden Shield project is blocking access to certain domain
names so that Chinese users are simply unable to access the sites.17 According to one ongoing
survey of Internet censorship in China18 such tactics are deployed against 135 of the top 1000
domain names in the world, including Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Google (including
non-English languages versions), and Gmail. At the next level China blocks access to specific
‘numerical’ IP addresses so that users cannot circumvent the DNS block by accessing the
address directly. Of almost 19,000 IP addresses monitored, 35 percent were blocked. The
third layer, URL blocking, routinely occurs by using sophisticated filtering technology to
look for keywords in a domain name that refer to specific words that are prohibited. Thus,
while most English language URLs of Wikipedia are not blocked, most URLs of Wikipe-
dia’s Chinese language version are. Beginning sometime between mid-2011 and late 2012
China also began deploying DPI signaling a broader crackdown on Internet activity that has
only intensified under the presidency of Xi Jinping ( Jacobs 2015).
DPI works by looking in detail at the contents of data being sent across a network. While all
networks use DPI to a certain degree for the most part its use is largely innocuous allowing a
network provider to prioritize bandwidth-dependent data (such as streaming media like Netflix)
or to search packets of data for viruses or other malware. However, the technology can also be
used, as it is in China, to search packets of data for certain keywords or kinds of data in order to
block the traffic. China has increasingly used DPI to block virtual private network (VPN) soft-
ware, a type of software that creates a tunnel between a user’s computer and a server that acts as
a portal to the Internet. That tunnel is normally ‘secure,’ which previously meant that it was en-
crypted and could not be read. Such VPNs enabled many Chinese users to circumvent many of
the controls they faced on the Internet. However, increasingly sophisticated DPI has enabled the

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Chinese government to render all but the most obfuscated VPNs nonfunctional (Arthur 2011).
In addition, the Chinese government have increasingly proclaimed that countries have a right to
choose how to develop and regulate their own Internet. Dubbed Internet or ‘cyber’ sovereignty
by the Chinese, the concept was forcefully articulated by President Xi at an Internet conference
held in Wuzhen in December 2015 (Spencer 2015). Of particular concern for Western informa-
tion communication technology companies are rules published in a 22-page document issued in
December 2014 that would require them to hand over encryption keys, source code, and install
back doors into hardware and software (Mozur 2015). Such a policy has led some to q­ uestion
the extent to which we can still talk of a truly global world wide web as opposed to the
‘­Balkanization’ of the Internet into discrete segmented units (Diebert et al. 2008: 31).
Yet the existence of the Great Firewall of China does not mean that political dissent and so-
cial and political mobilization on the Internet has been absent. Indeed, as the following exam-
ples demonstrate, even where authoritarian regimes operate sophisticated policies and practices
of Internet censorship and control, the nature of the technology and applications associated
with the Internet mean that so far it has proved impossible to fully mitigate the liberalizing ef-
fects that have accompanied it. In the case of China ordinary users have demonstrated often in-
genious ways of subverting official controls while the most determined hacktivists continue to
find circumvention tools that enable them to bypass the Great Firewall (MacKinnon 2012: 35).
As elsewhere social networking has been extraordinarily popular in China with exponen-
tial growth in the number of Chinese using the various applications available. While Facebook
and Twitter may be banned in China, comparable social media applications are provided by
Chinese companies. Of these as mentioned earlier the largest are Qzone and Weibo. To date it
is estimated that 77 percent of Chinese Internet users are active on at least one social media net-
work of which Qzone is the largest. In addition, instant messaging has also proven extremely
popular with the hybrid cross-platform WeChat driving the number of Chinese that regularly
use an online instant messaging service to over 90 percent of all Internet users (Statista).
Several scholars of Internet politics in China (e.g. Yang 2009; Fung et al. 2013; Gleiss
2015) highlight the role the Internet plays in enabling public opinion to exert “communica-
tive pressure on governments and public agencies to change policies” (Gleiss ibid.: 515). In
a growing number of arenas, they argue, Chinese Internet users are influencing public pol-
icy. Examples are replete from forced demolition (popularized by the so-called ‘nailhouse’
phenomenon), to illegal land seizures (Givens and MacDonald 2011), food safety, opposition
to dam building, and the exposing of corruption via the phenomenon of the ‘human-flesh
search engines’—renrou sousuo yinqing (Fletcher 2008; Downey 2010).
Gleiss (ibid.), for example, highlights the important role played in China of “indirect,
disguised and deceptive” forms of political conflict that allow civil society in China to
critique the ruling Communist party by articulating alternative political discourses. He il-
lustrates with the example of a charity ‘Love Save Pneumoconiosis’ (LSP) that campaigns
for workers suffering from the disease. Analyzing Weibo posts by LSP activists Gleiss argues
that the charity skillfully navigates the contested political terrain in China in several ways.
First, by focusing on the suffering of workers it challenges the dominant representation of
China’s economic development being synonymous with progress. Second, by focusing on
the suffering of workers it highlights social problems that neither the party nor the media
have adequately addressed. However, since there remains significant opacity in what is con-
sidered politically sensitive LSP activists deliberately write about the suffering of individuals
and on the importance of saving lives rather than highlighting more overtly political issues, such
as local government corruption. Focusing on such “individual micro-narratives” (ibid.: 524)
enables activists to effectively depoliticize the issues. Finally, LSP activists are careful to

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define their organization as a charity rather than an advocacy NGO with their social media
largely targeted at raising awareness and fundraising. This enables them to be more vocal
than if they were advocating for compensation and worker rights (ibid.). While this example
may appear trivial it does illustrate how even in resilient authoritarian regimes societal actors
can still use the Internet and social media to champion their causes.
Even with China’s extensive Internet censorship regime bloggers have been central in
exerting public pressure on government and public officials, particularly between 2006 and
2012. Two of China’s most famous bloggers in this period were Han Han and Zhou ‘Zuola’
Sugang. At the peak of his fame, Han was arguably the most widely read blogger in the world
(­Wasserstrom 2012), with his site visited over half a billion times and each post garnering over
a million page views. He first achieved celebrity status with the publication of his novel Triple
Door in 1999. A scathing satire of Chinese education and authority, it sold over two million
copies and became one of the best-selling novels of the past 20 years (Osnos 2011). In 2006,
he began blogging touching on topics of corruption, censorship, pollution, and economic
inequality. Among his most read posts were an essay about a July 2011 train crash in Zhejiang
(Han 2011), a speech he gave at Xiamen University criticizing the Chinese government’s ap-
proach to literature and culture (Han 2010), and a trio of widely discussed essays on political
and cultural reform in China (Goodman 2011). His pop culture status was sealed by a parallel
career as a race-car driver earning him corporate sponsorships and front pages on a host of
Chinese style magazines (Osnos ibid.). Although censors frequently deleted his posts, they were
often too late to prevent their widespread dissemination thanks to a legion of fans who circu-
lated them via bulletin boards, e-mail, social media, and foreign websites. Often, he avoided
censors by simply leaving a taboo word (Tiananmen, Taiwan, or Tibet) blank, allowing readers
to fill the gap themselves (Grigg 2015). For example, when the imprisoned Chinese writer Liu
Xiaobo won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2010, he posted nothing but a pair of quotation marks
with an empty space, a post that was viewed over a million times drawing over 25,000 com-
ments (Jaivin 2010). Attempts by Han to launch a literary magazine in 2010, however, failed
after a single issue. Despite catapulting to the number one spot of Amazon China, political
pressure on publishers resulted in the second issue being stopped and pulped (Osnos ibid.).
Another celebrated blogger was Zhou ‘Zuola’ Shuguang. Zuola rose to prominence as
one of China’s first activist citizen journalists (Capron 2013). In 2004, he began mostly doc-
umenting small protests and everyday corruption in Hunan province with videos shot from
a handheld Samsung. One of the most famous stories he reported on involved a standoff
between a Chongqing couple and a local property owner. The standoff had resulted in the
home of Yang Wu and Wu Ping being the only property left standing in a construction site
for new apartments a phenomenon referred to in Chinese as dingzihu or nailhouse. While Wu
Ping’s standoff was by no means the first example of a dingzihu it was the first such case that
garnered national attention largely because of Zhou’s coverage of it (Erie 2012: 42). Zhou’s
blog posts and pictures were widely circulated online until the story was eventually picked
up by mainstream newspapers and television (Ewing 2007). Soon after this, the government
began blocking Zhou’s website within China as well as videos he had earlier uploaded to
­China’s version of YouTube Youku. In 2008, he famously reported on the riots in Guizhou that
followed the alleged rape of a 16-year-old by the son of a prominent Weng’an official. Zola
documented the protests, which swelled to several thousand, blogging about them on Twitter
(Fowler and Ye 2008), arguably the first occasion that Twitter had ever been used to report a
‘mass incident’ within China. In 2012, after repeated harassment, Zhou left China for Taiwan.
Whether or not there was a brief period in which Chinese authorities tolerated a degree of
critique on the Internet, the lack of explicit definition (prior to 2013) of what was forbidden

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meant that bloggers and social media activists never knew how far they could push the bound-
aries. As Osnos remarks, “[d]ivining how far any individual can go in Chinese creative life is
akin to carving a line in the sand at low tide in the dark” (ibid.). Anecdotal evidence plus recent
findings by Gary King et al. (2014) suggests that the party was willing to allow criticism of
the government (ibid.: 326) since it served to deflect popular anger, while censoring posts that
might encourage collective action and social mobilization (ibid: 328). In this environment, the
number of bloggers grew rapidly, concomitant with the rise of microblogging platform Weibo.
These twin phenomena led to the emergence of a cadre of influential Weibo commentators
who garnered millions of followers. These social media celebrities became known a ‘Big V’
bloggers,19 many of whom took advantage of their status to openly chastise corrupt officials and
disseminate their views and opinions. The high watermark of social media dissent arguably
occurred in 2012 when bloggers shared photos of Shaanxi official Yang Dacai on a series of in-
spection tours (Gu 2012). The images revealed that Yang possessed a collection of luxury Swiss
watches conservatively estimated to have a combined value of $100,000, far beyond the salary
of a mid-ranking official (Spegele 2012). According to Grigg (2015) the ‘Brother Watch’ inci-
dent “marked the start of a fleeting period where the Communist Party lost control of the nar-
rative”. Over the next twelve months the number of allegations of corruption posted on Weibo
more than doubled (ibid.), while a 2013 study of Weibo use by the Chinese University of Hong
Kong showed that intensity of use was negatively correlated to trust in the political system,
Communist rule, and the state-controlled media (Zhao et al. 2013). Such patterns led some
to opine that if this continued the “Chinese Communist Party’s tight grip on China’s media
landscape will inevitably loosen, foretelling major political and social changes” (Hassid 2012).
However, rather than the beginning of a new era the Brother Watch scandal signaled the
start of a crackdown on online dissent. In September 2013, the Supreme People’s Court is-
sued a legal interpretation that bloggers could be jailed for up to three years if a post that was
considered defamatory was viewed more than 5000 times or shared more than 500 times. The
circumstances in which such a post could be deemed defamatory included posting something
that caused public disorder, ethnic or religious conflict, a ‘repugnant social impact’, harmed
the national interest, had a negative international impact, or encouraged a ‘mass incident’.20
Two weeks before the interpretation was made, one of China’s prominent Big V bloggers,
Charles Xue, with more than 12 million followers on Weibo, was targeted by state media for
spreading rumors online and subsequently arrested for soliciting a prostitute (Spegele ibid.).
While in prison, Xue ‘admitted’ that he had made mistakes online and signaled that he was
precisely the kind of blogger that needed to be regulated. In the wake of his arrest, Chinese
authorities deleted thousands of social media accounts and arrested hundreds of bloggers for
spreading false rumors, including Dong Rubin and cartoonist Wang Liming (Reuters 2013).
These arrests, and the legal ruling by the Supreme Court, appears to have not only had
the desired effect of deterring dissent on Weibo but also affected the application’s popularity.
A study by the Institute for Data Science and Engineering of East China Normal University
of 1.6 million Weibo users showed that within two weeks of Xue’s arrest the number of
posts from the sample halved while between March 2012 and December 2013 the number
of most active users within the sample fell 73 percent from 430,000 to 114,000 (Zhao et al.
2013). Moreover, whereas those users were responsible for 68 million posts in March 2012
by December the number had fallen to 17.9 million (ibid.). Such figures correspond with
data released by Weibo itself at the beginning of 2014 that showed the number of users fell
by almost 10 percent (Carsten 2014; Kuo 2014).
It is unlikely that this crackdown will signal the end of dissent on social media in China not
least because there have been analogous campaigns in the past most notably in 2008 (Jacobs 2008)

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and during the Arab Spring of 2011 (Branigan 2011). Furthermore, even if muzzled, Chinese In-
ternet users have proven themselves extremely adept at finding alternative means to express them-
selves, most notably with the use of “memes as a vehicle for political and social critique” (Mina
2014: 359). The most infamous of these was the viral spread of the grass mud horse (cǎonímǎ
草泥馬) meme and its struggle against its mortal enemy the river crab (hé xiè 河蟹). Since
­Chinese is a tonal language puns are commonplace because one can change meaning through
subtle changes in the tones. Thus, grass mud horse written in different characters but with a sim-
ilar set of tones can be a common vulgar insult, while river crab becomes harmony (héxié 和谐).
The struggle between the grass mud horse and the river crab therefore becomes a struggle against
the ‘harmonious socialist society’ pronounced by Chinese leader Hu Jintao in 2011. While this
meme attracted particular attention in the Western media (Wines 2009), other subversive memes
have been deployed by online activists as forms of political protest. One such example occurred
following the high-profile arrest of prominent human rights lawyer Chen Guangcheng in 2011.
Mina recounts how a variety of memes responded to the arrest, including selfies of users wear-
ing Chen’s trademark sunglasses, images of Chen on T-shirts, and stickers (resembling the KFC
colonel), while street art hashtags like #FreeGCC gained popularity (Mina ibid. 365). Similarly,
when the US actor who played Batman, Christian Bale, was chased away by a man in a green coat
following a failed attempt to meet with Chen in detention, Internet users lampooned the official
as Pandaman in posters for a fake Batman vs Pandaman movie (Jiang 2012).
Mina argues that we should not be dismissive of such incidents since they illustrate mech-
anisms by which censorship and surveillance are subverted. In regimes that attempt to censor
the media memes are arguably much more powerful because they disrupt “the single message
of popular deference to the government … and break the illusion of unitary opinion” (ibid.:
368–369). Memes in this sense are part of a long tradition of subversive art forms from protest
theater to graffiti. However, what arguably makes them more powerful is that whereas earlier
forms of propaganda could only be consumed by the audience the Internet allows users to
not only be consumers of images and information but also producers of content. Because the
audience is no longer simply passive, it can now take advantage of the tools of social media
and the Internet to alter the media and to disrupt/subvert it by reconfiguring the original
message or image. As a result, memes also function to open a political space in which resis-
tance discourses can emerge and flourish (Tang and Yang 2011: 687).
What the earlier examples illustrate is that despite extensive censorship and control the
impact of the Internet in China has resulted in the opening up of spaces of contestation to
millions of Chinese users. As new media proliferates and new applications and technological
innovations emerge authoritarian regimes are forced to adapt and innovate as old, familiar
forms of control struggle to respond. As regimes like China seek to harness new technolo-
gies as part of their broader approach to the global economy, the iron heel of earlier forms
of authoritarianism risks stifling the creativity and innovation necessary to compete in the
technological sector. As such the history of the Internet in China so far has been ‘a cat-and-
mouse game’ between users and the government “with the one-party state experimenting
with ways to constrain and control its explosive new media environment” (Weisberg 2012).

Conclusions
It is clear from the cases presented that the impacts of the Internet and social media in Asia
will be context dependent. For example, studies have shown that the effects of the introduc-
tion of the Internet tend to be weaker in societies that were already more open rather than
in ones that experience the “the catalyst of going from a very controlled public sphere to an

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open, almost chaotic one in just a few years” (Tufekci 2014: 4). One can posit from the cases
of Malaysia and Thailand presented here that the reverse is likely to be true as well, namely
that where a regime had a relatively open public sphere attempts to resort to a much less free
information and media environment will be met with greater pushback from civil society
and a greater motivation by Internet users to evade censorship.21
A significant body of the literature on the Internet and its effects, as well as many of the
examples given in this chapter, reveal that online social media have empowered activists and
civil society in three key areas: public attention, evading censorship, and coordination or
logistics. Moreover, even in a regime like China “old forms of gatekeeping, which depended
on choke point access control to few broadcast outlets, neither work as effectively nor in the
same way as they did in the past” (Tufekci ibid.). Thus, access to the Internet and social me-
dia mean people can now reach information that governments once could successfully deny
them access to and share it to a much larger group. Moreover, as King et al. found in their
study of millions of social media posts, the goal of Chinese censorship appears to be largely
concerned with eliminating “discussions associated with events that have collective action
potential” (2014: 339) rather than with criticism that makes the regime ‘look bad’.
Such nuanced censorship is indicative that the “initial wave of ignorance and misunder-
standing” (Tufekci ibid.: 2) displayed by authoritarian governments toward the Internet is
giving way to a more deft and dynamic relationship toward the Internet that Druzin and Li
dub ‘controlled burning’. In addition, successful tactics deployed by one regime to counter
dissenting voices online are being emulated by others in a process of authoritarian learning.
As the examples in this chapter show, across Asia governments are learning to respond and
adapt to their own situations. This includes employing existing laws against bloggers and
social media users (especially the highest profile individuals), the filtering and blocking of
websites, and the deployment of pro-regime supporters to monitor and troll online. The
latest example of this pattern can be seen in countries, such as Iran and Thailand, that are
either building, or discussing the construction of, an information infrastructure modeled on
China’s Great Firewall (Ball and Gottlieb 2012; Bernard 2015; Gilbert 2015).
It would be erroneous, however, to assume that more sophisticated censorship, management,
and regulation of the Internet means that regimes such as China have pacified the liberalizing
effects of the Internet as Druzin and Li (2016) claim. Their bold claims largely rest on a relatively
descriptive and superficial interpretation of the 2014 Hong Kong protests. The failure of those
protests to spark wider political unrest in Hong Kong, let alone mainland China, is taken as
evidence (1) that the political potential of the Internet is overstated and (2) that it is attributable
to the successful management of the Internet by Chinese authorities. One can, however, just as
equally assert that a series of sit-ins and protests that lasted 11 weeks and included some of the
largest demonstrations against Communist rule in over two decades (Schouten 2016) is testimony
to the potential of the Internet and social media. Rather than focus on the failure of the protests
to either spread nationwide, or to achieve their political goals, the very fact that organizers were
able to use social media and innovative applications, such as FireChat22 to occupy key areas of
the territory and defy Beijing so openly speaks of the continuing instability that new technology
is having on politics (Margetts et al. 2016: 217). It is also noteworthy that unlike in 1989 when
lethal force was used to clear Tiananmen Square the Hong Kong and Chinese authorities largely
chose to allow the protests to run out of steam in the face of waning public support due to the
disruption to ordinary lives (Cheung, Nip, and Chow 2014; Curran, Young, and Hunter 2014).
What is clear from broader studies of the Internet and political mobilization is that
­Internet-led movements appear to suffer from the lack of centralized organization (Margetts
et al. 2016). Rather than slacktivism the lack of both clear protest leaders and comprehensive

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platforms appears to be a feature that emerges from the networked nature of rapidly orga-
nized movements that social media ferments. Indeed, surveys of participants of such move-
ments frequently highlight the lack of leaders as a feature that attracts them to participate.
What more analysis of such movements is beginning to indicate is that “while this appears
a shortcut for protests, it also engenders weaknesses, as these protests do not signal the same
level of capacity as previous protests, and [crucially] do not necessarily pose the same threat
to governments and power” (Tufekci 2014: 15).
Similarly, while filtering and blocking rarely succeeds in completely preventing access
to ‘undesirable’ websites, it does nevertheless raise the threshold for accessing them to those
that are both sufficiently motivated and possess the requisite technological skills to do so.
Nevertheless, in this cat-and-mouse game with censors “protestors (and criminals) are likely
to remain one or more steps ahead” (Margetts et al. ibid. 217), not least because “technolog-
ical innovation has become domesticated in everyday life” (ibid.). For example, for all their
efforts at information control Beijing has repeatedly failed to cover up multiple ‘incidents’:
be it the spread of SARS in 2003 (Cunningham 2003), the baby milk scandal in 2008 (Cha
2008), major riots in Tibet and Guizhou in 2008 (as discussed earlier23), and Xinjiang riots in
2009 (Clothey et al. 2016; Culpepper 2012). Even after the 2013 crackdown on microblog-
ging, Weibo users flocked to the platform during the Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong to
express solidarity with protestors through satire (Luo 2014).
To conclude, regimes that attempt to control the Internet have to balance the contradic-
tory goals of silencing dissent with the increasing importance of attracting foreign investment
and technology in order to compete in the global economy.24 This has been dubbed the
‘dictator’s dilemma’ (Kedezie 1997) that authoritarian regimes face. While some suggest the
dilemma is a false dichotomy (Berghal 2016) it is clear from the examples presented in this
chapter that across Asia the Internet has become invaluable as a tool that enables individuals
and groups to communicate, organize, and mobilize. While authoritarian regimes are prov-
ing more resilient than many thought possible, even the most successful regimes have failed
to completely stymie online dissent. As WikiLeaks demonstrates, even the most sophisticated
corporate and government firewalls are vulnerable to hackers and hacktivists. The Internet is
no longer simply a tool or technology but increasingly a site of political contestation as well
(Howard, Agarwal, and Hussain 2011) and a site that is not bounded discretely by sovereign
territorial borders.

Notes
1 Other notable protest movements that were fueled by social media include the 2007 Buddhist
monk uprising in Burma, known as the ‘Saffron revolution’, the Green movement in Iran in 2009,
the 15M or Los Indignados movement in Spain that gave rise to the political party Podemos, Brazil’s
‘Vinegar’ protests in 2013, and the Euromaidan revolution in Ukraine in 2014.
2 On September 19, 2007, Canadian backpacker Alex Bookbinder founded a Facebook Group called
“Support the Monk’s protests in Burma”. Within ten days the group had over 100,000 members
and became the focus for advocacy groups in the United States and the United Kingdom to co-
ordinate an international day of action on October 6, by which time the group had over 400,000
members. The event was held in over 100 cities across 30 countries worldwide.
3 In a large-N analysis of autocratic regimes between 1993 and 2010, Rød and Wediman argue that
contrary to the liberalization hypothesis increased Internet penetration was actually positively cor-
related with high levels of press censorship leading them to conclude that “the Internet can be used
as a tool to solidify autocratic survival by shaping public opinion” (ibid. 345).
4 The Pew Internet and American Life Project reported that, controlling for demographics, Internet
users in the United States are more likely than non-Internet users to be involved in civic/political

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activities, such as attending a political rally, 78 percent more likely to try to influence someone’s
vote and 53 percent more likely to have voted or indicated an intention to vote.
5 E.g. the 2008 Presidential elections, see Valenzuela, Park, and Kee (2009), Johnson and Perlmutter
(2010), DeLuca, Lawson, and Sun’s (2012) study of the Occupy Wall Street movement.
One exception is Chan’s comparative analysis of young American and Chinese use of social media
(2013).
6 See, for example, Aleya-Sghaier (2012), Baxter and Marcella (2013), Campus, Pasquino, and
­Vaccari (2008), Larsson and Moe (2012), Vaccari and Nielsen (2013), and Vaccari (2008).
7 Another is the study by White and MacAllister (2014) of the 2011 elections in Russia. They found
that more frequent users of the Internet were more likely to view the election as unfair and that
Facebook use was positively correlated to the likelihood of sharing the demands of protestors who
contested the election.
8 The fourth type, absolutist monarchy is unique to Brunei. Since the country has a population
second only to the Maldives as Asia’s smallest (401,000), and is an oil state, Brunei is neither ar-
chetypal, protypical, nor representative as a case study either for the larger category of autocratic
regimes or indeed Asian regimes. Instead it is much more typical of oil-rich Gulf monarchies.
9 Measured by the proportion of Internet users who visit the social media network by percentage
reach.
10 QQ and Qzone are both provided by the Chinese company Tencent. QQ is not a social media
service as such but instead an instant messaging service hybrid that allows users to play online social
games, shop, and microblog. Qzone was launched as one of the social media applications of QQ.
WeChat is the newest (2011) and fastest growing instant message/friend network hybrid in China.
Unlike Weibo and Qzone messages are not ‘public’ and so it does not function like traditional
social networking platforms. It has grown in popularity as the Chinese government has cracked
down on microbloggers. Baidu Tieba is more akin to a search engine and bulletin board service,
which were in many ways the predecessors of social networking services.
11 Venkatraman reports that he encountered illiterate users of the Internet in India who used social
media daily on their prepaid phones. He comments “Though they did not know how to read texts,
they viewed everything as pictures and symbols. So, access to YouTube/Facebook and the activities
they performed within it (including Liking and Sharing) were guided by a visual/pictorial under-
standing of it rather than a textual understanding” (2014).
12 Pivotal in the mobilizing anti-Thaksin opposition was the website of media owner Sondhi
­Limthongkul www.manager.co.th, which regularly streamed video casts of his popular anti-Thaksin
talk shows. In terms of the red shirts, a similar role has been played by the official website of the red
shirt movement (www.uddthailand.com and patnip.com) (Bunyavejchewin 2010); additionally,
both sides have used online bulletin boards to spread their message, of which Rajadamneon Corner
has been among the most influential: e.g. Thammo ibid.: 128).
13 Thiensutham Suthijitseranee is better known by the alias Yai Daengdueat.
14 Most commentators no longer consider the Internet in Malaysia to be as permissive as it previously
had been. Since 2014 “covert cyberattacks appear to have evolved into a legal crackdown on the
government’s political opponents” (Freedom House 2015b), including a 2015 amendment to the
Sedition Act that allows the government to block online content.
15 The term “Great Firewall” was first coined by Wired magazine in 1997 to refer to processes that
were already underway to regulate Internet activity (Barme and Ye 1997).
16 As well as requiring Internet Service Providers to filter and monitor content.
17 Usually referred to as DNS poisoning. When users access China’s DNS servers those servers have
been ‘poisoned’ to redirect users to an incorrect address, which then shows as an invalid response.
18 Greatfire.org has been monitoring blocked websites and keywords in China since 2011.
19 According to Weibo in 2013 there were over 300 bloggers who had more than 5 million followers
with the top five having more than 50 million.
20 Guanyu banli liyong xinxi wangluo shishi feibang deng xingshi anjian shiyong falü ruogan wenti
de jieshi 关于办理利用信息网络实施诽谤等刑事案件适用法 律若干问题的解释(Interpretation
concerning Some Questions of Applicable Law When Handling Uses of Information Networks to
Commit Defamation and Other Such Criminal Cases) Supreme People’s Court, September 6, 2013,
translation available, https://chinacopyrightandmedia.wordpress.com/2013/09/06/interpretation-
concerning-some-questions-of-applicable-law-when-handling-uses-of-information-­networks-
to-commit-defamation-and-other-such-criminal-cases/.

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Jason P. Abbott

21 Electronic Frontier Foundation reported that Malaysian Internet users seemed “well-versed in
­circumvention practices” with users of a Facebook Group for the now banned Sarawak Report sug-
gesting “a wide variety of VPNs, Tor, and web-based proxies to get around the block” (­Malcolm
and West 2015).
22 FireChat connects cell phones using internal connections, such as Bluetooth, rather than the Inter-
net. This allows users to evade Internet censorship, and when large numbers of users are simulta-
neously connected via the application the software effectively creates an ad hoc intranet (Bernard
2016).
23 See also Drew (2008).
24 For instance, when the number of Weibo users fell 9 percent following China’s crackdown on
prominent bloggers in 2013 $500 million was wiped off the value of the company’s stock in
New York (Moore 2014).

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The military and politics in Asia
Aurel Croissant and David Kuehn

Introduction
Since the 1950s, research on military and politics in Asia has moved in various directions. Its
initial preoccupation was with the role of military elites in the processes of decolonization
and state-building in new nations (Lovell and Kim 1967; Johnson 1972). From the 1960s
onward, the scholarship moved toward analyzing the origins of military rule and the ca-
pacity of military institutions to steer socioeconomic development as many governments in
the region fell due to military intervention (Olsen and Shurika 1986). Since the late 1980s,
a growing body of empirical studies has provided insights into the role of military elites in
transitions from authoritarian rule to democracy (and vice versa) and how post-authoritarian
democracies struggle with the challenge of creating a military that is strong enough to fulfill
its functions, but still subordinate to democratically elected institutions (Alagappa 2001a;
Croissant et al. 2013; Lee 2014). Yet, with the exception of the People’s Republic of China,
research on political-military relations in Asian non-democracies is still small and often out-
dated, and few contributions discuss the topic from a comparative perspective.
Building on these works, this chapter reviews the historical trajectories and ongoing
changes in the relationship between the military and the state in the region. The first section
sets the conceptual stage for empirical analysis by introducing the concept of political control
of the military and presenting a typology of political-military relations that forms the ana-
lytical foundation for empirical research. The second section outlines historical patterns and
recent changes in political-military relations in Asia and puts them in relation to the specific
types of political regimes in the region. The third section shifts from taxonomic analysis to
explaining the relationship between soldiers and the state in Asia. The final section concludes
the chapter by summarizing the findings and suggesting fruitful avenues for future research.

The political role of the military

This chapter is embedded in the broader tradition of comparative civil-military studies.
However, its focus is more narrowly on political-military relations – a concept that de-
notes the structures, processes, and outcomes of the interactions between the institutions

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and organizations of the political system, on the one hand, and the armed forces and their
members, on the other (Croissant and Kuehn 2015, 258). In this section, we first discuss
the concept of political control and – related to it – different forms of military involve-
ment in politics. Second, we delineate a typology of political-military relations that orga-
nizes the complexity of apparently eclectic congeries of diverse cases, classifying cases into
four groups: professional, revolutionary, praetorian, and neo-patrimonial civil-military
relations.

The meaning of political control and military involvement in politics

The political science literature on political-military relations is particularly concerned with
the notion of political control over the military (Pion-Berlin 1997; Croissant et al. 2010).
While there is no agreement on what exactly political control over the military entails and
how it should be measured, in recent years, scholars have advanced conceptions that share
two fundamental assumptions (Croissant et al. 2010). First, political-military relations are
ultimately about the political power of the military relative to that of nonmilitary political
elites, and, consequently, the degree of political control depends on who – the government
or military elites – has the authority to make political decisions over a range of political mat-
ters. Second, and related, political-military relations can best be understood as a continuum
ranging from full civilian control to complete military dominance over the political system.
The question for political control is, hence, not whether the military is involved in politics
but how and how much (Welch 1976, 1–3).
Undoubtedly, the coup d’état is the most dramatic form of military involvement in poli-
tics. Yet seizure of government is by no means the only way in which the military influences
politics (Huntington 1968). Often more important in terms of long-term political impact
are the more indirect roles that military organizations play in political recruitment, political
socialization, political communication, and in the articulation and aggregation of political
interests and demands (Lovell and Kim 1967, 118).
Furthermore, military interventions can range from brief and limited military incursions
into political affairs to complete military control of the state and can occur through black-
mailing, obstruction, insubordination, “going public,” or mutinies (Finer 1962). Where a
government is subordinate to and exists only at the tolerance of a military that retains the
right to intervene when a crisis is perceived, a regime is effectively under military tutelage.
The term military rule shall be reserved for situations in which the military controls the gov-
ernment, either through collegial bodies representing the officer corps (“military regime”)
or because decision-making power is concentrated in the hands of a single military officer
(“military strongman rule”; Geddes, Wright, and Frantz 2014).

Types of political-military relations

Political-military relations can take various forms. Of the many classifications proposed to
classify civil-military relations, we draw on a modified typology originally developed by
Amos Perlmutter (1974, 1977, 1986). Building on his idea of three general types of military
organization in modern nation-states, professional, revolutionary, and praetorian, we add a fourth
type: neo-patrimonial political-military relations.
Under professional civil-military relations, civilian and military spheres of autonomy and
responsibility are clearly separated. The army (though it has legitimate political interests)
does not intervene in the decision-making activities of the government or other political

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organizations not aligned with the military. That is, governments in such regimes exercise
political control over their militaries.
As Perlmutter (1977, 13) notes, the revolutionary military also “manifests a strong propensity
to succumb to political influence.” Yet in this second type of political-military relation, the
revolutionary movement or party does not emphasize the marginalization of the revolution-
ary military from political affairs. Rather, the revolutionary military is political by definition,
and the structures of the ruling political organization interpenetrate the armed forces, which
serve as an instrument of mobilization and regime security for the revolutionary political party
(Perlmutter 1977, 13–14). Although the relationship between soldier and party can change
over time and is contingent on other factors, such as internal tensions within the party and
society, revolutionary political-military relations are generally characterized by a “symbiosis”
of military and party elites. To ensure the convergence of interests between party and military
elites, military leaders are co-opted into the party apparatus (Perlmutter and LeoGrande 1982).
The third type, praetorian political-military relations, emerges in countries with low levels
of political institutionalization, fragmented political parties, and a lack of sustained mass sup-
port for civilian political structures. The mismatch between weak civilian institutions and
a strong military contributes to the rise and persistence of a “praetorian state,” in which the
military plays a highly significant role in key political structures and institutions (Perlmut-
ter 1974, 4). The army intervenes in the government frequently, either acting as arbitrator,
controlling affairs behind the scenes through a chosen civilian agent, or acting as actual ruler
(Perlmutter 1974, 8–11).
Neo-patrimonial political-military relations are characterized by a single leader’s domina-
tion of both the political regime structures and the military. As Barbara Geddes (2003, 51)
explains, “(t)he leader may be an officer and has created a party to support himself but neither
the military nor the party exercises independent decision-making power insulated from the
whims of the ruler.” Here, the military serves as another element in the leader’s toolbox
of personal authoritarian control instruments to protect him from both popular revolt and
internal coups. Simultaneously, the military is a franchise system for the ruler, in which
officers seeking career opportunities and financial benefits must seek access to the dictator’s
patronage system. Ultimately, the importance of good connections with the ruler and his en-
tourage as well as individual rent-seeking will trump military expertise, corporate interests,
or revolutionary commitment. Hence, the military is neither professional nor revolutionary
in any meaningful sense, whereas the leader will employ various techniques of control and
coup-proofing to deter military factions from organizing the seizure of power (Powell 2012).
This typology is a useful instrument for reducing the complexity of the many empirical
patterns of political-military relations in Asia and can capture important differences among a
large number of cases. However, it should be noted that these are not necessarily mutually ex-
clusive categories: There can be borderline cases that are not easily assigned to one of the types
or hybrid cases that contain characteristics of two or more types. For instance, party-military
relations in Singapore exhibit a high degree of elite dualism and a unique “fusion” of military,
bureaucratic, and political roles, although the Singapore Armed Forces (SAF) are considered
highly professional and remain effectively controlled by a civilian government (Tan 2011).
Moreover, political-military relations are not static but evolve in tandem with and in re-
sponse to different political and social dynamics. A final remark concerns the relationship
between political regimes and types of political-military relations. Although the empirical
realities to which they refer are more or less tightly interwoven, they constitute analyti-
cally distinct concepts. While military authoritarianism per definition aligns with praetorian
­political-military relations, highly personalist dictatorships can have either neo-patrimonial or

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Aurel Croissant and David Kuehn

praetorian militaries. A revolutionary military requires by definition a revolutionary party,

and, hence, it can only be found in single-party dictatorships. Most dictators form parties to
support their rule, but not all ruling parties are revolutionary. Hence, single- and multiparty
authoritarianism can coexist with different forms of political-military relations, ranging from
revolutionary to praetorian or neo-patrimonial or even professional. Finally, professional
political-military relations and full political control of the military are a logical prerequisite
for consolidated, liberal democracies. This is not so in new and unconsolidated democracies
in which the historical legacies of the (pre-)authoritarian period often included a praetorian
or neo-patrimonial military, and military officers sometimes played an important part in the
transition from authoritarian rule (Agüero 1998; Barany 2012; Croissant et al. 2013, 201).

Political-military relations and political regimes in Asia

The nations of East, Southeast, and South Asia are particularly suited for the comparative
study of the military’s role in different regime settings. As a consequence of the diverse
cultures, colonial histories, and postcolonial and post-revolutionary challenges of state- and
nation-building, Asia is home to a great variety of political regimes and political-military re-
lations. Our research strategy in this section proceeds in two steps. First, we present a cursory
review of political regimes in twenty-two Asian states. Second, we classify political-military
relations in these countries using the four types outlined before.

Political regimes in Asia

Table 28.1 classifies twenty-two states in Asia into five regime types according to the Autoc-
racies of the World 1950–2012 dataset compiled by Beatriz Magaloni and her coauthors (Mag-
aloni, Chu, and Min 2013).

Table 28.1 Regime types in Asia, 1950–2012a

1950 1980 2012

Royal dictatorship Nepal Brunei, Nepal Brunei

Military regime Thailand Bangladesh, Indonesia, —
Thailand, Myanmar,
Pakistan, South Korea
Single-party China, Mongolia, Taiwan, China, Mongolia, China, Laos, Vietnam,
autocracy North Korea Taiwan, North Korea, North Korea
Vietnam, Laos,
Cambodia, Singapore
Multiparty Indonesia, South Korea Malaysia, the Cambodia, Malaysia,
autocracy Philippines Myanmar, Sri Lanka,
Singapore
Democracy India, Japan, Myanmar, India, Japan, Sri Lanka Bangladesh, East Timor,
Pakistan, the Philippines, India, Indonesia, Japan,
Sri Lanka Mongolia, Nepal,
Pakistan, the Philippines,
South Korea, Taiwan,
Thailand

Source: Magaloni, Chu, and Min (2013).

a
Classification for Brunei by the authors.

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 The military and politics in Asia

As reflected in Table 28.1, political regimes in Asia have undergone substantial changes
over the last six decades, but there have been significant continuities as well. The overview
reveals four broad trends and patterns of political change in the region.
First, single-party dictatorships governed by a ruling party adhering to some variation of
Marxism-Leninism as its guiding ideology have been remarkably resilient in Asia compared to
other regions in the world (e.g., Dimitrov 2013). Second, as a result of the global wave of de-
mocratization that reached Asia in 1986, the number of democracies in the region has quadru-
pled since 1980. Yet there is considerable diversity in the outcomes of these regime transitions
(Croissant 2004). While South Korea and Taiwan are often celebrated as regional success stories
and models for democratic change, many other democracies in the region are facing debilitating
challenges, including political polarization, the mobilization of diverse social groups, a deinsti-
tutionalizing role of leaders, and the failure of political institutions to keep pace with growing
demands. In places such as Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Thailand, crises of democracy culminated
in coups d’état (Croissant et al. 2013), whereas in Sri Lanka, it led to a worrying erosion of dem-
ocratic quality. In contrast, democracy in Mongolia, the Philippines, Indonesia, and East Timor
is perhaps “illiberal, hollow [and] poorly institutionalized” but has shown to be remarkably
resilient, despite serious challenges (Diamond 1999; Chu, Diamond, and Nathan 2008).
Third, as in other world regions, there is a trend toward multiparty (“electoral”) au-
thoritarian regimes (Schedler 2006), whose number has tripled compared to the 1950s and
1980s. Yet, in contrast to single-party regimes in China, North Korea, Laos, and Singapore,
national elections in Cambodia (2013) and Malaysia (2015) saw the united opposition make
significant gains, suggesting that multiparty electoral authoritarianism is more vulnerable to
democratic challengers (McCargo 2014; Weiss 2016).
Fourth, the number of military regimes in Asia has dwindled since the mid-1980s. Even
taking Thailand’s military coups d’état of 2006 and 2014 into account, the prevalence of
military rule in the region has been in steady decline. The most striking example in this
regard is Myanmar. Even though the military-controlled liberalization since 2008 “should
not be understood simply as an exit strategy by the military to retreat from national poli-
tics” (Huang 2012, 2), the ratification of a new constitution followed by the disbanding of
the Burmese junta and reasonably free legislative elections in November 2015 constitute
remarkable achievements in the transition from overt military rule toward “something else”
(Croissant 2015b; Egretau 2015).

Political-military relations
As reflected in Table 28.2, regime changes and continuities correlate to an extent with
developments in the relationship between the soldier and the state. Yet despite the general
declining salience of military involvement in Asian politics, the direction of change has not
always been one toward professional civil-military relations. From a historical perspective,
the overview again reveals four cross-national patterns.
The first is that for much of the post-World War II period, most civil-military relations
in Asia can be summarized by two patterns. The first was military dominance over the po-
litical system, exemplified in a high frequency of military coups and/or extended periods of
direct military rule (“praetorianism”). This was prevalent in countries such as Bangladesh
and Pakistan, Thailand, Indonesia, Myanmar, South Korea, Pakistan as well as in Cambodia,
Laos, and South Vietnam before 1975 (Hoadley 2012). However, as shown in Figure 28.1,
the number of open military interventions into politics in Asia has dwindled significantly
since the 1980s.

419
Table 28.2 Types of political-military relations in Asia, 1950–2012

1950 1980 2012

Bangladesh — Praetorian Praetorian/professional

Brunei — — Professional/neo-patrimonial
Cambodia — Revolutionary Neo-patrimonial
China Revolutionary Revolutionary Revolutionary/professional
East Timor — — Neo-patrimonial
India Professional Professional Professional/praetorian
Indonesia Praetorian Praetorian Professional
Japan — Professional Professional
Laos — Revolutionary Revolutionary
Malaysia — Professional Professional
Mongolia Revolutionary Revolutionary Professional
Myanmar Praetorian Praetorian Praetorian
Nepal Neo-patrimonial Neo-patrimonial Professional/neo-patrimonial
North Korea Revolutionary Revolutionary Revolutionary/neo-patrimonial
Pakistan Praetorian Praetorian Praetorian
The Philippines Professional Praetorian Praetorian/professional
Singapore — Professional Professional
South Korea Neo-patrimonial Praetorian Professional
Sri Lanka Professional Professional Professional
Taiwan Revolutionary Revolutionary Professional
Thailand Praetorian Praetorian Praetorian
Vietnam — Revolutionary Revolutionary

Source: Classifications by the authors based on case studies in Alagappa (2001a), Croissant and Kuehn (2011),
Croissant et al. (2013), Croissant (2015a, 2015b), and Adhikari (2015).

20 18
18
16
14
12 11
10 9
8 6
6 4
4
2 1 1
0
1950s 1960s 1970s 1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s

Figure 28.1 Number of military coups in Asia: 1950–2014.

Note: Number of coups includes both successful and unsuccessful military coups.
Source: Croissant and Herre (2013), based on Powell and Thyne (2015), updated by the authors.
 The military and politics in Asia

The second pattern was civil-military fusion within revolutionary party regimes. Here,
control over the political system rested securely with the party leaders, and political-military
relations, though not free of frictions, remained stable. This pattern can be found in Vietnam
and Laos (since 1975), China and North Korea, as well as in pre-democratization Mongolia
and Taiwan (under the auspices of the anti-communist Kuomintang) (Pike 1986; Alagappa
2001a; Kuehn 2008; Croissant et al. 2013).
Second, while the praetorian and revolutionary scenarios aptly characterize civil-­m ilitary
relations in many polities, countries such as India, Sri Lanka, and Japan have been and
continue to be characterized by military professionalism and the uncontested authority of
democratically elected leaders and their bureaucratic agents over the military (Gow 1993;
Rajasingham-Senanayake 2001; Chatterjee 2012). Similarly, civilian supremacy is also a
hallmark of political-military relations in party-led autocracies such as Malaysia’s and
­Singapore’s (Beeson and Bellamy 2008), but also in monarchical autocracies like Brunei and
Nepal (see Table 28.2). Especially in the Kingdom of Nepal (until 2006), the military was
the mainstay of autocratic power. The officer corps of the Royal Nepali Army was primarily
recruited from the same castes, ethnic groups, and regions that dominated the Nepali econ-
omy, politics, and society, and the issue of social inclusion has been a hot issue before and
after the first transition to parliamentary democracy in 1990 (Adhikari 2015) Table 28.2.
Third, in most countries that experienced democratic changes since the late 1980s, the
new political environment necessitated deep-reaching reforms of civil-military relations,
as the old authoritarian patterns and modes of civil-military interaction were no longer
sustainable or acceptable. Although the regional wave of democratization correlates with
“a reduction in the political power, influence and role of the military” (Alagappa 2001b,
433), democratization has not always meant the depoliticization of the armed forces. Rather,
there is evidence to suggest that the military has often remained a significant political
force after the transition to democratic government (Mietzner 2011; Croissant et al. 2013;
­Croissant 2015b). Furthermore, the 2006 and 2014 putsches in Thailand, the 1999 coup d’état
in Pakistan, the involvement of the Bangladeshi armed forces in the extra-constitutional
installment of a caretaker government that ruled the country from 2007 to 2008, as well as
several coup attempts and mutinies in the Philippines indicate that the military coup d’état
is a continuing danger in Asia, even for electoral democracies that have persisted for over a
decade (Croissant et al. 2013).
Fourth, and related to this, there are various hybrid cases not easily pigeonholed into
one of the four categories as they exhibit characteristics of multiple types. In Brunei,
this hybridity is a reflection of the country’s particular regime structure, where a small
but modern and professional military force is at the same time under strict control and
a constituent part of the monarchy’s oil- and natural gas-based rentier state (Croissant
2015a, 90). In Nepal and the Philippines, in turn, democratic transitions have gone hand
in hand with greater professionalization and political control without having succeeded
in fully overcoming the deeply ingrained patterns of decades of military integration into
the neo-patrimonial regime structures in Nepal or military meddling in the Philippines’
politics (Croissant et al. 2013; Adhikari 2015). Long-term transformations of the mil-
itary’s political role are not limited to instances of regime change; however, in North
Korea, political-military relations saw a considerable shift of de-institutionalization from
revolutionary army under the robust leadership of the Korean Workers Party to a core
beneficiary and main institutional pillar of the clientelistic and personalist regime network
around Kim Jong-il (Roehrig 2013). This contrasts sharply with the transformation of

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political-military relations in China and, to a lesser extent, Vietnam, where the former
revolutionary armies have been undergoing processes of professionalization and modern-
ization ( Ji 2015; Thayer 2011).

Explaining political-military relations in Asia

The development of political-military relations is a complex process that is affected by a po-
tentially large number of diverse and potentially opposing drivers. Consequently, the litera-
ture has presented a wide range of factors to explain the military’s political role in Asia, from
structural variables such as the prevalence of domestic and external conflict (Alagappa 2001b)
or a nation’s political values (Sundhaussen 1998) to mistakes of civilian decision-makers
­(Mietzner 2011). There is overwhelming consensus among scholars, however, that civil-­
military relations in Asia cannot be understood without accounting for the historical origins
of the state and the role of the armed forces in the processes of state- and nation-building and
the path-dependent development of political institutions. This section summarizes this rela-
tionship, first addressing the origins of political-military relations in the region’s postcolonial
era and then discussing the differing effects of regime dynamics on the military’s changing
political role.

Military and politics in the period of state- and nation-building

The Political-military relations in the aftermath of World War II summarized in Table 28.1
are closely intertwined with the military’s role and importance in the countries’ struggles for
independence and the resulting state- and nation-building processes.
Professional civil-military relations emerged in the former British colonies of India,
­Malaysia, and Sri Lanka, where national sovereignty did not have to be enforced through
armed struggle against the colonial rulers. In these three countries, indigenous troops were
created well before independence, but these were integrated into colonial armies, com-
manded by officers from the colonizing country, and did not develop autonomous political
roles. Moreover, the processes leading to independence in these countries were ultimately
not revolutionary acts in which armed forces toppled the colonial powers but more or less
orderly and legal handovers of political power to local elites. Consequently, militaries were
not only unable to demand significant political privileges, but the new civilian elites could
also draw on the institutional provisions of civilian control that had been established under
the colonial rulers to keep the military in check. This was also the case in the Philippines,
although the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) had to fight a communist peasant
­rebellion (the so-called “Huk rebellion”) in the late 1940s and early 1950s (Dasgupta 2001;
Hedman 2001; Beeson and Bellamy 2008).
The emergence of professional civil-military relations in Singapore resembles more
the experiences of revolutionary regimes (see in the following paragraph) than the former
­British and American colonies: The SAF were created by the ruling People’s Action Party,
which ensured strict civilian control and the military’s subordination under the author-
ity of the party leaders through some form of civil-military fusion (Tan 2011). Different
from the revolutionary armies of East Asia – and similar to the development of professional
­civil-military relations in the region – the SAF were created after the city-state’s separation
from Malaysia and had no role in the country’s independence, which allowed civilians to
maintain strict civilian control while keeping the military a politically neutral, professional
force (Huxley 2003).

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 The military and politics in Asia

It was only in Japan where the creation of a professionalized military followed a radically
different path. After the end of World War II, the US-led occupation authorities enforced not
only the country’s democratization, but also disbanded the military that had dominated Japan’s
political system and society for decades. When, confronted with the Cold War, Japan re-
founded its military in 1952, functional democratic political and administrative structures had
already been established, which together with strong anti-militarist sentiments in the populace
and demands by the United States, allowed the establishment of effective institutions of civil-
ian, if primarily bureaucratic, control over the military (Feaver, Hikotani, and Narine 2005).
Revolutionary civil-military relations emerged in the (mostly socialist) single-party regimes
that grew out of violent revolutionary struggles against previous regimes (Cambodia, China/
Taiwan, Laos) or colonial rulers (North Korea and Vietnam).1 The revolutionary movements
themselves as well as the party-states that emerged from them differed substantially in their
political structures, specific ideological tenets, and dependence on external support. Nonethe-
less, they shared three characteristics that led to the emergence of the specific “revolutionary”
patterns of political-military relations that ensured the military’s subordination under the
political leadership not by making the military a politically neutral tool, but by politicizing
the military and fusing the political and military spheres (Perlmutter and LeoGrande 1982).
First, the revolutionary parties enjoyed high degrees of internal cohesion not only due to
a common ideology combining utopian social goals with strong nationalist ideals, but also
through well-developed and hierarchical structures that channeled elite conflicts and mass
mobilization, and provided quasi-state administrative, extractive, and distributive functions,
even before the party came to power. Second, theorists of civil-military relations highlight the
crucial importance of the party creating the military as the former’s tool for enforcing its claim
to power and realizing its ideological and political goals (Kolkowicz 1967; Colton 1979), and
not the other way around, as is typical for military regimes that establish political parties as
vehicles for the military’s political hold on power. Third, just as the Soviet “Leninist” party was
the standard for creating the revolutionary regime party, revolutionary party leaders in Asia
drew on the Soviet model to establish their party-armies and create mechanisms to ensure the
military’s loyalty. In China, Mongolia, and North Korea, this was mainly through direct or in-
direct Soviet influence, while Southeast Asian socialist parties followed the Chinese (Vietnam)
or Vietnamese (Cambodia, Laos) models. This emulation of Soviet-style control was not lim-
ited to socialist parties but was also followed by the Chinese Nationalist Party (Kuomintang),
which molded its political-military relations along the revolutionary model (Kuehn 2008).
The military’s political role was markedly different where colonial institutions of pro-
fessional militaries and civilian control were absent, or where weak states and the absence
of strong organizational structures and instruments of political control led civilian political
groups to rely heavily on the military’s coercive and organizational powers to establish state
structures and enforce the political elites’ claim to power. This empowered militaries vis-à-vis
civilian elites and ultimately led to the emergence of praetorian militaries. As elsewhere in
the world, the mismatch between the organizational strength of military institutions and the
weak institutionalization of civilian political organizations as well as the lack of sustained
support for political structures was key for political development after 1945. In these coun-
tries, militaries demanded a privileged status as guardian of the nation and custodian of the
political order. Eventually, the military’s missions profile diversified and increased over time
with military personnel becoming heavily engaged in political decision-making, commercial
activities, social development, civic-action projects, and putting down internal insurrections.
In Thailand, the only Southeast Asian country that did not experience colonial rule, the
military was created in the 1850s as an internal security force to consolidate the absolute

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monarch’s claim to power (Chambers 2014). The Thai military thus not only predated the
establishment of the modern state, but it was also the 1932 coup d’état against King
­Prajadhipok that did away with the absolute monarchy and led to the emergence of an
authoritarian regime “controlled by a triarchy of military, bureaucratic and monarchical
interests” (Croissant et al. 2013, 157) that would dominate the political landscape for most
of the twentieth century.
The militaries of Burma, Indonesia, and Bangladesh also predated the creation of in-
dependent civilian state structures. Different than the revolutionary armies of China or
Vietnam, however, these armies were not integrated into preexisting civilian political insti-
tutions that monopolized access to the political system and were able to establish functional
authoritarian state structures. Rather, the Burmese, Indonesian, and Bangladeshi militaries
were confronted with weak states and dysfunctional political institutions, mobilizing masses
and violent insurgencies, contested political legitimacy and economic crises, as well as bit-
terly divided elites who jockeyed for the military’s political support. Confronted with these
structural problems and the resulting popular disappointment with the civilian politicians’
inability, politically savvy military officers revolted against their civilian masters and as-
sumed power over the state (Callahan 2005; Codron 2007).
Similarly, the military in Pakistan, while having developed from the same colonial his-
torical legacies as India’s military, was quickly drawn into politics. Following independence
in 1947, the country was plagued by serious security challenges, due to both domestic ethnic
struggles as well as external conflicts with India and Afghanistan, which made civilian lead-
ers increasingly dependent on the military’s organizational and coercive powers (Sattar 2001).
In line with the comparative weakness of civilian state institutions, the Pakistani military saw
a rapid expansion of roles and functions in so-called “aid-to-civil-power” operations that
ultimately led to the military coup that did away with the elected government and ushered in
decades of more or less open military involvement in Pakistani politics (Malik 1996).
The emergence of neo-patrimonial political-military relations in Nepal and South Korea
(and in East Timor after the country’s independence from Indonesia in 2002) is much less
uniformly explained by the circumstances of nation-building and rather derived from the
idiosyncratic characteristics of these regimes and their leaders’ approaches to turning the
military into personal power bases. Until 2008, Nepal had existed as an independent and
unified monarchy since the eighteenth century, and the military leadership had since then
been stacked with members of the royal family (Kumar 2009). In South Korea, the military
played no role in de-colonialization and nation-building, which occurred under the auspices
of the US-led military administration after fifty years of Japanese colonial rule. After the
creation of the Republic of Korea Army during the Korean War (1950–1953), President
Syngman Rhee increasingly personalized his control over the military in order to siphon off
funds, have officers deliver votes en bloc in elections, and harass political enemies (Lee 2001).
Finally, the military in East Timor, which became independent under UN supervision in
2002 after four centuries of Portuguese colonial rule and twenty-five years of Indonesian
occupation, rapidly became embroiled in political struggles between the president and the
legislature (Sahin and Feaver 2013).

Regime dynamics, continuity, and change in political-military relations

The summary provided in Table 28.2 highlights the considerable persistence of post-World
War II political-military relations and underscores the crucial importance of the “weight
of history” (Agüero 1998) and path dependence, which many authors have highlighted for

424
 The military and politics in Asia

the military’s political role. Particularly noteworthy is the stability and continuity of political-
military relations in the established democracies of India and Japan. Despite considerable
challenges and security-related issues, such as India’s domestic insurgencies and its (nuclear)
military rivalry with Pakistan and Japan’s ongoing “normalization” of civil-military re-
lations in response to China’s increasingly assertive foreign policy, both have maintained
professional civil-military relations and robust civilian control (Chatterjee 2012; Katahara
2001). The same is also true for civil-military relations in Malaysia and Singapore, which
have maintained their professional militaries and strict civilian control under remarkably
stable authoritarian regimes (Beeson and Bellamy 2008).
The continuity of the post-1950 pattern is, however, also strikingly obvious for ­Bangladesh,
Indonesia, Myanmar, Pakistan, and Thailand, where the military was able to carve out
substantial political niches or took over the government shortly after the countries’ indepen-
dence or emergence as a modern nation-state. Of course, there were considerable differences
in the specific characteristics of these praetorian regimes. For example, Marco Bünte (2014)
shows how military rule in Myanmar began as a prototypical military regime ruled by a
revolutionary council but later evolved into a quasi-civilianized military regime, transi-
tioned back into collegial military rule, and transformed recently into indirect military rule
with civilian window dressing. Similarly, Indonesia’s post-1966 authoritarian order started
as a hierarchical military dictatorship that later evolved into a hybrid authoritarian regime un-
der the leadership of a former military officer and coup leader, General Suharto (Slater 2010).
Despite these differences, the multiple domestic challenges that led to the emergence of
praetorian defects in the post-World War II era have remained unsolved and have resulted in
continuous military dominance over the political system.
Drastic changes in the 1950–1980 period occurred only in the Philippines and South
­Korea, where political leaders upturned the civil-military balance of power by relying on the
military for political gains, which ultimately led to the breakdown of civilian control and the
emergence of praetorianism. In South Korea, for instance, President Rhee’s attempts to turn
the military into his own power base created a factional conflict between the “winners” and
the “losers” of his favoritism within the military, which ultimately undermined the army’s
willingness to defend the president against mass protests in 1960, forcing Rhee to step down
(Lee 2014). This set the stage for the 1961 military coup, which ushered in two decades of
military rule in South Korea.
Since the late 1980s, however, political-military relations in the region have seen con-
siderable changes, suggesting a significant decline of the military’s political influence. As
noted, this development is closely connected with the processes of democratization, which
affected a large number of countries in the region and constituted a critical juncture for re-
aligning the military’s political role. In some countries, civilians succeeded in breaking the
path of military involvement in politics and established professional civil-military relations,
most notably in the former military-led regimes of Indonesia and South Korea and in the
revolutionary regimes in Mongolia and Taiwan (see Table 28.2). In other countries, the re-
forming of civil-military relations was less successful, with civilians in Bangladesh, Nepal,
and the Philippines making some progress toward civilian control but without being able
to turn their militaries into fully professional forces. In Pakistan and Thailand, on the other
hand, elected civilians failed to break the military’s praetorian traditions and were unable to
establish meaningful and stable civilian control after their nations’ transitions to democracy
in 1988 and 1992, respectively.
In explaining the diverging outcomes of civil-military reforms during and after the tran-
sition to democracy, Croissant et al. (2013) have highlighted the importance of different

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variables that affect the civil-military balance of power and, thus, molds civilians’ ability
to push the military out of politics and establish meaningful institutions of civilian control.
Three factors in particular are thought to facilitate or impede the civilians’ ability to enact
meaningful civil-military reforms: the nature of the authoritarian regime, the degree of
military cohesion, and an active and mobilized civil society.
First, establishing civilian control will be difficult if the outgoing nondemocratic regime
was controlled by the military, perhaps with strong allies in civil and political society (Linz
and Stepan 1996, 72), and if military officers are able to control the course of the transition and
impose limits on the civilians’ reform efforts (Agüero 1998). This was the case, for instance,
in Thailand, where the military’s close political connections with the monarchy remained
untouched after the transition in 1992, and the attempts of Prime Minister Thaksin to sever
these links resulted in the military coup of 2006 (Chambers 2014). Establishing professional
civil-military relations would have been much easier if the military had been subordinate to
civilian elites already under the authoritarian regime and if elected civilians would have been
able to draw on existing institutions of political control, which was the case in the post-rev-
olutionary regimes of Taiwan (Kuehn 2008) and Mongolia (Bruneau and Mendee 2012).
Second, militaries are much more able to withstand civilians’ push for security sector
reforms and to preserve their spheres of political and institutional autonomy if they are co-
hesive and not weakened by internal factionalism (Geddes 1999). Strong internal cohesion,
for instance, allowed the Pakistani military to continue its “rule by other means” (Croissant
et al. 2013, 178) even beyond the transition to democracy, and enabled the 1999 coup d’état
that returned the country to direct military rule. Moreover, as exemplified by the brutal
military crackdown on the 2007 pro-democracy protests in Myanmar (Hlaing 2009), cohe-
sive militaries are better prepared in warding off transitions to democracy in the first place
as they can mobilize large numbers of troops to crack down on mass pressure for democrati-
zation (see also Lee 2014). In contrast, South Korean President Kim Young-sam’s successful
political maneuvering against the military’s powerful Hanahoe faction forcefully underscores
the importance of intra-military frictions for civilian divide-and-rule strategies to bring the
military under civilian control (Kuehn 2016).
Third, several studies have highlighted the importance of a strongly developed and ac-
tive civil society for the establishment of civilian control in new democracies (Kuehn et al.
2016). As the 1986 People’s Power Movement in the Philippines illustrates, civil society mo-
bilization can usher in the transition to democracy by eliciting a military loyalty shift from
supporting the authoritarian regime to supporting the democratizers (Lee 2014), especially
if the movement is recruited from a broad social base and is predominately nonviolent
­(Chenoweth and Stephan 2011).
However, the transformation from revolutionary political-military relations toward
greater professionalization in China and Vietnam and toward neo-patrimonialism in
­Cambodia and North Korea suggest that outright regime change is not the only (or a neces-
sary) condition for significant changes in the military’s political role. In China and Vietnam,
profound economic reforms pressured governments to adjust the foundations for greater in-
stitutionalization and strengthening the formal rule-of-law, which went hand in hand with
changes in the military’s organization and roles and a recalibration of civil-military relations
(e.g., Finkelstein and Gunness 2007; Thayer 2011). For example, Dongmin Lee argues that
since Deng Xiaoping’s death in 1997, Chinese leaders have prevented the People’s Liberation
Army from intervening in intraparty and intra-societal political struggles and changed the
dominant paradigm of civil-military relations from subjective control to “objective control
with Chinese characteristics” (Lee 2011, 4). At the same time, the revolution in military

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 The military and politics in Asia

affairs and rapidly changing threat assessments promote professional military education and
the modernization of military organizations ( Ji 2015).
The developments in Cambodia and especially in North Korea point in the opposite direc-
tion, with political leaders weakening established party mechanisms of political control in an
effort to personalize control over the military establishment, using the military as a political
power base, and relying on the military to ensure regime security against internal dissent. For
example, under Kim Jong-il’s “military first policy,” the North Korean Workers’ Army has re-
placed the party as the regime’s primary institution (Mendee 2012) and brought the revolution-
ary military into civil and economic affairs as a powerful actor, both as an instrument through
which patronage is exerted and as an institution that needs to be placated first (Roehrig 2013).

Conclusion
Five decades of research on political-military relations in Asia has greatly contributed to
our understanding of the military’s political role and its relationship to the development of
political institutions in the region. Moreover, this scholarship has also proven important for
inter-regional comparisons and the broader endeavor of theorizing civil-military relations in
autocracies, newly democratized nations, and established democracies.
In this regard, our study suggests six crucial conclusions. First, until the 1980s, it was
only in the “second-wave” democracies of India, Japan, and Sri Lanka and the authoritarian
regimes of Malaysia and Singapore (and the early postcolonial era in the Philippines), where
professional militaries and robust civilian control could be established. Second, from the
1980s until 2012, the military has lost some prominence in the day-to-day politics of many
Asian countries, with nine countries having successfully professionalized their civil-military
relations and only three countries (Myanmar, Pakistan, and Thailand) remaining fully prae-
torian. Nonetheless, the military remains politically powerful and assertive even where, as
in Bangladesh, Nepal, and the Philippines, modest successes in establishing civilian control
and political neutralization have been made.
Third, these developments cannot be understood or explained without reference to the
military’s role in the aftermath of World War II and the period of de-colonialization and
state-building. Politically powerful militaries arose where civilians had to rely heavily on
the military’s coercive and organizational means for eking out state sovereignty and ensuring
their hold on power. However, while in revolutionary regimes the organizational machinery
of the ruling party ensured the military’s subordination, weak political organization and
ongoing elite conflict resulted in the emergence of the military as the preeminent political
force in Myanmar, Pakistan, and Thailand. Where the processes of de-colonialization went
relatively orderly, the military was not involved in the movement for independence, and
elite arrangements were reached early to keep the military out of politics, professional civil-­
military relations and effective civilian control could develop.
Fourth, these early civil-military arrangements proved exceptionally durable. This is not
only due to the remarkable stability of the institutional foundations of the few democracies
and especially the multiparty and socialist single-party autocracies in the region, but also
because of problems that led to the appearance of praetorian armies, such as bitterly divided
elites and domestic challenges to the legitimacy of civilian politicians, which remained vir-
ulent in countries such as Myanmar and Thailand.
Fifth, the single most important determinant of radical changes in the political role of
Asian militaries has been the onset of the third wave of democratization since the mid-1980s,
which has opened critical windows of opportunity for civilians to realign civil-military

427
Aurel Croissant and David Kuehn

relations and establish civilian control even in those countries that had been dominated by
the military for decades. Yet the cases of Pakistan and Thailand strongly underscore the in-
sight that democratizers will not succeed and might be ousted by the military if they attempt
to curtail the military’s political privileges without the necessary political and civic backup.
Finally, just as democratization is not a sufficient condition for the establishment of ci-
vilian control over the military, changes in political-military relations can also take place
without an outright transition of the political regime. Nonetheless, the ongoing process of
military professionalization in China and Vietnam and the changes from revolutionary to
an increasingly neo-patrimonial pattern of political-military relations in North Korea are
closely connected to intra-regime dynamics.
Nevertheless, there is much need for additional research on the political role of the mili-
tary in Asia, including but not limited to the following areas. First, while the development of
civil-military relations in the region’s “third-wave” democracies is by now well-researched,
insufficient attention has been spent on the military’s political role and civilian control in
the post-conflict societies of Cambodia, East Timor, and Nepal. Particularly the two former
countries are interesting from a comparative perspective, as the transition occurred under
external supervision and might provide important lessons for similar endeavors in the future.
Second, despite the obvious problems of researching the military in closed authoritarian
regimes, the development, causes, and consequences of political-military relations in the
stable autocracies in the region require more research. While there is a rich literature on
the ongoing reform of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army, political-military relations in
Vietnam and North Korea are still severely understudied. This is a pity not only because of
the related implications for the respective regime parties’ claim to power, but also from the
perspective of international security in light of the regional conflict in the South China Sea
and on the Korean peninsula.
Third, and more generally, most existing research has focused on describing and ex-
plaining the development of political-military relations in Asia while neglecting their con-
sequences. Whereas the varying performance of different types of authoritarian rule has
recently appeared on the agenda of comparativists (Croissant and Wurster 2013), systematic
and comparative studies on the consequences of different types of political-military relations
on regime stability, regime performance, and military effectiveness are still missing.
Finally, across these endeavors the field would also benefit greatly by going beyond re-
gional borders and engaging in cross-regional comparisons. This includes not only the
creation of cross-national datasets on political-military relations that would allow for
­medium- to large-n comparisons employing a range of analytical and methodological tools,
including statistical, set theoretic, and multimethod approaches, but also systematic compar-
ative case studies of political-military relations in individual Asian countries with cases from
other world regions.

Note
1 Mongolia is a unique case because it gained independence from China in 1922 but remained under
Soviet political control until the late 1980s.

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 29
The state of democracy in Asia
Amy L. Freedman

This volume on politics in Asia casts a wide net, both geographically and politically. Coun-
tries in the region range from genuinely free, fair, and liberal in their political institutions,
practices, and values to totalitarian. And, the space in between these two poles is well popu-
lated by countries with some democratic elements but where full democracy comes up short.
Democracy is defined as a political system in which there are free, competitive, and fair elec-
tions; in which there is a high degree of protection of political, economic, and social rights,
and rule of law; and in which rulers are genuinely accountable to the people. This chapter
assesses the state of democracy in Asia. How might we understand democratic trends and
practices in Asia? There are three international surveys that attempt to assess a broad range
of political, civil, and economic rights: Freedom House, the Economist Intelligence Unit’s
Democracy Index, and Bertlsmann’s Transformation Index of developing or transitional
states. While each index uses slightly different metrics, they all aim to evaluate many differ-
ent markers or elements that impact political freedom or the lack thereof. For this chapter,
I have chosen to use the Freedom House assessments.1
Freedom House assesses countries based on political rights and civil liberties, and un-
der these broad categories, the following elements are examined: the electoral process,
political pluralism and participation, the ability of governments to function, freedom of
expression and belief, associational and organizational rights, rule of law, and personal
autonomy and individual rights. In all, there are 27 separate criteria assessed to come up
with a ranking, which ultimately labels a country ‘free’, ‘partly free’, or ‘not free’. Based
on Freedom House assessments (and these findings are similar to the other two indices
as well), since 2006, there has been a global weakening of democracy as well as increas-
ingly repressive behavior in already authoritarian states, and Asia has not been immune
to these phenomena (Diamond and Plattner, 2015: 6). This chapter begins by discussing
how to evaluate both democracy and efforts to improve or undermine its practice; then,
the chapter assesses groups of countries in Asia where noteworthy changes (both positive
and negative) have occurred in the last ten years. Finally, the chapter will offer some ex-
planations for why it seems that democracy is in decline (to use Diamond and Plattner’s
phrase), why this might be happening, and what reasons we might have for optimism or
pessimism looking forward.

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 The state of democracy in Asia

From 1990 to 2005 (continuing a trend that began earlier), the number of countries
ranked ‘free’ went from 65 to 89, and the number of countries that qualified as ‘electoral
democracies’ went from 76 to 119 (Diamond, Plattner and Walker, 2016: 3). Unfortunately, a
new trend has developed in the last few years in which democratic practices and rights across
the globe and across Asia have been weakening. This chapter will examine the different
elements on which full democracy depends, and it will offer an empirical analysis of where
democracy is holding up well, where it is fraying, and where it has been subverted. Asia is not
terribly different from global trends overall, which also demonstrates backsliding on demo-
cratic criteria; however, I would argue that Asia had tended to be a region of the world where
there was greater optimism that democracy would not just hang on but be more successful
in its consolidation in countries where it had already taken root and that it would continue
to develop in additional nations (there was even some hope that democracy would spread to
countries that are presently authoritarian). Sadly, that has not been the case.
This chapter categorizes countries for discussion in the following four ways: countries that
have maintained the political status quo (a high degree of democracy); those that continue
to be rated ‘free’; those that continue to be partially free; and those that are ‘not free’. The
second group of states examined are countries that are somewhat democratic (‘partly free’
in Freedom House’s categories), which have seen an erosion of political and civil rights, or
those where the political situation has deteriorated to such a degree that they are now being
rated as ‘not free’. Countries in this category include the Maldives in 2012 and Bangladesh
and Thailand in 2014; these have all become significantly less free, fair, and accountable to
the people (Diamond, 2015: 110). Third are a group of countries where there have been less
dramatic changes but where political and civil rights have gotten worse. Countries examined
where this has been the case include Papua New Guinea and Indonesia (which went from be-
ing ranked ‘free’ to ‘partly free’), Malaysia and Singapore (they continue to be ranked ‘partly
free’, even though freedoms have been eroded), and China and Brunei (ranked ‘not free’ but
where repression has been ramped up even more). The last category of states discussed in this
chapter are those where we have seen an improvement in political and/or civil rights. This
group includes Pakistan in 2014, Burma, and Sri Lanka. Overall, in the last ten years, we
have seen a net decrease in the political rights and freedoms that make up democracy or the
potential for democracy in Asia, and although there are some possible reasons for optimism,
this author doesn’t foresee significant changes in the near term.

Status quo states

Several Asian countries have demonstrated democratic stability and durability: South Korea,
Taiwan, Japan, India, Mongolia, Australia, and New Zealand are all firmly democratic.
Citizens in these countries enjoy high levels of civil, political, and social rights and free, fair,
and competitive elections; their leaders are reasonably accountable to the people. This is not
to say that these countries are perfect bastions of democracy: No country receives a perfect
score on Freedom House’s evaluation rubric and, in fact, both Australia and Japan received
improved scores in the most recent reports. The rights, freedoms, and opportunities of the
former’s minority communities improved as Australian law provides for universal voting
rights, freedom of speech, religion, and association. Political parties increasingly address
minority group concerns. Political rights also recently improved in Japan as there are no
longer restrictions on political participation for any citizen of Japan based on ethnicity, reli-
gion, or cultural background. The political environment for media outlets has become more
diverse in Japan over the years, and union activity and social organization has increasingly

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Amy L. Freedman

been given more space to operate and influence politics (Freedom in the World reports on
Australia and Japan, 2016). Taiwan has maintained democracy for more than 25 years. The
January 2016 election saw the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) win both the presidency
and control of the legislature; this is the first time that the (usually opposition party) will
control both branches of government. Taiwan’s government also showed greater restraint
dealing with protesters in 2015 than in years past. South Korea too has enjoyed years of stable
democracy, but as is the case in other democratic countries, there are some minor indications
that there too, freedom and opposition voices need to remain assertive in protecting their
rights. “The inclusion of journalists in the 2015 anti-corruption law raises concerns that
it could be misused to punish critical reporting and encourage self-censorship” (Freedom
House, South Korea, 2016). India, Asia’s largest democracy, has certainly faced challenges
over the year but continues to maintain its status as a ‘free’ country. The election of Narendra
Modi from the Hindu nationalist party, Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), in 2014 demonstrates
the ability of a longtime opposition party to come to power. However, the rise of the BJP
has also empowered Hindu activists and local governments to enact policies targeting India’s
Muslim community (for example, local statutes have been passed against raising, selling,
and eating beef ), and violence against critical voices has increased as well (Freedom House,
India, 2016).
Other countries where there has been little political change in one direction or another
include a list of ‘partly free’ states: the Philippines, Singapore, and Bhutan as well as ‘not free’
states where rights and freedoms have neither improved nor worsened, including Cambodia,
Laos, Vietnam, and North Korea. Of the countries listed here, the Philippines and Singapore
are the countries where hopes existed that there would be improvements in civil rights and
liberties (in Singapore) and on levels of corruption, which affects leadership accountability
and rule of law (in the Philippines), as well as in provision of public goods, the safety of jour-
nalists, and the conduct of elections. However, neither Singapore nor the Philippines’ status
and ranking as ‘partly free’ have changed; political elites have been unwilling and unable to
carry out meaningful reforms to improve on these obstacles. Vietnam and Laos have contin-
ued to open up their economies but have maintained near total political control, and despite
a veneer of having competitive elections, Cambodia also remains profoundly unfree. North
Korea already receives the fourth lowest score in the Freedom House rankings, and there is
no indication that we might see political, social, or economic change any time soon. Since
there are reasons for hope that the Philippines and Singapore could become more democratic
under the right conditions (discussed later in this chapter), some elaboration on conditions
there is included here.

The Philippines
In the Philippines, the greatest obstacles to greater protection of rights, rule of law, and
government accountability for the people are corruption, a weak judiciary (and a culture
of impunity), and the continuation of elite dominance in politics. Of course, these three
elements are interconnected. Elections, freedom of expression and belief, citizen activism,
and the right to organize politically are fairly robust. Journalists face dangerous conditions
for work, but there are few political or institutional impediments to freedom of speech and
press. Violence against journalists is extremely high, as is violence against judges. Political
and economy elites seem to value the status quo in which the system has many democratic
elements, but politics is still largely an elite-dominated process. All the key political families
in the Philippines are assumed to be tainted by some form of corruption and using their

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position for personal gain. Some have been caught by corruption stings, like previous Vice
President Binay and his son, Alan Purisima, and others. But it is largely believed that other
prominent families, like the Roxas and Aquinos, are also less than squeaky clean. The elec-
tion in 2016 of President Duterte could be an opportunity for corruption reform. Duterte
is very much an outsider, and he has said that he will act strongly to rein in corruption and
crime. There is also a risk that he will act more in the mold of a classic Asian strong man and
will further undermine democracy (Heydarian, 2016).
Another long-running problem in the Philippines is the conflict in the south. The clash
in January 2015 in Mindanao/Bangsamoro killed 44 police officers, 18 MILF (Mindanao
Islamic Liberation Front) fighters, five fighters from the breakaway Bangsamoro Islamic
Freedom Fighters, and four civilians, and was a serious setback for the peace process (BBC
News, 2015). With an escalation of Islamic radicalism in the region, the Philippines will
absolutely need to secure peace and cooperation from engaged groups in Mindanao if they
want to avoid a return to the situation in the early 2000s, when that area of the Philippines
was a site of opportunity for jihadi groups to train, manufacture weapons, and organize at-
tacks in the Philippines and neighboring countries. This will be a high priority for the new
administration, and how well it is carried out, and with what level of respect for civil rights
and civil liberties, is a crucial test for the country’s democratic future.

Singapore
General elections were held in Singapore in 2015, and these elections were considered free
and fair. The ruling party won more handily than expected. For the first time, opposition
parties mounted campaigns in all 89 parliamentary seats. Social media was increasingly im-
portant in the election campaign, and observers had believed that this would help opposition
parties. However, the ruling PAP (People’s Action Party) was able to counter opposition
efforts extremely well and effectively, and they captured 93% of the seats and 70% of the
popular vote (Tao Ai Lei, 2015). Despite this legitimate showing of popular support for
the ruling party, Singapore continues to act harshly against all forms of speech and activity
deemed threatening to the government, its leaders, and conservative values in general. For
this reason, Freedom House continues to rate Singapore as ‘partly free’, and the country
receives poor rankings for many elements of civil rights and civil liberties (Freedom House,
Singapore 2016). Although it has all the necessary institutional components of a genuinely
open and free democracy, the regime’s intolerance of dissent and active use of the judiciary
to stifle independent voices make it a far cry from a democratic state (Andrews, 2015).

States where there have been significant changes

Unfortunately, there are a number of countries in Asia where political and civil rights and
freedoms have changed significantly for the worse. Recently, the Maldives, Thailand, and
Bangladesh saw dramatic political changes.

The Maldives
The Maldives have undergone a political roller coaster in the last few years. Presidential
elections in 2013 and the parliamentary elections in 2014 were deemed transparent and
competitive; however, disagreement and questionable actions by the Supreme Court aimed
at weakening or intimidating the Election Commission raise questions about the rule of law

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and the impartiality of the judiciary (Freedom House, the Maldives 2016). In 2015, politics in
the Maldives has been consumed with the arrest, trial, and imprisonment of former President
Nasheed. There is international concern that the ruling Progressive Party of the Maldives
is using Nasheed’s conviction as justification to crack down on opposition voices (Amnesty
International, 2015). Since Nasheed’s arrest, over 140 opposition activists, MPs, and others
have been arrested or detained (Amnesty International, 2015). In addition, there has been a
ratcheting up of state harassment against journalists. Actions include disappearances, arrests,
and increased censorship (including taking over the public broadcasting network) (Freedom
House, the Maldives 2016). Similar to the increasing surveillance of the media, there has
also been increased targeting of civil society groups, restricting groups’ abilities to operate
independently and freely.

Thailand
Thailand’s military coup in 2014 has not proven to be the short-lived interruption of democ-
racy that many hoped it might be. Instead, military leaders have continued and tightened
their grip on power. Calls for the military to loosen its suppression of dissent have been
ignored and have instead been met with absolute power granted to the head of the junta.
Those who have questioned or opposed military rule have been summoned for “attitude
adjustments”, those who have outright challenged NCPO (National Council for Peace and
Order) have been detained. Civil society is closely monitored and harassed (Freedom House,
Thailand 2016).
The NCPO drafted a road map for a return to civilian rule and after many delays sent
this plan to the National Reform Council (NRC) (a body handpicked by the military).
Surprising many inside and outside of Thailand, the NRC rejected the draft. While it is not
clear why the plan was rejected, one result is that elections have been pushed further into the
future. Elections are not anticipated now until 2017. A draft of a new constitution was finally
made public in the spring of 2016 and it will be voted on in August of 2016. No formal de-
bate or discussion of the document is allowed and arrests of those violating this prohibition
have escalated (ABC News, 2016). The NCPO attempted to draft a constitution, which will
weaken political parties and weaken the role of elected officials over nonelected institutions.
At issue are changes in the percentage of senate seats that would be appointed versus elected,
the creation of a mixed member, and the proportional allocation of seats in the lower house
(and concern over what this would be vis-à-vis the proliferation of smaller political parties
and unstable government coalitions). The goal is to create a system in which former Prime
Ministers Yingluck and Thaksin (or their allies) are unlikely to return to prominence (­Chicago
Tribune, 2016; McCargo, 2016).
In addition to the abrogation of democratic norms, practices, and institutions, corrup-
tion is widespread in Thailand. There is no freedom of the press, expression, or assembly.
The government has increased surveillance and monitoring of all elements of civil society.
Arrests have increased for those critical of the junta and of the monarchy. While in previous
periods of political turmoil, Thailand’s economy has often proved to be somewhat immune
from political upheaval, this time the combination of a slowdown in China’s economy and
the uncertainty of politics since 2014 has resulted in a much weaker Thai economy. The US
views Thailand as a critical partner in the region and would like it to return to some political
stability, which includes a modicum of democratic norms, practices, and procedures. The
elephant in the room is the unknown of what happens when the Thai king dies. The crown
prince is widely disliked, and the combination of unpopular military rule with an unpopular

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monarch (should the crown prince take over) may provoke protests and further instability
and/or greater repression by the state.

Bangladesh
Political and social unrest has continued the last few years in Bangladesh. The ruling party,
the Awami League (AL), has been working to consolidate their power and in the process has
clamped down on political, civil, and social opposition. Opposition political forces, includ-
ing the Bangladesh Nationalist Party has tried to hold demonstrations in public and to call
attention to the loss of rights and freedoms, but the government has engaged in harassment,
arrests, and detention of party officials. Likewise, the Jamaat-e-Islami party’s activities have
been curtailed and party leaders continue to face charges of atrocities committed during the
1971 war of independence by the International Crimes Tribunal (Freedom House, ­Bangladesh
2016). Extremely troubling are the continued attacks against individuals in Bangladesh
who advocate for freedom of expression. Secular bloggers, academics, journalists, religious
minorities (Hindus, Buddhists, and Christians), and other civil society activists (including
LGBT activists) have been threatened, and several have been killed in recent months by
­Islamic militant groups. The July attack on the bakery was only the latest and most horrific of
a series of violent murders and intimidation of independent voices in Bangladesh (Freedom
House, Bangladesh 2016; The Hindu). Although Bangladesh had been close to consolidating
a relatively competitive political system, harassment of opposition voices and political actors,
combined with the escalating insecurity for civil society actors and the destruction of reli-
gious freedom, has instead made scholars and observers extremely pessimistic about a return
to political and social freedoms any time soon.

Backsliding
A larger number of countries in the region have experienced downward sliding on demo-
cratic norms, practices, and experiences. While not as dramatic as the fall off in the countries
just discussed, the countries in this category have moved away from democratic improve-
ments. For the most free countries in this group, Indonesia and Papua New Guinea, it re-
minds us not to be complacent about gains made in political and civil rights and freedoms;
for ‘partly free’ countries like Malaysia and Singapore, this author feels that we are at a point
at which it is not realistic to be hopeful that democratization may happen in the near term;
and for China and Brunei, that conversation isn’t even on the table anymore.

Indonesia
The elections in 2014 were seen as a test for democratic values. Joko Widodo’s (known as
­Jokowi) victory over Prabowo led to a sigh of relief for many in Indonesia; yet Jokowi’s time
in office has been marked by some successes and some weaknesses (Lowy Institute, 2014). In
the success column, in January 2015, Parliament reinstated direct elections for administrative
heads (governors, district heads, and mayors). This protects one of the democratic reforms
of the post-Suharto era. Parliament also made it easier for independent candidates to com-
pete in regional elections, which may weaken the power of some political parties. However,
Jokowi has not been able to reign in institutional rivalries, particularly the one between the
national police and the KPK, the Corruption Eradication Commission. Jokowi was elected
as a reformist, but he confronts powerful and well-entrenched interests in his own party and

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in the national police. This is an ongoing dispute with charges of corruption coming from
both sides as a way of paralyzing the KPK (Sundaryani and Jong, 2015). While corruption
charges and governance reforms are critical (corruption levels are extremely high), the fear
of corruption charges in years past has stymied government efforts to implement policies.
Jokowi in 2015 issued a presidential decree protecting administrators from charges stemming
from carrying out their budgeted policies.
Indonesia is also hampered by center-periphery relations. While the national govern-
ment might want to adopt particular policies, they are often hampered from actually exe-
cuting these policies due to weak power over local areas to implement policies, for example,
the problem with the burning of peat forests and the haze, which was particularly bad this
year. Democratic ideals have been largely consolidated in terms of institutional procedures.
A few noteworthy obstacles: Not all elites may be as committed to democratic ideals (be-
havior in the period leading up to the 2014 election is a good example of this); corruption
and institutional fighting hinder policy implementation and efforts to improve corruption
problems (which indicate troubling problems with rule of law and perceptions of govern-
ment); protection of minority rights is still weak (particularly in protection of groups like
the Ahmadyiah and LGBT). National oversight of local behavior and laws is weak (for
example the Shari’a codes in Aceh violate the constitution) (Freedom House, Indonesia
2016). Why categorize Indonesia as backsliding on democratic norms and procedures? Two
significant reasons: first, Jokowi’s inability or unwillingness to support and move forward
with anti-corruption measures and weak provision of public goods. Second, an increase in
the deteriorating climate for journalists and advocates of free speech and independent civil
society:

Journalists from across the country reported continued acts of intimidation, threats
and killings by both state and non-state actors, such as police, religious hardliners, and
organized violent groups, described as “thugs”, which are affiliated with political and
business interests. This puts enormous pressure on journalists to self-censor.
(Freedom House, “Press Freedom, Freedom of Expression in Indonesia” 2014)

Indonesia illustrates an example of a country where democracy has genuinely been consol-
idated but where there has been pushback against some of the bulwark freedoms associated
with democracy, such as rule of law and freedom of expression. While not a new phenome-
non, another continuing cause of alarm in Indonesia is the government’s continued unwill-
ingness to act more firmly to protect the rights of minority groups, such as the Ahmadiya
community who continue to suffer intense discrimination and persecution.

Papua New Guinea

Papua New Guinea is rated ‘partly free’ by Freedom House, and their freedom ratings have
declined over the last few years. Corruption is the most significant problem in Papua New
Guinea, and politicians at the highest levels have pushed back against efforts to rein in
the problems. Prime Minister Peter O’Neill has taken steps to increase his own power; he
disbanded an anti-corruption taskforce when it began investigating him and then banned
political protests against corruption. Recent scandals at the highest levels of political power
demonstrate the flaws in rule of law, and banning activities from individuals and civil soci-
ety organizations demonstrates weak protection of civil rights and civil liberties (Freedom
House, Papua New Guinea, 2016).

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Malaysia
Single-party rule in Malaysia is being severely tested. You know things are bad when the
regular opposition parties are teaming up with former Prime Minister Mahathir (not at all
a friend to democratic forces in Malaysia) to criticize current Prime Minister Najib Razak!
While Malaysian legal institutions have cleared Najib of wrongdoing in the 1MDB scandal,
it continues to drive a wedge into the unity of UMNO (Welsh, 2015). The government
has continued to use the Sedition Act to intimidate political opponents and has addition-
ally undertaken political purges from within UMNO to try and keep Najib in power. For
now, it looks like Najib will be able to outmaneuver his opponents in the party and in the
opposition. But, if international probes continue to keep the scandal on the front page and
if the economy continues to stagnate, it is possible that forces within UMNO could decide
that Najib is an obstacle to continued party dominance, and they could force him to step
down. The key will be dynamics within UMNO, not really what the opposition does or
doesn’t do.
UMNO should be able to retain power even if Najib steps down. With Anwar in jail
and the opposition coalition being built on opposing UMNO rather than any substantive
agreement, even if internal and external pressure forces Najib out, it seems that UMNO will
retain power. Electorally, gerrymandered districts and restrictions on campaigning make it
hard for the opposition to gain enough support to win outright power at the polls (Freedom
House, Malaysia). It is possible that opposition to UMNO could continue to grow and it
could result in some additional street protests and public outcry. However, given Malaysia’s
history, it would be surprising to see such activities provoke real instability. Opposition par-
ties and civil society are so constrained in their activities it is unlikely that they can be agents
of significant change in Malaysia in the near term.
Ethnic and racial tensions exist in Malaysia and they are something that the government
itself has stoked and manipulated as one of their justifications for continuing to keep control
over the country. The opposition is more racially and religiously mixed. The government
has continued to use race baiting and religious nationalism to legitimize their rule. Cer-
tainly, this has resulted in anti-Shi’s activism and persecution and has made it hard to see
Malaysia as having religious freedom; given the threats faced by the ruling elites, intolerance
may increase, and the space for religious freedom will continue to narrow. This speaks more
to the illiberal nature of the regime than it does genuine religious animosity.

China
China is a poster child for hard-line authoritarian rule. President Xi Jinping came to power
in 2012 and there was hope that he might be willing to initiate modest political reforms.
Those hopes have not only been completely dashed, but under Xi, there has been an inten-
sifying campaign to crack down against regime critics and potential opposition forces. The
Freedom House report on China describes what has been happening and so it seems useful
to quote this at length: The Party has escalated

hard-line policies {against} on political freedoms and civil liberties and a rejection of
judicial oversight of party actions. Harassment of previously tolerated civil society or-
ganizations, women’s rights defenders, labor activists, and human rights lawyers inten-
sified during the year. In July, security forces detained over 250 individuals involved in
public-interest legal work in an unprecedented crackdown on China’s “rights-defense

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movement.” Internet controls continued to tighten, and several professional journalists

were detained, imprisoned, and forced to make televised confessions.
The government introduced, amended, or passed laws that could further infringe on
freedoms of association, expression, and religion. In July, the legislature passed a new
National Security Law that defines security broadly to include political considerations
like retaining CCP domination of the “ideological sphere.”
According to the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), at least 49 journalists and
online writers were behind bars in China as of December 2015, a record number for the
country since CPJ began tracking it and the largest total in the world. The total number
of Chinese citizens jailed for offenses involving freedom of expression, especially on the
internet, was much higher.
Pressure on investigative journalism and liberal media outlets intensified during the
year, as several respected journalists faced detentions, forced televised confessions, and
questionable charges of bribery, “obtaining state secrets,” or “spreading false rumors.”
Following a trend from 2014, mainstream print journalists were detained or sentenced
to prison alongside internet-based writers, ethnic minority journalists, and freelancers;
cases against mainstream journalists had previously been less common.
(Freedom House, China 2016)

In addition to the repressive power of the state increasingly being used against real and per-
ceived enemies, the Communist Party is now also using social media to bolster and manufac-
ture allegiance to the state. “China has ‘gamified’ obedience to the state” (Osborne, 2015).
An app company has created a social media tool called Sesame Credit to track people’s on-
line behavior (social media posts, social networks, purchases, down loads, etc.). People earn
points for behavior consistent with being a good citizen of the People's Republic of China (as
defined by the state), and they lose points for less acceptable behavior. For example, posting
an article about the strength of the Chinese economy or the power of the People’s Liberation
Army (PLA) would earn the user points. Buying Japanese anime or imported goods would
cause a loss of points. Higher scores can result in the user getting faster internet speeds, cheap
online shopping deals, or making it easier to get cleared for a loan at a bank or new job.
Having a low score can result in penalties. like slower internet speeds, lack of access to the
app’s low-price shopping deals, or being denied promotions or applications for government
documents and services (Osborne, 2015). This seems like something that not even Orwell
could have imagined. While China does not receive the lowest score for political and civil
rights, they are surely making moves in that direction.

Brunei
Like China, there is no pretense that Brunei is democratic or even close to it. Brunei is a
sultanate with no elections or accountability of rulers to citizens. Also similar to China,
Brunei has become even more repressive and hostile to citizens’ rights. Over the last year
the Sultan has put into force strict Sharia law on many issues. These laws impose harsher
restrictions on non-Muslims in the country and penalize Muslims who miss attending
mosque, who don’t fast as required, or who otherwise don’t perform, or who misperform,
required Islamic rituals. Horrific penalties are threatened against those accused of blas-
phemy, have an abortion, engage in homosexuality, give birth out of wedlock, or are found
to be guilty of other socially ‘deviant’ behavior (The Economist, 2015; Freedom House,
Brunei 2016).

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Why is it important to discuss worsening conditions in already repressive countries? De-

mocracy isn’t just one concrete thing; it is a set of rules, processes, institutions, and values.
Democracy needs to be explained along a continuum of conditions, rights, and practices.
Even though Malaysia, Papua New Guinea, China, and Brunei do not meet Freedom House’s
bar to be labeled democratic (nor would most analysts describe any of these nations as being
close to democratic), it is still important to note and understand when political, social, eco-
nomic, and civil rights are further weakened or abolished altogether.
The fourth category of states examined in this chapter are those where we can note that
positive changes have occurred. Burma and Sri Lanka are the two that will be discussed here.

Burma
The November 2015 multiparty elections were generally believed to be carried out in a free
and fair manner (BBC News 2015 “Myanmar’s 2015 Landmark Elections”). Accordingly, the
military did allow the NLD to control the executive and legislative branches. This demon-
strates how far the military has been willing to go in allowing a transfer of power from mili-
tary to civilian hands. The military has retained a substantial number of seats in the congress
and one of the VP is from a military background. Aung San Suu Kyi is widely understood
to be the power behind the executive. She has said this publically and has handpicked the
president Htin Kyaw (with whom she has a long-standing relationship) (Hindustan Times,
2016). Clearly, Suu Kyi has enormous personal legitimacy, but it is not yet clear that she has
the will and the power to change some of the significant remaining obstacles to greater de-
mocratization and protection of rights in Burma.
These obstacles include the following: the military’s influence and control over key sectors
of the economy; high levels of corruption; a less-than-free media environment; and mas-
sive intolerance, discrimination, and persecution of Muslims and particularly the R ­ ohingya
community! Political parties avoided running Muslim candidates in the election, and par-
liament approved a series of legal and highly discriminatory legal restrictions that advance
Buddhist nationalist policies, and which are aimed at Muslims in Burma. Suu Kyi has re-
frained from speaking out forcefully and categorically against these measures. Even after the
elections, violence against Muslims and Rohingya has continued.
Despite the movement away from overt military rule, the military has retained the right
to administer its own affairs and it can dissolve the civilian government if it determines that
the national security is at stake. Corruption is a major problem in the country and there are
allegations that economic reforms have benefited family members and associates of senior mil-
itary officials. While the space for the media to operate is wider than under overt military rule,
there has been a decline in media freedom in the last two years. Media access to parliament has
been restricted and attacks on journalists are up. The most serious obstacles to democracy are
the continued power of the military in politics and in the economy, corruption, and the perse-
cution of Muslims, with The Protection of Race and Religion Bills, along with years of forced
relocations and state-sanctioned violence against Muslims and the Rohingya, in particular
(Freedom House, Burma 2016). These are significant challenges, but Burma is at least making
real steps toward greater accountability, transparency, and some protection of civil rights.

Sri Lanka
Freedom House improved Sri Lanka’s political rights score and civil liberties score. Two
rounds of elections (for Parliament and the presidency) were held in January and August

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of 2015, which were considered free and fair. The opposition candidate won the presi-
dency and the opposition gained a majority in Parliament, these results were in spite of
the ruling party’s attempts to control the elections. Sri Lanka’s electoral landscape and
political and civil rights have long been influenced by the Tamil insurgency and the
government’s repressive tactics in combating it. The elections in 2015 saw Tamils in the
North and the East improving access to voting and turning out to participate in the elec-
tions. Likewise, in the last year or so, we have seen a resumption of Parliament’s power as
the source of law making. The personalistic (and strong) power of the Rajapaksa family
has waned and thus government institutions are able to operate more closely as intended.
There has also been a freer and more open climate for the media to operate, and harass-
ment and attacks on journalists have decreased (Cronin-Furman, 2015; Freedom House,
Sri Lanka 2016).
What can we learn from the both the setbacks and successes of democracy? First, we learn
that political rights and civil liberties are fragile in almost all countries. It takes strong insti-
tutions, elite acceptance or willingness, and support and vigilance of society to maintain or
protect the electoral process, political pluralism and participation, the ability of governments
to function, freedom of expression and belief, associational and organizational rights, rule of
law, and personal autonomy and individual rights. From 1990 to 2005, it seemed as if democ-
ratization would move in one direction. Like Fukuyama’s thesis in the “End of History”, it
seemed as if over time most countries would become more free and open (Fukuyama, 1992).
However, the last few years should serve as a reminder that democracy is hard to achieve and
consolidate, and it is more easily undermined than solidified.

Analysis
What explanations might we offer for the reversals in earlier democratic gains? Diamond
and Plattner (2015) believe that the declines are in part attributable to the economic crisis
of 2008. Democratic stalwarts like the US and much of Western Europe demonstrated
that they were not immune to economic crises and the financial meltdown illustrated
weaknesses in market-based economic systems where financial transactions were only
lightly regulated. While capitalist democracies floundered from 2008 through 2014, more
state-interventionist economies (non-democracies) like China and Russia and the Gulf
States continued to do well. It is only in the last two years that these economies too are
showing significant weaknesses (low oil prices are putting enormous pressure on Russia,
the Gulf states, and Venezuela) and the slowdown in China’s economy is also demonstrat-
ing flaws in their political economy. Diamond and Plattner and others who point to the
2008 crisis as weakening the credibility of the democratic model, do not always explain
how the modeling effect works. The implied connection is that when democratic states
have robust economic growth, other countries want to emulate them so as to replicate eco-
nomic gains for themselves, yet it isn’t clear that elites in ‘not free’ or ‘partly free’ countries
actually think this way.
One might think back to basic arguments of modernization theory, which posited that
economic growth produced a larger middle class, and it is the middle class that would de-
mand greater openness and input into the political process (to protect their interests). While
modernization theory may have described how and why democracy took root in Western
Europe and in the US, it does not provide a great explanation for the later waves of democ-
racy. Better explanations are found in the ‘third-wave’ literature of Huntington, Przeworski,

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and Schmitter and O’Donnell. These explanations focus largely on elites’ willingness to
bring about democratic change (either from within the existing political order or from oppo-
sition forces). The literature on transitions to democracy did not demonstrate that economic
growth leads to democratization. It demonstrated that democratization comes about from
a combination of factors related to elites in power and elites in opposition being willing
and accepting of a transition to democracy.2 However, the reverse maybe true. Economic
crises or economic downturns can put pressure on authoritarian leaders to adopt more open
and liberal policies. In the 1997 Asian financial crisis, Thai, Indonesian, and South Korean
leaders all found themselves severely constrained in their ability to keep rewarding their
cozy elite supporters and were forced by the IMF and international pressure to adopt more
liberal economic policies. In doing this, they found themselves under considerable political
and economic pressure to step aside and more democratically minded elites came to power
(Freedman, 2006). All three of these countries (and we see the same dynamic briefly after
the fall of Mubarak in Egypt) demonstrated that it is actually easier to make a transition to
democratic political procedures and institutions than to radically restructure your political
economy from a patrimonial system of crony capitalism to a fairer, more transparent political
economy that provides public goods to the broader society (Fukuyama, 2015: 12). Thomas
Friedman (1999) also argues that as economies flounder, authoritarian elites find it harder and
harder to buy off and keep supporters through economic favoritism, and thus some political
changes may evolve as a leader loses elite support and thus there is more of a need to increase
regime legitimacy in other ways (like allowing more genuine competition or greater freedom
to organize and assert interests and opinions).
Using what we know from the literature on transitions to democracy, and looking at the
experiences of Asian countries over the past few years, we see confirmation that the role of
elites is critical. Elites who want to maintain their position of power have been working both
openly and covertly to weaken institutional mechanisms that would weaken their power or
make it more likely that an opposition can come to power. Likewise, these elites are willing
and able to curtail civil rights and liberties, which would help shine a light on their actions.
Thus, it becomes harder and harder for people and groups to oppose rulers and be able to
carry out a shift in power.
Diamond (2015) also asserts that after 2008 the US has been less willing to promote
democracy abroad. Although Diamond doesn’t explain why this might be the case, I will
offer three possible reasons. First, as a result of the economic crisis, the US and other
Western democracies were more preoccupied with their own economic problems than
with foreign policy (in noncrisis areas). Second, President Obama ran his 2008 campaign
partly on a vigorous denunciation of President Bush’s more interventionist foreign policy.
The Obama administration might have been less willing to spend time and resources on
democracy promotion overseas as way of changing US international behavior. Third, with
the rise of the Arab spring, then the civil war in Syria and the rise of the Islamic State in
Iraq and Syria, the US and other Western Allies were both more focused on the Middle
East than the rest of the world, and, relatedly, the US became more cautious about the
impact of regime change after seeing the results of the Arab revolutions. (It should also
be noted here that authoritarian leaders in Asia also look at the Arab revolutions and are
more willing to act decisively and harshly to prevent such uprisings from spreading to their
countries.) Nondemocratic states like China and Russia sent the international community
subtle and not-so-subtle messages that stability and order might be preferable to more de-
mocracy and more chaos.

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Assertion of authoritarian power

At the same time, there has been a weakening of democracy and the potential for democracy,
as authoritarian states have become more globally assertive of their interests and values. In Asia,
China is a prime example of this. As explained earlier, there have been increasing crackdowns
on individuals and groups in China who were previously able to (within moving boundaries)
challenge the state on specific kinds of issues. China has tightened oversight of the use of the
internet and electronic social media tools. And, other authoritarian regimes have watched and
learned from China’s success at these efforts. While China is not fostering antidemocratic rev-
olutions around the world, it does have increasing influence, which will make democratization
less likely in countries that enjoy close ties with China. China’s mind-boggling economic
success over the last 30 years sends a message that a country can open up economically to the
world but maintain a closed and undemocratic political system. China has ramped up its pub-
lic relations efforts around the world to promote positive stories about itself and to minimize
or even block negative ones from gaining wider access. It has also demonstrated its ability to
successfully censor and monitor its own citizens, and it is a leader and willing instructor in pro-
viding the technology and know-how to others interested in censorship and political repres-
sion (Diamond, Plattner, and Walker, 2016: 7). This will make it harder for regime critics in
countries like Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Burma to be heard and to try and effect change.
Other efforts to thwart democracy and demands for accountability can be seen as coun-
tries in Asia enact laws to regulate and restrict foreign funds going to local civil society
organizations. The US and European countries have often helped fund groups in society
that work on all manner of social programs, from child health and education programs to
women’s empowerment, environmental protection groups, and social justice organizations.
Countries as diverse as Pakistan, Burma, Sri Lanka, and Nepal have all over the last few
years acted to curtail and control the activities of aid organizations working there (Rutzen,
2016: 165). China’s efforts (Russia’s as well) to continue to promote and advocate respect for
state sovereignty (over norms of human rights) and ‘civilizational diversity’ (versus liberal
democracy) along with economic and military assistance to like-minded states has offered
‘partly free’ and ‘not free’ states in Asia an alternative to Western-based models of democracy
as progress (Walker, 2016: 219).
Optimism for a democratic future at the end of the Cold War was probably misplaced.
However, even facing the current situation of widespread pushback against democracy, there
are still reasons for optimism. While many of the regimes discussed here (Malaysia, Singa-
pore, the Philippines, and Thailand come to mind) are not ranked as having free and fair
elections, or political and civil rights (leaders in these countries are not fully accountable to
their citizens, there are gaps in systems of rule of law, and elections are not fully free and
fair), there are reasons that we might yet see positive changes in the future. Citizens in these
countries are increasingly aware of the problems in their own political systems. The internet
and mobile technology has made it harder for regimes to completely control the flow of in-
formation in these countries, and citizens see the unfairness and weaknesses in their leaders.
Perhaps most importantly given what we know about transitions to democracy, there are op-
position groups and actors who (should there be greater opportunity to articulate their inter-
ests) are more democratically minded and who may be able to offer supporters and the wider
citizenry alternatives to the less-than-free systems in place now. This author, however, does
not find much to be optimistic about in looking at the least free countries in Asia: China,
North Korea, Brunei, Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia. It is harder to see a path to more open,
free, and democratic practices, institutions, and norms evolving in these countries.

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 The state of democracy in Asia

Notes
1 I should note here that from 2010-2016 I served as the analyst for Freedom House’s ‘Freedom in the
World’ yearly reports on Malaysia and Singapore, thus I am familiar with the ratings and ranking
process.
2 Of course, this description leaves out a transition by ‘replacement’ (in Huntington’s terminology)
when the old order is either pushed aside, or steps down.

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 30
Security in Asian states
Theory, practice, and the
regional security landscape

Kenneth Boutin

Security in Asian states is a complex issue, with respect to both how it is conceptualized and
the manner in which it is pursued. While there is no single regional tradition of security,
there are a number of key features that distinguish security in Asian states from that of states
elsewhere, producing what is usefully regarded as the Asian security paradigm. Asian states
are characterized by a tendency to approach the interrelated aspects of the nature of security
and security threats, and the referent objects of security in quite broad terms. This has signif-
icant consequences for security policy in Asian states, which generally is structured around
the discrete pursuit of state and intrastate security objectives.
This chapter examines the characteristic features of security in Asian states, how security ob-
jectives are operationalized through policy, and how this shapes the regional security landscape.
The chapter begins by considering what is signified by the term ‘security’ before examining the
basis and nature of security in Asian states. The chapter then turns to security policy in Asian
states, focusing on how political authorities pursue the disparate and often-conflicting require-
ments of state and intrastate security, and the impact this has on the regional security landscape.
This study concludes by considering long-term trends in the security of Asian states. In exam-
ining their security, this study discusses broader trends in the conceptualization of security and
important intra-regional differences within Asia in terms of the focus of security policy.

Security defined: survival and beyond

It is crucial to establish what is understood by the term ‘security’. Despite the long history
of the use of this term in policy and scholarly circles alike, this is not a straightforward con-
struct, and security remains a contested concept without a universally accepted definition.
The amorphousness and malleability of the concept reflect the complexity of security issues,
different contexts of security, and the interests of concerned policy actors. All of these factors
are present in the varied understandings and applications of the term ‘economic security’,
which involves a host of issues in different security contexts that are of concern to many
different actors, for example.
The survival of the referent object concerned provides the foundation for conceptualiza-
tions of security (see Buzan, Waever, and de Wilde 1998, 21). The paradigm of realism has

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Kenneth Boutin

supplied the fundamental analytical framework for security, and the study of security is best
established by considering issues such as national independence, state sovereignty, and terri-
torial integrity in terms of external, state-based, politico-military threats. This commonly
is referred to as ‘state’ or ‘national security’, and where security is discussed without further
elaboration, this often represents the terms in which it is understood.
While the realist conceptualization of security remains valid and continues to offer an
important lens through which to analyze security, it has been subject to a sustained challenge
on a number of levels. An increasing number of scholars regard the established perspective
as providing too narrow an analytical framework (see Katzenstein and Sil 2004, 1–2). This
challenge centers on the state, both as the referent object of security and as the source of
threat. This involves approaching security in broader terms, considering threats other than
those stemming from hostile states and their impact at levels other than the state. Observers
have noted that some states approach security in terms that directly consider the safety and
well-being of groups within the state, focusing on the ‘survival, well-being, and dignity’
of people (Caballero-Anthony 2012, 27). Asian states figure prominently in this trend (see
Capie and Evans 2007, 65–75). A growing number of scholars also note that the dominant
conceptualization of security emerged in the particular context of strong, centralized states.
A number of authors highlight the ethnocentric nature of the established understanding of
security (see Ayoob 1986, 5; see also Acharya and Buzan 2010, 6–7). The analysis of security
in Asian states traditionally reflects an overreliance on Western understandings of what this
involves.
Despite the strength of this critique, no alternative approach has entirely supplanted fo-
cusing on the security of the state. Instead, we have a situation of competing orthodoxies,
which generate their own distinct debates and literatures. The general approach that consid-
ers security in a non-state-centric manner has been labeled ‘nontraditional security’ to dis-
tinguish it from the established approach, which accordingly now is referred to by its critics
as ‘traditional security’. These approaches are referred to in this study as ‘intrastate security’
and ‘state security’, respectively, for the sake of clarity.
The intrastate security approach is characterized by its breadth and depth. It is multidi-
mensional in that it encompasses a range of potential security issues, which largely impact
internally and are not necessarily the product of deliberate strategies on the part of hostile
state actors. This approach focuses on referent objects of security below the level of the state,
though it concerns states as well. The focus may be on society as a whole or on particular
groups or even individuals within society, and such ‘societal’ or ‘human security’ concerns
may overlap with or be driven by regime security considerations (see Bourne 2014, 12–14;
Sheehan 2005, 43–52 for useful discussions of this). This is broadly synonymous with the in-
clusive approach of ‘comprehensive security’, which embraces the requirements of intrastate
security alongside those of state security. Broadening the analytical framework to encompass
referent objects of security other than the state and to consider a broader range of security
threats involves some dilution of its center of attention, but this does not come at the cost of
its substantive focus.
While intrastate and state security overlap, this distinction is important. These focus
on different core issues and often generate conflicting policy imperatives, which can prove
difficult to harmonize or to pursue in tandem without unduly compromising important
policy objectives. Security agendas vary greatly between states, but prioritizing conflicting
objectives can prove difficult, forcing political authorities to make difficult policy choices.
This distinction thus provides an important lens through which to analyze security issues in
Asian states.

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 Security in Asian states

The state security approach constitutes a useful point of departure for the analysis of se-
curity in Asian states but provides only an incomplete framework as it is essential to consider
intrastate issues as well. As is discussed in the section that follows, Asian states differ in im-
portant respects from those that have provided the exemplar for the state-centric framework
for analyzing security. Concern over state security remains important in Asia, but security is
understood and approached in terms that extend beyond the state. It is noteworthy that the
Asian region has given rise to innovative thinking on security issues, with its states at the
forefront of the comprehensive security trend and Asian scholars prominent in developing
analytical frameworks for intrastate security (see Buzan and Hansen 2009, 136; and Capie
and Evans 2007, 65–66).

The roots of security in Asian states

Examination of security in Asian states requires an understanding of their historical back-
grounds and their domestic and international contexts, both of which continue to exert
profound effects on how security is understood and approached. The formative experiences
and the domestic contexts of most Asian states are quite distinct from those of the Western
states whose examples inform assumptions about state security. The course of political de-
velopment has been abridged, with most Asian states emerging or re-emerging as indepen-
dent polities over the course of the post-World War II transformation of the international
order, which in Asia saw the end of colonialism. The end of the Cold War constituted an-
other important watershed as the receding influence of non-Asian states provided scope for
pre-colonial frameworks of international politics to ‘reassert themselves’, albeit in new forms
(Alagappa 1998, 65; see also Job 1992, 13).
The domestic context of most Asian states differs significantly from that of the developed
industrial states of Europe and North America. This is a reflection of Asian states’ diversity
in ethnic and other terms. Postcolonial Asian states are much more socially heterogeneous
as a result of colonial powers’ role in constructing what may be seen as artificial political
boundaries in that they do not correspond with any that existed prior to the arrival of the
European powers or that might have emerged otherwise, particularly in Southeast Asia.
The relatively recent emergence or re-emergence of states with weak social cohesion has re-
sulted in processes of state formation markedly different from those of the ‘European model’
(Ayoob 1986, 4). This is most marked in those Asian states that are ‘weak states’ with poorly
developed state capabilities. In Myanmar, for example, central political authority is only
loosely exercised over large sections of the country. Many Asian states remain engaged in
processes of state-building, having had less opportunity to develop into the strong, cohesive
entities that are assumed under the state security paradigm (Friedrichs 2012, 759–60; see also
Tavares 2010, 84).
Relatively weak internal cohesion and political institutions generate particular policy
demands. Political authorities potentially are confronted by the need not only to ensure in-
ternal stability but also to promote or reinforce the legitimacy both of the state and their own
worthiness to lead it (Hughes 2004, 24). Concerns such as these may remain salient even as
developmental efforts produce results. These factors encourage attention to issues that do
not generate similar levels of concern and that are not regarded as security issues elsewhere.
These issues are potentially regarded as more pressing in Asian states than state security issues
such as sovereignty and territorial integrity.
Even where internal cohesion and political development are not problematic, other fac-
tors have produced analogous security perspectives. There are several Asian states where

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Kenneth Boutin

domestic and international factors generate sustained attention to intrastate security require-
ments. In China, enduring concern over regime security encourages the promotion of so-
cioeconomic progress (see Zha 1999, 71–76). In Taiwan, the government’s need to promote
‘human betterment’ and stability, thereby legitimizing the rule of the Republic of China
over that of the rival People’s Republic of China, has driven determined efforts to promote
and sustain economic progress (see Kuo 1985, 281). It is noteworthy that these concerns
survived Taiwan’s post-Cold War democratic transition, demonstrating the scope for regime
security concerns to transcend particular political regimes. Japan, for its part, constitutes an
exception to the regional norm in that it has had a long history as a unified polity and was
never subject to colonial rule, but popular expectations following World War II have served
as the foundation for a security agenda that encompasses intrastate security (see Soeya 1998,
206).
The foundations of state security in the region also are quite deep. These are comprised
of contested and porous borders, many of which are legacies of the colonial period, disputed
maritime boundaries, and interstate politico-military rivalries, some of which are legacies
of the Cold War. Interstate rivalries have been strongest in Northeast Asia, but Southeast
Asia has seen a number of low-intensity conflicts that have been driven or exacerbated by
interstate rivalries. Contested and porous borders are more of an issue in Southeast Asia than
Northeast Asia, but disputed maritime boundaries are the subject of growing concern in
both subregions. State security issues are far from peripheral features of Asian states’ secu-
rity agendas as a result, though the relative importance of state and intrastate security varies
greatly. As discussed later, the salience of state security issues is rising across the region, but
this is unlikely to result in the sidelining of intrastate security concerns in any Asian state.
The drivers of intrastate and state security are mutually reinforcing. State security re-
quirements highlight the importance of and potentially influence approaches to intrastate
security as economic disparities and underdeveloped political institutions may generate or
exacerbate internal security threats, including by contributing to an environment conducive
to the rise of separatist and irredentist movements, with the potential scope for security
threats from domestic groups encouraging attention to internal security issues. Where intra-
state security is concerned, territorial integrity and the scope for effective governance that
comes with stability and sovereignty are highly beneficial.
These features provide the basis for the distinct nature of security in Asian states. This is
characterized by complex policy agendas encompassing a broad range of objectives, which
can be difficult to reconcile and therefore pursue without some negative impact. Political
authorities accordingly often seek to pursue the requirements of intrastate and state security
objectives in parallel, relatively independent of one another. This is demonstrated by the
region’s asymmetric networks of economic and political relations, which manifest in the
development and deepening of economic interdependence between states that regard each
other as threats in state security terms, such as China and Taiwan, and China and Japan.

Security in Asia: states and societies

Asian security perspectives are quite complex. The failure to appreciate the extent to which
this is the case has contributed to the tendency to apply analytical frameworks developed
with other regions in mind when considering security in Asian states. Analyses of this largely
rely on the state-centric framework provided by the Western tradition without considering
the influence of important features of the local security environment. While insights on
the nature of security and how security concerns translate into policy deriving from other

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 Security in Asian states

regions are not entirely inapplicable to the study of security in Asian states, these insights can
only account for security in Asian states up to a point. Analyses of security in Asian states
must take into account the distinct features of security in the region.
There are important differences in security across Asian states, but there are key features
that have exhibited considerable continuity over time that define security in Asian states.
These help to define what effectively amounts to the Asian security paradigm. Regional
understandings of security are characterized by a tendency to approach security in multidi-
mensional and multilevel terms. Security in Asian states is not limited to the security of Asian
states and involves issues that elsewhere largely remain unrecognized as security issues. Pol-
icy concern over the domestic issues regarded as security issues in Asian states is not unique
to them, but elsewhere, such concerns generally remain much more marginal, despite the
post-Cold War broadening of the security agenda in many states. This sets security in Asian
states apart from that in developed states in regions such as Europe. At the same time, it dif-
fers from that of many developing states in terms of the potential clash between the require-
ments of intrastate and state security. This results from the perceived requirement to pursue
economic progress through integration into transnational economic processes.

The key features of security in Asian states

There are a number of key features of security in Asian states. It tends to be approached in
much broader terms than in states elsewhere as a result of the factors outlined in the pre-
ceding section. These states are characterized by the breadth of their security concerns and
the depth of their concern over security issues in terms of the referent objects of security.
Both dimensions, which are interrelated, involve noteworthy internal focuses that are dis-
tinct from the internal security focus that is a common feature of state security, though this
may also be an issue and can overlap considerably if this is the case. The common ground of
intrastate and state security is demonstrated by their shared interest of these approaches in
internal stability.
The fact that the referent object of security is not limited to the state is the most salient
feature of security in Asian states. There is deep concern over the security of groups other
than the state across the region, either in terms of the security society as a whole or that of
particular intra-societal groups. It has been noted for some time that intrastate security ten-
sions in Asian states can be as great or even greater than interstate tensions (see Chong 2010,
132–33). This is reflected in the range of issues that are considered security issues in Asian
states, which is discussed in detail later. Many of these issues directly concern the well-being
and expectations of groups within the state.
The focus of security concern may be broad in that political authorities seek to promote
the security of multiple groups simultaneously. This is facilitated by the fact that the security
requirements of different groups are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Regime and societal
security, for example, may involve distinct elements, but these intersect, and regime and so-
cietal security are mutually reinforcing as a result. The focus of concern can shift over time
in concert with changes in the domestic and international environments. Many domestic
and international trends and developments are beyond the control of state political author-
ities but may be influenced by states. The domestic environment for security in a number
of Asian states has been transformed by their successful pursuit of their intrastate security
agendas, as successful economic development has generated higher expectations. Taiwan
offers an important example of how the focus of security concern can change over time. In
this case, regime security concerns evolved into concern over society as a whole as economic

451
Kenneth Boutin

and political development deepened, so that a strong intrastate security focus survived the
democratic transition, which saw the political opposition supplant the ruling Guomindang
in 2000.
Concern over the security of groups within the state is not an adjunct to concern over
the security of the state. It is noteworthy that Asian states value the security of social groups
sufficiently to seek to promote this regardless of the level of concern over state security,
and not merely at those times when there is no perceived immediate state security threat or
heightened interstate tension. This testifies to the strength of concern over the security of
social groups in Asian states. This has yet to be tested by a major interstate military conflict
between Asian states, but it is probable that even in such a case the security of social groups
would remain important.
The state does constitute a key referent object of security alongside social groups. The
key difference in Asian states is that concern over the security of groups within states helps
to mitigate concern over state security by encouraging political authorities to recognize the
positive contribution of other states to their own security. Viewing other states in non-zero-
sum terms helps to counterbalance the position typically associated with concern over state
security. Thus, while state security is very important in Asian states, it is not as dominant as
it typically is elsewhere.
A correspondingly broad range of matters are understood and approached as security
issues in Asian states. Where intrastate security is concerned, this can involve the survival
of the referent object, including the political survival of ruling regimes but more typically
centers around the condition of their existence, such as socioeconomic issues related to their
quality of life or the circumstances within which they function. This often takes the form of
a focus on specific facets of human or societal security ranging from income levels to access
to education to health issues, including adequate food, water, and health care, that political
authorities can demonstrate their ‘performance legitimacy’ by addressing. Concern generally
is not limited to one or even a few of these facets, with the particular focus of Asian political
authorities varying considerably. One common feature is the level of concern over economic
security, which is widely regarded as crucial to a host of facets of intrastate security (see
­Nesadurai 2006, 7). This involves considering economic security issues in a context divorced
from the focus on the economic basis of defense encouraged by state security.
Not only is it the case that a broad range of issues potentially constitute security issues,
but the perspective involved in Asian states is distinct. It is considered crucial to contribute as
much as possible to the security of the group or groups that are the focus of security concern.
This is most readily apparent in terms of economic progress. This is important to intrastate
security by virtue of its capacity to supply the resources necessary for political authorities to
provide for the security of social groups, but this is not simply a matter of effecting economic
progress. It is just as important that the benefits of economic progress extend as far as possi-
ble, with the intention of minimizing, if not reducing, intra-societal economic disparities.
Such an approach has shaped the economic strategies of a number of emerging industrial
states in Northeast and Southeast Asia, which have successfully delivered general improve-
ments in living standards alongside sustained economic progress.
The importance attached to intrastate security concerns has enabled Asian states to make
an important contribution to our understanding of security. Asian states have broken new
ground in how intrastate security is conceptualized as a result of their explicit engagement
of the issues concerned as security issues. Approaching issues in this manner encourages
consideration of the specific requirements involved and how they can best be attained in the
context of the broader security agenda. Asian states are notable for considering intrastate

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and state security alongside one another. Such a ‘comprehensive’ perspective on security
first emerged in Asia and remains strongly associated with this region (Buzan and Hansen
2009, 136).
Asian states have played a similar role where the concept of ‘resilience’ is concerned.
Resilience concerns the capacity of societies, institutions, or states to survive shocks of a
political, economic, social, environmental, or military nature. Crucially, security threats
may stem from deliberate conventional or nonconventional acts on the part of other state
or non-state actors, relatively autonomous systemic economic processes, or natural disasters.
Even where security threats are understood to arise externally, the focus is on their impact
within states, thus demonstrating the intrastate security roots of the concept. Concern over
resilience first arose in Asia more than four decades ago (see Soehartono 1974). Attention to
the issue of resilience stems from the policy approach encouraged by Asian states’ concern
over intrastate security issues, which entails considerable vulnerability to trends and devel-
opments arising externally.
Attention to intrastate security in Asian states has come at the expense of state security in
the sense that this has served to divert some attention from state security issues, but this in-
volves supplementing rather than supplanting concern over state security. Concern over state
security issues is evident across the region. The form that concern over state security takes is
conventional, with attention to issues such as the integrity of national borders and national
sovereignty common to Asian states. Many of the issues driving concern over intrastate secu-
rity in Asian states reflect colonial legacies in that they derive from or have been exacerbated
by colonial-era developments. Many international borders and maritime boundaries in the
region can be disputed due to their colonial origin, for example. This includes those in the
South China Sea (Raine and Le Mière 2013, 36–38). The same is true of the legitimacy of
states whose existence reflects the influence of a colonial power. In some cases, state secu-
rity concerns involve entrenched interstate rivalries, some of which, notably those of the
Republic of Korea and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, and China and Taiwan,
represent residual conflicts from the Cold War.
The importance of state security is demonstrated by the level of attention accorded to the
issues involved. Political authorities in Asian states devote considerable resources to national
defense and press their territorial and maritime boundary claims with some determination.
This can be seen in the perennial conflict over the South China Sea, where a number of
Asian states have overlapping, conflicting claims, and in the East China Sea, where a number
of features are disputed by littoral states. The region also has seen open military conflict.
During the Cold War, many interstate conflicts were externally driven, but this no longer is
the case. Post-Cold War Asian conflicts largely have been low intensity in nature, but there
is a strong potential for major conflicts, particularly on the Korean peninsula and across the
Taiwan Strait.
The relative importance of intrastate and state security varies between states and there is
not necessarily a stable balance between them, with a number of Asian states demonstrating
the capacity for security priorities to shift considerably over time. It is noteworthy that a
strong focus on intrastate security remains a feature of security in Asian states despite the
persistence of interstate tensions and the potential for conflict in the region. This is despite
numerous unresolved border and maritime boundary issues, many of which are likely to
prove enduring given their complexity and the stakes involved. This contrasts with the much
stronger focus on state security elsewhere. The importance attached to intrastate and state
security renders establishing a clear hierarchy of security concerns a complex and difficult
prospect. This is borne out by the fact that there is no clear subordination of one to the other

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Kenneth Boutin

in any Asian state. This is facilitated by the fact that they can be mutually supporting; trans-
national economic ties conducive to the pursuit of many intrastate security objectives are
greatly facilitated in a stable regional security environment, for example.
In discussing security in Asian states there is an important general distinction to be made
between Northeast and Southeast Asian states. Their dynamics have tended to differ in that
Northeast Asian states have demonstrated significantly stronger concern over state security,
though this has not resulted in neglect of the requirements of intrastate security. This divide
is reflected in substantial differences in defense establishments; those of most Southeast Asian
states are underdeveloped compared to the states of Northeast Asia, being organized and
equipped more for counterinsurgency than for conventional operations against other states.
This distinction gradually is eroding, however, as discussed later.

Security policy in Asian states

Security policy in Asian states stands out in terms of its focus and its approach. Both the
breadth and the pattern of security policy in these states strongly reflect the distinct nature of
their security perspectives. Asian states’ policy agendas generally encompass a diverse range
of objectives and often involve areas that do not generally figure as the province of security
policy elsewhere.
Security policy in Asian states is orthodox enough where state security is concerned. In
all Asian states, there is considerable attention to the requirements of national defense, which
in some cases reflects concern over external threats of an existential nature. State security
concerns drive measures designed to secure borders and exclusive economic zones, and to
support national sovereignty. It is noteworthy that where state security is concerned, there is
a marked preference for dealing with other states bilaterally, even in crisis situations.
State security policy in Asian states often does stand out in having a greater internal focus
than that in developed industrial states. Southeast Asian states in particular have been dis-
tinguished by the extent of their internal security focus. States such as Indonesia, Laos, and
the Philippines traditionally have devoted far greater attention to internal security threats
from domestic insurgent movements than threats posed by other states. A number of these
states are preoccupied with establishing effective control over their national territory. This
has driven the development of defense establishments with internal threats in mind. These
are far better geared to the requirements of counterinsurgency operations than conventional
military operations against foreign states. This is changing only gradually, as is discussed
later.
It is the focus on intrastate security that most distinguishes security policy in Asian states.
The intrastate security requirements of Asian states generate sustained attention to devel-
opment, particularly in economic terms, which is widely regarded as providing the means
of addressing a broad range of security concerns. The importance of economic security in
this sense is manifest in the extent to which many Asian states’ developmental strategies are
geared to intrastate security requirements (see Hu 2004, 277).
The manner in which political authorities in Asian states approach economic security is
significant. The importance attached to ensuring that the benefits of economic progress and
development are as widely distributed as possible ensures that strong support for economic
development often is accompanied by efforts to ensure the relatively equitable distribution
of the benefits of economic progress across society. This has contributed to the relatively
extensive state role in many areas of commercial and public life in Asian states, with politi-
cal authorities seeking to directly govern or indirectly influence a broad range of activities.

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The arrangements involved can be developed collaboratively with relevant stakeholders and
can involve the provision of incentives by the state, or the state can adopt a highly intrusive
role and exercise some degree of coercion. Newly independent Malaysia implemented highly
interventionist economic and social programs in the 1950s and 1960s in an effort to meet
popular expectations, for example (Stubbs 2005, 117–18). In most cases, however, the state
does not dominate the economic landscape.
The policy approach generated by the intrastate security agendas of Asian states carries
with it its own hazards. The objectives concerned are to some extent subjective and popular
expectations tend to rise over time in concert with improving socioeconomic conditions.
This drives political authorities across the region to pursue economic progress through deep
integration into the transnational processes of the global economy, where the prospects for
economic progress and development are widely regarded as much more promising. This is
true even of China following the pivotal policy shift of the late 1970s that ushered in ‘mar-
ket socialism’. This perspective is reinforced by the successes of the region’s export-oriented
emerging industrial states, such as Singapore and South Korea, not to mention Japan at an
earlier point in time, which followed such a path. The popularity of this developmental ap-
proach was not undermined by the Asian economic crisis of 1997–98 or the Global Financial
Crisis of 2007–09. The importance attached to this approach is demonstrated by the willing-
ness to accept asymmetric yet mutually advantageous economic relations. As promising as
this policy approach is, it entails a high degree of vulnerability as it becomes difficult, if not
impossible, to insulate the domestic economy from the effects of economic trends and de-
velopments arising externally. In this the policy requirements of intrastate and state security
conflict. In no case is the tension between them more acute than Taiwan. Political authorities
there have struggled to shape the cross-Strait economic relationship so that it contributes to
the security of the people of Taiwan, without undermining state security (see Chen 2012,
52–56). More porous international boundaries also are problematic from the perspective of
resilience, which encourages efforts to minimize the consequences of shocks.
The hybrid nature of Asian states’ security agendas complicates their pursuit of security.
While there is considerable scope for overlap, particularly in terms of economic security
where knowledge-based high-technology industry-based economic development poten-
tially meets both state and intrastate security requirements, the scope for conflict between
them is just as considerable. This particularly is the case where the imperatives of economic
development and progress encourage economic engagement of states that figure as actual or
potential international political rivals, where it can be difficult to support intrastate or state
security without compromising the other. This produces a security dilemma of sorts, as
measures taken with one in mind may well undermine the other.
The importance of security requirements that conflict encourages their prioritization
by concerned political authorities, but developing a hierarchy of objectives is far from a
straightforward exercise in practice. The difficulties involved can be seen in the flexibility of
the relative weighting of state and intrastate security objectives. Political authorities in many
Asian states have sought to circumvent this problem by compartmentalization, pursuing
state and non-state security relatively independently of each other. This has been manifest
in the contrasting and asymmetric patterns of regional economic and political relations that
have characterized the post-World War II regional political and economic landscape. This is
demonstrated by economic policy, which often involves developing economic ties to states
that are political rivals. In Japan, this separation of business and politics is termed seikei
bunri (Custy and Van Wyk 1994, 64). This translates into a policy approach that seeks to re-
duce rather than prevent vulnerability. Political authorities in Asian states pursue economic

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Kenneth Boutin

relationships involving competition alongside collaboration, however uneasy, in developing

interstate economic mechanisms at the structural level. This state of affairs is only possible
due to the common economic ground provided by the converging developmental interests
of Asian states.
While security policy in Asian states is less state-centric than elsewhere, states play a
central role in addressing security challenges. Political authorities generally adopt a proac-
tive approach to promoting security and largely pursue this on the basis of national efforts,
albeit through engagement of economic processes that transcend national boundaries where
intrastate security is concerned (see Hoadley 2006, 17–18). The national approach of security
policy is even more marked where state security is concerned, as is discussed later.
The requirements of intrastate security are reflected in the range of policy actors that
contribute to states’ security programs. The complex security imperatives of Asian states
encourage holistic whole-of-government if not whole-of-society approaches to security (see,
for example, Hong 2003, 55–56). Security policy communities tend to be comparatively
fragmented as a result, with facets of policy often the responsibility of a varied assortment of
actors. This also encourages engagement of non-state actors. This practice is best developed
in the pursuit of economic progress and development. Political authorities in many Asian
states seek to influence, if not collaborate with, local industry, supporting it in their com-
mon drive for economic success. China was a late convert to this position, but the size and
significance of its non-state sector has grown since the late 1970s, and China’s leaders are
embracing the liberal international economic order.

The common ground of security and security collaboration

The nature of security in Asian states and the perceived requirements of the pursuit of
­security have a significant impact on the regional security landscape. This demonstrates
the importance attached to intrastate as well as state security and testifies to the complexity
of ­pursuing them concurrently, as political authorities seek to pursue them relatively inde-
pendently of each other. The distinct requirements of intrastate and state security are mani-
fest in how Asian states engage each other. In most Asian states, international security policy
is characterized by a marked disjuncture between how these security objectives are pursued,
producing a very uneven pattern of relations.
Converging interests in economic development and progress has underpinned the
emergence and deepening of a network of interstate economic ties in Asia. The often-­
transnational scope of intrastate security threats further encourages interstate collaboration
(Caballero-Anthony 2012, 27–28). The strength of this foundation is manifest in the
­extent of transnational economic integration that marks the region and in the economic
­security-driven collaboration designed to promote sustainable economic development. This
­involves a very uneven mosaic of arrangements; some arrangements integrate states across
the region while others are more restricted in scope, such as those developed under the aegis
of subregional organizations, such as the Association of Southeast Asian Nations.
The importance of economic engagement serves as a constraint on political authorities,
who must be careful to avoid impacting negatively on their own intrastate security objec-
tives. It is noteworthy that there is a general reluctance to exploit economic relations for po-
litical gain in the region. Thus, while the region has witnessed uneven patterns of interstate
economic engagement and even rival initiatives, such as the American-led Trans-Pacific
Partnership and the Chinese-led Belt and Road Initiative, the waging of ‘economic warfare’
is rare in Asia.

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 Security in Asian states

This state of affairs contrasts sharply with that where state security is concerned. The re-
gion is much less formally ordered where state security is concerned, with interstate security
institutions decidedly underdeveloped compared to those that structure the economic land-
scape. Such progress as has occurred has been laborious and very gradual (see, for example,
Moss 2012, 30–32; see also Chong 2010, 133). While a less restrained approach to security
mechanisms now is evident, political authorities in the region continue to demonstrate a
marked reluctance to move beyond symbolic interstate meetings and summits, despite is-
sues that demand attention and calls for collaboration on security issues. The reluctance
to address state security issues multilaterally or even bilaterally produce a regional security
landscape very different from that of Europe.

The study of Asian security and security policy

A brief note about the study of security in Asian states is in order. Scholarly analysis has
tended to follow rather than anticipate security and security policy in Asian states. The
nature of security in Asian states remains poorly reflected in the scholarly literature in
that the relevant literature remains dominated by case- or issue-specific studies, as invalu-
able as these are in their respective areas. The literatures focusing on intrastate aspects of
security and economic security literatures are particularly rich (see, for example, Pempel
2013; Burke and McDonald 2007). That examining Asia’s broader security landscape is less
effective at capturing the complexity of regional security trends. This is despite early recog-
nition of the distinct nature of security and valuable studies of particular facets of security
in Asian states. Recognition of the importance of examining security in Asian states in its
own terms has developed in tandem with the general movement to reconsider the nature
of security, particularly in non-Western contexts. Natasha Hamilton-Hart’s critique of the
‘narrow’ focus of studies of security in East Asia remains valid, however (Hamilton-Hart
2009, 49–50).

The future of security in Asia: a changing of the guard?

Trends in the region are producing a complex new security environment. The gaps between
understandings and approaches to security in Northeast and Southeast Asia and between
Asian and other states are narrowing. Recent decades have seen an important shift in secu-
rity in Asia, with increasing concern over state security evident across the region. In some
cases, this reflects a growing sense of insecurity produced by particular rivals. The perceived
military threat posed by the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea is helping to focus at-
tention on state security in a number of states, for example. This trend is most marked on the
part of Southeast Asian states, but it is noteworthy that there is heightened attention even in
states that traditionally have exhibited greater concern over state security. This is driving de-
fense capability development efforts in Northeast and Southeast Asian states alike, changing
patterns of defense development in Southeast Asia in the process. This is narrowing the gap
between Southeast and Northeast Asian states and contributing to the long-standing debate
over whether or not Asia is experiencing a conventional ‘arms race’ (see Acharya 2013, 9–10;
Bitzinger 2010). A return to a more multipolar regional order, which seems to be in the off-
ing, would further reinforce this trend.
This has the potential to effect a structural transformation of the Asian security landscape,
by producing a regional security environment that is far less conducive to the parallel pursuit
of intrastate and state security. This would render efforts by political authorities in Asian

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Kenneth Boutin

states to pursue their intrastate and state security objectives independently of each other an
increasingly difficult exercise. The eroding boundary between economics and politics has
significant implications for the pursuit of both intrastate and state security in Asian states.
The transformation of security in Asian states will broaden the extent of overlap with
security trends and developments in other regions. Security in Asian states never has been
completely free from extra-regional influence, but in recent decades, this influence has been
muted. There was a Cold War in Asia, but this took a different form and was with notable
exceptions less severe than in Europe. The extent to which Asian security trends and devel-
opments reflect those elsewhere is likely to increase due to the transformation of security in
Asian states, as is the extent to which this transformation is likely to impact outside the region.
A final note on security in Asian states is in order. Asian states are entering uncharted
territory where security is concerned. Security in Asian states likely will remain distinct
from that of states in other regions for the foreseeable future due to the importance attached
to intrastate security requirements and the particular terms in which these are pursued. This
is despite the narrowing divide, which has seen increasing concern over state security in
Asian states alongside a heightened sense of the importance of intrastate security in regions
such as Europe and North America, which have seen an Asian influence in terms of com-
prehensive approaches to security. This is exemplified by the concept of resilience, which
found broader acceptance elsewhere, entering the security vocabulary of the United States
and other Western states following the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Security in
Asian states reflects local understandings and concerns; external actors continue to influence
security developments in the region but not security trends. How issues such as human secu-
rity are understood and approached in Asian states differs from states elsewhere in important
respects, for example (see Acharya 2001, 444–51).

Concluding remarks
While distinct national features ensure that there is no single regional tradition of security,
there are characteristic patterns that define what is usefully conceptualized as an Asian model
of security. The complexity of security in Asian states necessitates considering a relatively
broad range of factors, potentially involving multiple levels of enquiry, in analyzing security
trends and developments. The Asian security paradigm is unlikely to prove transitory, as the
features that have shaped security in Asian states, many of which are products of the colonial
era and to a lesser extent the Cold War, are likely to prove enduring. Asian states will con-
tinue to influence as well as challenge the conventional wisdom on security, and will provide
an important point of reference for analyzing security policy in cases where security agendas
encompass intrastate as well as state security.

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 31
Nationalism in the Asia-Pacific
Prejudice and rationality

Kam-yee Law

Nationalism and peace in the Asia-Pacific region

The resurgence of nationalism in today’s Asia-Pacific region is an undisputable fact that has
been emerging since the end of the Cold War. Nationalism can be theoretically categorized
into ethnic nationalism, civic nationalism, cultural nationalism, state nationalism, and so
on (Smith, 1995). However, these theories made no significant sense to Asia before the late
19th century. In his classical manifesto New People Theory (Xinmin Shuo), Liang Qichao, one
of the most influential thinkers in China during the late Qing Dynasty, argued that before
the 19th century, nationalism emerged as a dominant ideology only in modern Europe.
The dominant ethos engaged in the mind of Chinese statesmen and gentry was culturalism,
while patriotism and the search for national identity were underdeveloped until nationalism
was introduced in China as a defensive strategy in response to the invasion of Western im-
perialism in the late 19th century (Liang, 1974). This path about the histories of nationalism
was basically similar to what had happened to Japan and many other Asian countries.
More than half a century ago, B. R. Sen, the ambassador of India to the United States,
had declared, “There can be no doubt that nationalism is the greatest social and political
force in the life of Asia today” (1952: 108). The movement for national independence in Asia
thrived after World War II, and the nationalism in that age could be understood as a more
compounded kind:

the true nationalist appeal in backward Asia consists not merely in preserving one’s
country from outside control, as might be sufficient in the West, but of constructing
one’s country anew, solving its many problems, uplifting its ragged millions, and mak-
ing its society in every respect where it is now inadequate.
(Sen, 1952: 112)

However, it was pressed down by the ever-growing Cold War between the two rival camps
of capitalist and communist countries.
The end of the Cold War in the 1990s revived various kinds of nationalism, thereby restor-
ing political dynamics in this region nowadays. Asserting national identity and reconciling

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Kam-yee Law

people who were once divided by the Cold War ideology do construct as some contents of
post-Cold War nationalism. Paradoxically, the new tide of post-Cold War nationalism fo-
cuses more on disputes in territorial sovereignty in the Asia-Pacific, which is the most prim-
itive form of nationalism, and synergizes with the ‘energy and resources nationalism’, which
is the new direction of nationalism in the region as it emerges in the 21st century. Conflicts
have expanded to maritime sovereignty, which resulted in a crisis in regional security that
was worse than that in the Cold War era (Collins, 2011). Frequent nationalistic maneuvers
and debates aroused in Japan, South Korea, Vietnam, and the Philippines are directed toward
China because of the dispute in the East and South China Seas (and also including Malaysia,
Taiwan, Brunei, and the Philippines). The sovereign dispute over the Dokdo Island (referred
to as Takesima Island in Japan) between South Korea and Japan also fueled movements in
nationalism from these opposing countries. Among all countries in the Asia-Pacific, China
has been the core of this tidal wave of nationalism because the country has too many disputes
over territorial and maritime sovereignty with its neighboring countries, and its responses to
the disputes are usually assertive. Some of these conflicts caused casualties (e.g. the Spratly
Islands naval battle in March 1988 between China and Vietnam, which caused dozens of
casualties) and hostile military presence, which added insult to the injury for countries in-
volved. Given the hostilities in the South China Sea and Diaoyu Islands (referred to as the
Senkaku Islands in Japan), societies in Greater China have formed their own nationalistic
movements against rival countries. A very notable example of these initiatives is Defending
Diaoyu Islands Movement against Japan in China Mainland, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and var-
ious overseas Chinese communities, which has been reviving from time to time for more
than four decades since the 1970s. Once again, China became the target of concern, which
also reveals the lingering presence of nationalistic disputes inspired by the Cold War’s ideol-
ogy in the Asia-Pacific region in recent years (Vu, 2010).
The booming spirit of nationalism in the Asia-Pacific region causes people to worry
about regional security. The proactive movement of nationalism in China, a country that is
considered an important power in the Asia-Pacific and the second-biggest economy in the
world, will certainly affect the balance of war and peace in the entire region. Other countries
have been closely watching the tides of Chinese nationalism after the end of the Cold War
and the collapse of the Soviet Union. Rhetorically, the Chinese government has emphasized
the peaceful nature of its national development since the launch of the reform and the open-
ing-up policy, particularly after the Tiananmen Square Massacre in 1989, and proposed offi-
cial diplomatic principles, such as “lay low, conceal ability and bide time” (taoguang yanghui)
and “peaceful rise/development” (heping jueqi/fazhan). Despite these efforts, many observers
still continue to believe that Chinese nationalism will evolve into the ideology experienced
by Germany and Japan in the first half of the 20th century, and this form of nationalism is a
potential source of instabilities and conflicts to the region.
To what extent and in what sense are these kinds of worries reasonable? A fair amount
of prejudices have increasingly emerged with the rising attention on nationalism in the
Asia-Pacific region, particularly in China. These prejudices are not only found in Western
countries, particularly the United States, but also in the countries neighboring China, espe-
cially those that have territorial or maritime sovereign disputes with China. These prejudices
hinder people’s judgment on how governments in the Asia-Pacific region should rationally
engage with nationalism. For example, while observers criticize China for ‘bullying’ its
neighboring countries, such as Vietnam and the Philippines, over sovereignty disputes in
the South China Sea, such observers may have overlooked the fact that social movements
in Vietnamese nationalism impede the efforts of the Vietnamese government in dealing

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with diplomatic negotiations, including the one over the South China Sea, in a calm and
moderate manner (Li, 2014). To overview and review the major disputes and conflicts in
nationalism in the Asia-Pacific region after the end of the Cold War, this chapter attempts to
propose two sets of frameworks for analytical purpose ( Jinri Daobao, 2012): The first frame-
work pertains to noteworthy prejudices in reviewing nationalism in the region; the second
framework pertains to the different types of relations and dynamics between government
and nationalism in the region. Integrating the two frameworks and applying them in the
analysis may help in examining and interpreting the trends of nationalism in the post-Cold
War Asia-Pacific region with a more precise and thorough conclusion.

Prejudices in reviewing the nationalism in the Asia-Pacific

These prejudices can be observed in three perspectives. First, nationalism is evaluated on the
ideological ground that is commonplace in democratic countries. Observers from democratic
countries regard acts of nationalism in liberal democracies as reasonable and normal repre-
sentations of the will of the people. In contrast to this view, acts of nationalism occurring in
nondemocratic countries would be regarded as a result of top-down mobilization by author-
itarian regimes. Similar nationalistic assertions and behaviors can be found in China, South
Korea, and Japan; however, Chinese nationalism is usually criticized as a result of prejudice
and stereotyped as an evidence of “the ‘China Threat’” to the region, or even to the world,
following the country’s successful economic reform (Chang, 2001). Nationalism in liberal
democracies is less criticized than the nationalism of China and is even applauded in some
cases. For example, during the several years of rivalry between Taiwan and China across the
Taiwan Strait, Taiwanese nationalism firmly stood by its determination to reject reunion
with China, and this nationalistic determination is vitally connected with its development
of liberal democracy in its political system (Chuang, 2013), gaining great sympathy from
international public opinion led by the United States and Japan against China’s chauvinism
(Friedman, 1999). As one of the most frightening military crises of the post-Cold War era,
the 1995–96 Chinese missile exercises in the Taiwan Strait were viewed as motivated by
Beijing’s desire to interfere in Taiwan’s 1996 presidential elections—the first direct elections
of a state chief in Chinese history and the first chance for Taiwanese voters to express their
sentiments on national issues unmediated by local issues (Nathan, 1999). By sending two
aircraft carriers toward the Taiwan Strait to monitor Chinese military actions, which was
the largest naval movement of the United States in the Asia-Pacific region since the Vietnam
War, Washington’s involvement did not only reveal its ideological stance toward nationalis-
tic contestation but also demonstrated the presence of residual Cold War ethos concerning
liberal democracy versus authoritarianism or communism in people’s interpretation of the
conflict in the region’s nationalism.
Second, prejudices arising from strategic interests can be observed from geopolitical per-
spectives. Some countries often define acts of nationalism in countries that share common
geopolitical and strategic interests as reasonable ones but condemn similar acts of nationalism
in countries with conflicting interests. For example, the United States and other Western
countries allied with Japan, South Korea, Vietnam, and the Philippines opposing China’s act
of nationalism in the maritime sovereign disputes over the East and South China Seas. In
May 2013, Japan extended its air defense identification zone (ADIZ) covers across the dis-
puted East China Sea. Six months later, China established an ADIZ in clear response to the
Japanese extension of her ADIZ. The United States and its alliances in the Asia-Pacific were
mostly inclined to criticize China; Australia’s Foreign Ministry summoned the Chinese

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ambassador to Australia to express its negative regard toward China’s move. Beijing’s asser-
tiveness in the disputes is consolidating Australia’s historical and cultural fears of Asia, and
belief that dependence on a “great and power friend” (i.e. the United States) is fundamental
for the defense of the nation (Scappatura, 2014). A few weeks after China’s act, South Korea
announced its decision to extend its ADIZ to Socotra Rock (referred to as Suyan Islet in
China and referred to as Leodo in South Korea), which is the subject of a sovereignty dispute
with China. Washington immediately expressed its support for South Korea. ADIZ was
actually created by the United States in the 1950s, and Japan defined its ADIZ as early as
the end of the 1960s. This series of quarrels show that the United States and its Asia-Pacific
alliances regard China as a geopolitical rival, and judgment to their rivals’ nationalistic acts is
derived from the alliance’s common strategic interest rather than the appropriateness behind
the acts. To a certain extent, it also sustains one of the theories that U.S. President Barack
Obama’s geostrategy, ‘Pivot to Asia’, has intended to keep the Asia-Pacific since 2011, i.e.
keeping Asia-Pacific divided and dependent on the United States in maintaining the ‘bal-
ance of power’ in the region (Beeson, 2009; Pan, 2014).
Third, prejudices are derived from moral ground, which are populist and intuitive, and
people of all social groups in any society may be involved in judging nationalism from an
over-moralized perspective. Moral judgment often happens between a big nation and a
small nation and between strong power and weak state. People denounce acts of bullying
of big and powerful nations over small and weak ones. By contrast, the challenging acts of
small nations against big ones are celebrated. In the same vein, Chinese nationalism triggers
­negative reactions from other small countries, but the acts of nationalism of these small coun-
tries against China are seldom scrutinized fairly. For example, in the disputes between China
and South ­Korea on border delineation along Tumen River and Hailan River, some right-
wing nationalists in South ­Korea, to agitate for fighting restoration of the territory of ancient
Baekje ­K ingdom (18 BC–AD 660), even claimed that the territory of present Beijing down to
­Zhejiang Province in China should be part of Korea (Hu and Zhong, 2008). This kind of ex-
treme and provocative propaganda without rigorous historical evidence has been embraced by
many South Korea youth. However, international media does not seem to shed sympathy to-
ward unreasonable pressure on China, possibly because South Korea is regarded as a weak one
compared with China. Assertion from the Philippines is even more straightforward in the sense
of over-­moralizing size and power: The image of “the ‘China Threat’” is bound to continue
to loom large for the Philippines and China’s other smaller neighbors basically because of the
asymmetry of power relations involved. “As a rising power, China will find itself caught be-
tween its desire to stand up to and be recognized as an equal by other great powers, and the ap-
prehensions of smaller neighbors that it will become an unfriendly hegemon” (Pablo-Baviera,
2002: 262). Doubtlessly, others have played a role in exacerbating tensions in the region. The
U.S. ‘pivot’ to the Asia-Pacific has undeniably played a significant part in worsening the ten-
sions with China. However, at the end of the days, nations in the region see the little matter of
the concerns of small countries not being given much weight by big and rising China. Hence,
the suspicion and fear of what the future holds, and these small countries’ unfavorable view
of China as “not so neighborly,” has risen over the past decade (Majid, 2014) (see Table 31.1).
These prejudices are commonplace among politicians, public media, or even academics;
often intertwine with each other to be stronger bias and undermine precise analysis. With
these prejudices, nationalism is usually deemed to be a leverage of authoritarian governments
but is overlooked as a constraint against good governance and peaceful diplomacy that blocks
the view of empathetic understanding and appreciation toward some governments’ efforts
in managing nationalistic spirit within normative boundary. Figuring out different types of

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 Nationalism in the Asia-Pacific

Table 31.1 China’s favorability trends, 2002–2014

Japan (%) South Korea (%) The Philippines (%) Vietnam (%)

2002 Favorable 55 66 63
Unfavorable 42 31 30
2006 Favorable 27
Unfavorable 71
2007 Favorable 29 52
Unfavorable 67 42
2008 Favorable 14 48
Unfavorable 84 49
2009 Favorable 26 41
Unfavorable 69 54
2010 Favorable 26 38
Unfavorable 69 56
2011 Favorable 34
Unfavorable 61
2012 Favorable 15
Unfavorable 84
2013 Favorable 5 46 48
Unfavorable 93 50 48
2014 Favorable 7 56 38 16
Unfavorable 91 42 58 78

Source: Pew Research Center (2016).

relations between government and nationalism could be useful for the check and balance of
the analytical prejudices aforementioned and for cultivating a more precise understanding
of nationalism in the Asia-Pacific region, which is the aim of the following section.

Relationship between government and

nationalism in the Asia-Pacific
Theoretically speaking, nationalism deals with the relation of one country with the others.
Its prominent symptom is the one self stands in the right side, while the others are definitely
in the wrong side. In many circumstances, one nation’s acts of nationalism bias against the
others, in the meantime prejudice for itself. Therefore, mishandling nationalism would not
only damage the interest of others but also of itself. History tells people that nationalism
caused several wars and conflicts between sovereign countries, and also inside the countries.
After the Cold War, nationalism continued to exist and even escalated in the Asia-Pacific
region. Concerning the internal conflicts that happen in the sovereign countries, Sarawak
nationalists in Malaysia are not really radical. Regrettably, more are those characterized by
violence and bloodshed, which are more severely attributed to nationalism than the Cold
War, including the Karen people in East Myanmar, Muslims in Southern Thailand, and
China’s ethnic minorities in Tibet and Xinjiang.
Will nationalism in the Asia-Pacific region evolve into violent conflicts or even wars? The
answer to this question hinges on the ways governments are handling their relationship with
nationalism. Although nationalism is inevitable, conflicts and wars are not unavoidable given
the most important role played by the governments in these acts. The government’s way to

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Kam-yee Law

handle its relationship with nationalism could be conceptualized in three types of roles. First,
the government acts as mobilizer, under two different sociopolitical backgrounds—in some
societies without a strong spirit of nationalism, the government utilizes its resources, such as
through organizational and ideological propaganda, to engineer the conditions for the rise
of nationalism that fits government’s strategy to reach its goals. It this case, the government
is an active mobilizer in constructing nationalism. For example, the mobilization of nation-
alism in Europe in the 19th century fortified the sense of identification within nations in
order to fight for founding sovereign nation-states but also caused endless wars and conflicts
between countries. The most typical example of these cases in the Asia-Pacific region is
imperialist Japan on the eve of World War II when the government proactively initiated
heavily aggressive nationalism. Some opinions in recent years, including those from China
(Hu and Zhong, 2008), show concerns over the relapse of Japanese nationalism under
­Korzumi and Abe administrations. Nonetheless, there are observers arguing that the scenario
in China is also another prominent example of this role. To clear the road for launching eco-
nomic reform and opening up, the nationalistic fever during Mao Zedong era was quieten
down for more than a decade after the end of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Since the
regime’s legitimacy was severely struck by political crisis and diplomatic frustration after the
Tiananmen Massacre in 1989, the Chinese Communist Party purposely and strongly forged
patriotism again in education and other cultural domains to remount its legitimacy over the
society, which was founded on resistance against Western powers (Lee, 1996; Wang, 2012;
Zhao, 1997).
Another type of mobilizer finds that nationalistic ideology has been existing in the soci-
ety; governments and politicians utilize the sociopolitical opportunities to pursue their own
interest. For instance, the Democratic Progressive Party in Taiwan is considered as a master
of such maneuvers and not only in local elections; it even won as the ruling party by resort-
ing to this type of mobilization as one of its important election campaign strategies for the
past three decades (Qi, 2012). In Hong Kong, after a series of setbacks in asking for democ-
ratization from the Chinese government and the sense of victimization in a lot of cultural
encounters with mainland Chinese after the return of Hong Kong to China in 1997, the
young generation of political activists finally articulated that Hong Kong people belong to a
‘nation’ different from that of people in Mainland China. This new breed of political activists
advocates self-determination and independence for Hong Kong in dealing with the obvious
blows to the Legislative Council operations and the elections (Chen and Szeto, 2015).
The second type of role that governments play in dealing with nationalism could be con-
ceptualized as a reactor. This view sees nationalism and related sentiment already existing
in the society and reaches their climax every now and then. Some outbreaks happen in re-
sponse to certain events, which leads to other political incidents. Governments are carefully
responding to these crises and potential outbreaks because of their external and internal
impacts. The ethnic nationalism exists within the sovereignty countries is typical example of
this situation, such as aforementioned Malaysia, Myanmar, Thailand, and China. Although
the countries are ruled by authoritarian regimes, these governments’ capacity in dealing with
these nationalistic challenges should not be overestimated since pressure from the tide of re-
specting ‘universal values’ (e.g. multiculturalism, self-determination) driven by globalization
constrains their policy choices (Mackerra, 2004; South, 2011).
The third type of role is like a rider surfing across the previous two contexts and sug-
gests that governments make use of nationalism to legitimize its policies. Once nationalism
comes into being, neither a democratic government nor an authoritarian government could
ignore it. Given that nationalism is an objective reality, governments should leverage this

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resource to legitimize policies. Controversially, quite a few China experts argue that the
Chinese Communist Party did not invent it but mainly depend on preexisting nationalism
(and also drastic economic growth), instead of socialism, to maintain its ruling legitimacy
and strengthen its control and governance after the Tiananmen Massacre in 1989 (Zhao,
1997, 2000). Similar perspective of analysis makes good sense to apply in other Asia-Pacific
countries. To enable Singapore citizens to appreciate the authoritarian ruling of People’s
Action Party, for most of his political lifetime, Lee Kuan Yew constantly reminded them of
threats from Indonesia and Malaysia (Lee, 2011). National unity in Indonesia continued to
deteriorate after the fall of the Suharto regime (1967–98), as a result, the sovereignty dispute
with Malaysia over the Celebes Sea was fittingly used to instigate nationalism to ease the
pressure of democratization and economic difficulties faced by the Indonesian government
(Yaakub, 2010).
The three types of relationships between government and nationalism provide insight
into the trends and changes of post-Cold War nationalism in the Asia-Pacific region. In
China, because of the nonexistence of authentic electoral politics, the legitimacy of the par-
ty-state and its policies is not rooted in public opinion, particularly the nationalistic ideology
of the people. In academic language, the Chinese government is assertive and with high
autonomy in dealing its relationship with nationalism, as proven in the practices of the gov-
ernment over the past few decades. During Mao Zedong era, the society was still weak, and
nationalism was a top-down movement mobilized by the party-state, especially in the poli-
cies in struggle against the hegemony of the United States and the Soviet Union. However,
the Chinese government has aimed to regulate and control nationalism since the new age of
the economic reform and opening-up policy. China also launched patriotic campaigns and
tried to influence nationalism in the society but mainly aims to stabilize the masses internally
instead of stirring up the external world. In the government’s perspective, Chinese nation-
alism is mainly a response of the government toward preexisting nationalism in the society.
As a rising power, China witnesses waves of nationalism that feature increasing spontaneity
in the society, which reveals that nationalism has become an objective reality in China. The
government does leverage this situation to legitimize some of its policies but with consider-
able restraint exercised. No officials from the central to local governments are able or allowed
to hype up nationalism or make use of it to appeal to people. On the contrary, the gov-
ernment focuses on management and regulation of nationalism, even though its restrained
attitude has been often criticized by domestic and overseas nationalists. The non-proactive
participation and guidance from the government leave big leeway for the radical develop-
ment of nationalism at the societal level. Ironically, in the eyes of China’s regional neighbors
(such as South Korea), it is still believed that the nationalistic movements in Chinese society
in recent years (such as the anti-Japanese movement in 2005) are intentionally mobilized by
the central government (Li, 2012). This situation leads to considerable destructive impact
and hyper-pressure on the government, especially when it is dealing with nationalistic dis-
putes with other countries in the region (Gries, 2004; Hughes, 2006). In the light of this
kind of risks, the Chinese government should increase its effort and capacity in this regard
to facilitate the advantages of nationalism to national interest in more rational orientation.
Unlike the approach adopted by the Chinese government, the Japanese government
moves toward mobilizing its nationalism these years. Similar to other developed countries,
mass democracy in Japan increases the difficulty of achieving a government with strong state
capacity. Politicians in Japan often mobilize traditionally existing nationalism with populist
politics in the name of democracy. This practice causes the country’s relations with other
countries to suffer, particularly with its neighbors China and South Korea. Such a tendency

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has getting worse since Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi made use of North Korea’s mis-
sile threat (2012–13) and terrorism in Indonesia and the Philippines to call for the national
debate on the issue of amending Article 9 of the Constitution concerning the substantial in-
crease of military expenditure (Matthews, 2003). Shinzo Abe’s second administration (since
2012) proactively drummed up Japanese nationalism to its peak by standing up to China
over the Diaoyu Islands territorial dispute and demonstrated a determination to endow ­Japan
with the right of collective self-defense. Abe’s nationalistic narrative is that the security leg-
islation is the homework left by the Nobusuke Kishi Cabinet in 1960, based on a desire to
recover full autonomy for Japan as a great power (Kishi is Abe’s grandfather). Strong forces
in Japan appeal to nationalism from the ruling party of the central government and local
political-bureaucratic elites, with mass media’s cooperation, and often receive echoes from
oppositional parties and from the society as well. Compared with the practice in China,
Japanese nationalism is far more top-down maneuvered. Japanese perception of Chinese
aggression in the territorial dispute provided an impending sense of danger that the nation-
alistic Abe administration could use to its advantages (Pugliese, 2015). Regrettably, Japanese
new nationalism’s growth stimulates reactionary nationalism in China and South Korea (and
somehow in Singapore as well) resulting from bruised feelings of national dignity, which has
been unresolved since the end of World War II (Moore, 2014).
Paradoxically, in terms of the relation between government and nationalism, the situa-
tion in South Korea is similar to that in Japan (and probably in China as well), wherein the
government with weak legitimacy or popularity generates a high appeal to nationalism.
Furthermore, South Korean government’s cultural policies served as a political tool, allow-
ing the military regimes (1960s–80s) to enhance its coercive authority and to facilitate the
public’s acceptance of anti-communist rhetoric; the inequalities of rapid economic growth
and state militarism were actually emulating Japanese strategies for cultivating loyalty and
a sense of belonging to the nation. After the transition to civilian authority, nationalistic
cultural policy has often still been revisited—from Kim Young Sam to Lee Myung-bak—
actively looking to the Japanese model, all regimes marshaling nationalistic cultural policies
to legitimize their authority (Park, 2010), while the straw man is not only North Korea, on
an ad hoc basis, and is also hegemonic Japan and China.
Nationalism has also escalated in other Asia-Pacific countries, such as Vietnam and the
Philippines, as a result of their relations with China. These countries are smaller than China,
and their governments are also less powerful than their Chinese counterparts. Therefore,
the governments of these countries also mobilize nationalism to gain legitimacy and relieve
domestic tensions at the cost of their relations with their diplomatic counterparts while
constraining their own autonomy in domestic administration. For example, the clash be-
tween Vietnamese and Chinese boats in the waters of the South China Sea in May 2011
led to a surge in anti-Chinese sentiment among the Vietnamese people. The Vietnamese
government initially took appeasing attitude to the street protests but started restraining
them for fear that the anti-Chinese movement will worsen and switch its orientation similar
to the Arab Spring Democratic Movements (2010–12). These restraining measures were
implemented when Vietnamese anti-communist and anti-government forces located over-
seas penetrated into the movement, such as the Vietnam Reform Party and Thich Quang
Do, who is a Buddhist dissident leader (Li, 2014). However, to avoid criticism for weak
diplomacy, the Vietnamese government adopted a hard-line posture in its relationship with
China, which was of no help for reconciliation. A similar but even much worse crisis hap-
pened 3 years later: A series of anti-Chinese demonstrations regrettably followed by waves
of riots across Vietnam in May 2014 in response to China deploying oil rig to the disputed

468
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South China Sea (referred to as East Asia in Vietnam), dozens innocent ethnic Chinese were
killed. The nationalistic riots did not target people from China only, but ethnic Chinese
from Taiwan, Malaysia, and Singapore were severely victimized. Vietnamese government
was under dilemma and needed to make politically correct definition to the protests offi-
cially as an assertion of patriotism—the government understood the hidden agenda of the
protests were organized to complain about the government’s repression of free speech and
its weak diplomatic attitude toward China. The government’s backlash against the protests
would flare up the anti-government crisis at high risk (Dou and Paddock, 2014).
The spirit of nationalism in small countries, including South Korea and the Philippines,
is often directed against China with the involvement of the United States. To further its
geopolitical ambition, the United States fuels up the nationalism of these small countries by
hyping up their theory on “the ‘China Threat’” (Gertz, 2000; Vairon, 2013). Such tactics
for heating up nationalism increases the complexity of existing international relations and
dims the prospect of constructing a mutually beneficial and peaceful Pan-Asia community
(Shin, 2007).

Concluding remark: hold the double-edged sword rationally

Some governments in a globalized world become weak given the fact that some countries
move toward globalization faster than others. Theoretically, this era is still characterized by
sovereign countries or nation-states, but the governments of these countries can no longer
manipulate people within their jurisdictions the way they traditionally exercised control in
the past. Societal forces are increasingly growing. These forces have functions that enable
them to play an increasingly important role in the international political arena. Nationalism
in societal level can lead to disputes and conflicts between countries that cannot be solved
by their respective governments, thereby compelling them to seek help from other sovereign
governments. Given this possibility, governments of sovereign countries should cooperate
and exercise rationality when dealing with nationalism, instead of instigating nationalism for
their own selfish interest and to scapegoat other countries. Any government should formi-
dably handle preexisting nationalism to facilitate historical experience and address practical
challenges. For example, the restrained and rational attitude of China toward Japan in the
sovereignty dispute of Diaoyu Islands in the 1990s was positively recognized by several ana-
lysts (Downs and Saunders, 1999). Will such a rational attitude of the government be fettered
by the masses’ nationalistic fever due to the great economic achievement over the past two
decades, or the ruling party’s legitimacy anxiety due to the economic downturn during
recent years and the problems to come? Although the Chinese government spends consid-
erable efforts to control forces of social movements, netizens, development of civil society
and democratization in recent years (Law, 2012, 2015), the country’s tighter engagement to
globalization increased pressure on the government to domesticate these societal forces into
a ‘birdcage’.
Nationalism is a complicated issue also because of its paradoxical nature. In some coun-
tries, the government may gain domestic backup for its diplomatic initiative once national-
ism is given the green light. In the other cases, such as in Sino-Japanese territorial dispute,
leaders should be warned that drummed-up grassroots nationalism might tie leaders’ hands
for making concession (Gibler, 2014), especially it ought to note that both the Chinese and
Japanese governments characterize their respective states as responsible upholders of inter-
national order and peace diplomacy in the region. In a Joint Japan-China Public Opinion
Poll conducted in 2014, 63.7 percent of Chinese respondents favored more forceful assertions

469
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of effective control in the Diaoyu Islands, in contrast to 22.7 percent of Japanese respon-
dents (Pugliese, 2015). While Beijing leaders may be at high risk of being hands tied by
grassroots nationalism, Tokyo’s leaders are also at the risk of getting lost in the limits and
complications of top-down push of reviving nationalism. Similar cases probably happen
in the Philippines: It is possible to argue that the contents of nationalism have consistently
eschewed democratic ideals. The nationalistic projects have been carried most forcefully by
nondemocratic political current of the right or the left (Putzel, 2002). Once nationalism
becomes appeased, unmanageable or even spoiled, radical political groups would use such an
opportunity to kidnap the administration, might eventually result in conflicts or even wars
between countries.

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 32
Geopolitics and geo-economics in
Eurasia and the Indo-Pacific Rim
Peter J. Rimmer

In 2013, Xi Jinping, President of the People’s Republic of China, introduced the One Belt
One Road (OBOR) Initiative to underpin the country’s increasing involvement in global
supply chains (Map 32.1). Outlined by China’s National Development and Reform Com-
mission (NDRC, 2015), this long-term international economic and political plan comprises
both the New Silk Road Economic Belt and the 21st-Century Maritime Silk Road. Now
known as the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), this plan encapsulates the key development
strategy that China has been pursuing for over a decade, which is intended to raise the
world’s second-biggest economy’s profile as both a regional leader and a global power.
Not only is China’s infrastructural BRI designed to facilitate policy coordination, in-
ternational transport, unimpeded trade, financial integration and people-to-people bonds
within and between Asia and other continents but also to leverage the comparative ad-
vantages of various regions within China (Wong, 2015). Overcapacity in many of China’s
regional production sectors is to be addressed by using the country’s vast foreign reserves to
give loans for BRI projects in less-developed countries. Besides the financial backing of the
Export-Import Bank of China (Cexim), these investments include US$890 billion through
the China Development Bank (CDB) and $US40 billion under the New Silk Road Fund
(NSRF) (Vien, 2015). Also, the China-led Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB) has
an authorized capital of US$100 billion, and the BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China and
South Africa) New Development Bank has an initial authorized capital of $US100 billion
and a contingency fund of an additional US$100 billion (Hilpert and Wacker, 2015; Zhou
et al., 2015). Much of this investment stemming from the internationalization of the renminbi
(RMB) will be focused on plugging infrastructural gaps in transport and communications.
This task in the Asia-Pacific region alone has been estimated by the Asian Development
Bank (ADB, 2012a: 13) as requiring $US8.29 trillion between 2010 and 2020. In carrying
out this mission, full use is being made of China’s involvement in institutional frameworks,
particularly those in which the country has a leading role, such as the Association of South-
east Asian Nations (ASEAN) Plus China (10+1) Free Trade Agreement, the Asia-Europe
Meeting (ASEM) and the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO).
As the BRI’s land-based corridor stretches from west to east across Eurasia, and the littoral
and maritime crescent extends north to south from the East China Sea through the Indian

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Map 32.1 One Belt One Road Initiative (Source: Based on Xinhua, 2014).

Ocean to Europe, China is brought into direct contact with the great powers of India,­
Japan, Russia, the United States and, potentially, Indonesia. Changes in China’s contact with
the world’s major political entities through its land-based and maritime corridors, covering
65 countries and 4.4 billion people, have important implications for geostrategic discourses
involving the stability of the continent’s political order.
The BRI’s emphasis on networks, connectivity between places and cross-border ties to
create new markets indicates that it falls within the compass of the post-Cold War strate-
gic concept of geo-economics (Sparke, 2007). Associated with the rapid pace of global and
regional integration, this notion contends that economic competition has eclipsed military
confrontation at the center of relations between states. The rise of Asia’s fast-growing econo-
mies, such as China and India, is perceived as having too much to lose from military confron-
tation in which they engage in activities that destroy trust in their relationships with other
countries. Such a consideration is expected to lead to the reframing of territorial security
arrangements to accommodate transnational flows. Further growth dynamism, trade, energy
and regional integration through free trade agreements are seen as the key geo-economics
drivers to overcome low levels of Pan-Asian connectivity. These levels concern multinational
corporations involved in orchestrating global value chains in both manufacturing and ser-
vices because their managers have difficulties in positioning key nodes within their regional
production networks. Nevertheless, the proposition that geo-economics matters inherent
in China’s BRI are eroding geopolitical calculations manifest in trade blocs, barriers and
national borders may be premature (Cowen and Smith, 2009; Lim, 2012; Pradhan, 2014).
Given the emergence of fresh security threats and strategic fault lines, new powers and
a changing international political order in Asia, concerns involving geography, state ter-
ritoriality and world power politics inherited from the imperial era suggest that geopo-
litical calculations are still relevant (Mackinder, 1904; Kaplan, 2012). This renewed focus
on ­realist-driven geopolitical calculations in security issues has revived interest in Alfred
­Mahan’s (1890) notions of sea power embodied in the importance of choke points in fa-
cilitating the control of sea lanes, Sir Halford Mackinder’s (1942 [1919]: 113) dictum that
“Who rules the World Island commands the World”, and Nicholas Spykman’s (1944:13)

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Peter J. Rimmer

counterpoint that “Who rules the Rimland controls Eurasia: who rules Eurasia controls the
destinies of the World”. These observations raise the issue as to how the great powers will
react to the worldview of China’s strategists and their audiences in terms of the interplay
between geopolitics and geo-economics. Will their actions lead to greater cooperation to
manage new security threats and expansion of their political and security relations to con-
solidate economic interdependencies?
Mapping and studying China’s BRI in all its political and economic complexity needs
to be employed to address grounds for optimism and pessimism in Asian politics. Initially,
the Silk Road Economic Belt is examined in light of the series of land-based transnational
corridors designed to bring about the economic integration of Asia’s major subregions. Then
the Maritime Silk Road is considered as a crescent that encompasses key gateways, ports
and shipping lanes between China and Northern Europe. As the South China Sea is Asia’s
most important littoral and contested maritime space through which there are heavy flows
of oil and commerce, China’s ambit claim is subjected to a more detailed investigation. The
concluding section reflects upon China’s ability to operate simultaneously in Asia’s land-
based and maritime strategic arenas, and the extent to which geopolitical controls are being
eroded through the rise of geo-economic calculations intended to accommodate suprana-
tional flows.

Land bridging
China’s Silk Road Economic Belt is planned to accommodate the progressive westward
shift in the country’s industrial capacity from coastal to inland provinces. The Belt will
provide the growing economic centers of Chengdu, Chongqing and Wuhan in the middle
Yangtze region, and other key hubs in the domestic logistics network such as Xi’an and
Zhengzhou, with greater connectivity to Europe and market access to a total population of
3 billion (Lam, 2015; Rimmer, 2014). Nevertheless, implementation of the Belt across
­Eurasia is fraught with problems, particularly where there is not good governance in recipient
countries. As transit countries do not always benefit from the movements of trade and com-
merce across their borders, Beijing has developed 35 special economic zones along the Belt
to take advantage of any distortions between adjacent economies (Wong, 2015). Even then,
there are issues of harmonizing custom procedures, technical standards and trade tariffs, and
the need to obviate costly delays at border crossings. These problems have bedeviled other
mooted Eurasian projects (Economic Commission for Europe and Economic and Social
Commission for Asia and the Pacific, 2008). Unlike these past proposals, China does have
the financial wherewithal to carry out regional integration across national borders. Already
DHL Global Forwarding, a division of the Deutsche Post DHL Group, has announced an
inaugural 14-day multimodal service across the Belt, departing from Lianyungang in China,
traversing Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan and Georgia and transiting the Caspian Sea and the Black
Sea en route to Istanbul (DHL, 2015). Provided investments are made in the China’s cold
chain infrastructure, these developments would allow imports of fresh food from Europe.
The Silk Road Economic Belt is the central corridor among the three Eurasian land
bridges originating in China that stretch across steppes and deserts with the Arctic to the
north and the Himalayas to the south (Map 32.2). A northern land corridor links China’s
northeastern region via Central Asia and Russia to the Baltic; and a southern land corridor
ties China’s northwestern region to West Asia. Secondary routes interconnect all three
corridors and China with Southeast Asia to provide the country’s southwestern region with
access to the sea. Drawing upon its financial liquidity and surplus productive capacity, the

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Map 32.2 Major economic corridors.

Source: Ref. Rimmer (2014: 420).

progressive implementation of these routes will strengthen the country’s re-emergence as

a Eurasian land power and directly affect Russian, Japanese and Indian political and eco-
nomic interests.
The Russian Federation’s Eurasian land bridge, afforded by the Trans-Siberian Railway
linking the Baltic and the Pacific, has allowed Moscow to pivot to the country’s resource
rich Far East in the immediate aftermath of the breakup of the Soviet Union. Initially this
shift enabled Moscow to maintain political, economic and cultural control over the land-
locked and sparsely populated Central Asian countries—Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan,
Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan—despite their joining Afghanistan and Mongolia among the
ranks of independent states. By the mid-2000s, Russia still maintained security control over
its ‘near-neighbors’, but they have come increasingly under the thrall of China’s trade domi-
nance. These Central Asian landlocked countries, marked by semi-authoritarian governments,
narrow economic bases and varying degrees of domestic instability, would have preferred a
north-south corridor to the Indian Ocean (Wesley, 2015). Nevertheless, they are being incor-
porated through China’s ‘go west policy’ into the country’s alternative economic corridor to
the Trans-Siberian Railway as a means of linking East Asia to the Mediterranean. Shackled
by European Union sanctions over its acquisition of Crimea, troublesome relationships in the
Caucasus and difficulties in establishing its own Eurasian Economic Union and Eurasian De-
velopment Bank with Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, Moscow has had to seek
a different axis by joining China and four of its former satellites in the SCO (Ghoshal, 2016;
Rogan, 2016; Sussex, 2015; Weitz, 2016). This has led Russia to pivot to Eurasia; suppress past
disputes over its common border with China; acquiesce, at least in the short term, in the loss
of control over the buffer zone’s trade in Central Asia; and engage in exchanging raw materials
with China in return for the country’s financial backing, technology and industrial capacity.
Japan has long prioritized Asian regional integration in a way akin to the United States’
policy emphasis on democracy. Consequently, the country’s overseas aid program has been
planned to provide opportunities for the country’s small and medium businesses by invest-
ing in regional transport and logistics systems within Asia. The ADB, to which Japan is the

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Peter J. Rimmer

principal contributing member with the United States, has complemented these efforts by
fostering the geo-economic drivers of growth dynamism, trade, energy and regional inte-
gration as well as by building infrastructure across national borders to create a ‘seamless’ Asia
(ADB and ADBI, 2009).
Since 1992, the ADB has been promoting the ‘economic corridor’ concept to attract in-
vestment and generate commercial activity in adjacent less-developed areas through invest-
ments in transit routes and energy networks (Brunner, 2013; Srivastava, 2011). Based upon
the foundation of an efficient transport, communications and energy system, the corridor
concept is designed to attract investment and generate economic activities within 100–150
km of its spine. Besides upgrading infrastructure, the corridor is also designed to provide
long-term advantages to both businesses and industries located within its sphere of influence
by decreasing transport and communications costs, improving delivery times and reducing
inventories. Apart from promoting further economic growth and regional development, the
overriding aim of the ADB’s program of economic corridors is to reduce poverty.
Under Japan’s leadership, the ADB has developed a raft of economic corridors to bring
about economic development through the cross-border integration of markets (Map 32.3).
Their numbers include six corridors across landlocked Central Asia that link the region’s
economic hubs to one another as well as to global markets (ADB, 2006, 2012b). Some
of them have been incorporated in China’s grander Silk Road Economic Belt concept.
­A lthough Japanese interests have long included the northern and central long-distance cor-
ridors across Eurasia, the country’s foreign aid has been directed to the shorter-distance
corridors across the Southeast Asian peninsula to forge east-west and southern economic
corridors between Vietnam and Myanmar via Thailand and Cambodia. Cutting across the
Japanese Government’s efforts at regional integration in Southeast Asia’s Greater Mekong
Subregion (GMS) is the ADB’s north-south economic corridor from China’s landlocked
Yunnan Province and Laos, which will incorporate a planned high-speed rail link between
Kunming and ­Singapore. Also cutting across the pioneering efforts of the Japanese freight

ECONOMIC CORRIDORS
Omsk Novosibirsk
ATLANTIC Moscow
OCEAN 6 1
Irkutsk
Astana 3 4
Europe 4 Ulaan
6 1 Bataar Harbin
4
Urumqi Vladivostok
2 Tashkent 1 4 Beijing
Baku
Dunshanbe 2 Kashi Pyongyang
Tianjin
Ashgabat 5 Seoul
3 Kabul Xi’an Busan
Qingdao Tokyo
Middle East Islamabad
Shanghai
16 New Delhi Chengdu
Wuhan
Kathmandhu Chongqing
Gwadar 7 16
Karachi Kunming Taipei
Corridor number 6 5 Dhaka 8 12 10
10
Capital Kolkata
Hong Kong PACIFIC
Hanoi 7 OCEAN
Mumbai 14
Logistics center 9
8 13
Bangkok
13 14 Manila
Chennai 11 15 9 11
12
Phnoh 15 11
Penh 10
Northern Russian
Northern
Europe
Europe B
4 Federation Kuala Lumpur
Singapore
C
2
Southern
A
5 INDIAN
Southern
Europe
Europe OCEAN Port
D
1 Asian-Pacific Jakarta Moresby
Middle East & Rim
South Asia E
3
MAJOR TRANSIT TRADE DIRECTIONS pjr

Map 32.3 Economic corridors.

Source: Ref. Rimmer (2014: 420, 422).

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 Geopolitics and geo-economics

forwarder, Nippon Express (NE, 2016), to link Shanghai and Singapore is the proposed
­China-Indo-China International Corridor to facilitate economic integration between China
and ASEAN by connecting Nanning and Singapore, and providing a link to Guangzhou and
Hong Kong. These two corridors will extend Beijing’s influence over trade in Southeast Asia
at the expense of Japan, particularly in Cambodia and Laos (Santasombat, 2015).
India has also been concerned about the strategic impact of the north-south ‘secondary’
corridors emanating from China into Southeast Asia and South Asia, which circumvents the
disputed portions of their common 4,056 km border, and which led to the 1962 Sino-Indian
War. China has sought to use the north-south economic corridor from its Yunnan Province
through Myanmar and Bangladesh to gain access to the Bay of Bengal. Also, China has in-
vested in the north-south China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) from Kashgar in the
remote Xinjiang province via the Karakoram Highway to the port of Gwadar on the Arabian
Sea—a joint undertaking between the AIIB and the ADB that is being routed via Islamabad
and Lahore to avoid the troubled Baluchistan province in west Pakistan (Ashraf, 2015). The
proposed east-west Bangladesh, China, India and Myanmar (BCIM) Economic Corridor to
link Afghanistan is not currently a feasible political proposition due to unfavorable regional
dynamics impairing direct trade connections. New Delhi’s response has been to adopt a
‘look east-act east’ policy to integrate with Southeast Asia because the country’s firms are less
deeply embedded in regional production networks centered on China as the ‘world factory’
(Kapur and Suri, 2013). Aided by the ADB, India has sought to develop a stronger east-west
economic corridor with Southeast Asia by land, sea and air (ADB and ADBI, 2015; De and
Iyengar, 2014; RIS and AIC, 2016). Also, by co-opting Tokyo’s assistance to improve basic
domestic logistics networks, New Delhi has been offering Japanese firms an alternative lo-
cation to China ( JETRO, 2009).
Thus, India, Japan and Russia have differed in their reaction to the Silk Road Eco-
nomic Belt and associated corridors, which are rooted in China’s prioritization of land-based
cross-border ‘connectivity’. Nevertheless, Beijing has realized that an exclusive terra-centric
approach mirroring the continent’s east-west economic geography fails to recognize that the
port is also at the border (Rimmer and Dick, 2012). Both investment and good governance
are required to make the port more efficient, especially where it is part of an extended coastal
metropolitan region functioning as a global gateway replete with international airport and
teleport connections (Rimmer, 2014). As access to these gateways is important in any polit-
ical calculus, China has added the Maritime Silk Road to the country’s vision and actions.

Littoral and maritime crescent

China’s 21st-Century Maritime Sea Road in the BRI representation reflects Beijing’s blue-
print designed to strengthen global trade links by establishing a blue water fleet underpinned
by a network of port facilities. The Sea Road plan is much narrower in focus than the Silk
Road Economic Belt, because it excludes neighboring Russia, the North Pacific archipelagic
power of Japan and even regions of China from consideration, despite their collective north-
south maritime comprehension of Asia’s economic geography.
Russia’s ports in the Far East underpinning the country’s Pacific and Arctic ambitions
are not featured, despite the northern shipping route becoming more accessible with cli-
mate change and giving both China and Japan an alternative source of oil that bypasses the
­Malacca Strait choke point (Alekseev, 2013; Oleynikov, 2013). Variability in seasonal ice
melting and the absence of ports on the Arctic route for container operations, at least in the
short term, presumably account for them being ruled out from China’s vision.

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Peter J. Rimmer

Japan’s ports, like those in South Korea, are not included in the Maritime Sea Road,
seemingly because they are primarily concerned with transpacific shipping. Their omission
means that the stepping up of Tokyo’s military response to claims by China and Taiwan to
sovereignty over the Japanese-administered Senkaku Islands located within Beijing’s 2013
East China Sea Air Defense Identification Zone (ADIZ) can be avoided in the formulation
of China’s grand vision and actions. Also, this task can be accomplished without any need to
consider the issue of North Korea.
China’s major port complexes in the Bohai Rim and the Greater Shanghai regions are also not
included in the Maritime Sea Road, because they are primarily engaged in the trade with North
America. Indeed, China’s plan of offering alternative shipping routes to Europe and enhancing
energy security is to link major gateways in coastal regions south of Shanghai, including Hong
Kong, Macau and Taiwan, across the Pacific and Indian Oceans, and through the Suez Canal, to
their counterparts in the Mediterranean and Northern Europe. This plan is intended to support
Fujian province becoming one of the Sea Road’s core areas, consolidate the ­Guangdong-Hong
Kong-Macau Big Bay extended metropolitan area, strengthen port construction along the coast
and reinforce the functions of major international airports, such as Guangzhou.
The origins of the Maritime Sea Road Strategy can be traced through state-directed
mergers of domestic shipping companies and port operators to create national champi-
ons that can ‘go out’ and compete internationally. This process has foreshadowed further
outward investment, as the country’s biggest state-owned shipping companies and port
operators have exercised China’s increasing financial clout to invest in a range of overseas
ports that fit the Sea Road strategy at little risk to the economy as a whole (DMR, 2015).
Between 2013 and 2015 Grison Peak, the London investment bank reported that the key
recipients of China’s government-backed lending were typically its state-owned corpora-
tions operating in countries along rapidly expanding sea routes; this investment pattern has
complemented Beijing’s maritime strategy of combining offshore waters defense with open
seas protection (CIR, 2016).
The state-owned China Ocean Shipping Company China Shipping (COSCOCS), con-
trolling one of the world’s largest fleets of container vessels, dry bulk ships and oil tankers,
has acquired outright control of the Greek port of Piraeus and shares in ownership of the
ports of Antwerp and Zeebrugge, Port Said and Singapore (Map 32.4). Also, the state-
owned conglomerate, China Merchants Group (CMG), the country’s largest global port
operator based in Hong Kong, has made investments in the ports of Colombo and Djibouti
that promise higher returns than China’s mining ventures. However, Djibouti is to also
double as China’s first overseas military base to support its decade-long anti-piracy ef-
forts, humanitarian assistance and disaster relief operations in the Gulf of Aden. Although
China’s proposed first Indian Ocean naval base in the Maldives has not been pursued,
the country is seeking a permanent naval base upon the island of Seychelles for logistics
operations.
Chinese built, owned and operated deep-water regional ports complement the invest-
ments by the COSCOCS and the CMG. Their numbers include Gwadar and Karachi in
Pakistan, Chittagong in Bangladesh and Khauk Phyu (Sittwe) in Myanmar. Not only do
these ports provide access to and from China’s western provinces, but also, they offer an
alternative to the Strait of Malacca choke point through which 80 percent of the ­country’s
oil supply passes. Despite varying degrees of domestic opposition to the deployment of
­Chinese workers in these port projects, their adverse environmental impacts and flooding of
local markets with Chinese goods and exports, Bangladesh, Pakistan and Sri Lanka have
encouraged China’s investments as an effective counter balance to India’s regional hegemony

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Map 32.4 China’s port investments (Source: Soberana, 2006; Drewry, 2015).

(Khanandawaarachchi, 2015). Indeed, China’s greenfield investment in Sri Lanka’s new con-
tainer port of Hambantota is also intended to double as a rest and recreation center for the
country’s navy. These developments have prompted a response from India, Indonesia and
the United States.
Indian defense analysts and media have seen the Maritime Silk Road as a reincarnation
of the ‘string of pearls’ characterization of China’s maritime strategy coined by American
defense contractors (MacDonald et al., 2004; Pehrson, 2006). New Delhi is concerned about
China’s port investments in Bangladesh, Myanmar, Pakistan, Sri Lanka and, possibly the Kra
Isthmus in Thailand, leading to the country’s stronger naval presence in the Indian Ocean
and ‘containment’ of India. In particular, China’s refurbishment of the port of Colombo to
accommodate the new generation of mega container ships could siphon up to almost one-
third of India’s transshipments from its own less-streamlined ports and leave the country
vulnerable to dependence on a foreign outlet. The degree to which these developments will
affect India’s security is debatable. Ultimately, this may not be significant because China’s
navy will employ a mobile platform similar to those used by the United States expeditionary
forces to maintain its influence over the Maritime Silk Road from the sea. Nevertheless,
New Delhi has countered China’s Indian Ocean activities by engaging in developments in
Mauritius, the Maldives, Nicobar Islands and the Seychelles and extending its own naval area
of operation into the western Pacific.
Indonesian observers are also wary of China’s Maritime Silk Road concept and have
countered with Jakarta’s own ‘global maritime axis’ in which the country features as a ‘Pan
Indo-Pacific’ hub (Shakhar and Liow, 2014). President Joko Widodo has espoused this no-
tion of straddling the two oceans in a bid to transform Indonesia into a maritime power. By
interconnecting the Indonesian archipelago, the plan is to leverage the country’s maritime
corridors and choke points to boost trade and commerce that, in turn, will contribute to
the acquisition of a more advanced naval capability to discourage external incursions into its
waters. These developments have led Indonesia to engage more closely on security matters
with India, Japan and the United States, while taking advantage of China’s rapid economic

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Peter J. Rimmer

development. The latter is evident in Jakarta accepting China’s bid over Japan’s offer to build
Indonesia’s high-speed railway (Syailendra, 2015).
The United States’ uneasiness with China’s Maritime Sea Road is more complex.
­Washington had underpinned its naval supremacy in the Pacific region through bases in
Alaska, Australia, Japan, Hawaii, the Philippines and South Korea to ‘contain’ the Soviet and
­Chinese navies (Map 32.5). By 1987 China’s late Admiral Liu Huaqing (1916–2011), echoing
Mahan’s ideas, had marked out three offshore defense lines in a long-term shift from China’s
prevailing coastal defense strategy to focus on establishing control within the ‘first island
chain’ and progressively moving foreign navies from this domain. According to Beijing, such
an action would be merely akin to the United States acquiring islands in the western Pacific
under the Monroe Doctrine and then proclaiming any intervention by external powers in
its waters as an act of aggression. In 1991, an opportunity to move from rhetoric to action
in pursuing Liu’s strategic architecture was provided by the enforced withdrawal of the US
Navy from Subic Bay and the Clark Air Base in the Philippines following the eruption of
Mount Pinatubo (Winchester, 2015). The 1992 Law of the People’s Republic of China on the
Territorial Sea and the Contiguous Zone (PRC, 1992), confirming Beijing’s claim to territory
within the first island chain, occurred when China’s economy was beginning to benefit from
significant transfers of technology and knowledge by multinational corporations in return
for them gaining access to the country’s consumer market.
Since 2000, members of the US Congress have been concerned about the security im-
plications of China’s emergence as an economic power. This anxiety has led the US Office
of the Secretary of Defense to detail the China’s military and security developments in an
Annual Report to Congress. The Reports underline the importance to the United States of
maintaining critical sea lines of communication (SLOC) that run through several major

Map 32.5 Indo-Pacific naval ports (Source: AG, 2016: 70; Winchester, 2015: 390–391).

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maritime choke points, including the Strait of Hormuz, Strait of Malacca, the Lombok Strait
and the Strait of Maghreb (OSD, 2016). An initial focus pursued by Congress was on the
Hong Kong-based Hutchison Port Holdings’ global network of ports owned by the tycoon
Li Ka-shing to substantiate ties between the transnational corporations and the Chinese mil-
itary (Olivier, 2006). As this accusation did not gain traction, attention of the Secretary of
Defense turned to detailing evidence that China was building a deep-water navy and map-
ping the ever-increasing range of its intercontinental ballistic missiles. In 2009 Washington’s
‘pivot to Asia’ and ‘rebalancing’ from the Middle East (‘the Central Region’) reflected the felt
need to counter China’s growing power in the ‘Indo-Pacific region’, mirrored in the country
being given preferred access to an increasing number of commercial ports (Green et al., 2016;
Pan, 2014). This has raised the issue as to whether the US Seventh Fleet can keep pace with
China’s naval expansion in the longer term (Till, 2015; Yung and Wang, 2016).
As an economic counter, Washington had been involved under President Barack Obama
in negotiating the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) as a regional trade agreement involv-
ing Brunei Darussalam, Japan, Malaysia, Singapore and Vietnam among its Asian members
(Table 32.1). Had this arrangement been ratified by incoming President Donald Trump, it
would have brought China’s neighbors closer to the United States and reduced their depen-
dence on Chinese goods and in the process would have strengthened American corporate
influence over the rules affecting the international trade. Given the TPP has not been rati-
fied, greater impetus would now be given to the Regional Economic Partnership (RCEP)
that includes Japan but excludes the United States. While both the United States and Japan
are members of the ADB, they are not founder members of the AIIB, in which China has
the dominant equity of 29.8 percent (Devonshire-Ellis, 2015). Despite pressure from Wash-
ington upon allied countries, such as Australia and the United Kingdom, both have joined

Table 32.1 Membership of institutional frameworks and regional development banks, 2016

Institutional frameworks Regional development banks

Trans-Pacific Regional Comprehensive Asian Development Asian Infrastructure

Partnership Economic Partnership Bank Investment Bank

Acronym TPP RCEP ADB AIIB

Established 2016a Proposed 1966 2015
Headquarters — — Manila Beijing
China 0 1 1 1
Japan 1 1 1 0
India 0 1 1 1
Indonesia 0 1 1 1
Russia 0 0 0 1
United States 1 0 1 0
Other Asia 4 10b 44c 31d
Rest of world 6 2 19 22e
12 16 67 57
a
Signed 4 February 2016 but not ratified.
b
10 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN).
c
13 Pacific Islands and Taipei, China.
d
Includes 9 Middle Eastern States.
e
Includes 17 European states, 2 each from Africa and Oceania and 1 from South America.

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Peter J. Rimmer

the AIIB along with India, Indonesia, Malaysia and Vietnam. These ‘defections’, according
to Joseph Stiglitz (2016), suggest that trade deals under the TPP would have been unlikely to
tilt the balance of economic power in favor of the United States, especially given the billions
of dollars that China has available for supporting the Sea Road’s infrastructure development.
The varying anxieties of India, Indonesia and the United States about China’s Maritime Sea
Road have been heightened by Beijing’s claim to 90 percent of the South China Sea. As this
claim has been boosted by the China’s improved anti-access/area denial capabilities (A2/AD),
concerns have been raised over the country’s long-term intentions and their impacts on
international security. All regional countries want to maintain freedom of navigation and
flights over the South China Sea without seeking permission or notifying China. As this is
one of the most contentious issues in Asian politics, it is considered in more detail.

South China Sea

China has employed the ‘nine-dash line’ to assert its sovereignty to islands, rocks and reefs in
the South China Sea covering 3.5 million square kilometers (Map 32.6). China’s historical
rights to both the Paracel Islands and the Spratly Islands, according to Beijing, go back to the

Map 32.6 South China Sea.

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 Geopolitics and geo-economics

Han Dynasty (206 BCE–220 CE). During the early 15th century, China’s strong maritime
tradition was also confirmed by Admiral Zheng He’s expeditions to the Indian Ocean and
Africa. All of this activity predated the international carve up of Asia by Western powers in
the 19th and 20th centuries when China was conspicuously weak and unable to assert the
country’s diplomatic rights to the South China Sea. China’s impotence at this time has left an
indelible ideational legacy that drives Beijing’s need to have a maritime reach commensurate
with the country’s current economic power.
Since the early 20th century, cartographic skirmishes over China’s claims to the South
China Sea have gained momentum. A series of national atlases have shown the South China
Sea as part of China, but it was not until 1947 that an 11-dashed line appeared on Chiang
Kai-shek’s national government map to encompass both the Paracel Islands and the Spratly
Islands (Malik, 2013, 2014). In 1949, the Government of the People’s Republic of China
adopted this representation as its official map, but four years later, two dashes in the Gulf of
Tonkin were removed to make it a nine-dash line. Then, in 2006, China elevated its histor-
ical claim to the South China Sea as a ‘core interest’ within which the country has the right
to act with impunity. In 2009, China’s claim gained official status when it asserted its rights
to the country’s traditional fishing grounds in the South China Sea in a diplomatic note to
the United Nations Secretary-General. Before 2009, there is no formal record of China’s
claim under the 1982 United Nations Convention of the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) that
came into force in 1994 to address the rights of coastal states and the freedom of navigation.
Since 2012, notwithstanding the Convention, China has escalated its claims to the South
China Sea to provide a safe haven for its naval forces based on Hainan Island. This has
involved land ‘reclamation’ and infrastructure construction at outposts within the Spratly
Islands, which, on completion, will include airfields, communications and surveillance sys-
tems, harbors and logistics facilities. These civil-military installations have enhanced China’s
presence in the South China Sea by enabling its air force, upgraded coast guard and navy
to exert greater control over both air and maritime space (ONI, 2015). This ‘low-intensity
coercion’ is also advanced through punitive trade policies such as tariffs, tourism restrictions
and limits to foreign direct investment on countries adjacent to the South China Sea.
China’s coast guard has maintained a continuing presence on Scarborough Reef to un-
dertake patrols to justify the country’s inalienable right to sovereignty over the South China
Sea. Both China and the Philippines claim sovereignty over the Scarborough Reef and the
Second Thomas Shoal. The Philippines have posted military personnel on a sunken vessel
moored on the latter island, whereas China has based coast guards at both locations. In
October 2015 an arbitral tribunal, constituted at the request of the Philippines Government
calling for a halt to China’s construction, decided it had the jurisdiction under Section XV
Settlement of Disputes of the UNCLOS (1982) to decide whether a feature could generate
an entitlement beyond 12 nautical miles island to an exclusive economic zone (EEZ) of 200
nautical miles or a continental shelf. Although China is a party to the Convention, Beijing
declared in advance that it did not accept the jurisdiction of the tribunal on this matter and
would not abide by its determination. But China’s declaration did not halt the tribunal pro-
ceeding with the case.
On July 12, 2016, the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA, 2016) in The Hague con-
cluded that there was no legal basis for China to claim historic rights to areas within the
nine-dash line. Despite Chinese navigators and fishermen making use of the islands in the
South China Sea, the tribunal declared that there was no evidence that China had histori-
cally exercised exclusive control over its waters or their resources. None of the artificial is-
lands built by China on low-tide areas or rocky outcrops were capable of generating an EEZ.

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Indeed, the tribunal found that China “had violated the Philippines’ sovereign rights in
its exclusive economic zone by (a) interfering with Philippine fishing and petroleum ex-
ploration, (b) constructing artificial islands, and (c) failing to prevent Chinese fishermen
from fishing in the zone” (PCA, 2016: 2). Further, China’s land reclamation projects and
construction of artificial islands have done irreparable harm to the coral reef environment,
which has been compounded by harvesting endangered sea turtles, coral and clams.
The favorable outcome of the tribunal’s benefits the Philippines and has a likely positive
flow-on effect to Indonesia, Malaysia and Vietnam in their dealings with Beijing. Already
the Philippines has received US$9 billion in loans from China as part of US$13.5 million
in deals (Koty, 2016). Indonesia has been seeking to repel Chinese fishermen near Natuna
Islands; Malaysia is in dispute with China over the Luconia Shoals that have rich fishing
grounds and possibly natural gas and oil reserves; and Vietnam has been at loggerheads with
China over the location of a hydrocarbon drilling rig near the Paracel Islands 180 nautical
miles from Hainan Island and 120 nautical miles from the Vietnamese coast. Also, Taiwan
contests portions of China’s territorial and maritime claims (a tenth dash was inserted by
China in 2014 to cover both the South China Sea and Taiwan). Although all of these terri-
tories affected by China’s claims, except Taiwan, are members of the ASEAN, no common
policy has emerged covering the South China Sea. Indeed, Beijing has reached a consensus
with Brunei Darussalam, Cambodia and Laos that China’s claim to the South China Sea
should not disrupt relations with the Association. This has led Indonesia, Malaysia, the
­Philippines and Vietnam to seek support from allies outside the region to counterbalance
China’s growing assertiveness. Although not parties to the dispute, Japan and the United
States have responded to this request in different ways.
Japan has been active in developing a maritime pivot to the South China Sea to support
the switch in its corporate investments from China to Southeast Asia (Koh, 2015). Capacity
building support has been provided to the Philippines and Vietnam in the form of patrol
boats, and both Malaysia and Indonesia have received coastguard training. This assistance
has stopped short of involving Japan’s Special Defense Forces in the South China Sea due to
restrictions upon its activities imposed by the current Japanese Constitution.
The United States has responded more proactively to China’s island building in the South
China Sea by flexing its military muscle, despite not being a signatory to the Law of the
Sea Convention (Groves, 2011). Surveillance aircraft have been used to fly patrol missions
over reclaimed areas and naval vessels employed to assert freedom of navigation. But these
high-profile intelligence gathering operations have stopped short of dismantling the re-
claimed areas, prompting Hu Bo (2016) to suggest that these over-flights and freedom of
navigation operations (FNOPs) are little more than ‘Hollywood extravaganza’ that ignore
China’s legitimate rights. China seeks to defend them by using fishing vessels and coast-
guards to ‘buzz’ United States ships and those of neighboring countries with territorial
claims in the South China Sea—a form of ‘passive assertiveness’ that shifts the burden of any
escalation onto the United States and its partners (Townshend and Medcalf, 2016).
The US Department of Defense’s Office of Net Assessment under the long-term leader-
ship of the now retired Andrew W. Marshall has responded by preparing for the possibility
of an ‘air-sea battle’ should it be attacked by any unspecified regime (Luttwak, 2012). As an
attack by China on United States assets is seen as implausible, critics in the Brookings In-
stitution see this policy as inflating threat (O’Hanlon, 2012). Subsequently the air-sea battle
concept has been rebadged as the Joint Concept for Access and Maneuver in the Global Commons.
Nevertheless, the resultant tensions in the South China Sea have fueled an arms race in Asia.
Countries have concentrated upon boosting their military spending to build up their armed

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forces with all the risk and cost that occurred when the Soviet Union was cast as the putative
enemy five decades ago. China alone spent an estimated US$180 billion on its armed forces
in 2015 (OSD, 2016). As elaborated by Rory Medcalf et al. (2011), this situation has long
highlighted the need for confidence building measures (CBMs) involving continuous mili-
tary dialogue, security hotlines and the establishment of formalized Sea Road rules.

Conclusion
Geostrategic discourses on Asia’s changing political order reflect the nexus between the
scripting of a new geopolitics and the framing of the geo-economics of an interdepen-
dent world. Crossing and crafting of traditional borders, internal and external to the state,
is juxtaposed with globalizing business networks characterized by digital communication,
trade, tourism and financial interests. Political partitions and unevenness of fractured terri-
torial and maritime space are contrasted with the global economic flatness associated with
geo-economics.
This interplay between territorial borders and global flows in Asia has been borne out
in the relationship between the rising power of China and the established power of the
United States (Acharaya, 2016). Both adhere to a rules-based international order but each
country wants to challenge the status quo in its own particular way—one rooted in history
and the other anchored in law—to promote their own national champions. While Beijing
has professed support for economic interdependence, the development of BRI and the AIIB
has challenged the established political framework of regional cooperation orchestrated by
Japan and the United States. Also, the United States had pivoted to Asia to support regional
political stability but Washington’s major economic instrument of rebalancing—the aborted
TPP—excluded China and had it been ratified it would have tested the extent of economic
interdependence between the two powers. Much now depends on establishing mutually
compatible regional roles between Beijing and Washington, possibly requiring greater rec-
ognition by the United States of China’s regional role and influence in supporting free and
open trade, and good order and security at sea albeit within the framework of the UNCLOS
(Frost, 2014; Mills, 2015).
Confining Asia’s political order to a contest between China and the United States is
misleading because we are dealing with a contested multipolar strategic region involving
other great powers, notably India, Japan, Russia and, putatively, Indonesia. China’s BRI
has led to the country being seen as the only world power able to operate simultaneously
in both Eurasia’s land-based and maritime strategic arenas (i.e. Heartland plus Rimland).
Russia’s potential to become a comparable Eurasian land-based and maritime powerhouse
to China with a similar clout in Southeast Asia has been discounted, because its proposed
plans are considered to be too grandiose (Dave, 2016). Nevertheless, Russia’s great power
status within Asia would be enhanced by new Arctic shipping routes through the Northwest
Passage via Russia and the Northeast Passage via Canada because the ice-free route would
reduce shipping times from Asia to Europe compared with the Maritime Sea Road via the
Malacca Strait (Egorshev, 2014). As highlighted in this study, India, Japan and Indonesia are
also poised to play great power roles within Asia along with those ranked below them in the
‘geopolitico-economic hierarchy’ (Desai, 2013: 280).
The possible outcomes from the interplay between the twin sisters of geopolitics and
geo-economics presage the need for a new political order in Asia underpinned by coop-
erative regional economic institutions that can accommodate the great powers of China,
India, Indonesia, Japan, Russia and the United States, and shifting alliances between them.

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Simultaneously, there is a need for the great powers to restrain their actions in regard to
weaker countries in Southeast Asia and give up cherry-picking on which outcomes from
international legal decisions they will support. This process will involve a greater emphasis
on reestablishing and maintaining mutual trust between all countries in Asia and ensuring
that any aggressive act incurs reputational damage.

Acknowledgments
Thanks are due to Kay Dancey, Karina Pelling and Jennifer Sheehan of Carto GIS in the
College of Asia & the Pacific at the Australian National University for their cartographic ad-
vice, Joseph Rimmer for help with illustrations, Professor Matthew Rimmer for his insights
into the TPP and Dr Sue Rimmer for her comments on the original draft.

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Structures and solutions
Explaining ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia

Joel Selway

The variance of ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia

Amongst the more than 600 million inhabitants of Southeast Asia are found hundreds of eth-
nic groups and nearly all the world’s major religions. These numerous groups were arbitrarily
distributed across permanent state boundaries upon the arrival and departure of European
powers. These new countries had limited experience administering the products of a mod-
ern state apparatus and yet were expected to do so to highly diverse populations, having to
balance demands exclusive to various peoples within their borders. In addition, these fledg-
ling states were attempting to create national identities that they had seen in their former
colonial overlords. Perhaps the biggest success of the region as a whole is the relative lack of
interference in the internal affairs of neighboring countries, even those in which co-ethnics
may have been suffering persecution to varying degrees. This has spared the citizens of
Southeast Asia needless bloodshed, as has been witnessed in other regions around the world.
However, in terms of other aspects of conflict, Southeast Asian countries vary dramatically.
Some have very high levels of ethnic conflict, and some have virtually none at all.
Cambodia clearly has the worst record. Although not as sustained as the ethnic conflict
in Myanmar, the genocide in Cambodia entailed the most horrific acts of ethnic violence
in the region. Some of Cambodia’s ethnic violence, however, began in the period prior to
the Khmer Rouge. The US-backed regime of Lon Nol expelled half the Vietnamese com-
munity (400,000) and killed thousands in pogroms. The Khmer Rouge expelled another
100,000 and murdered the remainder, virtually eradicating the Vietnamese population of
Cambodia. More than half the ethnic Chinese and one-third of the ethnic Cham also did
not survive the four years of Pol Pot’s regime. In addition, many ethnic Thai and Lao were
murdered.1 At the other end of the spectrum is Brunei, which has experienced virtually no
conflict. The remainder of Southeast Asian countries run the gamut of the conflict spec-
trum as depicted in Figure 33.1. Following Cambodia and Myanmar at the highest end of
the spectrum lie Indonesia and Laos. The Philippines and Thailand lie in the middle of the
range, while Malaysia, Singapore, and Vietnam join Brunei in the lower half.
These countries are placed on this spectrum due to a combination of the type, magnitude,
and duration of ethnic conflicts as well as the number of participants and the proportion of

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Brunei Singapore Vietnam Malaysia Thailand Philippines Laos Indonesia Myanmar Cambodia

Low Conflict Medium Conflict High Conflict

Figure 33.1 Ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia since independence.

the country it encompasses. Organized insurgencies are more serious than ethnic riots, for
example. Brunei has no record of either insurgencies or ethnic riots, but the other three
countries in the bottom half—Singapore, Vietnam, and Malaysia—have all experienced eth-
nic riots but not insurgencies. I note here that I am only considering ethnic conflict in the
post-independence era. Malaysia experienced a communist insurgency from 1948 to 1960,
which had a heavy ethnic undertone to its ideological nature, but this had largely died out
by the time the Federation of Malaya became fully independent from the British in 1957.
The magnitude of Malaysia’s 1969 riots was much greater than that of Singapore’s 1964 and
1969 riots. I place Vietnam in between these two countries. In the post-Vietnam War era,
some ethnic riots were reported in the Central Highlands in the early 2000s.2 The number of
deaths is unknown, but descriptions of the violence seem to indicate a low level. Singapore’s
riots left 40 dead. The placement of Vietnam above Singapore is thus arbitrary at this stage
and of little importance theoretically. However, the recent nature of the conflicts in Vietnam
is the primary reason for my making this judgment. Singapore has been extremely peaceful
since the 1969 riots, bar the 2013 riots in Little India in which 27 people were injured in a
riot that lasted just a couple of hours and that was confined to mostly intoxicated migrant
workers rather than Singaporean citizens.3
The jump to the next country, Thailand, is quite considerable. Thailand’s positioning is
driven mainly by its insurgency in the South, in which over 6,000 have been killed since
2004 alone. This is a much higher number than even the top estimates of the May 13 Incident
in Malaysia and doesn’t account for deaths between 1948, when the violence initially began,
and 2004. In addition, there have been numerous issues with the Hill Tribe ethnic groups in
Thailand’s north, including acts of violence as well as an increasing ethno-regional political
divide between the North and Northeast regions, which are ethnically more closely related
to the Lao of neighboring Laos and the Central and Southern regions. The Philippines sim-
ilarly has an insurgency in its South, Mindanao, but its magnitude is much larger and its du-
ration longer than that in Thailand. Between 120,000 and 150,000 people have died in the
violence. I place Laos above the Philippines, even though the Hmong insurgency’s number
of deaths is a little lower (100,000) because this represents a much larger proportion of the
population of Laos (~1.5%). Indonesia has had many conflicts across the span of its populous
archipelagos. In Western Papua alone, the death estimates are 150,000–400,000. However,
the insurgency in Aceh ended only as recently as 2005. In addition, there have been insur-
gencies in several other parts of the country: the declaration of an independent Republic of
South Maluku by ethnic Ambonese; rebellions in Sumatra and Sulawesi between 1955 and
1961; the Indonesian killings of 1965–1966, which mainly targeted ethnic Chinese; and,
most recently, the violence in East Timor, which led to the secession of an independent state.
Furthermore, Indonesia has experienced frequent deadly ethnic riots, the most recent bout
of which came in the aftermath of the fall of Suharto.
Finally, Myanmar has certainly experienced the most ethnic conflict in the region on a
sustained basis. I place it beneath Cambodia due to the horrific nature of the Cambodian
violence and the large proportions of minority groups that were eradicated during that era.
However, in many ways, the sheer number of ethnic groups fighting the government and the

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proportion of the population they constitute, as well as the number of organized insurgencies
and their strength in terms of numbers of recruits, the overall death tallies from the conflicts,
and the conflicts’ duration, all in combination with widespread ethnic riots, make Myanmar
the clear basket case of the region on this indicator.
The goal of the remainder of this chapter is to investigate the relationship between a
country’s ethnic structure and its level of conflict. The link between ethnic structure and
conflict is one of the links most frequently explored by scholars of ethnicity. By ethnic
structure, I follow Kanchan Chandra and Steven Wilkinson’s widely used definition of “the
distribution of descent-based attributes—and, therefore, the sets of nominal identities—that
all individuals in a population possess, whether they identify with them or not” (Chandra
and Wilkinson 2008). Examples of measures of ethnic structure include ethnic fractional-
ization (the number and relative size of groups), ethnogeographic intermixing (the spatial
distribution of ethnic groups), ethnic wealth inequality, and crosscuttingness (the degree to
which ethnic groups share the same religion). These various concepts have been linked to
ethnic conflict through a variety of mechanisms, which I assess in relation to specific cases
after examining broad patterns in the region.
Following this analysis, I review the array of policies that Southeast Asian governments
have implemented in order to tackle this inherent ethnic structure. These policies include
language policies, the inclusion of religion into nationalism and the political and legal struc-
ture, affirmative action economic policies, and transmigration policies.
The final section attempts to draw conclusions on the success of these policies.

Ethnic structure and ethnic conflict

Ethnic fractionalization
I start first with the number and relative size of ethnic groups, which is neatly captured by
the measure of ethnic fractionalization. The more fractionalized a country, the logic goes,
the more conflict that ensues. However, there seems to be mixed evidence of this thesis in the
literature in terms of both low-level ethnic conflict (riots) (Bates and Yackovlev 2002; Ghate,
Le, and Zak 2003; Cunningham and Lemke 2011; Esteban, Mayoral, and Ray 2012; Rims-
tad 2012; Salehyan and Linebarger 2013; Rørbæk and Knudsen 2015) and high-level forms
of violence (civil war) (Collier and Hoeffler 2000; Sambanis 2001; Reynal-Querol 2002;
Fearon and Laitin 2003; Quinn, Hechter, and Wibbels 2004; Montalvo and R ­ eynal-Querol
2005; Hegre and Sambanis 2006; Selway 2011a). What does the region of Southeast Asia tell
us about this feature of ethnic structure?
Table 33.1 displays the countries in Southeast Asia on the measure of ethnolinguistic fraction-
alization and the average conflict rank for each level. At first, there does not appear to be a strong
correlation. The least fractionalized category, which includes Cambodia and Vietnam, has al-
most as high an average conflict rank as the medium-high category. However, Cambodia does
seem to be an exception to the rule here. If we consider the Khmer Rouge era as an extreme
outlier, Cambodia might rank between Malaysia and Thailand. With this change, there does
appear to be something to the idea that less fractionalized countries have lower levels of conflict.
However, do the mechanisms match those proposed by the literature? The riots literature
proposes that ethnic conflict is more likely when some kind of spark occurs between two
individuals who are of different ethnicities. Fractionalization is essentially a measure of the
chance that two randomly chosen individuals are of different ethnicities. Thus, if sparks
between individual citizens occur with equal frequency in all countries, in those countries

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Table 33.1 Ethnic fractionalization and ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia

Ethnic fractionalization Conflict rank

Low Cambodia 10
Vietnam 3
Average 6.5
Medium-Low Singapore 2
Brunei 1
Average 1.5
Medium-High Laos 7
Malaysia 4
Myanmar 9
Thailand 5
Average 6.25
High Indonesia 8
Philippines 6
Average 7.0

Source: Cross-national Indices of Multi-dimensional Measures of Social Structure (CIMMSS),

(Selway 2011b).

where the two individuals are more likely to be of different ethnicities, do the sparks prolif-
erate into widespread ethnic riots? In Southeast Asia, riots occur at all levels of fractionaliza-
tion, from Vietnam’s in the lowest category to Indonesia’s in the highest and with Malaysia
and Singapore’s in between. There might be something to the hypothesis of the severity of
riots increasing with increased fractionalization, however. Indonesia’s riots are most cer-
tainly the most severe (in terms of numbers of deaths), followed by Malaysia’s.
There also seems to be support for the civil war hypothesis of fractionalization in South-
east Asia. All the countries in the top two levels of fractionalization except Malaysia have
experienced civil war in the form of insurgencies. If we include the period of The Emergency
(1948–1960) just prior to Malaysian independence, then every country in the top half has ex-
perienced insurgency. This story also reinforces Cambodia as an exception. The Cambodian
violence was state-orchestrated genocide rather than a civil war revolving around minority
groups waging insurgencies, as in Thailand’s, Laos’s, and the Philippines’ violence as well as
most of Indonesia’s and Myanmar’s.
So, how does ethnic fractionalization lead to civil war? One argument mimics the riot
logic—the probability of conflicts emerging between two randomly chosen individuals. This
interpersonal low-level conflict, over time, builds up into a fuel supply for sparks to ignite into
higher levels of conflict. Another story is that there are simply more rebel leaders trying to recruit
for insurgencies. This story seems to fit Laos, Myanmar, and Indonesia well. There are conflicts
between the majority-led government and several groups in each of these countries. However,
this logic applies less to the Philippines and Thailand. In the Philippines, the conflict is between
the Moro Islam group and the essentially multiethnic Philippines government. No other group
has waged an insurgency. Thailand’s conflict is between the Malay Muslim group in the South
and the Thai Buddhist government. However, there have not been insurgencies waged by the
ethno-regional groups in Thailand (Lanna, Isaan, or Dambro Thais) or by the other minorities
in Thailand (Burmese groups, Vietnamese, Khmer, or other Hill Tribe ethnic groups).
In sum, ethnic fractionalization goes some way in explaining ethnic riots and civil wars
in Southeast Asia, but it provides an incomplete picture.

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Joel Selway

Ethno-religious crosscutting
A second characteristic of ethnic structure that appears in the literature is the degree of cross-
cutting cleavages between ethnicity and religion. Joel Selway (2011a) argues that low levels of
ethno-religious crosscuttingness lead to higher levels of civil war since they enable rebel lead-
ers to recruit along ethnic lines more easily. When an ethnic conflict is additionally couched
in religious language, the costs of recruiting are lower. Fighters are more committed. This
mechanism seems to better explain both the Philippines’ and Thailand’s conflicts, which are
between ethnic groups that belong to a different religion (Islam) than the majority of each
country. However, it fails to explain why other groups in these same countries who belong to
the same religion may wage insurgencies or engage in riots. For example, the communist in-
surgency in Thailand attracted ethno-regional Thais from the North and N ­ ortheast (Lanna
and Isan), who are both Buddhist. Thus, when we look at the country-level crosscutting
score for Thailand and the Philippines, they are medium-high or high, but their primary
ethnic conflicts benefit from this mechanism of religion reinforcing ethnicity.
More generally, in Southeast Asia, low levels of ethno-religious crosscutting actually
seem to be correlated with low levels of conflict, the exact opposite of what the theory pre-
dicts. Malaysia has a low level of ethno-religious crosscutting because the Malays, at ~50%
of the population, are all Muslim, while the second largest group, the Chinese, are mostly
Buddhist, Taoist or Christian. To complicate matters further, in terms of mechanisms,
the riots in Malaysia, as well those in as neighboring Singapore, which has a similar de-
mographic makeup, were precisely along the ethno-religious dimension between the two
major ethnic groups, the Chinese and Malays, thus, not supporting the reverse-pattern
story. Even if we separate out riots from civil wars, we would have to resolve the existence
of ethno-religious riots in Indonesia in the high crosscutting category. Overall, then, this
feature of ethnic structure has very little empirical support in Southeast Asia (Table 33.2).

Table 33.2 Ethno-religious crosscuttingness and ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia

Ethno-religious crosscutting Conflict rank

Brunei 1
Low Malaysia 4
Singapore 2
Average 2.33
Medium-Low Myanmar 9
Laos 7
Average 8.00
Medium-High Cambodia 10
Vietnam 3
Philippines 6
Average 6.33
Indonesia 8
Thailand 5
High Average 6.50

Source: Cross-national Indices of Multi-dimensional Measures of Social Structure (CIMMSS),

(Selway 2011b).

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 Structures and solutions

Ethnic economic inequality

A third dimension of ethnic structure is referred to in the literature by several terms: eth-
nic economic inequality, horizontal inequality, between-group inequality, or ethno-income
crosscuttingness (Østby 2008; Stewart 2008; Brown and Langer 2010; Cederman et al. 2011;
Lupu and Pontusson 2011; Gubler and Selway 2012). These are each measured slightly dif-
ferently but correlate highly. If we ignore Cambodia as an outlier again, this measure cor-
relates very highly with levels of conflict in Southeast Asia. Malaysia’s story of not repeating
the May 13th riots is all about the New Economic Policy (NEP; see discussion in the next
section) and the rise in incomes and share of capital for the Malays. Brunei’s oil wealth has
been evenly spread among its various ethnic groups in a perhaps more balanced way than
even the rich Arab oil states.
The story of ethnic wealth inequality doesn’t fully fit the Thai case, however. Malays
are not necessarily poorer than some of the ethno-regional Thai groups, such as the Isan in
the Northeast, but they are poorer than the Southern Thai, the most geographically prox-
imate Thai group and certainly poorer than the Central Thai in Bangkok, the seat of the
Thai government. The Hill tribes are also notably poorer than the Thais yet have generally
avoided conflict. Nevertheless, the relative placement of Thailand as having a medium-high
level of ethno-income crosscutting does not erase the fact that low levels of ethno-income
crosscutting with the very groups that experience violence is a key factor in the ethnic con-
flict (Selway 2007).
Laos, Myanmar, and Indonesia’s ethnic conflicts are at least exacerbated by low levels of
ethno-income crosscutting, though are likely not directly caused by them. The ­Western
Papuans are notably poorer than Malayo-polynesian groups in Indonesia in general,
and especially poorer than the Javanese that transmigrated to the island. However, this
doesn’t clearly explain all the insurgencies in Indonesia, such as the Acehnese conflict.4
Indonesia’s overall level of ethnic equality is low, moreover, and yet the overall con-
flict rank for the country is high. The Hmong in Laos live in more remote areas of the
country and due to years of government oppression are less well off on average than the
majority Lao, but it seems to be more the government oppression that both originates
the violence or leads to retaliation from the Hmong. Like Myanmar, however, Laos’ over-
all level of wealth has been so low until recently that these differences in wealth are likely
not the primary motivation for ethnic violence. In Myanmar, although some groups are
poorer than the majority Burmans and economic issues were salient at the time of insur-
gency groups forming, such as the Chin and Kachin groups (Smith 1999; Selway 2015b),
constitutional issues have been more prevalent in leading to the widespread conflict
across the country.
In contrast, in Singapore, all groups are much wealthier than in any of the other countries
in the region, yet the difference in average levels of income between the Chinese and other
groups (Malays and Indians) is large. Nevertheless, ethnic conflict has been low, and one
of the reasons is surely the absolute level of wealth in Singapore being so high that relative
group-based differences do not lead to violence (Table 33.3).
In sum, then, we see a strong correlation between ethno-income (in)equality and ethnic
conflict in the region. It is not clear from the mechanisms whether we can label this struc-
tural feature as the main cause of the conflict, however. It certainly exacerbates any ethnic
conflict and may lead to longer durations of conflict and higher magnitudes (deaths, injuries,
destruction). This is a thesis that deserves much more detailed examination.

495
Joel Selway

Table 33.3 Ethno-income equality and ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia

Ethno-income equality Conflict rank

Low Laos 7
Average 7.00
Medium-Low Myanmar 9
Indonesia 8
Philippines 6
Singapore 2
Vietnam 3
Average 5.60
Brunei 1
Malaysia 4
Medium-High Thailand 5
Average 3.33
High Cambodia 10
Average 10.00

Source: Cross-national Indices of Multi-dimensional Measures of Social Structure

(CIMMSS), (Selway 2011b).

Geographic distribution of ethnic groups

A final dimension of ethnic structure I explore is the geographic distribution of ethnic
groups. Where intermixing is low, ethnic groups tend to live in their own regions of the
country isolated from other ethnic groups. The country thus tends to be characterized by
ethnic regions. Thus, the Shan state—while containing several small ethnic groups, such
as the Wa and Lisu, and being fairly mixed at the borders with the Kachin, Karen, and
­Burmans—is mostly composed of ethnic Shan. The Mon state is mostly Mon, and the Karen,
Chin, Kachin, and Rakhine states are dominated by ethnic Karen, Chin, Kachin, and
­Rakhine, respectively. Where intermixing is high, ethnic groups live side by side through-
out the country. The most extreme example of this is Singapore, where government policy
forced such intermixing through targeted housing policy (more on this later).
Ethnogeographic distribution has perhaps the highest correlation with violence in the
region. Low levels of intermixing (ethnic groups isolated) have high levels of conflict, and
high levels of intermixing have low conflict ranks. Again, Cambodia stands out as an outlier,
but the correlation is strong, even when it is included this time.
Theories about ethnogeographic intermixing have to do with both the motivation and
means of waging ethnic conflict (Toft 2002; Matuszeski and Schneider 2006; Cederman and
Girardin 2007; Weidmann 2009; Christin and Hug 2012; Gubler and Selway 2012). When
an ethnic group inhabits its own region, claims of an ethnic homeland are possible. This may
be reinforced by historic grievances or current inequalities (political, social, or economic).
For example, the Rakhine in Myanmar had an independent kingdom incorporated into
Myanmar as late as 1785 and not long before the British took control of the territory. This
history fuels claims of separatism, which motivation makes the job of rebel recruiters much
less costly. The geographic isolation also makes the type of wars fought in the post-World
War II era, insurgency, easier. Insurgencies have tended to be waged in rough terrain, jun-
gles, or mountains, which makes hiding much easier (Fearon and Laitin 2003). When ethnic
regions are on the borders of countries where urban areas have not been built up and this

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Table 33.4 Ethnogeographic intermixing and ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia

Ethnogeographic crosscutting Conflict rank

Myanmar 9
Laos 7
Low Indonesia 8
Philippines 6
Average 7.00
Medium-Low Thailand 5
Average 5.00
Medium-High Malaysia 4
Vietnam 3
Average 3.5
High Brunei 1
Cambodia 10
Singapore 2
Average 4.33

Source: Cross-national Indices of Multi-dimensional Measures of Social Structure

(CIMMSS) (Selway 2011b).

rough terrain is more common, then it is harder to crush nascent rebellions or stop civil wars
once they have started. Finally, in-group punishment is much easier in ethnically isolated
regions. Tools of fear creation, ostracization, and even violence against those who refuse to
contribute to the cause, or protect the enemy, are much easier in areas that are dominated
by a single ethnic group. There are less places to hide, and less voices against rebel leaders.
These mechanisms have certainly been apparent in the conflicts in Myanmar (Smith 1999),
Laos (Stuart-Fox 1997), Indonesia (Bertrand 2004), as well as the conflicts in the South of
the Philippines (Yegar 2002) and Thailand (McCargo 2009).
In contrast, we see only riots emerging in the medium-high and high categories rather
than civil wars. This makes sense by virtue of the fact that in order to have riots you need
at least minimal levels of ethnogeographic intermixing. However, at a more microlevel, the
highest levels of intermixing possible—at the neighborhood level—are correlated with no
riots whatsoever (Table 33.4).

Policy solutions
Some scholars of ethnicity are wary of analyses that only focus on ethnic structures, ignoring
the political environment in which they operate. These scholars see ethnic structure as an
input, in this case as a measure of society’s inherent preferences for ethnic conflict, and the
political environment as the machine through which this input passes in order to create the
output (ethnic conflict or cooperation). Thus, a discussion of structure devoid of the political
environment is insufficient for understanding how ethnic conflict emerges. In this section,
I examine policy solutions that various countries have implemented specifically to overcome
the effects of these inherent ethnic structures. I examine language policies that seek to
overcome ethnic fractionalization by requiring all ethnic groups to be educated in the same
language; policies that seek to include religion into the national identity; affirmative action
policies designed to tackle ethnic economic inequality; and policies designed to reduce the
conflict emerging from isolated ethnic groups.

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Joel Selway

Language policy
One way to tackle the harmful effects of diversity is to essentially reduce that diversity by
having all groups conversant in a unified language. The creation of a single, national language
is one possible solution. However, countries in Southeast Asia took different approaches to
this. Some selected the language of the majority group as the exclusive official language and
required all groups to learn that language. Malaysia is the prime example of this. Chinese,
which at the time of independence around 40% of the population spoke, was not recognized
as an official language. Moreover, all ethnic groups are required to learn Malay in schools. In
contrast, Singapore, the Philippines, and Indonesia chose a language other than the majority’s
as the official language of school and government. In Singapore, it was English. In Indonesia,
it was the market Malay that was spread through trade across the archipelago, whereas in the
Philippines it was the language of the second-largest group, the Tagalog. Singapore actually
officially recognizes the language of the three main ethnic groups in the country in addition
to English, and in the Philippines, English is additionally recognized as an official language.
In contrast, in Indonesia, there is a single official language. Malaysia and Brunei, like the
Philippines, additionally recognize English as an official language (Liu and Ricks 2012).
Closely tracking these official languages is the use of languages in the education system.
Singapore’s primary language of instruction is English, and all citizens can choose from
any of the other mother tongues. Today, an increasing number of people choose a mother
tongue option other than their own and are thus trilingual (or quadrilingual). In Brunei, the
education system is officially bilingual between Malay and English. In Malaysia, English and
Malay are compulsory in all schools. Chinese and Tamil are also taught widely, though not
as systematically as in Singapore. In the Philippines, education is officially in Tagalog, but
many textbooks are in English and much media is in English. English is also taught widely
in Myanmar as a second language, but the quality of instruction declined rapidly after it
was replaced by Burmese as the official language of universities in 1965. In the remainder of
countries, the official language is the sole language of instruction, and English is rarely and/
or poorly taught (Liu 2015).
If we divide the countries between those that the official language is that of the majority
and those where it is not, we have an average conflict rank of 6.33 versus 4.25. Furthermore,
when we divide the non-majority language countries between those in which English is an
official language of education versus not, the average is 7 (Indonesia, Philippines) versus 1.5
(Singapore, Brunei). One interpretation of this pattern is that only when a country chooses
an official language not of the majority and also implements a non-native language in their
education system do individuals adopt these as part of their identities and thus essentially
reduce their levels of fractionalization. However, a non-majority language in the schools
seems to diminish conflict even in countries where a majority language is the sole official
language. In Malaysia, where only Malay is officially recognized, the nod to both English
and the languages of the two main minorities (Chinese and Tamil) in the education system
helps reduce effective fractionalization.
In the other cases where the language of the majority is the sole official language, mi-
nority groups do not adopt them as readily, and thus effective fractionalization remains high.
This problem plagues the highly diverse countries of Myanmar and Laos and has also been
problematic in the arguably less diverse Thailand. Education in Central Thai is a major prob-
lem amongst the Malays in the South of Thailand (Selway 2007) and to some extent the Isan,
where some scholars have argued profusely that the Isan-written alphabet should be revived
into the education system in that region (Draper 2015).

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 Structures and solutions

Inclusivity of national identity

A second policy approach tackles the differences in religion amongst ethnic groups by
explicitly including multiple religions into the national identity. The antithesis of this
would be to have an official state religion. Only Cambodia, Malaysia, and Brunei have
state religions in the region. However, several others, including Indonesia, Myanmar, and
Thailand to some extent favor a certain religion in practice. Some countries specifically
protect the minority religion in the constitution or legal code, including Singapore
(­M alays/Islam) and the Philippines (Moros/Islam), while others guarantee protection for
all religions.
Ironically, the country with both a state religion and reported government practices
that discriminate against other religions has the lowest level of ethnic conflict in the re-
gion, Brunei. In contrast, Laos seems to have a fairly good religious record but still high
levels of ethnic conflict. However, Myanmar and Indonesia’s records are quite bad and
they both experience high levels of ethnic conflict, often with groups that also have a dif-
ferent religion from the majority. In sum, having an official state religion, or even making
accommodations for minority religions is neither a necessary or sufficient condition for
ethnic violence. As many of the country reports in the US State Department’s Religious
Freedom Report state (see Table 33.5), because religious and “ethnic identity are closely
linked, it is difficult to categorize many incidents as being solely based on religious iden-
tity.” This non-finding on religious policies seems to underscore the non-finding on
the relationship between ethno-religious crosscuttingness and ethnic conflict. Other fea-
tures of ethnic structure, and thus other policies, are more important in reducing ethnic
conflict.

Affirmative action
Affirmative action policies are designed to overcome prejudices inherent in a political, eco-
nomic, or social system that leads to high levels of ethnic income inequality. By some defi-
nitions, however, Malaysia is the only country in Southeast Asia that has any such policies
( Jenkins and Moses 2014). There is vibrant disagreement in Malaysia as to the success of
its affirmative action policy, known as the NEP, but despite its inherent flaws, the majority
Malays, the target of the program, made significant economic progress in a number of areas
since its implementation (Gomez and Jomo 1999; Lee, Gomez, and Yacob 2013). The NEP
is unique in its scale and also in its use of quotas favoring bumiputera (Malays and other in-
digenous groups of Malaysia) in a number of areas, including housing, education, and even
share ownership.
Singapore has avoided explicit affirmative action policies, i.e. specific quotas in ­employment
and trading licenses but still has many policies that target economically the country’s second
largest group, the Malays (Tan 2013). The constitution states that “it shall be the responsi-
bility of the Government to protect, safeguard, support, foster and promote their political,
educational, religious, economic, social and cultural interests and the Malay language.” The
government has done much to target the Malays in the field of education. For example, ter-
tiary education was free for Malays until 1991. It also offered special bursaries, scholarships,
textbooks, and transportation. Sensing that such a policy was favoring middle-class Malays,
the government began directing funds to Mendaki (Council for the Development of S­ ingapore
Malay/Muslim Community), a pioneer Self-Help Group formed in 1982 that focuses
on empowering the Malay community (and especially the bottom 30%) through excellence

499
Table 33.5 Religious legal incorporation and government practice in Southeast Asia

Country State religion Other issues

Myanmar None Constitution notes “the special position of Buddhism” as faith

of majority and Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Animism as
existing religions in the Union
Antidiscrimination laws not apply to unrecognized ethnic groups,
such as the Muslim Rohingya
• W idespread religious discrimination against all religions by
the State but especially against non-Buddhists, and societal
violence amongst religions, especially against Muslims
Thailand None Current law, however, specifically prohibits the defamation or
insult of Buddhism and Buddhist clergy
Law also prohibits insult or disturbance of religious places/
services of all officially recognized religious groups
• Emergency decree in effect in the majority Muslim southern
area
Cambodia Buddhism Constitution prohibits discrimination based on religion
Laos None Prohibits all acts that create divisions among religious groups
and persons
Vietnam None The constitution states all religions are equal before the law
• Numerous government barriers reported to various religious
groups but none specifically targeted
Malaysia Islam Constitution states that “every person has the right to profess
and practice his religion”
Singapore None Constitution states that Malays are “the indigenous people of
Singapore” and requires government to protect and promote
their interests, including religious interests
Indonesia None Constitution states “the nation is based upon belief in one
supreme God,” but guarantees “all persons the right to worship
according to their own religion or belief”
First tenet of country’s national ideology, Pancasila, declares
belief in one God. Government employees must swear allegiance
to nation and to Pancasila ideology
• Some barriers to Christianity
Philippines None Constitution provides for the separation of church and
state. The law treats intentional attacks directed against
buildings dedicated to religion as war crimes or crimes against
international humanitarian law
• Government recognizes sharia through a presidential decree.
Sharia courts only handle cases relating to personal laws on
family relations and property
Brunei Shafi’i school of Laws and regulations can limit access to religious literature and
Sunni Islam public religious gatherings for non-Muslims
• Government continued to restrict the religious freedom of
non-Muslims

Source: US State Department, Bureau of Demçocracy, Human Rights and Labor International Religious Freedom
Report for 2014.
 Structures and solutions

in education (Tan 2013). High levels of inequalities in education (and income) still remain
between the Malays and the majority Chinese, but the overall level of economic growth in
Singapore has certainly trickled down to all ethnic groups to some extent.
Brunei also gives bumiputera “special rights” in its constitution. This constitutional lan-
guage translates in practice to

easier access to higher education as well as better job and promotion opportunities in the
civil service… the government generously provides land and houses to poor Malays (for
a token payment) under the Rakyat Jati (native people) land resettlement programme,
but not as generously to poor non-Malay citizens. Non-Malays are also not allowed to
enlist in the armed forces.
(Loo, Wolhuter, and Steyn 2010, pp. 150–151)

There is also favored placement into Brunei Shell Petroleum.5

Other countries have targeted areas of the country with economic growth with specific
aims to overcome ethnic economic inequality and to stop ethnic conflict. The Philippines,
though relying heavily on foreign assistance, perceives economic and social injustices as key
to overcoming the conflict in Mindanao (Concepciòn et al. 2003). The Thai government’s
policy of winning the “hearts and minds” of the Malay Muslims through economic devel-
opment is perhaps the most notable. In contrast to the Philippines, the Thai government’s
budget to the Deep South has made international aid seem “financially insignificant.” Re-
gardless, this assistance has done little to resolve the conflict to date (Burke, Tweedie, and
Poocharoen 2013). Indonesia provides for some affirmative action measures in its Special
Autonomy legislation for Western Papua, which entails priority in gaining access to employ-
ment in all sectors of the economy (Aveling and Kingsbury 2014).
In general, these policies around the region show how difficult it is to change the status
quo in terms of economic ethnic equality. But perhaps small changes and intent are all that
is needed. In the largest and most explicit program, the NEP in Malaysia, the program’s
arguably limited success may have contributed to the prevention of a repeat of the devas-
tating riots in 1969. The same could be true of Singapore and Brunei’s pro-Malay policies.
For higher levels of conflict, however, specially targeted programs have been of much more
limited success. Civil wars seem to be more deeply symbolic than mere economic injustices,
certainly. But these programs have also been in place for a lot shorter time than the NEP, so
perhaps more time is needed before evaluating their success.

Transmigration
There is very little to summarize in this category since it is so hard to encourage movement
of peoples within a country. The most successful case of government policy in this arena
is Singapore, who implemented a housing allocation policy in the 1970s to ensure ethnic
balancing. The government was forced to renew this in 1989 due to reselling practices lead-
ing to ethnic regrouping. Known as the Ethnic Integration Policy, racial limits were set for
blocks and neighborhoods (Chinese 84%, Malay 22%, and Indian/Others 10%).6 A particular
ethnic group will not be able to buy a flat if the quota for that group has been reached for the
particular block or neighborhood (Ooi, Siddique, and Soh 1993). However, Singapore’s size
not only makes this more feasible but also makes it difficult to compare to large countries
like Indonesia.

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Joel Selway

Indonesia itself has encouraged transmigration to other parts of the archipelago, not for
ethnic reasons (though political opponents have made such assertions) but for economic
ones. This transmigration, numbering in the millions, however, has led to ethnic conflict in
several instances (Hedman 2008; Miller 2008). So controversial was transmigrasi that Indo-
nesia’s current president, Joko Widowo, recently disbanded the program. In the Philippines,
the government encouraged transmigration of other (Christian) ethnic groups to the island
of Mindanao, which similarly stoked grievances in the region amongst the Moros Muslims.
By comparing these three cases, we learn that either the government needs to be more
systematic and intentional in its policy—such as imposing quotas, or maybe even targeting
down to the neighborhood level—or that perhaps Singapore’s policy can only apply to urban
areas and the prevention of riots rather than insurgencies.
Other countries have perhaps been favored by “naturally” occurring ethnogeographic in-
termixing. Malaysia’s ethnic groups are fairly well intermixed around the country. There are
heavier concentrations of Malays in the rural areas of Western Malaysia, but Selway (2015a)
argues that this was sufficient to make it such that voting along purely ethnic lines would
not guarantee a Malay-dominated political system under the country’s First-Past-the-Post
electoral rules. In short, research on the type of ethnogeographic patterns that are best is still
in its infancy. Perhaps it goes down to the neighborhood level and social interactions, but
patterns at larger units of analysis in coordination with the country’s electoral rules might be
what matters. In this way, Singapore and Malaysia may be more similar than they first look.
While Singapore’s Chinese are much larger than Malaysia’ Malays, Singapore’s electoral sys-
tem requires any political party to win certain quotas of ethnic groups in each constituency.
Selway argues that this is what effectively occurs in Malaysia.

Conclusion
To overview this chapter, I have argued that the ethnic conflicts experienced in Southeast
Asia can be attributed to aspects of each countries’ ethnic structures, including the level
of ethnic fractionalization, ethno-religious crosscuttingness, ethnic income inequality, and
ethnogeographic intermixing. The various governments in the region have, since indepen-
dence, tried to implement policies to tackle some of these structural factors. However, it is
unclear to what extent they have been the primary cause of success in mitigating ethnic con-
flict in each country. Malaysia, for example, made Malay the official language of the country
and Islam the state religion; it also had no transmigration policies, but its affirmative action
policies were pronounced. Indonesia, on the other hand, chose the language of a minority
group as the official language and made its official state ideology (belief in one God) inclusive
with the second largest religion of Christianity. It did not have ethnically targeted economic
assistance programs of note, however, and its transmigration program is thought to have
contributed to violence. However, lest we think that affirmative action policy is the key,
Singapore and Brunei’s policies have been weak to moderate at best. Singapore’s transmigra-
tion policy seems to have been the most influential in reducing ethnic riots, while Brunei
has not seemed overly concerned about formulating policies to tackle ethnic issues. Vietnam,
another country amongst the low-conflict countries also has no such policies of note.
Thus, rather than a specific formula, what the Southeast Asia experience seems to relate
is a need to tailor policies to the country’s underlying ethnic structure. For Singapore, eth-
nic ghettos seemed to be among the most serious problems, whilst symbolically including
Malays, their language and their religion into the country’s sense of nationalism was key.
For Malaysia, an ethnic economic imbalance overrode all other considerations. Brunei’s oil

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wealth perhaps made these other policies less crucial. In Vietnam, recovery from the war rel-
egated ethnic concerns to minor importance. In the Philippines, with a weaker set of ethnic
divisions than the rest of the region, language seemed to be all that was required to placate
most ethnic groups, since most ethnic groups shared the same religion. Only for the Moros
in Mindanao did some kind of targeted economic assistance seem necessary and that does not
seem to have been adequate, perhaps given the history of transmigration to the region. Such
transmigration would be hard to reverse, so perhaps greater attention to the language and re-
ligion of the Moros might help. Targeted economic assistance in Thailand also does not seem
to have placated the Malay Muslims in the South. Selway (2007) has previously suggested
a change in language policy, among others. Laos and Vietnam have not made many policy
moves on any of these fronts. There are signs that both of them could use such policies going
forward, however: Laos to appease and incorporate its multiple ethnic minorities (including
the Hmong), but even the much more ethnically homogenous Vietnam have groups, such as
the Montagnards, that require attention. The lesson of Cambodia is fairly non-generalizable
on a policy front, but Myanmar deserves a little more consideration.
As Myanmar moves into a new era of political openness, policies economically targeting
particularly underprivileged ethnic minorities might be necessary. Consideration of mi-
nority languages in the education system also could be helpful. And now, as a new, more
religious-based front of conflict in the form of ethno-religious riots is onsetting, a stronger
commitment to religious freedom should be seriously considered. Indonesia, the only other
country that has faced numerous serious conflicts somewhat comparable to Myanmar has
attempted some of these policies and, while there is much contextual difference between the
two countries, seems to have fared better.
In sum, ethnic structure is a crucial factor that governments cannot afford to ignore. The
solutions are not clear, but the Southeast Asia experience suggests that some attempt to over-
come the conflict-inducing aspects of this inherent structure could have considerable payoffs
for the future of ethnic relations in the region.

Notes
1 www.culturalsurvival.org/ourpublications/csq/article/the-survival-cambodias-ethnic-minorities.
2 http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2014/06/140616-south-china-sea-vietnam-china-
cambodia-champa/.
3 This does not mean that the violence does not constitute an ethnic riot, only that it seems from a
detailed reading that Vietnam’s violence was more serious in nature.
4 In addition, in a recent paper at the subnational level, Varshney, Gubler, and I show that districts
with high levels of religious-income equality experienced the highest levels of religious violence.
Religious groups seem to be threatened by other groups that are on par with them economically.
5 http://minorityrights.org/minorities/dusun-murut-kedayan-iban-tutong-penan/.
6 This was increased to 12% for Indians/Others in 2010.

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New regionalism and Eurasia
Mikhail A. Molchanov

This chapter looks at the experience of both formal and informal regionalization in Eurasia,
focussing on the post-Soviet states and the Eurasian Economic Union in particular. Regional
integration in this part of the world does not follow in the footsteps of the West. By taking a
defensive stance toward neoliberal globalization practices and ideologies, new regionalism in
Eurasia blazes its own path of development. Resuscitation of mutually beneficial ties of the
late Soviet era and the state-guided developmentalism of a market variety are two defining
features of this phenomenon.
Regional integration of states is a tool to advance their political and economic fortunes.
Specifically, interstate regionalism, i.e., the close cooperation and integration of several states
that belong to the same political-geographic community, advances the trade and well-being
of the participant nations, promotes international and national security and facilitates the
so-called four freedoms of movement across the national borders: the movement of goods
and services, finances, labour and business entrepreneurs. Interstate regionalism may also be
seen as the newest manifestation of traditional politics of alliances. It has a discernible geo-
political underpinning and clearly serves to enhance the international clout of a regionally
leading state.

Explaining regionalism
Theories of regionalism have been determined by historical developments or what some
scholars refer to as the “four waves of regionalism” (Mansfield and Milner 1999). In such
a count, the first wave supposedly occurred in the latter half of the 19th century and was
mostly confined to Europe. The second wave, which took place between the World Wars,
was based on preferential trade arrangements between sovereign nation states. The third
wave, from the late 1950s to the 1970s, had brought to the fore the European Economic
Community (EEC) and the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (CMEA), not to men-
tion multiple trading blocs formed by developing countries. The fourth “wave” occurred at
the end of the Cold War and was marked by the United States’ active attempts to steer the
process within a multilateral framework of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade/
World Trade Organization (GATT/WTO).

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 New regionalism and Eurasia

While the “waves” came and went, the nature of an international region remained pretty
much the same. As noted by Raimo Väyrynen (2003, 26), “during the Cold War, most re-
gions were either political or mercantile clusters of neighbouring countries that had a place
in the larger international system.” Arguably, the same definition rang no less true for the
preceding time periods. Whatever other factors could intervene in regionalization processes,
security considerations and power politics were paramount. Regionalism remained “an es-
sentially political process transformed by multidimensional economic and strategic factors”
(Beeson 2005, 970). Because of that, regional studies were the traditional pastime of political
geographers and security analysts.
It can be argued that what we see now is the fifth wave of regionalism, characterized by
the global spread and diversification of regionalist arrangements, institutions and agreements.
This diversification grows parallel to the progressive decline of the American hegemony and
factual pluralization of the regional centres of power. China’s growing might and Russia’s
newly found assertiveness in Eurasia contribute to the erosion of the American hegemony.
The tremendous fiasco that the United States suffered in the Middle East has undermined its
capacity to steer regionalization processes into the “golden straitjacket” (Friedman 1999, 87)
of neoliberal rules of behaviour. Regionalization in Latin America takes little heed of US in-
terests in the area. New regional developments are not subject to the political will of a single
hegemon and do not necessarily reflect systemic distribution of power capabilities in a single
international system. Whether we enter the era of multipolarity or “ambipolarity” (Nossel
2016) in international relations, one thing is clear: Just as neoliberalism can no longer serve
as a universal mantra of truth accepted by everybody, so regionalism can no longer conform
to a single set of standards derived mostly from the West European experience.
Unconditional opening of the markets or democratic reforms in the Western style may
not be top priorities for a number of regional groupings in the developing areas of the world.
New regionalism here is both more complex and more varied in quality. The “underdog”
regions are using local integration movements to tilt the global economic balance, albeit
slightly, to their own benefit. Moreover, regional drives in the global South are also about
identity and culture, national sovereignty and democracy. Even in today’s globalized world,
developing nations understand democracy to primarily mean reflection of the popular will
of the majority of their own nation rather than reflection of the Western understanding of
what democracy should be “by the book.” Resistance to the imposition of Western views
and practices intensifies, as local fights against globalist neocolonialism acquire regional
dimensions.
International relations realists may argue that the new international order is not that dif-
ferent from what we’ve seen before: It is still characterized by “several regional powers dom-
inating their geographical areas” (Rosecrance 1991, 373, 375). Neorealists see regionalism
as the epiphenomenon of other processes of strategic interaction among states, for example,
alliance formation “to counter the power of another state or group of states within or outside
the region” (Söderbaum 2005, 224). Thus, regionalism becomes a predominantly geopolit-
ical development defined by the systemic distribution of material capabilities and the power
maximization strategies of the states. It is seen as “an essentially political process informed by
multidimensional economic and strategic factors” (Beeson 2005, 970).
International relations liberals prefer to speak of regional cooperation rooted in common
economic interests or similar preferences of societies. Liberalism provides more room to
account for the activities of interest groups, corporations, industrial sectors, bureaucracies
and civil societies. This body of thought draws heavily on the pioneering works of the early
students of European integration: David Mitrany, Ernst Haas, Leon Lindberg and Philippe

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Mikhail A. Molchanov

Schmitter. The “neofunctionalist” approach to the European integration that these scholars
developed represented regional integration as a product of trial and error interactions across
the national borders where participating states and non-state actors equally “exploit the
inevitable ‘spill-overs’ and ‘unintended consequences’ that occur” as a result of earlier inter-
actions (Schmitter 2004, 46).
Finally, regions could be understood as primarily cultural entities. Culturalist and con-
structivist interpretations, ranging from Samuel Huntington’s “clash of civilizations” to the
so-called “third generation” works on strategic culture, insist on the importance of cultural
values that bind states together ( Johnston 1995; Reus-Smit 1999). Students of international
alliance politics observe that cultural values affect the evolution and functioning of strategic
alliances. Peter Katzenstein (2000, 354) insists that regions are, among other things, social
constructions created through politics. Constructivists emphasize “polity formation through
rules and norms, the transformation of identities, the role of ideas and the uses of language”
(Christiansen, Jorgensen, and Wiener 1999, 528). A discursively constituted regional entity,
for a constructivist scholar, must be seen as a systemic pattern of interactively constituted
beliefs.
Thus, international regions are variously understood as mostly political-economic entities
created to facilitate intraregional trade, mostly security arrangements united by common
defence interests, mostly cultural communities, or mostly products of discursive practices
that bind both states and non-state actors together by “intersubjective understandings that
affect their behavior” (Ruggie 1998, 12). The understanding of the core functions performed
by regional entities varies too. Some perceive regionalism as a “defence mechanism” against
globalization, suggesting that there exists a mutual tension between globalization and re-
gionalization (Väyrynen 2003, 32). Others contend that globalization does not necessarily
elicit regional responses, and when it does, regionalism does not necessarily conflict with the
movement to a more open economy.
New regionalism in the developing, or perhaps post-Western, world combines devel-
opmental agenda and preferential treatment of regionally cooperating countries with the
promotion of active participation in international markets on the terms beneficial to the
developing world’s participants. New regionalism approach (NRA) tries to capture the dif-
ference between new and old varieties of regionalism by focussing, in the words of one of its
leading proponents, on systemic factors, for example, globalization and the region’s position
in the emerging world order(s), showing a deeper concern for regional agency, the achieved
degree of “regionness” and the constructed nature of the region. The state-led regional or-
ganizations are seen as a second order phenomenon compared to the bottom-up processes of
regionalization, and regions as such are not taken for granted (Söderbaum 2008).
Compared to “old regionalisms” of the EU type, new regionalisms have been consid-
ered less structured and more fluid and open, converging on a variety of issues between the
global and local that represent common interests of the neighbouring countries (Cooper,
Antkiewicz, and Shaw 2007). Not infrequently, new regionalism implies regulating trade
access to a particular region in order to protect it against the destructive influences of the
unscrupulous agents of globalization (Väyrynen 2003). Thus, new regionalism aims at the
expansion of the market while not shying away from “political intervention in defence of
societal cohesion” (Hettne 2005, 548–549).
The Eurasian Economic Union, as conceived by Russia and Kazakhstan, and the “One
Belt, One Road” initiative promulgated by China are both examples of this new ­regionalism –
a type of regional cooperation that steers a third way between import substitution and
trade liberalization, and is opposed to Western trade and financial dominance and cautious

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of neoliberal globalization while seeking to derive most benefits of regional and global mar-
kets’ opening for itself. The paradox of the situation is that this post-Western regionalism of
sorts still has to exist, grow and evolve in the presently functioning world order, which has
been constructed and dominated by the West. It therefore becomes engaged in an implicit
competition with the “old regionalism” of the West and the more current Western globalist
manoeuvers. Sometimes, the “old” and “new” regionalist projects apply to the same region
and may even bear the same or near-same names, which is the case with the US-promoted
“New Silk Road” proposal and China’s “New Silk Road strategy.”
Competing regionalist projects do not exist in a political vacuum and cannot be seen as
unaffected by power politics. Political pressures may either accelerate regional integration or
impede it. Societies may play a larger or a more limited role in regional integration drives.
Regionalization “from below” may complement or conflict regionalization “from above.”
These debates and opposing arguments fully apply to regionalist processes in Eurasia. Before
proceeding any further, it may be necessary to define what “Eurasia” in this context actually
means.

Eurasian regionalism: early steps

The term “Eurasian” draws upon the tradition of Russian émigré thinkers of the early 20th
century who posited the existence of the specifically “Eurasian” core to the Old World con-
tinent, which is neither Europe nor Asia as such but represents the “Old World’s centre,” the
continental “torso” of the Eurasian land mass, consisting mainly of its three largest plains –
East European (Russian), West Siberian and Central Asian – and their adjacent peripheries
to the east. This Eurasia proper, Eurasia sensu stricto, is to be differentiated from the classic
geographic concept of a continent spanning both Europe and Asia in their entirety, Eurasia
sensu latiore.
According to one of the founders of the idea, the Old World land mass consists not of the
two parts – Europe and Asia – as geographers typically claim, but of the three: Europa, Asia
and Eurasia. The Eurasian part lies in the middle and plays the mediating role. It more or less
coincides with the historic lands of the Russian Empire and its periphery. Thus, Russia has
much more grounds than China to be called a “central state” or a “middle power” (Zhōng-
guó in Chinese). Compared to the Russian core, both Europe and Asia in the same measure
represent no more than the periphery of the Old World (Savitsky 2007).
The idea of the continental “trunk,” which bears an uncanny resemblance to Halford
Mackinder’s (1904) Heartland, has carried weighty geopolitical implications: A historical
mission of Eurasia proper, according to classic Eurasianists, was to be a unifier of the entire
continent, the true “middle” world bridging both European and Asian “peripheries of the
Old World.” Thus understood, Eurasia has been perceived as a naturally integrated entity
predestined to remain whole and indivisible: In one formulation, “the nature of the Eurasian
world is least conducive to “separatisms” of any kind – whether political, cultural or eco-
nomic” (Savitsky 2007, 240).
Historically, Eurasianism as a concept connoted a modernized, post-monarchical version
of Russian imperialism and multicultural, state-based nationalism. Some of the echoes of
this reading still persist. However, the resurrection of the idea in the form of the Eurasian
regional integration in the late 20th and early 21st century has nothing to do with the de-
sire to recreate the behemoth state covering one-sixth of the world’s land mass. Eurasian
regional integration today is about voluntary processes of predominantly economic cooper-
ation. With economic cooperation at its core, it also engages social, political, administrative,

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regulatory and normative exchanges indicative of the multifaceted coordination of gover-

nance among several post-communist states from Belarus in the west to Mongolia in the east.
Regional integration in Eurasia parallels similar developments elsewhere in the world.
This new regionalism represents, worldwide, not only an adaptive reaction to economic
challenges, security dilemmas, uncertainties and risks of the global age but also a new way
to “go global.” Moreover, in the case of Russia and its post-Soviet allies in the neighbour-
hood, regionalism has been a strategy of forestalling the further fragmentation and potential
collapse that many feared with good reason after the breakdown of the former Soviet Union.
The end of the Soviet Union changed political geography of not one country but the con-
tinent. The super-state that occupied one-sixth of the land surface of the planet was gone,
and fifteen independent states appeared in its stead. The question of a regional “home” for
these states was pushed onto the agenda by the emergence of the new security dilemmas and
economic challenges.
With the exception of the Baltic nations, finding a home in the West proved difficult for
both European and Asian republics of the former Soviet Union. Asia was somewhat more
accommodating: Soon after the end of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR),
Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan joined the
Economic Cooperation Organization founded by Iran, Pakistan and Turkey. In the mid-
1990s, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Russia and Tajikistan joined with China to form the Shang-
hai Five; after the addition of Uzbekistan in 2001 the group renamed itself the Shanghai
Cooperation Organization (SCO).
Even so, integration networks and infrastructure created over the seventy-something
years of the Soviet rule left indelible marks on all newly independent states’ economies.
Some form of economic cooperation above and beyond WTO-typical most favoured nation
trade arrangements was necessary. Thus, an idea to engage one’s former sister republics in a
confederate, or even more loosely defined regional arrangement of some sort, came rather
naturally to twelve of the fifteen ex-Soviet states. Even if Russia tried to reconstitute its lost
spheres of influence, other post-Soviet states sought to preserve Russian credit and trade sub-
sidies, negotiate preferential tariffs and free-trade zones, pool resources and take advantage of
integrated industrial and transportation links inherited from the ancien régime.
Reintegration of a collapsed multinational federation on a voluntary basis, no longer
as a state but as a region comprising several independent states, is a task that is principally
different from a typical regional integration exercise. Historically, territorially adjacent
states banded together to facilitate free trade and security cooperation. The sovereignty
of these states was never in question. Establishment of a region was seen by participants as
an instrument of further promotion of state sovereignty: a solution to potential interna-
tional conflicts that might arise inside or outside the regionalizing grouping; a vehicle to
promote and expand national exports; or, perhaps, an opportunity to voice some “pan”
identity claim.
In the post-Soviet Eurasian case, the situation was quite different. The states’ sovereignty
was precarious. Its strengthening required, first, to complete the unfinished task of national
consolidation, and, second, to court recognition from “old” members of the international
community. Building international alliances with the established centres of power took pri-
ority over region building at home. International guarantees of sovereignty were preferred
to the creation of collective security structures with equally insecure neighbours. The intra-
regional trade emerged out of Soviet dissolution with all the birthmarks of the old system: It
was characterized by distorted prices, market irrationality, expected subsidies and kickbacks
and the prevalence of gentlemanly agreements over contract discipline.

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With regards to a common identity claim, the situation was even more complex. Identity
claims of regionalizing states tend to be based on some pre-existing designation deemed of
importance and value by all of the participants. It may relate to some form of pan-­nationalism
(e.g., Arab, African or European), or to a shared international position vis-à-vis external
centres of power (Mercosur, ASEAN, the Union of South American Nations), or to a com-
mon set of values of political and ideological nature (NATO, OSCE). While the newly
independent states of Eurasia did share a common identity, it was fully grounded in the ­Russian
imperial and Soviet past. Moreover, this common past was perceived as something to be
rejected, rather than upheld.
In spite of all these hurdles, reintegration of the former Soviet republics started almost syn-
chronously with the disbandment of the Soviet Union. During the December 8, 1991, meeting
in Belovezh, Belarus, the leaders of Belarus, Ukraine and Russia signed an agreement pro-
claiming the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS). The Agreement
committed the parties to the development of cooperation in politics, economics, culture and
education; coordination of foreign policy; cooperation “in the formation and development of a
common economic space, all-European and Eurasian markets” (Art. 7). A week later, leaders of
the five Central Asian republics met in Ashkhabad (currently Ashgabat) and declared their read-
iness to become “equal co-founders” of the CIS. The process was formalized at the D ­ ecember
21 summit in Almaty, Kazakhstan, where the Central Asian states, together with Armenia,
Azerbaijan and Moldova, received recognition as “high contracting parties” responsible for the
creation, “on an equal basis,” of the post-Soviet Commonwealth, together with the East Slavic
trio of Russia, Belarus and Ukraine. With the formal ascension of Georgia in 1994, the Com-
monwealth temporarily united all of the former Soviet republics save the three Baltic states.
The CIS’s main purpose was to preserve essential economic ties within the former Soviet
space, while creating a platform for gradual opening of these predominantly uncompetitive
economies to the global market. It also offered an interstate community of belonging – an
international family that these nations longed for. While political reintegration was not on
the agenda, preservation of the essential trade ties was needed for economic survival. Ex-
tensive coordination of monetary, customs, employment, tax and investment policies was
the only way to soften the shock of transition from the formerly planned economy to the
unknown shores of the market.
Over the years following its inception, new institutional forms were proposed. In
­September 1993, CIS countries signed an Economic Union Treaty, which envisaged creation
of a free-trade area. The treaty was followed by a series of subsidiary agreements on free
trade (April 1994), payments (October 1994), customs ( January 1995), legal harmonization
( ­January 1996), customs classification lists (February 1996) and railway tariffs (October 1996).
The member states committed themselves to the achievement of free movement of goods,
services, capital and labour, and promised to follow the agreed-upon monetary, taxation,
price, credit, customs and foreign economic policies. They also pledged to develop compat-
ible and similar instruments of regulation and encourage establishment and continuation of
direct links between firms and industries.
However, the post-Soviet Commonwealth’s performance has been very uneven, if not
lacklustre. The CIS agreements expressed intentions, but did little to create working mech-
anisms. Few of the signed documents were implemented in full. Slightly more than a half
were formally enacted. An average implementation rate of the enacted agreements stood at
55 percent. As a result, by the time of its twentieth anniversary, the CIS executive bodies had
to dump near one-third of all the documents signed throughout the previous two decades
(CIS Executive Committee n.d.).

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The Commonwealth’s role in facilitation of intraregional trade of its core states appeared
minimal and steadily declined until a temporary breakthrough related to the formation of
the Customs Union in 2010. Instead of growing into a tightly knit union with coordinated
trade, monetary and economic policies, the CIS shaped out as a loose consultative forum, an
instrument of a “civilized divorce,” as Vladimir Putin himself acknowledged in 2005. An-
nual summits grew shallow, while the working groups made little progress on key issues. By
the end of the 2000s, many of the participant states’ leaders were convinced that the CIS had
played its role. The Kremlin’s insiders gravitated to the idea that the emphasis in Russia’s for-
eign policy should be put instead on “those structures that have future,” such as the Eurasian
Economic Community or the Collective Security Treaty Organization (Rosbalt 2007).
In spite of this thorny road, the CIS did not collapse and continued providing venues
for interstate negotiations and multilateral meetings, starting with the regular meetings of
the councils of the heads of state, heads of government, ministers of foreign affairs and, for
the eight members, ministers of defence. It allowed institutionalization of the relatively
unrestricted movement of labour, coordinated legislative and regulatory acts, maintained
energy flows and created common markets in agriculture, transportation and information
technologies. It established the multilateral Economic Council, Economic Court and the
Interparliamentary Assembly of the CIS member states. It branched out and sponsored a
number of specialized agencies, such as the Antiterrorist Centre, the Interstate Bank and
the Electric Energy Council; the interstate councils on emergency situations, antimonopoly
policy, aviation and air space use; the Council of the Heads of Customs Services and so on.
Cooperation in science and information exchange produced the International Association
of the Academies of Sciences; the Interstate Foundation for Humanitarian Cooperation; the
Council for Cooperation in Science, Technology and Innovations; the Hydro-­meteorological
Network and the Interstate Statistical Committee, among others.
The CIS had also facilitated cooperation in military and security spheres, including joint
membership in a unified system of air and missile defence. Under its auspices, four peace-
keeping operations were launched, with varying degrees of success, in Moldova, Abkhazia,
South Ossetia and Tajikistan. In spite of criticism endured by Russia for its use of the CIS
peacekeeping to pursue its own foreign policy agenda, the operations did succeed in stop-
ping bloodshed and separating warring parties. Peacekeeping and peacemaking in ­Tajikistan
(1993–2000) brought an end to a prolonged civil war and helped in the conclusion of
a definitive peace agreement between the government in Dushanbe and the United Tajik
Opposition. This has helped to alleviate tensions in the region and brought Tajikistan closer
into the orbit of regional integration processes in Eurasia.
The opposite experience of pushing a member out of the organization started with the CIS
(predominantly Russian) peacekeeping in Georgia. As the events of the Russian-­Georgian
war in 2008 had shown, the Russian peacekeepers in South Ossetia essentially took the side
of the Ossetian separatist forces. In spite of the fact that the war itself was launched by a
surprise Georgian attack on the separatist capital Tskhinvali, the subsequent intervention by
the Russian army helped transform the internal conflict of secession into the international
conflict between two of the CIS members – Russia and Georgia. The Georgian govern-
ment’s decision to quit the Commonwealth a few days later, when the Russian army came
close to occupying Tbilisi, came as no surprise to other CIS members and the international
community at large.
In a similar fashion, Ukraine’s decision to quit Commonwealth came in the wake of
Russia’s annexation of Ukraine’s predominantly Russian territory – Crimea – and the start
of a separatist rebellion in the eastern Donbass provinces. Leaving the CIS would render 223

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collective treaties that Ukraine has signed since the CIS inception null and void, and damage
the country’s relations with a host of countries beyond Russia. Because of that, Kiev decided
to keep its nominal CIS membership without actually participating in the organization’s
executive organs.
By the CIS’s 25th anniversary in 2016, it was clear that even Russia stopped treating the
CIS as a regional integration priority. Even so, the organization is not dead and may still
transform itself into something useful. Moreover, it is important to remember that the CIS
helped to achieve what was possible under the circumstances. The dissolution of the USSR
could, in fact, happen in a much more chaotic and even violent way, and the conflicts in
Transcaucasia, Tajikistan or Trans-Dniester could drag for decades. The Soviet succession
and the division of assets, albeit negotiated mostly on a bilateral basis, were facilitated via
debates in the multilateral CIS bodies. The annual CIS summits institutionalized regular
exchange of opinions and helped develop a sense of joint membership in a regional family
of nations, which could seem, at times, dysfunctional and at other times, irrelevant, but
nonetheless remained a sturdy fact of political and economic geography. The “branching
out” of the several post-Soviet states into subregional integration projects without Russia can
also be attributed to the international socialization and learning experience received within
the framework of the CIS: Even when critical of the Commonwealth’s performance, these
states did build on their CIS experiences in various attempts to outgrow the confines of the
post-Soviet regional cooperation.
Thus, several states that sought to overcome their dependence on Russia had banded
together to create the GUAM (Georgia-Ukraine-Azerbaijan-Moldova) grouping and, fresh
out of Ukraine’s 2004 “orange revolution,” proclaimed the Community of Democratic
Choice to unite “all democratic states in the Baltic, Black Sea and Caspian regions” (­Torbakov
2005). That organization was soon transformed into the Organization for Democracy and
Economic Development (ODED-GUAM). The Baltic-Black Sea cooperation process
was pushed along with no small help of the European Union (EU) and the United States.
However, it has not “lived up to expectations” (Manoli 2012, 45). A number of Central
Asian initiatives, such as the Organization of Central Asian Cooperation, took off and
continued independently from Russia until 2005. The Conference on Interaction and
­Confidence-Building Measures in Asia (CICA) was proposed by Kazakhstan’s President
Nursultan Nazarbayev and led by Kazakhstan from its inception in 1999 until 2010.

The military-political dimension

The Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) has been an essentially Eurasian en-
tity since its inception. Its “Eurasianness” relates to the fact that the very creation of the
CSTO was prompted by security threats emanating from the largely lawless parts of Central
Asia and Transcaucasia. The signing of the Collective Security Treaty (CST) had actually
preceded the establishment of the eponymous organization by good ten years. Rather than
launching a new military alliance, the CST original signatories – the three Transcaucasian
republics of the former Soviet Union, the four Central Asian states (all but Turkmenistan),
Belarus and Russia – were more concerned with the containment of the ongoing civil con-
flicts in Tajikistan and Georgia and the cessation of hostilities in the Nagorno-Karabakh area
disputed between Azerbaijan and Armenia.
Before the CST treaty was signed in 1992, Russia aired the idea of transforming the
ex-Soviet army into a new CIS force under a “joint” (in effect, Russian) command. It did
not fly with other newly independent states (NIS). Very soon, the armed forces inherited

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from the USSR were “nationalized” by the respective NIS governments. The CIS proved of
little value in sorting out the Soviet nuclear inheritance. This question was resolved with the
help of the United States through the invocation of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty
with respect to Belarus, Kazakhstan and Ukraine. All of the three reverted to the non-
nuclear status, transferring their nuclear weapons to Russia.
As expectations of using the collective security provisions of the CST for stopping the inter-
nal (Georgia) and external (Azerbaijan) conflicts were not realized, these states left the Treaty
in 1999. So did Uzbekistan, whose leaders felt the country was abandoned by Russia to face
the threat of militant Islam emanating from Tajikistan and Afghanistan on its own. However,
Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Russia and Tajikistan proceeded to launch a treaty-
based organization to build on existing military and political ties and meet the challenges of
transnational terrorism, extremism, criminality and drug trafficking together. Uzbekistan re-
joined the CSTO in 2006, following the bloody suppression of the Andijan protests in 2005
and the subsequent fallout with the United States over regime’s human rights violations.
The Kremlin views CSTO as “a key instrument to maintain stability and ensure security”
in its “zone of responsibility and adjacent regions” (Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian
Federation 2013). The main stated purpose of this alliance is protection of territorial integ-
rity, sovereignty and independence of its member states from the external aggression com-
mitted by a state or a group of states. While international observers occasionally present the
CSTO as “a small scale analogue to NATO” (Mankoff 2012, 162), the organization protests
such characterization. “NATO is a military bloc seeking a global role,” said CSTO Secretary
General Nikolai Bordyuzha. “The military factor is not the foremost one in the activities
of the CSTO” (Novosti SNG 2008). This, however, may be a handicap. Even though the
organization would like to position itself as a regional security guarantor, it did not intervene
to stop a bloody uprising that toppled Kurmanbek Bakiyev’s regime in Kyrgyzstan in 2010
and refused to grant the new government’s request for peacekeepers to deal with ethnic riots
in the southern Osh and Jalalabad regions.
The CSTO was slow in establishing its Collective Rapid Reaction Force (CRRF or
KSOR, per its Russian acronym), which had been discussed, intermittently, since 2001.
Until the CRRF were, finally, created in 2009–2010, the CSTO Collective Forces of Rapid
Deployment (CFRD) were called forth to provide security in Central Asia. Based on the
national contingents from Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, ten battalions
altogether, CFRD comprised about 4,500 troops with a core formed by Russia’s 201st Mo-
torized Rifle Division that remained stationed in Dushanbe, Tajikistan, since the Soviet
collapse. Moscow had also suggested that the Russian air base in Kant, Kyrgyzstan, were to
be counted as part of the CFRD. The other areas of the CSTO responsibility – the Eastern
European and the Caucasus regions – have been covered, so far, by the forces “native” to the
region: Belarusian and Russian in the first case; and Russian and Armenian, in the second
case (UNU-CRIS 2008, 40–41).
The CFRD, in Dmitry Medvedev’s opinion, remained a paper tiger with no real fangs or
muscle. While announcing the CRRF (in the Russian abbreviation, KSOR) creation as that
of “an effective and universal instrument to ensure unconditional… maintenance of security
throughout all of the CSTO space,” Medvedev allowed himself of a pun on the official name
of the Collective Forces of Rapid Deployment: “Of course, they do deploy fast, but they
have never been deployed by anyone anywhere as yet. And these forces’ value still exists on
paper only” (Prezident Rossii 2009).
Creation of the CSTO collective peacekeeping forces has been a glacial undertaking, too.
A decision to create joint peacekeeping forces of the CSTO member states on the basis of

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the respective national contingents was made back in 2007. It took four years to complete
the formation of the force, which, according to the agreement, may be used to deal with the
conflicts arising from both inside and outside the territories of the member states. In addi-
tion to the bona fide peacekeeping missions, the force may be deployed for counterterrorism
missions, as well as operations to combat drug trafficking and illegal migration. Since the
conceptual differentiation between peacekeeping, peacemaking and peace enforcement has
not made it into the CSTO discourse or its foundational documents, it is safe to assume that
CSTO peacekeepers might be called upon to perform tasks of either type (UNU-CRIS
2008, 41).
By mid-2016, the CSTO Collective Peacekeeping Forces numbered around 3,500 men,
while CRRF numbered near 19,000 soldiers and trained actively. No longer a paper tiger,
the organization still lacks an unambiguous regional mandate and struggles for international
recognition. Internal discords between Tashkent, on the one side, Moscow and Minsk, on
the other side, led Uzbekistan to suspend its membership in June 2012. The prevalent view
in Tashkent at the time was dominated by concerns that CSTO membership could be used
to bring Uzbek national troops into a third-country conflict against that country’s wishes
and the best understanding of Uzbek national interests. However, the CSTO Statute pro-
claims that the decision to deploy troops will always be collective and consensus based and
can only follow an official request of a member state inviting peacekeepers to settle a conflict
on its own territory. Thus, the occasional fearmongering notwithstanding, the CSTO forces
will never be deployed to help Armenia settle a conflict with Azerbaijan over the disputed
territory of Nagorno-Karabakh: Only a direct aggression against Armenia itself might ne-
cessitate such intervention (Rustamov 2012).
CSTO’s regional relevance will be tested vis-à-vis the ongoing situation in Afghanistan
and on its borders. Russia’s responsible leadership of organization is crucial for its success.
Since it has been formed on the basis of Russia’s 98th Airborne Division and the 31st Air-
borne Assault Brigade, the CRRF force is essentially under the Russian command. While
maintaining its military bases in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, Russia had succeeded in making
other CSTO members agree to the idea that any foreign bases on the territory of the CSTO
states should be vetted by all members of the organization. This, in fact, gave Moscow a
veto right with regard to any foreign basing plans in Central Asia. However, the question
remains, if American and NATO presence in Afghanistan is close to nil, can Russia and
Russia-led CRRF forces contain the threat of radical Islamization of the region without
external help?
Some analysts believe they cannot (Sputnik 2016). Critics charge that the CSTO rarely
delivers on its promises and looks more like a club for the preservation of authoritarian re-
gimes, rather than a security organization vested with a task of developing effective partner-
ships or finding collective solutions to common problems (Tarasenko 2011). For all intents
and purposes, the would-be bloc looks mostly as a Russian tool. Yet, in 2015, the CSTO
failed to back Russia with an unambiguous manifestation of support in its conflict with
­Turkey over the downed Russian jet (Kucera 2015). The organization is under-resourced and
could not intervene decisively to stop, or even contain local conflicts in Central Asia. For
some observers, it is no more than an empty shell of a security institution (Blank 2014). Until
and unless CSTO shows itself as a real force capable, for example, of protecting its Central
Asian members from the threat of the Islamic State or Taliban’s intervention, or t­ hwarting
drug trafficking from Afghanistan, or helping build confidence along the Tajikistan-­
Uzbekistan and Uzbekistan-Kyrgyzstan borders, the organization’s mandate and relevance
will remain open to questioning.

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From EurAsEC to the Eurasian Union

The early phases of the post-Soviet Eurasian integration process were steered by the Central
Asian states. Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan had created
the Central Asian Commonwealth days after the end of the USSR in late 1991. This was
renamed the Central Asian Economic Union in 1994, when Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and
Uzbekistan signed the treaty establishing a single economic space. The presidents of the
three states formed the Interstate Council and its Standing Committee, which supervised
several working groups. They launched the Central Asian Bank of Cooperation and Devel-
opment with capital based on budgetary transfers from the members. When Tajikistan joined
in 1998, the organization renamed itself into the Central Asian Economic Cooperation, and
in 2002, the Organization of Central Asian Cooperation (OCAC).
Its main activities were economic in nature; however, with Russia coming on board in
2004, it brought a renewed emphasis on security. The Kremlin argued that the OCAC’s key
objectives should be joint struggle against international terrorism and religious extremism,
drug trafficking, human trafficking and illegal migration. Russia had also offered help in
addressing systemic economic issues, such as the creation of regional hydropower, trans-
portation and food consortia. A year later, Russia succeeded in merging OCAC with the
Eurasian Economic Community (EurAsEC) advocated by Moscow. Official statements on
the occasion argued that the merger would permit eliminating duplication in the activities
of the two organizations with a largely overlapping membership and help reduce financial
and time-related costs. The EurAsEC inherited several OCAC’s portfolios on such issues
as ecology, the hydropower-water supply nexus, healthcare and the burial of old uranium
mining sites.
With EurAsEC appearing as the preferred vehicle for economic integration in the re-
gion, Nursultan Nazarbayev advocated creation of a regional development bank. Vladimir
Putin supported the initiative, and the Eurasian Development Bank was founded in January
2006. Sensing new opportunities, several non-governmental business associations in ­Russia
were keen to jump on the bandwagon. In 2008, the EurAsEC Integration Committee,
the Russian Chamber of Industry and Trade, the Russian Alliance of Manufacturers and
Businesspeople, and the Association of Financial and Industrial Groups of Russia sponsored
creation of the Eurasian Business Council “to foster the development of trade and economic
cooperation between EurAsEC countries, establish direct links between companies from
these countries and encourage business circles to assist integration in EurAsEC” (Eurasian
Development Bank 2009).
Until the mid-2000s, Putin’s reintegration initiatives evolved in more than one direction.
Ukraine seemed, more or less, predisposed to tone down anti-Russian rhetoric and lost
much enthusiasm about the GUAM following the essential failure of the July 2003 summit
of the grouping. With EurAsEC gaining in speed and dynamics, Kiev showed more inter-
est in collaborating with Moscow. The Single Economic Space (SES) agreement between
Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Kazakhstan was signed in September 2003 and ratified by the
parliaments of all signing countries the following year. The SES was devised to provide for
free movement of all factors of production and for the effective policy coordination across
a range of macroeconomic issues. The 2004 summit in Astana (Kazakhstan) produced an
agreement to levy the value-added tax on a destination-country principle. More than two
dozen of foundational legal documents had been prepared for the next year’s meeting. How-
ever, Ukraine objected to the pooling of sovereignty and ceased its participation in the
SES process a few years later. When ratifying the agreement, Ukraine’s Verkhovna Rada

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(parliament) introduced a caveat that the SES provisions and obligations should not contra-
dict the country’s constitution. In 2005, President Yushchenko decreed that Ukraine would
need the SES compliance with the WTO norms and obligations and the requirements of
Ukraine’s integration in the European Union. In opposition to the Russia-preferred vision
of a customs union, Ukraine proposed to focus on a free-trade zone “without any exceptions
and limitations.” Ukraine’s obstructionism led to the eventual collapse of the SES talks in
their original format of four participating countries. Belarus, Russia and Kazakhstan de-
cided to move further without Ukraine and relaunched the common economic space project
within the framework of the EurAsEC.
By 2006, the Eurasian Economic Community included Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan,
Russia, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan (the latter suspended its participation in 2008). Armenia,
Moldova and Ukraine each had an observer status. The EurAsEC promised to boost coop-
eration in trade, economic, social, humanitarian and legal spheres, with an idea of finding
an optimal balance between national and common interests of participating countries. As a
successor to the CIS Customs Union, it sought to complete formation of a free-trade area
among member states and aimed at establishing a common external tariff and common
customs border as first steps toward the creation of a full-fledged customs union. Other
prospective goals included unification of foreign economic policies and non-tariff regulation
measures, formation of common financial and energy markets, a common market for trans-
portation services and a unified transport system, other components of a common market
for trade in goods and services and undertaking measures to ensure free movement of people
and the establishment of a common labour market on the basis of coordinated social policies.
The decision to establish a EurAsEC Customs Union (CU) was adopted in August 2006,
with an understanding that Russia, Kazakhstan and Belarus would become its first mem-
bers. The idea of multilevel, multispeed integration, borrowed straight from the EU lexicon,
proved equally useful for Eurasia. An agreement on the formation of the unified customs ter-
ritory was signed in 2007, yet negotiations over technical issues went on for two more years.
On June 9, 2009, Vladimir Putin announced that Russia, Belarus and Kazakhstan would
be joining the WTO together as a customs union. A common external tariff was launched
on January 1, 2010. The treaty on the Customs Code of the Customs Union was signed on
November 27, 2009, and ratified next year. The Customs Union Customs Code entered
into force in all three countries by July 6, 2010, and by July 2011 transfer of controls to the
external borders was accomplished, with full abolition of customs clearance for the goods
moving between Russia, Kazakhstan and Belarus and intended for domestic consumption.
The Interstate Council of the EurAsEC acted as the supreme body of the Customs Union.
The main regulatory institution was the Eurasian Economic Commission – EAEC (in 2009–
2011, the Customs Union Commission, or CUC) – which consisted of the Commission’s
Council and Collegium. The EAEC Council, just like its predecessor, the Customs Union
Commission, was made of three deputy heads of government, one per each member state.
The EAEC Collegium, which has replaced the CUC’s Secretariat, was made of nine people
at the rank of a senior minister, or three members from each participating country. The
transition from the CUC to the EAEC affected substantial changes in the voting procedure.
The CUC’s budget was formed on the basis of national contributions of member states in the
following proportion: Russia – 57 percent, Belarus and Kazakhstan – 21.5 percent each. The
same proportion applied to the voting rights of the member states: Russia had 57 votes out of
100, thus exercising a de facto veto in the decision-making process (the decision was passed
by two-thirds of the votes). The EAEC budget was formed based on the shares contributed
by each member state in proportion to the national share of import duties received. Although

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the distribution of import duties according to the 2010 agreement clearly privileges Russia,
decisions in the EAEC are fully consensus based and not affected by the size of the country
or the weight of its budgetary contributions.
In January 2012, Belarus, Russia and Kazakhstan had launched a common economic
space. Three years later, in January 2015, the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) officially
came into existence. The Customs Union officials forecasted that intensification of economic
exchanges between the members of the Union would bring no less than 13–15 percent in
extra GDP growth for all participant economies. A unified customs space forms the back-
bone of the EAEU, which is a common market with the guaranteed “four freedoms” of the
movement – of goods, services, capital and persons. There are also plans for future transition
to a common currency. The EAEU coming into existence was perceived as the next logical
step in the evolution of the Customs Union. The Agreement on the EAEC describes the lat-
ter as “a single permanent regulatory body of the Customs Union and Common Economic
Space.” The main task of the Commission is to facilitate the operation and development of
the Customs Union and Common Economic Space and to develop proposals for further
economic integration. The EAEC has been devised as a supranational institution and vested
with a broad range of coordinating, policymaking and lawmaking responsibilities.
The creation of the EAEU resulted in the immediate economic gain from restoration
of economic ties and the enlargement of the market, which at the end of 2012 stood at
170 million people. In a customs union, each member state expands its market to the limits
of a joint economic territory. Because of the economy of scale effects, in 2011 the trade turn-
over between the three CU countries rose by 50 percent – almost twice the rate of Russia’s
foreign trade growth with the rest of the world. Even more impressively, the trade turnover
between Belarus and Kazakhstan alone grew five-fold, thanks not only to the removal of
customs barriers, but also restoration of industrial cooperation and increases in foreign direct
investment within the union.
According to an official estimate, by 2015 the combined monetary gain from integration
of these three economies could reach no less than $400 billion (Shevchenko 2010). Writing
in early 2014, Putin’s advisor, Academician Sergei Glazyev claimed that creation of the Cus-
toms Union alone would bring up to $1 trillion, or about 15 percent extra in GDP growth,
to its participant states by 2030. These would include $632 billion in extra growth for ­Russia,
$170 billion – for Belarus, and $107 billion for Kazakhstan (Glazyev n.d.).
The reality proved somewhat different. After collapse of the oil price and imposition of
Western sanctions in response to annexation of Crimea, Russian economy had barely grown
in 2014 and shrank by 3.7 percent in 2015. A further contraction of 1.9 percent is anticipated
for 2016. All members of the Eurasian Union have been affected. The economy of Belarus,
down 3.9 percent in 2015, is expected to contract by 3 percent in 2016 and by 1 percent
in 2017. Finally, Kazakhstan, the best performer of the three core EAEU countries, grew
only 1.2 percent in 2015. The World Bank’s baseline scenario of summer 2016 envisioned
Kazakhstan’s economy essentially stagnating through the end of the year, before rising to
1.9 percent in 2017 and 3.7 percent in 2018. Very little, if any, of that recovery might be
attributed to positive effects of the Eurasian regional integration.
The Western sanctions exposed a rift between the EAEU members. When R ­ ussia
responded with counter-sanctions, Belarus and Kazakhstan refused to follow suit. In
­December 2015, Kazakhstan joined the WTO on its own terms, agreeing to an average cus-
toms duty of 6.1 percent. The move was not coordinated with other members of the EAEU,
where an average duty is 10.4 percent. On several occasions, Belarus and Kazakhstan used
non-tariff measures to restrict imports of cheaper Russian goods, thus protecting domestic

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markets from the effects of the rouble devaluation (Strzelecki 2016). Kazakhstan showed
much more interest in China’s New Silk Road initiative, confirming the desire to connect its
own “Bright Road” economic policy with the Silk Road Economic Belt plans promulgated
by China. While the internal EAEU trade shows a tendency to decline, contracting by more
than 25 percent in 2015 (Sokov 2016), the Sino-Kazakhstani plans to open a new transit
route from China to Europe across Kazakhstan’s territory are well on track. The completion
of the transcontinental transit line crossing Kazakhstan is scheduled for the end of 2016, and
the whole route will be open to traffic in 2017.

The problem of leadership

Region building in the non-Western part of Eurasia will not succeed without strong re-
gional leadership. Such leadership can only be based on the unequivocal readiness to pick
up the inevitable costs of regional integration. Until recently, Russia could not become a
“benevolent hegemon” for the region because both liberal and nationalist strands of its elite
supported self-centred development and full withdrawal of ideologically motivated handouts
to “friendly” nations. The stage of primary accumulation of capital did not invite acts of
state-sponsored philanthropy across the border. Instead, the preferred type of the cross-­border
movement of money has been private capital flight to the offshore destinations. Russia’s
energy subsidies to the “near abroad” were also self-serving: Apart from the country’s geo-
political goals, they allowed creation of numerous opportunities for arbitrage and corruption
(Nemtsov and Milov 2008). In many other instances of trade negotiations between Russia
and other post-Soviet states, the Russian negotiators used power, rather than interest-based
approaches, and appeared unwilling to compromise.
The Eurasian states’ perceptions of Russia as a regional leader are marred by this ex-
perience. In addition, there is a new kid on the block, and the one that is hard to ignore.
China skilfully uses the Shanghai Cooperation Organization and the One Belt, One Road
to propel its geopolitical and business interests in the region. Beijing is willing to assume
the paymaster function for Central Asia and the neighbourhood. Because of that, Russia’s
dominance here is a thing of the past. Yet, China is not yet ready to antagonize Russia and
consequently lays no open claim to leadership, preferring to hide, for the time being, behind
the smokescreen of collective interests. Conversely, Moscow does not shy away from the
limelight even if some other country should have been in its focus. At the same time, Russia’s
economy today is simply not strong enough for the paymaster’s responsibilities. Russia needs
to normalize its relations with the West to become attractive as a political and economic
partner. The Russia-China duo could become a working “engine” for the Eurasian inte-
gration process, but until it has been established as such, the supply side of Eurasian regional
integration will remain deficient.
These caveats notwithstanding, the multilateral interest in regional cooperation stayed
and regional integration proceeded. True, there is still a long way to go, and the situation
in the Eurasian Economic Union still resembles that “incomplete contract without suprana-
tional authority” that Cooley and Spruyt saw in Russia’s position in the CIS:

Supranational delegation is one way of signaling future compliance by stronger states,

but if power asymmetries are stark, as in a hegemonic environment, the stronger state
will not consent to such constraints of its autonomy.
(Cooley and Spruyt 2009, 253)

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Mikhail A. Molchanov

Yet Russia did choose to consent to the creation of supranational institutions on the basis of
the EAEU. The pessimistic prognosis of the EAEU’s imminent failure did not work. One
possible reason for that is analysts’ short-sightedness with regard to the role of agency – in
this case, political elites of the participating countries – that has, once again, proved itself
capable of overcoming structural constraints. New regionalism in Eurasia, be it in the EAEU
form or through the Silk Road Economic Belt medium, or indeed in combination of several
regional and subregional drivers, will evolve and thrive. What neoliberal globalization could
not deliver, developmentally oriented interstate regionalism might still achieve.

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 Part IV
Explaining Asia
Theoretical discussions
 35
Confucianism and the
rise of East Asia
Jinghao Zhou

East Asia is one of the most dynamic regions in the world. Geographically, it includes China,
Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong, South Korea, North Korea, and Mongolia; culturally, Singapore
and Vietnam are part of East Asia because they share the East Asian cultural heritage—­
Confucianism. This chapter discusses the relationship between Confucianism and the rise of
East Asia from both geographic and cultural perspectives, focusing on China, Japan, South
Korea, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Singapore, and Vietnam.
The term “Rise of East Asia” refers to the fact that East Asia experienced fast economic
growth from the 1960s to the 1990s. After World War II, the economies of these countries
took off one after another. Japan took the lead and became the world’s second-richest and
advanced nation in two decades; South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore, the so-
called “Four Little Dragons,” quickly followed, and finally, China began to rise in the 1980s.
All these East Asian countries were the world’s top economic performers in the postwar era.
It only took less than half a century from the Japanese economic miracle to China’s rise. East
Asia reached a high level of modernization in fifty years, but Western countries took about
two centuries to complete the same task. Why were these East Asian countries able to be-
come the world’s fastest-industrializing nations in a short period of time? One explanation is
that they benefited not only from the developed nations but also from their common cultural
tradition—Confucianism. All East Asian countries are culturally within Confucian order
(Morishima 1982, 15). It is Confucianism that shapes social ethical codes and governing
principles, and brings about sustained economic progress in East Asia.

Development of Confucianism in East Asia

Confucianism is different from the original teaching of Confucius. The term “­ Confucianism”
was invented by Westerners in modern times to categorize the East Asian cultural tradition
from a Western perspective. Confucius, the founder of Confucianism, was born in 551 B.C.
during the Warring States Period in which China was in a great transition from a heredity
system to a feudal society. The Four Books (The Analects, Mencius, The Doctrine of Mean,
and The Great Learning) and the Five Classics (The Book of Changes, The Book of H­ istory, The
Book of Songs, The Book of Rites, and The Spring and Autumn Annals) represent the authority

525
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of Confucius’s teaching. Only these works, which recorded Confucius’s teaching, can be
­categorized as authentic Confucian works. The basic concept of his teaching is based on the
five constant virtues: jen (benevolence), yi (righteousness), li (propriety), zhi (­k nowledge/
wisdom), and xin (sincerity). His main teaching comprises three cardinal guides: Ruler
guides subject, father guides son, and husband guides wife. All these Confucian principles
deal with human relationships and social order. Confucian social utopia is the harmony of
the individual, the group, and the country. Therefore, Confucius’s teaching at its inception
was not an economic theory but a strong conservative political and ethical philosophy aim-
ing to restore the heredity system (Lin 1942, 3).
The original intention of Confucius’s teaching was to restore trust in the government,
transform society into a moral community, bring comfort to the old, have trust in friends,
and cherish the young by practicing the five constant virtues. In Confucius’s time, China was
experiencing a great transformation from a slavery system to a feudal system. The old social
order was broken (li beng) as wars and violence started occurring across the land in the Warring
States Period. In Confucius’s eyes, the old social order was the best social order because it was
compatible with li (propriety). He was determined to bring society back to the traditional sys-
tem ( fu li). Ke ji fu li—conquer yourself and return to ritual—was his primary motivation and
central political ambition. The ultimate goal of Confucian teaching was to maintain traditional
social order (Zhou 2016). Thus, the original teaching was not a “precise moral orientation,
but a professional training with the general goals of state service” (Nylan 2001). Tu Wei-Ming
(2012, 77) points out that “Confucianism is hierarchical oriented political ideology which is
essentially the same as Marxism in a political perspective.”
The original teaching of Confucius is transmitted from one generation to another and
­reinterpreted by intellectuals and politicians in different time periods. The process of rein-
terpreting his teaching has gone through three periods or three epochs throughout history
(Tu 1986, 3). The first epoch, from Confucius’s time to the Tang dynasty (618–907 A.C.), was
the formative period of Confucianism. Beginning with the Song dynasty (960–1279 A.C.),
Confucianism entered a new stage: Neo-Confucianism or lixue in Chinese. After World
War II, the inauguration of democratic systems spread throughout many countries. Western
countries, thus, began paying attention to the role of Confucianism, and it entered into its
third epoch: New Confucianism on the global stage. During the third epoch, ­Confucianism
made a great contribution not only to Asian countries but also to countries outside Asia
(Tu 1986, 19).
East Asian countries can be categorized into two different types of political systems: so-
cialist and democratic. Confucianism began in China and flowed into Vietnam and Korea.
Although both socialist countries, China and Vietnam, attacked Confucianism during the
early communist regimes, they are now restoring their Confucian traditions after a con-
vulsive rejection of their cultural past. Japan has long been a recipient of Chinese culture
flow, from the sixth century to modern times. The Tokugawa state (1603–1867) established
Confucianism as its ideology, and it gradually grew stronger and was widely spread among
the middle strata of the population in the mid-Tokugawa onward, providing a message of
self-formation and social construction through teachings about how to conduct people’s lives
and govern a society. On the eve of the Meiji Restoration (1868), Chinese learning reached
a high academic level. After the Meiji government launched its modernization program, the
government still adhered to Confucianism, and it reshaped the Japanese businessman’s per-
sonality (Kuo-hui Tai 1989, 75). The basic notions and values of Japanese society were cul-
tivated by Chinese traditional culture, and Japanese-style Chinese culture was increasingly
growing during the Meiji and linked up directly with the post-Restoration development.

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As early as the second century, South Korea fell into the Han China and was actually
under Chinese tutelage until China was defeated by Japan in the end of the nineteenth cen-
tury. The two countries shared a long cultural commitment to Confucianism. South Korea
is the most Confucian country. Many South Koreans consider Chinese traditions to have
even stronger influence in their country than in China (Koh 1996, 191). In the fourteenth
century, South Korea established a Confucian society—Choson Dynasty (1392–1910)—and
Neo-Confucianism became an inalienable part of Korean tradition. When the West de-
manded that South Korea open its door in the 1860s, Korean Confucianists reacted strongly
against the idea (Palais 2002, 515). Following American presence in South Korea, many
Koreans showed a new appreciation of their Confucian heritage as part of a reaction against
Western materialism and individualism. Today, South Korea still has a vital Confucian tra-
dition as a central part of Korean cultural identity.
Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore share Confucianism mainly because the majority of
their populations are ethnic Chinese. All three were Confucian societies before the nineteenth
century. Taiwan is the only East Asian region where Confucianism is officially worshipped
(Hung-chao Tai 1989a, 3). In Singapore, about 76 percent of the total population was Chinese
in the 1980s. Although it used to be ruled by Britain, Japan, and Malaysia, the majority of
Singaporeans were influenced by Chinese tradition. After it became an independent country
in 1965, Singapore began to redefine its national identity by promoting Confucian values and
recruited foreign experts to help the Confucian campaign. In 1982, the government began to
promote a Singaporean ethos by announcing a religious curricular program in the secondary
schools with six options. Confucianism was one of the ­options. The government emphasized
that Confucianism is the most durable of human social institutions.
Confucianism traveled from China to Vietnam a thousand years ago. In 1070, the estab-
lishment of the Van Mieu (Temple of Literature) in Hanoi, a temple of learning dedicated to
Confucius, indicated the emergence of Confucianism as a cult. Its development reached a peak
in the fifteenth century—the golden age of King Le Thanh Tong—and has extended beyond
ruling circles since the fifteenth century. Vietnamese reformers at the turn of the twentieth
century drew inspiration from China and continued to develop Confucian values (McHale
2002, 398). Tran Trong Kim (1883–1953), former Prime Minister, attempted to attach a
non-Western identity, so-called Confucianism (nho giao), to a Western notion of the “nation,”
and nho giao/Confucianism became a mark of the national identity (Taylor 2002, 363). The
Temple of Literature in Ha Noi is now a gorgeous shrine of Vietnamese Confucianism in the
post-revolutionary era.

Three perspectives
Many Confucian specialists, such as Tu Wei-Ming (1989), Julia Ching (1977), W. M.
­Theodore de Bary (1989), and Irene Eber (1986), hold a very positive view of Confucianism
and appreciated Confucius’s teaching as virtually ageless (De Bary 1991). They believe that
Confucianism plays a major role in the development of civilization in East Asia. Yet there
are divergent perspectives on the issue of the relationship between Confucianism and the
economic development in East Asia.
The first perspective argues that Confucianism provides the core values for the explosive
economic growth in East Asia. It has played a positive role in making a good contribution
to the economic development in China and to the Asian economic miracle of the early
1990s as well as to the Pacific Rim (Tu 1998, 135). The success of economic development in
East Asia should be credited to Confucianism (Glazer 1976, 813). This perspective believes

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Jinghao Zhou

that the most important experience of East Asia is the acceptance of Confucianism in shap-
ing a human-oriented workforce in the service of industrialization (Hartfield 1989, 110).
­Specifically, the doctrines of Confucianism, such as benevolence, righteousness, and integ-
rity, are compatible with the central principle of capitalist market economy: fair-­competition
and exchange. Confucianism played a considerable role in the rise of East Asia and will
continue to be a robust force shaping the life of the people in the region. Moreover, it is a
glue to combine the two business principles: making profit and conducting moral business.
Historically, after Western powers expanded to Asia, intellectuals in East Asia, espe-
cially in China, Korea, and Vietnam, blamed the failures of Confucianism in response to
modernization. The turning point in this is the Opium Wars. China’s loss in the Opium
Wars brought it a territorial loss of Korea and Taiwan and resulted in reparations to foreign
countries of over 750 million taels of silver as well as a loss of control of its major national
industries, such as customs, postal systems, banks, telegram services, and railroad services
(Hartfield 1989, 95). In Korea, the rise of nationalism in 1896 was associated with the rejec-
tion of Confucianism (Palais 2002, 495). It in some sense collapsed during the period of the
fall of premodern times. However, after East Asia regained confidence from their economic
success in the 1960s, they felt it was necessary to redefine their national identity by reinter-
preting Confucian values (Rozman 2002, 11). Since the 1980s, the Chinese government has
started to promote the renaissance of Chinese traditional cultures, resulting in the rise of
Guoxue fever, and Confucianism has become a sub-political culture as an alternative to the
faith crisis of Marxism-Maoism and the CPC’s legitimacy.
The second perspective asserts that Confucianism represents the cultural backwardness
in Asia, viewing it as the basis of political authoritarianism, the model of crony capitalism,
and an obstacle to economic development. This perspective contends that Confucianism
and modernity were antithetical and incompatible, and suggests that Confucianism has a
­zero-sum game view of the economy because it downgrades profit-making. In this sense,
it is a hindrance to modernization. According to Zhu Xi, the great Confucian scholar of
the Song Dynasty, obtaining business achievement through calculation is selfish; such an
endeavor is a world apart from the way of the sages. Confucianism generally “held com-
mercial activity in low esteem primarily because the profit motive was regarded as morally
tainted, and the search for wealth promoted selfishness over the public good and profligacy
and ostentation over frugality” (Palais 2002, 492). Although Confucianism did not block
economic development, it undoubtedly inhibited the shift from an agrarian economy to an
industrial economy. Some scholars believe that it and modernity were antithetical and in-
compatible. Modernization encourages anti-tradition, including Confucian ideology, in the
name of modernity, secularism, and science. When alive, Confucianism inhibits capitalism;
when dead, it facilitates modernization (Siu-lun Wong 1989, 167). This explains why China
failed to achieve modern economic growth and Korea (Duncan 2002). Young-Job Chung
goes further by noting that the negative economic consequences of Confucianism were more
pronounced in Korea than in the China of the past because “Confucian teachings rejected
training in economist for the pursuit of wealth and held business people in low esteem the
ruling elite, yang-ban, did not allow themselves to participate in profit-making enterprises”
(Chung 1989, 152). Thus, Confucianism is required to overcome the Asian traditional cul-
ture and in order to boost Asian economy (Kim 1997, 78).
The third perspective rejects the cultural argument, arguing that neither Confucianism
nor its derived values played a principal role in the Asian economic miracle, although it plays
a secondary role. Its influence in the East Asian economy has been exaggerated and mis-
conceived, even though it shaped the past (McHale 2002, 397). James B. Palais (2002, 507)

528
 Confucianism and the rise of East Asia

points out that Confucianism remains influential, but “I cannot see that it deserves much
credit for the state-led industrialization program or the emergence of the great modern cap-
italists.” This perspective also disagrees that Confucianism should be seen as responsible for
the stagnation of economic development. The conferees and discussants in the conference
of Asian Confucianism held in University of California, Los Angeles in California in 1999
agreed that “Confucianism itself was neither responsible for, nor the cause of, the Asian
economic upturn before 1997, nor for the downturn in 1997–99” (Elman 2002a). Therefore,
scholars around the world have tried to establish a variety of connections between Confucian
value and modernization but have arrived at no consensus (McHale 2002).

Confucianism and the rise of East Asia

Regarding the causes for the rise of East Asia, while some emphasize the role of the state,
markets, or geopolitics, others focus on culture. To be sure, many have observed that
­Confucianism played a significant role in this rise. In what sense does it contribute to this?
It is necessary to look into two aspects of Confucian roles during the rise of East Asia. At
the national level, government has used Confucianism to shape their national identity and
develop their own model of economic development; at the enterprise level, business organi-
zations have used Confucian values/elements to cultivate the spirit of employees and organi-
zations in order to create highly efficient productivity.

1 The greatest role for Confucianism is a part of national identity. All East Asian coun-
tries have shared main Confucian values and created their own model of economic
development, so-called an affective model/oriental model of economic development,
which emphasizes human emotional bonds, group orientation, and harmonious rela-
tions because Asian people prefer to be more concerned with human affairs and the
social ­conditions they live in. This model is different from the Western development
model, which stresses efficiency, individualism, and dynamism (Wu and Tai 1989, 7).
Japan became one of the most advanced countries in two decades after World War
II and emerged as the second richest country in the world by the 1980s. The model of
Japanese economic development largely relies on a social structure and a value system.
The dominant pattern of feelings binding Japanese together is the Confucian concept of
loyalty. Confucianism focuses on patriarchal relationship, which requires individuals to
engage in self-cultivation in order to accept authority of the superior. To Japanese, the
relationship between individuals is one between the subordinate and the superordinate.
Japanese relations are a harmonious social environment based on those who are higher
in rank (sempai) and those lower in rank (kouhai). Japanese people live essentially in
a vertical society (Nakane 1970). The country of Japan is essentially a Japanese Inc.
­Confucianism is the spirit of the Japanese Inc.
Korean economy began to take off after the devastation of the Korea War and achieved
a remarkable success in several decades. The rapid pace of Korea’s modernization relied
on the top-down methods supported by Confucian patriarchal ideology. The state-led
development is the key to South Korean economic success. It was Park Chung Hee who
implemented such a system and led South Korea from 1961 until his assassination in
1979. Confucianism certainly played a role in his public acceptance. The government
redefined Confucian values by arguing that “the original Five Relations were meant to
be horizontal as well as vertical relationships, or by asserting that filial piety is the basis
of a universal love for all munity” (Duncan 2002, 452).

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Jinghao Zhou

Singapore is a city-state with a size of 238 square miles and a population of 2.5 million
in which it is easy and amenable to adopt a centralized administration system based on
Confucianism. Singapore is an administrative state (Bellows 1989, 195). After Singapore
became an independent country in 1965, the government subscribed to a new Confucian
spirit, emphasizing hierarchy, order, reciprocity, and loyalty. This spirit has contributed to
the achievement of Singapore as a new nation. Accordingly, Singapore’s government has
pursued interventionist economic policies and devoted enormous resources to economic
infrastructure for business investment. Since the mid-1960s, S­ ingaporean government has
actively introduced foreign investment, even ­a llowing solely foreign-owned enterprises.
2 The true spirit of Confucianism is about the establishment of a hierarchical social system
based on Confucius’s doctrine of the five relationships, which requires the subordination
of the son to the father, the wife to the husband, and the subjects to the rulers. ­According
to Confucianism, the father is the head of family; in the big family of a nation, the
emperor is the father of the nation. The state/government in Chinese, guo-jia, means
“nation-family.” For the same reason, the head of an enterprise is the father of the orga-
nization. The relationship between individuals and enterprises is the same as the family
relations. Business enterprises fundamentally rely on their employees, but the relationship
between employees and their employers can significantly affect employees’ career. Asian
people maintain their tradition and are supposed to uphold the interest of group/­
enterprise and the nation (Kuo-hui Tai 1989, 70). Many East Asian people have become to
accept the relationship between the employer and his employees as something equivalent
to those between the emperor and his ministers, and between the father and his children.
The experience of the rise of Asia shows that strong family ties are not a barrier
to modern economy but promote stable employment, high productivity, and high
employee morale and satisfaction. The family spirit profoundly influences ­Japanese
economy. The spirit of Japanese success is the group-directed quest for knowledge,
relying on state benevolence, family solidarity, and company paternalism. P ­ aternalism
and social harmony play a role in the stable operation of companies in Japan. Many
Japanese enterprises are successful because they reject the notion that personal feelings
have no place at work and develop a feeling of trust and intimacy among their employ-
ees (Hung-chao Tai 1989b, 22). William Ouchi, the founder of Theory Z of Ouchi,
characterizes it as “Japanese Management,” which increases employee loyalty to the
company by providing a job with a strong focus on the well-being of the employee,
both on and off the job. Tetuo Ohsone (1983), a union leader at the Mazda Company
of Japan, puts it this way, “our basic philosophy is that the improvement of living
standards of union members is closely related to the expansion of the company itself.”
South Koreans believe “their country not only as closer to China than Japan, but in
administrative culture and familism more Confucian than China” (Rozman 2002, 21).
Korean Confucian family values, such as filial piety, proper order between senior and
junior, and loyalty to the state, used to be utility for the maintenance of Park’s autocratic
political regime. In 1968, the Korean presidential Charter of National Education called
for diligence, thrift, loyalty, and education. In the late 1970s, Park Chung Hee began to
revitalize Confucian values of filial piety and loyalty as the hallmarks of Korean-style
democracy. The soul of the Korean culture is ui li—a deeply held system of morality,
integrity, and loyalty—and the idea of ui li is compatible with Confucian family spirit
(Chung 1989, 154). Korean people believe that as long as there is the state, the ethic of
loyalty must endure; and as long as there is the family, the ethic of filial piety must persist
(Duncan 2002).

530
 Confucianism and the rise of East Asia

Most of Taiwanese entrepreneurs were small-business owners, and about 78 percent

of them employed fewer than ten workers in the 1960s and 1970s. They were considered
as family business and very traditionalistic. The qualification of seniority is highly valued
being a prerequisite for Taiwanese elite (Li 1989, 34). Young people with less experience
seldom can elevate their social status no matter how hardworking they may be. In Hong
Kong, about 50 percent of factories were considered family-owned enterprises in 1978.
These businesses required a stable workforce, so benevolent paternalism played a critical role
in retaining worker force. However, the family enterprises have both economic strengths
and weaknesses, i.e., familism easily breads widespread nepotism (Siu-lun Wong 1989, 175).
3 Three factors, hardworking, saving, and education, are especially important to the econ-
omy in utilizing natural resources for production. All these three endeavors are motivated
by the individual in a cultural context. The family spirit is closely relevant to the three
factors (Chung 1989). First, individuals’ willingness to devote their work and society is
one of the preconditions to modern economic development. Generally, East Asians have
a diligent attitude toward work with a relatively low pay partly because the cultural and
social atmosphere of the company was influenced by Confucianism (­Hung-chao Tai
1989b, 20). Second, in order to assure their family members’ necessary means to live
on, traditional Asians are willing to forsake current spending for personal enjoyment.
­Confucianism has developed a sense of diligence and frugality among Asian people, so
they practice a frugal life to maintain high savings. This tradition helped accumulate
wealth and enable them to launch successfully a labor-­intensive industry in the early
stage of industrialization. In turn, the large amount of domestic savings helped to ­restrain
inflation, reduce the cost of capital borrowing, and increase in business investment
­(Hung-chao Tai 1989b, 24). Third, in East Asia, the main channel of elevating individ-
uals’ social status for glorifying their family is receiving formal education. C ­ onfucius
espoused the idea of universal education. According to Confucius, education is for all
without class distinctions. Educational achievement is vital to income distribution and
economic growth. This distinctive feature showed in almost every East Asian country
during the rise of East Asia. China established the earliest educational system and the
first civil service examination system in the world. In China today, the governments and
enterprises still follow the tradition to recruit elites through the examination system.
Education is highly valued in Japan and Korea, which enables the government to
recruit well-qualified personnel for public services. In Korean tradition, being a cul-
tured man, like junzi (gentlemen) in China, was considered the highest personal
­accomplishment. The cultured man was self-cultivated by high moral standards and car-
dinal virtues, such as patriotism, filial piety, and loyalty. Only the cultured man could be
raised to a position of true dignity, secure an appointment to a public office, and glorify
his ancestors and his posterity (Chung 1989, 152). In Taiwan, education is an important
qualification for promotion and the only means for young people to elevate their social
status regardless of their family origin. This Confucian value encourages Taiwanese to
acquire knowledge and skills for modernization (Yi-ting Wong 1989, 114).

Confucianism alone cannot fully explain the rise of East Asia

Search for the causes of the rise of East Asia should be directed to all possible factors. The
role of Confucianism cannot fully explain the rise of East Asia. There are other factors that
contribute to the economic miracles. China is the birth place of Confucianism, but it does
not necessarily mean that Confucianism should receive much credit for China’s rise in the

531
Jinghao Zhou

post-Mao era. China demonized Confucianism in the first thirty years of the communist
regime and did not begin to promote the state-sponsored Confucianism until the middle of
the 1980s. This means that the government still viewed Confucianism as feudal remnants
when China initiated the modernization program in 1978. China’s fast economic growth
in the past thirty-five years has basically relied on the reform and open-door policy to
­generate ­Chinese people’s enthusiasm and attracted a large amount of foreign investment.
Many observers have agreed that the postwar Japanese economic miracle has benefited
from external factors: “American economic assistance and military spending during the
­Korean and Vietnam Wars and a world market” (Hartfield 1989, 99). Pragmatism also
helped ­Japanese economy. Japan was willing to borrow and adopt Western science, tech-
nology, and democratic system.
Culturally, Korea was influenced by China but, economically, it may be influenced
more by Japan (Palais 2002, 515). In the forty years of Japanese occupation, Korea bene-
fited from Japanese financial contribution and also modeled Japanese modernized system
by establishing market-oriented economic institutions and the legal system (Chung 1989,
159). After the end of the Japanese occupation, the United States introduced modern-
ization to South Korea. With the flow of US military personnel, Koreans got an oppor-
tunity to learn about Western culture and industrialization. American financial aid and
private investment provided South Korea with the necessary capital for the reconstruc-
tion of Korean economy (Chung 1989, 159). South Korea remains under the US military
umbrella. It is impossible for South Korea to succeed without the open market of the
United States.
Taiwan does not have traditional advantages in rich natural resources and large do-
mestic market. To overcome these limitations, Taiwan relies on foreign trade as the main
driving force behind its economic development (Yi-ting Wong 1989, 118). The partial
credit of the Taiwanese economic growth should be given to US aid, which not only sta-
bilized Taiwan’s economy but also helped the island to launch its export program (Kahn
1979). However, with the improvement of relationship between Taiwan and Mainland
China, Taiwan’s economy has become increasingly relying on the market in the main-
land. During the rapid economic growth in Hong Kong, a large number of refugees in the
postwar Hong Kong were an industrial asset because some of refugees were the eldest sons
who were in charge of their family business with technical and management knowledge.
In addition, the colony established a good governmental structure with mature legal sys-
tem, which promoted industrialization. The unique urbanism also contributed to Hong
Kong’s economy. Hong Kong’s border with the Mainland China was strictly guarded,
preventing the Mainland C ­ hinese from flowing into Hong Kong, so Hong Kong created
for itself a separate urban identity, which ­engendered a feeling of solidarity and a common
orientation toward economic achievement (­Siu-lun Wong 1989, 185). It is worth noting
that Hong Kong cannot survive without the market of the mainland and other part of the
world (Kuo-hui Tai 1989, 89).
Like Hong Kong, the British government created the Singaporean civil service system.
Since Singapore became an independent country, the focus of civil service system has been
shifted to economy, i.e., develop well-being and national identity, and cultivate ethical be-
havior among the citizenry (Bellows 1989, 197). Singapore’s economy greatly benefits from
its geographic location because it is situated at a strategic mid-point between the East and
Europe. There is no deep-water port in the area except at the mouth of the Singapore River.
This is the second busiest port in the world, so it makes possible for Singapore largely lives
on its trade and commerce (Bellows 1989, 211).

532
 Confucianism and the rise of East Asia

Final remarks
China is the cradle of the original teaching of Confucius. The development of Confucian-
ism is a process of reinterpreting the original Confucius’s teaching in China and beyond.
Confucianism has been indigenized in East Asian countries. Confucianism is not one but
many. Confucianism is a living tradition and, accordingly, it is multidimensional and multi-
layered (Herr 2011, 83). Thus, it is necessary to discuss the relationship between the role of
Confucianism and the rise of East Asia in a historical and geographic context. All East Asian
countries have reinterpreted Confucianism in order to fit their own agendas during the rise
of East Asia (Lee 2006). They have selectively adopted different elements of Confucianism
more amenable to its specific needs. Confucianism has been used for democratic societies,
authoritarian regimes, and communist countries, to serve different economic and political
needs. In this sense, there is no a unified development model of East Asia.
Today it is clear that China, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam have always adapted Confucianism
to suit the interest of their social elites and political leaders. Japan did not simply copy Confu-
cianism but practiced Confucian ideas in the Japanese context, i.e., Japan selectively adopted
the elements of Confucianism to fit its modernization, and Confucianism becomes ­Japanization
of Confucianism (Elman 2002b, 16). In the 1930s, the movement of C ­ onfucianism became a
strong supporter of the Great Japanese Empire by advocating the importance of Eastern thought.
­Japan’s modernization in the postwar era is a dramatic example of a cultural synthesis (Pepper and
Kahn 1979). Confucianism is already polluted by its version of Westernization (Kim 1997, 77).
During the Japanese occupation in South Korea, the Japanese supported ­Confucianism as a
means of inducing obedience and loyalty to Japanese authority (Palais 2002, 497). In the 1960s,
the Park regime used Confucian values to legitimize his authority and prevent anti-­government
student movement—minjung civil movement (Duncan 2002, 454).
The socialist countries have the similar experience. North Korea has utilized the C ­ onfucian
value system to reinforce the Chuch’e ideology—the official state ideology of North Korea—
and defend the Kim’s Kingdom’s transition from Kim II Sung to his son Kim Jong II (Kang
2011, 65). Vietnam does not follow the same trajectory as in other East Asian countries because
the Vietnamese believe that “Confucianism as a key to economic success must be modified
by the desire for national exceptionalism, the originality of the Vietnamese way” (McHale
2002). Vietnamese Marxist nationalists have modified the Confucian framework and reinter-
preted Confucianism in agreement with Marxist ideas. Since the early 1990s, the Vietnamese
­Communist Party has integrated Vietnamese traditions into a new culture. In China, the
purpose of restoring Confucianism is obviously for legitimizing the one-party system and
strengthening belief system because of epidemic corruption and the demise of Marxism.
Therefore, Confucianism in the post-Confucius era was not a unitary school of thought
but has a variety of traditions due to different interpretations in different historical contexts
(He 2012, 131). All these interpretations reflect the needs and concerns of each generation of
the cultural community. Reinterpreted Confucianism in each country “may contain some
truth, but no one interpretation may capture the whole monolithic and unchangeable”
(Herr 2011, 83). Without a doubt, there is no a unified and transcendent C ­ onfucianism;
and contemporary Confucianism does not necessarily represent the original teaching of
Confucius. Conceptualization of a transnational Confucianism is “historically simplistic
and politically misleading” (Elman 2002c, 518).
The rapid economic surge in East Asia between the early 1960s and the 1990s was largely
driven by both domestic impetus and international assistance. Confucianism has played a role
in the rise of East Asia, but it is still debatable on whether the role of Confucianism is a primary

533
Jinghao Zhou

driving force of the rise of East Asia. Many believe that the fast-growing economy in East Asia has
been fundamentally driven by domestic economic policy, market system, and international assis-
tance. It would be a mistake if we overstated the role of Confucian legacy during the rise of East Asia.
The discussion of this chapter is only limited to the relations of Confucianism to eco-
nomic development. However, modernization is an integrated concept that includes both
prosperous economy and modern democracy. Eventually, an authoritarian regime is unable
to sustain its economic development and enrich both material and spiritual life for their
own people. Thus, it is too early to conclude that Confucian value is universal and the
China model/East model is an alternative model to the Western model. There are four the-
ories on the issue of the relationship between Confucianism and democracy: conflict model,
compatible model, hybrid model, and critical model—constrain democratic system. While
­Huntington (2007) argues that the core values of Confucianism are not compatible with lib-
eral democracy (2007), Fukuyama (1995) asserts that the Confucian values, such as the exam-
ination ­system, education, fairly egalitarian income distribution, relative tolerance, tradition
of dissent and protest, and tendency toward egalitarianism, are not only compatible with but
actually promote liberal democracy. Although many scholars have adopted a compatibility
approach and believe Confucianism is positive in relation to democracy (He 2012, 132), it
remains ­questionable on whether Confucianism is compatible with modern democracy.
It is worth noting that one basic characteristic of the rise of East Asia is the decline of the
common East Asian cultural heritage—Confucianism. Despite persistent attempts to revive
Confucianism from different directions, the tendency of the decline will irresistibly continue.
To be sure, Confucianism is not dead but will continue to play a role in East Asia and ­beyond.
­Questions raised here are: Where is Confucianism heading? Will Confucianism be able to sur-
vive in the twenty-first century? It seems that New Confucianism is emerging in China and other
East Asian countries. Confucianism, together with socialism and liberalism, has become one
of the three dominant intellectual trends in the post-Mao China (Tu 2012, 78). ­Confucianism
is likely to play a major role in shaping China’s cultural identity (Tamney 2012, 96). President
Xi Jinping in his recent book, The Governance of China, uses Confucian ideas to explain his
own political and social philosophy (Caplan 2015). However, some Chinese scholars have ex-
aggerated the role of Confucianism, e.g., Kang Xiaoguang believes it is necessary to establish
a benevolent government based on Confucian principles. Kang suggests that China should
Confucianize the Chinese civil service system and the Chinese Communist Party. According
to Kang, if the New Confucian movement succeeds in the future, it is likely to shape the fate
of not only the Chinese nation but also the entire world (Kang 2012, 72). As a matter of fact,
there are many uncertainties in the future of Confucianism. Only one thing we are sure of is
that Confucianism will never go away (Sun 2013). Nevertheless, the future of Confucianism
depends on whether it can provide effective responses to the problems that have been generated
by modernization and globalization, namely political reconstruction, cultural identity, and re-
ligious faith (Ming 2012, 110). The success of revitalizing Confucianism also depends on how
to reinterpret Confucianism in a specific national context.

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 36
Is Confucian culture ­compatible
with democracy?
John Fuh-sheng Hsieh

Is Confucian culture compatible or incompatible with democracy? The conventional wisdom

seems to suggest that the answer is in the negative, as exemplified by Samuel P. H ­ untington’s
assertion in his popular book The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late ­Twentieth Century that
“[a]lmost no scholarly disagreement exists on the proposition that traditional ­Confucianism
was either undemocratic or antidemocratic” (Huntington 1991: 300).
However, this assertion should be qualified. There is indeed some disagreement with
regard to Confucianism’s compatibility or incompatibility with democracy. Ying-shih Yu,
a well-known scholar in Chinese history and philosophy, for one, argues that there must
be some elements in Confucianism that are akin to democracy such that a large number
of ­Confucian intellectuals turned to democracy in the late 19th and early 20th centuries
(Yu 2000).
The disagreement may reflect the complex nature of Confucianism or Confucian cul-
ture. What I attempt to do here is to show that Confucianism or Confucian culture contains
both undemocratic and democratic elements. I will start with some empirical evidence on
people’s attitude toward democracy in Confucian societies and then trace the support or lack
thereof for democratic values to Confucianism or Confucian culture. An interesting ques-
tion is if the empirical evidence shows that there is strong popular support for democracy
across Confucian societies, why do many Confucian societies remain nondemocratic? Or
if the support is rather weak, then how come some Confucian societies have become dem-
ocratic? Is culture a deterministic factor in driving a society to democracy? These are the
questions that will be dealt with in this chapter.

Confucianism and Confucian culture

Before we move on, let me say a few words about the distinction between Confucianism
and Confucian culture. It is a no-brainer that the two are different: The former refers to a
school of thought that can be traced back to Confucius (551–479 BC) and Mencius (372–289
BC), while the latter points to the beliefs, values, and way of life that have been influenced

537
John Fuh-sheng Hsieh

by Confucianism. Many societies in East Asia, such as China, Taiwan, Korea, Vietnam,
­Singapore, and Japan, have been influenced by Confucian culture.
As a school of thought, Confucianism is very different from other philosophical schools
in the East or West. It has been closely intertwined with people’s daily lives in Confucian
societies. That is, it is not just philosophical thinking in the minds of the philosophers;
it has instead shaped people’s lives in the Confucian world (Mou et al. 1958). In China,
where Confucianism originated, it was adopted as a state philosophy in the Western Han
Dynasty (206 bc–ad 9), had been reinforced by the examination system by means of which
­Confucian teachings were transmitted from generation to generation, and became an inte-
gral part of the culture in China and beyond for over two thousand years. It is in this sense
that ­Confucianism functions very much like a religion, although it is essentially a secular
body of thought.
Thus, unlike other philosophical schools, Confucianism is closely tied to Confucian cul-
ture. Consequently, to have a better grasp of Confucian culture, it helps if we can have some
understanding of Confucianism.

Empirical evidence
In the Confucian world today, some societies, such as Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan, are
democratic, but others remain nondemocratic. Is it possible that the public attitude toward
democracy varies across these countries, despite their similar Confucian legacy? More spe-
cifically, is popular support for democracy stronger in Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan as a
result of, say, cultural change as compared to other Confucian societies? Or maybe, there is
not much difference across these societies in terms of popular support for democracy, and we
should look for other—possibly noncultural—factors to account for democratization or lack
thereof in these societies.
To check the public attitude toward democracy, I examine the data from the second wave
of the Asian Barometer surveys, which were conducted from 2005 to 2008 in various coun-
tries. To begin with, there is a question about to what extent the respondents would want
their country to be democratic now on a scale from 1 to 10, with 1 referring to complete
dictatorship and 10 referring to complete democracy. I regroup them into two categories:
(1) “dictatorship” for those picking a score between 1 and 5, and (2) “democracy” for those
choosing a score between 6 and 10. As clearly demonstrated in Table 36.1, with the ex-
ception of China and Taiwan, the support for democracy is overwhelming, reaching over
80 percent in most of the Confucian societies, democratic or not. Even in China and Taiwan,
the support stands at 63–64 percent, indicating that the notion of democracy has widespread
support in the Confucian world.
It should be cautioned that people in different societies may have different ideas about
what constitutes a democracy, so these numbers may not tell us the degree of support for the
Western-style democracy, the type of democracy we are concerned about here. However, it
does show that the notion of democracy, whatever it means, receives backing from people in
Confucian societies. Moreover, to gauge the real support, it is not enough to take the notion
of democracy alone. It is important that we look at the trade-off people may have to make
when they have to choose between democracy and another valuable thing (e.g., economic
development) they cherish. If they stick to democracy, we know that they are sincere about
it; but if not, their support is lukewarm at best.

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Table 36.1 P
 reference for dictatorship or democracy in one’s own country

Dictatorship Democracy Other Total

China 72 (1.4%) 3302 (64.8%) 1725 (33.8%) 5098 (100.0%)

Taiwan 117 (7.4%) 1013 (63.8%) 457 (28.8%) 1587 (100.0%)
Hong Kong 35 (4.1%) 697 (82.1%) 117 (13.8%) 849 (100.0%)
Japan 54 (5.1%) 948 (88.8%)   65 (6.1%) 1067 (100.0%)
South Korea 63 (5.2%) 1140 (94.1%)    9 (0.7%) 1212 (100.0%)
Vietnam 5 (0.4%) 1115 (92.9%)   80 (6.7%) 1200 (100.0%)
Singapore 86 (8.5%) 918 (90.7%)    8 (0.8%) 1012 (100.0%)

Source: Asian Barometer surveys 2005–2008.

Note: Included in each cell are the total number and percentage of respondents responding to the question about
whether they want their country to be democratic now. Row percentages may not sum to 100 due to rounding off.

In the Asian Barometer surveys, there are quite a few questions to tap into such trade-offs
(Hsieh and Lin 2016). One such question is

If you had to choose between democracy and economic development, which would you
say is more important?

The respondents can choose between (1) economic development is definitely more import-
ant, (2) economic development is somewhat more important, (3) democracy is somewhat
more important, (4) democracy is definitely more important, and (5) they are both equally
important. I put (1) and (2) as well as (3) and (4) into single categories, and the results are
shown in Table 36.2.
As can be seen from the table, in all countries except Japan, a majority of respondents in
each country feel that economic development is more important than democracy. Even in
­Japan, the long-lasting democracy in the region, a plurality of respondents think the same
way. Interestingly, the two new democracies, Taiwan and South Korea, along with S­ ingapore,
a semi-democracy, and Hong Kong, a special administrative region (SAR) of China
that is free but not democratic, have a much higher proportion of respondents leaning toward
economic development than in Japan and two nondemocratic countries, China and ­Vietnam.
In this regard, it seems safe to say that the overall support for democracy among the p­ eople
in Confucian societies is lukewarm, and people in some democracies, notably Taiwan
and South Korea, exhibit an even lower degree of commitment to democracy. Then how
will we be able to explain why some countries become democratic while others do not solely
on the basis of cultural factors?
Table 36.2 also displays generational differences in the respondents’ attitudes toward de-
mocracy in these societies. Generally, generational differences are not very large, show-
ing that there is no clear sign of moving toward democracy, culturally speaking, in these
­Confucian societies—at least for the moment.
Then how do we explain the fact that some Confucian societies did become
­d emocratic? Is it possible that Confucianism or Confucian culture may contain
both ­d emocratic and nondemocratic elements, which are not necessarily mutually
exclusive?

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John Fuh-sheng Hsieh

Table 36.2 C
 hoice between economic development and democracy

Economy more Equally Democracy

Age important important more important Other Total

China Young 638 (54.6%) 203 (17.4%) 175 (15.0%) 153 (13.1%) 1169 (100.1%)
Middle 1276 (53.2%) 449 (18.7%) 295 (12.3%) 379 (15.8%) 2399 (100.0%)
Old 679 (46.0%) 271 (18.4%) 176 (11.9%) 350 (23.7%) 1476 (100.0%)
Total 2593 (51.4%) 923 (18.3%) 646 (12.8%) 882 (17.5%) 5044 (100.0%)
Taiwan Young 381 (72.8%) 31 (5.9%) 107 (20.5%) 4 (0.8%) 523 (100.0%)
Middle 488 (76.1%) 56 (8.7%) 92 (14.4%) 5 (0.8%) 641 (100.0%)
Old 301 (71.2%) 53 (12.5%) 45 (10.6%) 24 (5.7%) 423 (100.0%)
Total 1170 (73.7%) 140 (8.8%) 244 (15.4%) 33 (2.1%) 1587 (100.0%)
Hong Kong Young 153 (70.5%) 37 (17.1%) 24 (11.1%) 3 (1.4%) 217 (100.1%)
Middle 276 (74.6%) 51 (13.8%) 35 (9.5%) 8 (2.2%) 370 (100.1%)
Old 168 (67.2%) 48 (19.2%) 21 (8.4%) 13 (5.2%) 250 (100.0%)
Total 597 (71.3%) 136 (16.2%) 80 (9.6%) 24 (2.9%) 837 (100.0%)
Japan Young 81 (48.2%) 7 (4.2%) 73 (43.5%) 7 (4.2%) 168 (100.1%)
Middle 142 (41.5%) 24 (7.0%) 166 (48.5%) 10 (2.9%) 342 (99.9%)
Old 258 (46.3%) 64 (11.5%) 188 (33.8%) 47 (8.4%) 557 (100.0%)
Total 481 (45.1%) 95 (8.9%) 427 (40.0%) 64 (6.0%) 1067 (100.0%)

South Korea Young 264 (61.0%) 94 (21.7%) 63 (14.5%) 12 (2.8%) 433 (100.0%)
Middle 356 (69.5%) 87(17.0%) 66 (12.9%) 3 (0.6%) 512 (100.0%)
Old 182 (68.2%) 54 (20.2%) 28 (10.5%) 3 (1.1%) 267 (100.0%)
Total 802 (66.2%) 235 (19.4%) 157 (13.0%) 18 (1.5%) 1212 (100.1%)
Vietnam Young 265 (55.0%) 77 (16.0%) 111 (23.0%) 29 (6.0%) 482 (100.0%)
Middle 231 (49.6%) 114 (24.5%) 93 (20.0%) 28 (6.0%) 466 (100.1%)
Old 113 (44.8%) 59 (23.4%) 56 (22.2%) 24 (9.5%) 252 (99.9%)
Total 609 (50.7%) 250 (20.8%) 260 (21.7%) 81 (6.8%) 1200 (100.0%)
Singapore Young 157 (62.5%) 45 (17.9%) 40 (15.9%) 9 (3.6%) 251 (99.9%)
Middle 351 (66.6%) 102 (19.4%) 47 (8.9%) 27 (5.1%) 527 (100.0%)
Old 145 (62.0%) 50 (21.4%) 26 (11.1%) 13 (5.6%) 234 (100.0%)
Total 653 (64.5%) 197 (19.5%) 113 (11.2%) 49 (4.8%) 1012 (100.0%)

Source: Asian Barometer surveys 2005–2008.

Note: Included in each cell are the total number and percentage of respondents responding to the question
about whether economic development or democracy is more important in each country. The young, middle-
aged, and old generations refer to those aged 35 or younger, 36 to 55, and 56 or older, respectively. Row
percentages may not sum to 100 due to rounding off.

Compatible or incompatible with democracy?

As discussed earlier, the conventional wisdom seems to suggest that Confucianism, or Con-
fucian culture for that matter, is not compatible with democracy. To a certain extent, there
is truth in it.
First, Confucian social order consists of a series of dualistic interpersonal relationships:
sovereign-minister, father-son, husband-wife, elder brother-younger brother, and friend-
friend. Each individual may play one role in one instance and another in a different setting.
And in each relationship, say father and son, there is a superior (father) and a subordinate

540
 Is Confucian culture ­compatible?

(son). Supposedly, the superior in this dualistic relationship should care and set a moral ex-
ample for the subordinate, and the subordinate should respect and follow the example of the
superior. As Confucius put it, “Let the prince be a prince, the minister a minister, the father
a father and the son a son” (Waley 1938: 166). Moreover, “[i]f you lead along a straight way,
who will dare go by a crooked one?” (Waley 1938: 167). That is, if everyone knows and plays
his or her role properly in these complex dualistic interpersonal relationships, the society
will be in harmony. Undoubtedly, this is a highly hierarchical social order.
Furthermore, in the Confucian world, the core of the social structure is the family. (Ac-
tually, as can be seen from the aforementioned dualistic interpersonal relationships, much
deals with the relationships within the family.) Even the society can be seen as family writ
large. In the end, an individual is expected to serve, first and foremost, the interests of his
or her family, which is headed by the elders in the household. This indicates that there is a
strong group consciousness in the Confucian social order centered on families (Pye 1985).
Nevertheless, democracy is based upon individual freedom and political equality. The
hierarchical social order with a strong dose of group consciousness is obviously antithetical
to the fundamental principles of democracy. It is in this sense that Confucianism/Confucian
culture is not compatible with democracy.
However, as a complex school of thought, Confucianism may contain both democratic
and undemocratic elements (Wong 2015). Indeed, it is not difficult to find these seemingly
contradictory ideas in Confucianism. As stressed by Mencius, “The people are of supreme
importance; the altars to the gods of earth and grain come next; last comes the ruler” (Lau
1970: 196). This is, of course, not democracy per se, but it does show an inclination to place
the public welfare above the interests of individual rulers.
At a very broad level, the core value of Confucianism is ren (仁), referring to benevo-
lence, and the rulers are expected to govern with ren. Again, in Mencius’s words, the people
had the right to rebel if a ruler went against benevolence:

King Hsuan of Chi asked, “Is it true that Tang banished Chieh and King Wu marched
against Tchou?” “It is so recorded,” answered Mencius. “Is regicide permissible?” “A
man who mutilates benevolence is a mutilator, while one who cripples rightness is a
crippler. He who is both a mutilator and a crippler is an ‘outcast.’ I have indeed heard of
the punishment of the ‘outcast Tchou,’ but I have not heard of any regicide.”
(Lau 1970: 68)

These ideas resonate with democracy, but Confucianism as a whole fails to articulate a form
of government for ordinary people to actively and effectively promote their interests, and
hold rulers accountable for any wrongdoings. To paraphrase Abraham Lincoln’s words, Con-
fucianism may contain the elements “of the people” and “for the people” but not much “by
the people.”1
Thus, in general, given its emphasis on hierarchical structure and group consciousness,
Confucianism is not compatible with, and thus not conducive to, democratic rule, but
it does include some ideas that resonate with democracy, such as putting the priority on
ordinary people’s interests over those of the rulers. But in Confucianism, the provision of
ordinary people’s interests relies, to a large extent, upon the benevolent rule of those in
power rather than on an institutionalized mechanism for the rulers to effectively respond
to popular demands. That is, for many people in Confucian societies, democracy as a form
of governance that may improve the livelihood of the ordinary people is welcome, but the
overall support may be lukewarm, as was seen in Table 36.2.

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John Fuh-sheng Hsieh

Populist democracy vs. liberal democracy

To explicate the disagreement among scholars about whether or not Confucianism is
compatible with democracy can also be seen from the notion of democracy itself. The
­Chinese translation of democracy is minzhu (民主) which literally means “people as masters”
or “­people at heart.” This resonates with the traditional Confucian thinking about putting
priority on the ordinary people’s interests in governance. Yet Confucian teachings end there,
without delving into the details about how to design a system to guarantee the achievement
of such a goal other than by relying upon the rulers’ benevolence.
Broadly speaking, there are two main justifications for democracy, one being populism
and the other liberalism (Riker 1982; cf. Dahl 1956). The former stresses the embodiment
of popular will, while the latter puts emphasis on preventing the government from abusing
its power against the people. As nicely argued by William Riker (1982), populism is not
feasible.2 Besides, by using a decision-making rule less inclusive than unanimity, there is a
risk of majority tyranny, that is, the group of individuals who constitute a majority of the
population may tyrannize the minority or minorities in the society (Sartori 1987). What
liberalism embodies is the idea of preventing the government—supposedly supported by the
majority—from abusing its power against the people—minorities or whoever. This is proba-
bly more realistic (Riker 1982) and is, for the most part, the type of democracy, the so-called
liberal democracy, we witness in the West and many other parts of the world today. In es-
sence, liberal democracy is a kind of system that couples free, fair, and meaningful elections
with constitutionalism and rule of law so as to prevent the government from abusing its power
against the people.3
So, when we look at Confucianism, it is obvious that if Confucian intellectuals turned in
great number to the idea of democracy, as maintained by Yu (2000), it is very likely that the
kind of democracy they had in mind approached at best a populist democracy that emphasizes
the popular will, but not liberal democracy which put emphasis on limiting the government
power in order to better safeguard individual rights. Indeed, the liberal ideal embodying the
notion of limited government has not played a prominent role in Confucian teachings. For
many people in Confucian societies, a powerful and effective government which would be able
to build a prosperous and strong country was more important than anything else.4
Thus, to ascertain whether Confucianism is compatible with democracy, it depends not
only on the internal logic of Confucianism but also the kind of democracy we allude to.
Given the emphasis on the priority of the interests of ordinary people over those of rulers
in Confucian tradition, it is not hard to imagine that Confucian intellectuals may turn to
­democracy—the populist type. It is probably difficult for them to appreciate the idea of lim-
ited government in a liberal model.

Democratization in Confucian societies

So, Confucianism contains both democratic and undemocratic elements, popular support for
democracy is lukewarm, and people’s understanding of democracy is limited. Then does it
mean that there will be little chance for Confucian societies to become democratic? The an-
swer is, of course, no. Actually, several Confucian societies have successfully transitioned to
democracy over the years. Japan, a country with some Confucian legacy, had experimented
with democratic rule during the Taisho period (1912–1926) but did not succeed. And after
the end of World War II, a democratic government was imposed by the U.S. occupying
forces, and Japan has since been able to maintain democratic rule.

542
 Is Confucian culture ­compatible?

Two more Confucian countries joined Japan to democratize in the late 1980s and early
1990s. In South Korea, a new constitution was adopted and a direct election of the president
was held in 1987, marking a new era in its political history. Almost at the same time, martial
law was lifted in Taiwan, paving the way for the overhaul of the national legislature in 1991
and 1992, and eventually the direct election of the president in 1996.
Singapore is a multiracial society, but Chinese constitute almost three-quarters of the
total population. Confucian influence is apparent. It has had nationwide elections for a long
time—even before it became independent in 1965. However, given the restrictions imposed
on individual freedoms, especially on political competition, it is at best a semi-democracy.
In Hong Kong, an SAR of China, there have been demands for democratic reform for
quite some time. The people there enjoy a high degree of individual freedom—arguably di-
minished to a certain degree in the recent past—but there is no real democracy. Many people
in the SAR demand but have been denied to directly elect their chief executive.
The other three countries with strong Confucian legacy, China, North Korea, and Vietnam,
are Communist countries, albeit economically, China and Vietnam are no longer that Commu-
nist. However, the Communist parties in all these countries continue to exercise firm control
over the society, and the prospect of democratization in the near future remains problematic.
So, what accounts for the successful democratic transition and consolidation in Japan,
South Korea, and Taiwan? How much does their Confucian legacy affect the democratiza-
tion process? What are the factors, including Confucian culture, that may affect the prospect
of democratization in other societies?
First of all, it seems that Confucian culture did not significantly hinder democratization in
Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. Of course, the democratization process in these three cases
differs. In Japan, the direct intervention of the U.S. occupying forces was an undisputable factor
pushing the country to democratize. Yet to attribute the building of democratic institutions solely
to foreign influence is to underestimate the potential for democratization in Japan. After all, there
was democratic experiment during the Taisho period (Iokibe 1998). And political change after
the end of World War II can be seen as an attempt at redemocratization. And undoubtedly, other
factors may be at work too, including the long-term, large-scale cultural change and socioeco-
nomic development in the aftermath of Meiji Restoration of 1868. Although Confucian culture
may have some impact on the Japanese psyche, its influence should not be exaggerated.
South Korea and Taiwan are very similar in many aspects. Their economy took off in the
1960s. They are two of the four little dragons, along with Hong Kong and Singapore. Both
of them have open economy and are highly trade-dependent. They have extensive contacts
with the outside world. Their Confucian culture may have undergone some changes over
time. And as a consequence of economic development, their societies become more and
more pluralistic.5 Besides, both of them have faced a formidable enemy—North Korea in the
case of South Korea and China in the case of Taiwan. They rely heavily upon the extended
deterrence offered by the United States to protect their national security. In addition, both
South Korea and Taiwan have had some democratic experience since the mid-20th century.
The short-lived Second Republic (1960–1961) represents an attempt at building a democratic
regime in South Korea. Some presidential elections even during the authoritarian period
were quite competitive. In the case of Taiwan, there were local elections from 1950 onward,
and some parliamentary seats were up for grabs after the late 1960s. From time to time, some
elections turned out to be quite competitive.
Moreover, the peculiar features of the South Korean and Taiwanese societies also provide some
additional impetus to overcome the Confucian barrier, if any, for democratization. In the case of
South Korea, it is regionalism, and in Taiwan, it is the ethnic division between Mainlanders and

543
John Fuh-sheng Hsieh

local Taiwanese. I called such divisions quasi-pluralistic social order (Hsieh 2003) to be distin-
guished from pluralistic social order which refers to the emergence of a large number of indepen-
dent social forces, and often results from socioeconomic development (Dahl 1971).
Regionalism in South Korea and ethnic divisions in Taiwan are divisions people are born
with. It may be emotional, thus resulting in political instability. However, occasionally,
such divisions may provide the democracy movement with some powerful ready-made re-
sources to fight against the authoritarian regime. In South Korea, people in Cholla region,
for instance, often felt that they were discriminated against by those in other regions. They
were thus unified in their fight against the authoritarian regime which had strongholds else-
where. Indeed, Cholla region did provide an important asset for the opposition forces against
the authoritarian government. An important event in South Korea’s democratization, the
Gwangju Uprising against the Chun Doo-hwan regime back in 1980, occurred in Gwangju,
South Cholla. Such a division may not be ideal for a well-functioning democracy, but it did
play an important role in pushing the democratization process forward in the country.
Similarly, in Taiwan, the tension between Mainlanders who had controlled the gov-
ernment since arriving in Taiwan around 1949 on the one hand and local Taiwanese who
constituted an overwhelming majority of the population but were unable to share power in
government on the other provides an important impetus for the democracy movement that
comprised mostly local Taiwanese. Thus, democracy movement in Taiwan can be seen as a
call for redressing the grievances of the Taiwanese. Such a division, again, may not always
be good for the functioning of democracy, but occasionally, it might provide the opposition
forces with some important resources in their fight against the authoritarian government.
And the Taiwanese government at the time understood that if they did not do something
about the grievances, the situation might get out of hand, and the C ­ hinese Communists
across the Taiwan Strait might capitalize on the opportunity to harass T ­ aiwan. Eventually,
the authoritarian government gave in, paving the way for democratic transition on the is-
land.6 It seems that regionalism in South Korea and ethnic division in Taiwan empowered
the oppositionists in their struggle against the authoritarian regimes, thus overcoming the
possible barrier imposed by their Confucian legacy so as to build a sustainable democracy.
Thus, three Confucian societies, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan, were able to democra-
tize despite their cultural legacy. This also shows that the Confucian barrier for democratiza-
tion may not be as serious as conventional wisdom would suggest. And as long as other factors
work properly, the barrier can be overcome. But it should be cautioned that as Table 36.2
shows, Confucian culture does present some difficulties. Even in these democratic societies,
the popular support for democracy as against other values (e.g., economic development) is
not as strong as it should be. Though there is no sign that democratic rule may be eroded in
these societies, the not-so-strong support for democracy is something to be concerned about.
Then how about other Confucian societies? China as the most populous country and
the second largest economy in the world has, for obvious reasons, drawn a lot of attention
about its prospect of democracy. Some are more optimistic than others. For example, Larry
Diamond maintains that “China faces a looming crisis of authoritarianism that will generate
a new opportunity for democratic transition in the next two decades and possibly much
sooner” (Diamond 2012: 6). Most people are probably less sanguine about it. Confucian
legacy is obviously one of the reasons. However, Chinese culture has changed over the years.
During the Mao Zedong era (1949–1976), Confucius was denounced, and a new ideology
was imposed on the Chinese. Mao tried to remold the Chinese culture by stressing collec-
tivism. Unlike the traditional culture that centered on families, Mao tried to extend the
collectivities to much larger entities, such as class, society, or the nation. It is an accentuation

544
 Is Confucian culture ­compatible?

of group consciousness which is arguably not compatible with democracy. Yet, from time
to time, he encouraged the people, particularly the young, to rebel against the authorities,
including even one’s own parents. Ironically, the emphasis on the right to rebel may, when
the time comes, plant the seeds for democratization.
However, after Mao passed away—particularly after the economic reform launched in
the last 1970s and early 1980s—the ideological fervor subsided. Many old elements of the
traditional Chinese culture resurfaced. Of course, Chinese culture has changed, but China
remains, to a certain extent, a Confucian society.
Will the Confucian culture that had been supplemented by Maoist ideology impede the
democratic development in China? It is hard to say. Much depends upon a variety of other
factors, such as those we have witnessed in other Confucian societies that have turned into
democracies. First off, China has been doing extremely well economically since the eco-
nomic reform. It is now the second largest economy in terms of nominal GDP with GDP
per capita standing around U.S.$8,000. This is an impressive record.
In all Confucian democracies, a pluralistic social order emerged as a result of economic
development. However, any organized activities with just a little political inclination are
suppressed in China. Thus, the type of pluralistic social order we see in many societies on the
verge of democratization does not take place in China. This is important because it means
that for the potential democracy movement, the help from a pluralistic social order is not
available, thus limiting its leverage vis-à-vis the Chinese authorities. It will thus be difficult
for the democracy movement to emerge and to succeed in confronting the current regime.
There is also no quasi-pluralistic social order in China. The Han Chinese constitute 91.6
percent of the total population,7 and the minorities scatter in various parts of the country. It is
hard for the minorities or any other similar groups to become a formidable force to pressure
the government to change.
In addition, in Japan, foreign influence—referring essentially to American influence—
played a dominant role in its transition to democracy. Even in the cases of South Korea and
Taiwan, American influence, direct or indirect, was also visible. But given the size of China
and its security posture, it is not very likely that American or any kind of foreign influence
will have a significant effect on China’s political change.
In the cases of Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan, there were some experiences in demo-
cratic rule at the national or local levels in the earlier periods. But the democratic experience
in China is very limited, if any. Currently, there are only two major types of popular elec-
tions in China: the elections of the local people’s congresses and the elections of the village
committees in the countryside. The former is effectively controlled by the Chinese Com-
munist Party, and is hardly free and fair. The latter is relatively free and fair but the villagers
do not elect the most powerful position in the village, which is more often than not the
village party secretary . Hence, the democratic experience in China is too limited to make
any positive effect on democratization.
Besides, for democracy movement to succeed, it is often necessary that the various forces
involved in the movement can coalesce into a force strong enough to pressure the author-
itarian regime to make concessions. However, China is a gigantic country. It is relatively
easy for the party-state to confine the democracy movement to a specific area, rendering the
emergence of a strong democracy movement difficult, if not impossible.
Given the circumstances, I am less optimistic about the prospect of democracy in China.
Perhaps the best hope for China to democratize is to have a political leader like Mikhail
Gorbachev to change the system from within. But the chances that such a scenario would
take place are slim (Hsieh 2003).

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John Fuh-sheng Hsieh

The other two Communist regimes, Vietnam and North Korea, face many problems
similar to China’s in terms of pluralistic social order, quasi-pluralistic social order, cultural
change, foreign influence, democratic experience, and so on. The situation in North Korea
is even less hospitable to democratization given the regime’s tight control over the society,
lack of socioeconomic development, and isolation from the rest of the world.
Singapore and Hong Kong are similar to each other. Both are cities, but the former is an
independent state while the latter is an SAR in China. Both were former British colonies,
so they had been influenced by the British in many ways. English is still one of the official
languages in both places. Culturally, both are quite Westernized even though they still con-
tain some traces of Confucian legacy. Their per capita incomes are among the highest in the
world. They have some independent social forces and opposition parties. Besides, ­Singapore
is a multiracial society, and Hong Kong is more homogeneous. Singapore has a long his-
tory of elections, and Hong Kong also has elections at the SAR and local levels. Given the
restrictions imposed on individual freedoms and the electoral process, Singapore cannot be
classified as a democracy. People in Hong Kong enjoy a higher degree of freedom, but those
freedoms have been encroached after the turnover of Hong Kong from Great Britain to
China in 1997. Voters in Hong Kong are still unable to vote directly for the chief executive
of the Hong Kong SAR government. In general, Singapore has a good chance of becoming
a full-fledged democracy in the foreseeable future. Hong Kong’s future is less certain given
the intervention of the Chinese government in Beijing.
The experiences of these Confucian societies—from China, Taiwan, to Korea, Japan,
and Singapore—seem to indicate that Confucianism/Confucian culture may be, to a certain
extent, incompatible with democracy, but it is not entirely antithetical to it. Given other
conditions, the barrier, if any, of Confucianism/Confucian culture for democratization may
be overcome.

Conclusion
Confucianism as a complex school of thought contains many different elements: Some seem
to be incompatible with democracy; others may resonate with democratic values. Thus, it is
difficult to ascertain whether Confucianism as a whole is or is not compatible with democracy.
In reality, although many Confucian countries remain authoritarian, we also witness transi-
tion to and consolidation of democracy in such Confucian societies as Japan, South Korea, and
Taiwan. Several others (e.g., Singapore) may join the ranks of democracies in the foreseeable
future. Confucianism or Confucian culture is not totally antithetical to democracy. However,
there are still elements in Confucianism/Confucian culture that do not fare well in terms of
building well-functioning democracies. It is up to many other factors, such as pluralistic social
order, quasi-pluralistic social order, cultural change, foreign influence, and historical experi-
ence, that will determine the trajectory of political development in the countries concerned.

Notes
1 Huang Tsung-hsi (1610–1695) was one of the most liberal thinkers in Confucian China. He de-
signed an Imperial College in his Waiting for the Dawn: A Plan for the Prince (明夷待访录) to reflect
public opinion and to monitor public policies (de Bary 1993). However, it is not a liberal demo-
cratic institution since it cannot be enforced effectively even if it is put into practice (Hsieh 2015).
2 Riker’s argument is based on social choice theory, which, simply put, indicates that even if individ-
uals have clear preferences, we may more often than not have difficulty ascertaining the preferences

546
 Is Confucian culture ­compatible?

of the collectivity of individuals. In the setting of elections, for example, even if we know the
preferences of individual voters, it is difficult to tell the meaning of the election results with regard
to what the electorate as a collectivity prefers. For those who are interested in social choice theory,
Riker’s Liberalism Against Populism (1982) is a good introductory work.
3 The Founding Fathers of the United States called the political system they designed a republican
form of government (Hamilton et al. 2003), which exemplifies the ideal of liberal democracy.
4 Actually, there are many schools of thought in China. Daoism, one of the schools, advocated
governing by inaction (无为而治), which is closest to the idea of limited government. But it is not
limited government in the real sense of the word since it is a policy option, not an institutionalized
mechanism to promote liberal values.
5 Another popular account of democratization associated with economic development is the emer-
gence of a large middle class. But it is hard to define the term. Moreover, there are many instances
(e.g., the recent events in Thailand) in which the so-called middle class sides with the nondemo-
cratic forces against the democratically elected government.
6 After Taiwan became democratic, the major dividing line pitting one political force against the
other is no longer purely ethnic but something about national identity, namely, an issue about
whether Taiwan should be unified with China or seek permanent independence or somewhere in
between (Hsieh 2002).
7 See https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/resources/the-world-factbook/geos/ch.html.

References
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De Bary, W. T. (trans.) (1993). Waiting for the Dawn: A Plan for the Prince (明夷待访录) (New York:
Columbia University Press).
Diamond, L. (2012). “The Coming Wave,” Journal of Democracy 23:1, pp. 5–13.
Hamilton, A., Madison, J., and Jay, J. (2003). The Federalist Papers (New York: Penguin).
Hsieh, J. F. S. (2002). “Continuity and Change in Taiwan’s Electoral Politics,” in J. F. S. Hsieh and D.
Newman (eds.), How Asia Votes (New York: Chatham House, 2002), pp. 32–49.
Hsieh, J. F. S. (2003). “Democratizing China,” Journal of Asian and African Studies 38:4–5, pp. 377–91.
Hsieh, J. F. S. (2015). “Introduction: Democracy, Confucian Style,” in J. F. S. Hsieh (ed.), Confucian
Culture and Democracy (Singapore: World Scientific), pp. 1–20.
Hsieh, J. F. S., and Lin, J. (2016). “East Asia: Variable Support for Democracy in a Diverse Region,” in
D. Denemark, R. Mattes, and R. G. Niemi (eds.), Growing Up Democratic: Does It Make a Difference?
(Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner).
Huntington, S. P. (1991). The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century (Norman, OK:
University of Oklahoma Press).
Iokibe, M. (1998). “Japan’s Democratic Experience,” in L. Diamond and M. Plattner (eds.), Democracy
in East Asia (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press), pp. 79–95.
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the Reconstruction of Chinese Culture (为中国文化敬告世界人士宣言),” Minzhu Pinglun (民主评
论) 9:1, pp. 2–21. An abridged English version can be found in W. T. de Bary and R. Lufrano (1999).
Sources of Chinese Tradition, Vol. 2, 2nd ed. (New York: Columbia University Press), pp. 551–57.
Pye, L. W. (1985). Asian Power and Politics: The Cultural Dimensions of Authority (Cambridge, MA: The
Belknap Press of Harvard University Press).
Riker, W. H. (1982). Liberalism Against Populism: A Confrontation Between the Theory of Democracy and the
Theory of Social Choice (San Francisco: W.H. Freeman).
Sartori, G. (1987). The Theory of Democracy Revisited (Chatham, NJ: Chatham House).
Waley, A, trans. (1938). The Analects of Confucius (London: George Allen & Unwin).
Wong, J. (2015). “The Political Logic of Public Policymaking in Democratizing Taiwan,” in J. F. S.
Hsieh (ed.), Confucian Culture and Democracy (Singapore: World Scientific).
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Centre, St. Antony’s College, University of Oxford.

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 37
Hinduism and democracy
Religion and politicized religion in India

Rina Verma Williams and Nandini Deo

Introduction
Scholars of politics often ask some form of the following question: “Is (some religion)
­compatible with democracy?” The question is most commonly asked or implied with re-
spect to Islam: “Is Islam compatible with democracy?” (Esposito and Voll 1996; Fukuyama
2001; Huntington 2011). If we believe that such questions are asked and answered largely on
the basis of political experience—for example, the patchy and troubled history of democracy
in many countries of the Middle East—then the case of India might seem to suggest that
­H induism (the overwhelming majority religion of India at about 80% of the population) is
highly compatible with democracy. India—virtually alone in the developing world—has
been a stable, institutionalized democracy since independence in 1947, with only one inter-
ruption of emergency rule for 18 months between 1975 and 1977. In South Asia, only Sri
Lanka shares this distinction with India.
Prior to independence, many leaders of the Indian Muslim community feared that in a
democracy, Hindus would naturally predominate as a permanent majority. The stunning—
and largely unpredicted—electoral victory by the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party
(Indian People’s Party; BJP) in India in 2014 might on its face seem to validate those fears: A
political party claiming to represent Hinduism and speak for the Hindu majority won national
elections in a landslide. Major news outlets in India in the days leading up to the election
were predicting approximately 220 seats (out of 545 in the Lok Sabha or lower house of the
Indian Parliament) for the National Democratic Alliance (NDA), the BJP-led coalition that
governed from 1999 to 2004, the first time the party was in power. In fact, the BJP won 282
by itself, while the NDA coalition won 336 seats. Neither the scale of the BJP’s victory nor
the ­possibility that the party would win an absolute majority on its own was predicted or
anticipated by even the most seasoned observers of Indian politics. Surely, this election result
represented the political triumph of Hinduism in India’s democracy?
We argue that the relationship between religion and democracy is not that simple, even
in the case of India. To interpret what the 2014 election results meant for Hinduism and
democracy in India, it is important to understand two things: first, that the BJP doesn’t
represent Hinduism as much as it represents Hindu nationalism; and second, even the BJP’s

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landslide victory didn’t necessarily represent a popular embrace of Hindu nationalism. We

argue that the BJP represents politicized Hinduism rather than Hinduism as a religion. We
define politicized religion as the mobilization of religious symbols, discourses, and narratives
for political gain—in the case of democracy, for electoral gain. It is worth noting that the
BJP won only 31% of the popular vote; this translated into 51.7% of seats in the Lok Sabha
(282/545) because of India’s first-past-the-post electoral system.1 Rather than a popular
embrace of its Hindu nationalist ideology, the election victory reflected as much a rejec-
tion of the incumbent Congress Party (leading the United Progressive Alliance or UPA)
and the personal popularity of Narendra Modi as the BJP’s prime ministerial candidate.
In power continuously for 10 years, the UPA was seen as sclerotic, out of touch with the
grassroots, and entangled in corruption—the sure end of any national government in India.
The ­Congress Party was exposed as completely reliant on the Nehru-Gandhi family line of
succession for leadership. Congress was seen as favoring the rural poor, while the BJP under
Modi promised to favor industry and the urban middle classes. Modi’s popularity, in turn,
was driven by promises of fast economic growth, as took place in the state of Gujarat when
he was Chief Minister from 2001 to 2014, serving four consecutive terms. Modi remained
highly popular, despite his lingering association with the deadly 2002 riots in Gujarat state,
in which t­ housands—mostly Muslims—were killed. During the 2014 election campaign,
Modi himself de-emphasized Hindu nationalist ideology to focus more on the record of
economic growth in Gujarat; but his close advisers, like Amit Shah, played up the themes of
Hindu nationalism and kept the ideology visible (A. R. 2014).
In this chapter, we examine the evolution and growth of Hindu nationalism as politicized
religion in Indian democracy over time, distinguishing it from Hinduism as religion—and we
do so through the lens of gender. By focusing on gender and the role of women, we are able
to denaturalize the presumed link between religion and politicized religion, exposing instead
the contingent and constructed nature of that relationship. We undertake close reading and
interpretation of two different literatures—the general comparative political science literature
on religion and politics, and the literature on women in Hindu nationalism in India. Reading
them against each other, we find that the former is skewed toward focusing almost exclusively
on the Abrahamic religions ( Judaism, Christianity, and Islam)2 and on women in Islam, while
the latter has remained myopically engaged over time with questions defined primarily from
a secular-feminist perspective that close off other possible interpretations.
Through our analysis, we argue that the politicization of religion is not inevitable in a
democracy. Two key points emerge. First, religion must be analytically distinguished from
politicized religion—as we distinguish Hinduism from Hindu nationalism. Second, having
made this distinction, we argue that religion does not automatically become politicized
religion in a democracy (as Muslim leaders feared before independence). Instead, the polit-
icization of religion is a process that must be assiduously constructed or built over time—as
Hindu nationalism has been. Our findings suggest the contingent and constructed nature of
the process of politicizing religion in a democracy rather than a natural, automatic, or inevi-
table outcome. We point toward the need to excavate the specific work done by women and
gender in politicized Hinduism as a way to address the question of why not just women, but
anyone, participates in Hindu nationalist politics.
In the next section we trace the patchy electoral record and changing roles of women in
Hindu nationalist politics in India prior to the 2014 election. The third section expands on
the distinction between Hinduism and Hindu nationalism, while the fourth section exam-
ines two bodies of literature to help explain or understand the role of Hinduism and Hindu
nationalism in Indian democracy: the general comparative literature on religion and politics,

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Rina Verma Williams and Nandini Deo

and the literature on women in Hindu nationalism. The conclusion ties together the insights
of each section and considers possible implications of our study for other religions and re-
gions of Asia and beyond.

Hindu nationalism in India: politics and women

As the political arm of the larger Hindu nationalist movement, the BJP and its pre-
decessors (the Hindu Mahasabha or HMS and the Bharatiya Jana Sangh or BJS) have
contested elections for a long time. But the political path of Hindu nationalism in India
shows varying levels of success and failure over time. Distinct from the social wing of
the movement, the political wing has faltered at times, advancing only in fits and starts
(see Figure 37.1). It was only towards the end of the 1980s that Hindu nationalist politi-
cal parties began to build significant electoral support, despite the fact that Hindus have
never been less than an 80% majority of the population of India throughout the 70-year
period since independence. This indicates that there is no simple “ethnic census”—where
all members of an identity group vote for a candidate or party of that group—that drives
support for the BJP.
The genesis of organized Hindu nationalist politics can be traced to the early twen-
tieth century in northwestern India. The first All-India Conference of Hindus was held
in April 1915. During the 1920s, the movement became the All-India Hindu Mahasabha
and contested elections as a political party. This movement greatly radicalized its agenda
and expanded its base of support under the ascendancy of Vinayak Damodar Savarkar
(commonly known as Veer Savarkar). Then, in 1925, Dr K.B. Hedgewar founded a new
organization, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS); within a few years, the RSS
displaced the HMS as the center of gravity and anchor organization of Hindu nation-
alism (Andersen and Damle 1987; T. Basu 1993; Hansen 1999). Dr Hedgewar declared
the RSS an apolitical group while pursuing provocative and violent strategies to initiate
Hindu-Muslim violence.

300

250

200
Seats

150
HMS
BJS
100
BJP

50

0
51 957 962 967 971 977 980 984 989 991 996 999 004 009 014
19 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2
Year

Figure 37.1 Lok Sabha seats won by Hindu nationalist political parties in national elections.
Source: Chart compiled by Williams.

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 Hinduism and democracy

The Hindu nationalist movement suffered a huge blow when a man previously associ-
ated with it assassinated Mahatma Gandhi in 1948. The RSS was banned, its leaders were
arrested, and the public mood turned very hostile. This experience convinced RSS leaders
that even as the organization itself remained formally apolitical, it needed some voice in the
political mainstream. Thus, the RSS established a political party—the BJS—which drew
members and leaders from the HMS and made some political progress (Graham 1990). But
by 1980, the BJS had broken up, and a new party with old faces was launched: the BJP.
In the early and mid-1980s, the BJP began engaging in political mobilization, spear-
headed by two key campaigns: the Shah Bano controversy and the Ayodhya campaign
­(discussed later). In 1999, the BJP finally won enough seats with its allies in the NDA to
form the national government. In 2002, an anti-Muslim pogrom in the state of Gujarat
killed over 2,000 people, destroyed the homes of thousands, and showed the terrifying pos-
sibilities of the BJP being (with the indicated change) in power at both the state and central
levels of government (Human Rights Watch 2003; A. Basu 2015). In 2004, the party was
expected to win reelection but lost badly to a Congress-led UPA coalition that promised
more inclusive growth and protection of minorities; this electoral failure was repeated,
only worse, in 2009.
So, the BJP languished in opposition for a decade, from 2004 to 2014. This period saw
tensions and elite disagreements between the BJP and its affiliated social movement organi-
zations over ideology, generational turnover, and patronage. Thus, the surprising results of
the 2014 election were not inevitable. Rather, particular organizational and mobilizational
strategies deployed over the past 30 years had finally come to pay off electorally. These
victories were the result of decades of Hindu nationalist investment in local communities
through social outreach, such as provision of education and health care (Thachil 2014),
and innovative—and gendered—campaigns that mobilized people on the basis of fear and
­jingoism (Deo 2016). This patchy history can be traced through the evolving role of women
in the movement and the party.

Women in Hindu nationalism

Women and gender played a significant role in the BJP’s rise to power in the 1980s, but they
were not always central in Hindu nationalist politics. In the early 1900s, at the origins of the
movement, women were largely excluded from its structures and activities. A few attempted
to become involved and convince male Hindu nationalist leaders to involve women more
actively, but these efforts went unrealized (Williams 2013). Seemingly constrained by deeply
patriarchal ideologies grounded in religion and nationalism that saw the place of women as in
the home, Hindu nationalism in its early years could not or would not find ways to include
women in its activities. This perspective is captured in a 1938 statement made by Hindu
nationalist leader Bhai Parmanand:

There is a great campaign in progress in this country to safeguard the rights of

women. In the opinion of those who champion this cause, they should be treated
equally with men. It is urged that they should be accorded representation in the
Lagislatures [sic], Municipalities and other public bodies. But I am absolutely opposed
to this. The woman is the flower of the home. Her kingdom is the domestic sphere
and her most important mission in life is to be the mother of the race. She has been
made by nature to play her role in the home in the same way as a man’s field is in the
outside world. 3

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Rina Verma Williams and Nandini Deo

The political wing of the movement in the early 1900s persisted in this exclusionary approach,
even as the social wing, represented by the RSS, began to evolve toward some inclusion of
women. The RSS was, and remains, an organization that only men can join and belong
to. This is rather remarkable for an organization that claims to try to build a Hindu nation
from the grassroots, given the widely understood critical role of women in nation-building
­( Yuval-Davis 1997). In 1927, two years after the RSS was founded, a woman named ­Lakshmibai
Kelkar, whose husband and son were active in the RSS, approached Dr Hedgewar and pleaded
with him to try to persuade him to let women join; he wouldn’t budge. Finally, they reached a
compromise: He allowed her to form a women’s wing, which she called the Rashtriya Sevika
Samiti (or “Samiti”), which would work off the basic philosophy of the parent organization but
independently. The Samiti today has an expanded membership and engages in social work and
support functions with and for the RSS (Bacchetta 2004; Menon 2005).
It was not until the 1980s that the BJP as the political wing of Hindu nationalism began to
involve and mobilize women and gendered discourses. Two major campaigns—the Shah Bano
controversy and the Ayodhya campaign—are widely understood to have launched the BJP on a
path to political power, and both were gendered in different but critical ways.4 In 1985–1986, the
BJP got involved in a controversy over a Supreme Court decision to grant maintenance (alimony)
to a divorced Muslim woman, Shah Bano Begum. Conservative Muslim leaders opposed the
decision based on sharia law as commonly practiced in India; they began protests and demonstra-
tions against it. In response, the ruling Congress Party made legislative attempts to overturn the
decision. But progressive Muslims, women’s rights activists, and the BJP opposed the ­Congress
and defended the Supreme Court decision with their own protests and demonstrations. The BJP
claimed to be defending Muslim women’s legal rights, but their stance was widely understood
as anti-Muslim: a way to deprive the minority Muslim community of the right to practice
their own religious laws on family matters (Kishwar 1986; Williams 2006, Ch. 6). Startled and
surprised to find themselves on the same side of the issue as the BJP, feminist activists reassessed
their position on religious laws, moving to an approach that called for options and choices for
women and families in which laws they wish to follow (Menon 2000, 84–91).
The Shah Bano controversy gave the BJP its first taste of political success with a gendered
turn. The second major mobilization in the BJP’s rise to power was the campaign to replace a
medieval mosque, the Babri Masjid, with a Hindu temple at the alleged birthplace of the revered
Hindu deity Lord Rama in Ayodhya in northern India. In December 1992, as the culmination
of a nationwide campaign of mobilization, Hindu nationalist kar sevaks ­(volunteers) converged
on Ayodhya and over a few hours destroyed the mosque. This was followed by riots all over
the country and particularly bloody violence in Mumbai. Several prominent women played
dramatic and visible roles in the Ayodhya campaign: just the best known included Uma Bharati,
Sadhvi Ritambhara, and (the late) Vijaya Raje Scindia (A. Basu 1993a). These women—and
most especially the former two—gave speeches and recorded cassettes that called on (Hindu)
men to protect Hindu women and religion against Muslims. T ­ hroughout the campaign leading
up to the destruction of the mosque and on the day the mosque was destroyed, Hindu national-
ist women exhorted the crowds, mostly men, to tear down the mosque, taunting them to “man
up,” to behave like men and defend Hinduism—even as that meant violence against minority
communities, especially Muslims. One observer called the Ayodhya conflict a “turning point”
in the role of women in Hindu nationalism.5
In these ways, the BJP’s rise to national political power cannot be disentangled, empirically
or theoretically, from its increasing engagement with women and gender in the 1980s–1990s.
Today, as it returns to national political power, the BJP has evolved a more routinized incor-
poration of women into its structures and activities, rather than the e­ xclusionary approach

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of the early 1900s or the mobilizations of the 1980s–1990s (Williams, in progress). What is
evident from the empirical record is that like the politicization of H
­ induism itself, women’s
involvement in Hindu nationalist politics had to be constructed and was not a natural or
inevitable outcome. The BJP took several decades to register significant electoral victories in
India’s democratic political system. But we argue that rather than representing Hinduism as a
religion, the BJP represents an ideology of Hindu nationalism or Hindutva (loosely translated
as “Hindu-ness”); we turn in the next section to expand on the differences between these.

Hinduism and its politicized other: Hindu nationalism

While it is certainly true that for centuries, religion has moved people and given them a
sense of community, Hinduism as a religion is not necessarily a strong or obvious candidate
to serve as a mobilizing political force. The term “Hindu” referred historically to the people
east of the Indus River. Though Hindus comprised just under 80% of the population of India
in 2011 (CIA ­Factbook 2017), they are riven along caste, sectarian, linguistic, and regional
lines among others. The meaning and practice of Hinduism varies considerably across I­ ndia.
There is no agreed upon central text to serve as a common source of authority. Rather,
a number of texts, written in different centuries, offer sometimes conflicting accounts of
­v irtue and vice (Fuller 1992; Flood 2003).
A combination of textual plurality, heterogeneous practice, and caste politics make
the idea of a “Hindu community” rather abstract if not politically untenable. There are a
­multiplicity of gods and many ways of worshipping each. Temples frequently are consecrated
to one main deity but many others are also accorded space within. This variation has broad
regional patterns, with some gods more popular in the north than the south of the country.
Often within the same family one can find devotees of different gods and ways of worship.
Each family has a deity associated with it based on their ancestral village and subcaste mem-
bership, but sometimes, these are set aside to pray to a more popular god. D ­ ifferent gods
serve different purposes and have different forms of devotion associated with them.
Temples are not centers of community life on a regular basis and do not serve fixed congre-
gations. People come and go as they please, with the fortunes of a temple varying seasonally and
over longer periods of time. Certainly, there are a number of swamis and gurus who accept disci-
ples and may even have ashrams where a strong sense of community can grow, but those who re-
side in ashrams have renounced the material world and make poor activists for social movements.
Caste divisions are based on religious understandings that divide people on the basis of descent.
Caste is a socially sanctioned means of perpetuating hierarchy and domination among groups
who live in proximity to one another (Dirks 2001; Jaffrelot 2003; Chandra 2004). It divides
­Hindus into closed endogamous communities. The historical legacy of caste-based d­ iscrimination
and exclusion leads to deep distrust between members of ­different caste groups. The politiciza-
tion of caste over the past century has sustained and even intensified the polarization of Hindus.
In practice, there are thousands of caste groups but all can be ranked in relation to one another
and classified according to a five-part schema. The ranking of castes reflects socioeconomic and
political distinctions that are similar to but not coterminous with class divisions. Caste identity
remains an excellent predictor of political preferences in India (Deo 2016, Ch. 3).
While all of the major world religions are practiced in a variety of ways by adherents,
Hinduism is unusual in that it is fragmented at the level of high tradition as well as low. This
refers to the split between folk understandings and practices of a religious tradition and the
scholarly or ecclesiastical version of it.6 In the case of Hinduism, there is a high tradition that
is deeply philosophical and Brahmanical, often called the Sanatana Dharma—while at the

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level of everyday practice, multiple varieties of Bhakti (devotional) movements foreground

deeply personal relationships with particular deities through worship practices.
For all these reasons, it would be a mistake to assume that the BJP victory implies the
political dominance of Hindus or Hinduism in India. The first step in politicizing Hinduism
is convincing people that “Hindu” is an important aspect of their personhood. It is an even
further step to convince them that their differences from other Hindus cease to matter for
political purposes. Singling out any dimension of a person’s identity and using that as the
basis for political mobilization is a difficult process under normal circumstances and if any-
thing, in the case of Hinduism it is especially so.
The Hindutva ideology that mobilizes BJP supporters is starkly distinct from Hinduism as a re-
ligion. Its earliest and still most relevant articulation was laid out in a text penned in 1928 by Veer
Savarkar titled Who Is a Hindu? Hindutva at its core is a philosophy of ethnic nationalism that vir-
tually equates being Indian with being Hindu. Hindu nationalist ideology holds that true Indians
are those that have India both as their birthplace and as their holy land, or the place where their re-
ligion originated. This immediately defines Hindus, Sikhs, Jains, and Buddhists as “real ­Indians”
while placing Muslims, Christians, Jews, and Parsis (Zoroastrians) outside the national fold.
But then Hindutva further holds that Hinduism is not merely a religion but more broadly
a culture and a way of life shared by every Indian regardless of their religion. In the words of
prominent BJP leader L. K. Advani, “India may be multilingual, multireligious, multiracial.
But the culture is one. The culture is Hinduism.” 7 Or as their 1996 Election Manifesto put it,

[t]he BJP is committed to the concept of one nation, one people, one culture—our
nationalist vision is not merely bound by the geographical or political identity of India,
but defined by our ancient cultural heritage.8

This common cultural heritage is Hinduism. Anyone who doesn’t subscribe to Hinduism as
the dominant Indian culture and way of life is not really Indian and therefore has suspect na-
tional loyalties. But party leaders insist that minorities—especially Muslims—have nothing
to fear from Hindutva, declaring that non-Hindus would no more be second-class citizens in
a BJP-run India than non-Christians are second-class citizens in Western countries:

France is a Christian country, so is Britain, in the same way that India is a Hindu coun-
try. Does that mean that non-Christians are treated as second-class citizens in France
and Britain? Does that mean non-Hindus are second-class citizens? Of course not.9

This culturally nationalist vision has been a central reason for the party’s lack of popularity
among India’s minority communities and its image as an anti-Muslim party in particular.
The BJP has argued that Congress-style secularism—which has historically sought to en-
sure special protections for minorities—is what they call “pseudo-secularism” and is mere
appeasement of minorities for vote-bank purposes. Two of their key planks towards religious
minorities were represented in the mobilization campaigns described earlier: the elimination
of multicultural protections for religious minorities (as they agitated for in the Shah Bano con-
troversy) and the construction of a Hindu temple to Lord Rama at the site of the demolished
Babri Masjid mosque in Ayodhya. The party’s third major plank towards religious minorities
has been the elimination of Article 370 of the Constitution, which grants special status to
Jammu & Kashmir—the only Muslim-majority state in India (Williams 2006, Ch. 6).
If the relation between Hinduism, Hindu nationalism, and democratic politics in India is
so complex, what insights can relevant literatures offer to unravel it? In the next section, we

554
 Hinduism and democracy

examine two such literatures: the general comparative political science literature on religion
and politics and the specific work on women in Hindu nationalism.

Reading two literatures

Religion and politics: Abrahamic religions and women in Islam

Comparative political science literature on religion and politics was relatively sparse for de-
cades, with a sudden burst after the 9/11 terror attacks. Suddenly there was an urgent need
to understand how religion could motivate political action and how political behavior could
shape religion. In many ways, political science has been learning from sociology, anthropol-
ogy, religious studies, and other disciplines how to think about these questions. As a young
literature, it is not surprising that it still has many lacunae. We believe that paying attention
to the Indian case of Hindu nationalism as politicized religion through a gender lens can
offer new insights for the study of religion and politics more broadly.
Two key shortcomings of the comparative literature are especially highlighted by the
­Indian case. The first is its almost complete focus on Abrahamic models of religion. What do
you miss when you only study or focus on Abrahamic religions? The most basic problem is that
the Abrahamic religions include a bare majority of the world population: 54.9% (Pew Forum
on Religion and Public Life 2012). This leaves almost half the global population unaccounted
for—and does not even take into account the regional, local, country- and culture-wise
­variations between the Abrahamic religions themselves. A Protestant understanding of reli-
gion as text-based, monotheistic, congregationalist, and concerned with individual salvation
gets grafted onto Judaism and Islam in ways that don’t quite fit but are serviceable enough. But
it certainly misses what religion looks like in the non-Abrahamic world.
This error is visible in studies like Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart’s cross-national
comparison of religion and politics (2011) or Samuel Huntington’s civilizational model
(2011). Among their failures is the orientalist trap of assuming religion is text based and that
we can know what adherents think about a particular issue by reference to a founding text.
In the case of Hinduism, as discussed earlier, there is no founding text or canon that gives
rise to a unified creed or belief system (Grzymala-Busse 2012). The monotheistic assumption
breaks down in polytheistic or nontheistic religions like Hinduism, Buddhism, Shintoism,
and Daoism. The nature of the relationship between the individual and the divine is very
different, as are understandings of morality and the afterlife. The ways in which Abrahamic
subjects are thought to act in response to an all-seeing and judging deity simply don’t apply as
ways of understanding behavior in other religious traditions. The absence of a congregation
and the practice of private worship also means that assumptions about how social norms are
formed and promulgated don’t apply. In a context like Hinduism in which most religious ac-
tivity takes place within the home, public religion takes on a very different cast. The modes
of organizing socially and generating networks for mobilization are also very different than
in a congregational model.
If we ask questions about religion and politics from a non-Abrahamic perspective, religion
no longer seems such an obvious candidate to mobilize vast numbers. Instead we might see
that religion can be a poor candidate for mass mobilization as it has to overcome differences
of theology, resolve logistical obstacles of gathering people together, achieve penetration into
individual homes in the absence of a tradition of text study, and provide novel motivations
for action. This is not to suggest that Hindus or Buddhists have not historically managed
to engage in political campaigns. But it does draw our attention to the critical importance

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Rina Verma Williams and Nandini Deo

of modernity and democratic forms of government as shaping the particular ways in which
religious identity becomes salient in non-Abrahamic and postcolonial societies. At the very
least we see that the process of politicizing Hinduism shows the dangers of naturalizing po-
liticized religion.
The case of India forces scholars to consider what religion is in a different way. It makes
us look at the “transition from religion as a set of practices that reproduce a belief system to
religious ideology deployed as a tool of political mobilization and party politics” as a process
that involves considerable effort (Feldman 1998: 35). Ultimately, the work that religious or
political entrepreneurs have to do to mobilize people by faith is as difficult as the work that
any social movement actor must engage in.
The second shortcoming of the comparative literature on religion and politics has been
its peculiar focus on the question of gender almost solely in regard to just one religion:
Islam. Many scholars have been highly critical of Western scholarship’s fascination with
the alleged or assumed oppression of Muslim women (Mernissi 1987, 1992; Abu-Lughod
1998, 2013; Moghadam 2003; Mahmood 2005; Scott 2007). What do you miss when you
focus only on women in Islam? Such an approach places undue emphasis on just one re-
ligion, constructing it as somehow especially oppressive of women. The political agendas
surrounding such an approach undermine the legitimacy of these analyses: Is the purpose
to study the role of women in religious politics, or to indict Islam as a gender-oppressive
(hence “backward”) religion? Such analyses can entirely miss the ways in which women/
gender can serve as a lens into understanding a number of aspects around the politicization
of all religions.
By focusing only on women in Islam, political scientists suggest either that there is some-
thing about Islam that is particularly corrosive of gender equality or that there is something
about Arab culture that is problematic (Donno and Russett 2004). The Indian case can serve
as a useful reminder that poverty is the biggest threat to most women, not their religious
practices. India’s shocking maternal mortality rates, the missing millions of girl babies, and
practices of seclusion and veiling cross-religious boundaries in India and are most harshly
experienced by women who don’t have access to alternative livelihoods. Looking at gender
beyond Islam is a needed corrective to the politically driven myopia of much of the literature
on women and religion as it currently stands.

Through the lens of gender: women in Hindu nationalism

Joan Scott proposed that gender should be used as a category of analysis in order to reveal
the operation of social power (1986). That is, when we see gender differentiation we know
that discourse is operating in order to benefit some and disadvantage others. In that way, we
suggest that paying close attention to the role of women in Hindu nationalist politics reveals
the inner workings of that movement. Examining the role of women is particularly fruitful
precisely because women’s participation in conservative/religious politics is taken as coun-
terintuitive and in need of explanation: The reasons why women would participate in Hindu
nationalist politics are not immediately obvious if the ideology of Hindu nationalism is
­patriarchal and does not offer clear rewards to women. This puzzle motivating the literature
on women in Hindu nationalism has the great virtue of leading us to the question of why not
just women but anyone would participate in such a movement, thus drawing our attention to
the work that goes into mobilizing support for Hindu nationalist politics.
The BJP’s initial rise to power in the 1980s–1990s produced a significant and path-
breaking literature on women and gender in Hindu nationalism in India. This scholarship

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traced the rise to power of the contemporary BJP through a gendered lens (A. Basu 1993a,b;
Sarkar and Butalia 1995; Sarkar 2001). One author has argued that the extent of women’s
­participation in militant Hindu nationalist politics may be overstated (Menon 2003), but
the broad consensus has been that the contemporary BJP rose to power by manipulating
gendered discourses and issues of women’s rights, and mobilizing women in a wide range
of activities—up to and including the instigation of violence against minority communities.
Yet the literature on women and gender in Hindu nationalism in India has not im-
pacted (or been impacted by) the religion and politics literature more broadly, and instead
has been driven over time by two persistent questions: Why do women participate in
this movement? What, if any, is the potential for women to be empowered through such
participation? An underlying affect of surprise and disbelief that women could or would
participate in the hate-filled politics of Hindu nationalism is palpable throughout this early
wave of literature. The phenomenon seemed at once new and inexplicable: “the recent and
very sizable entry of [Hindu nationalist] women in violent campaigns, the leading roles of
right-wing women in public politics is a new phenomenon that requires some explanation”
(Sarkar 1998: 102).
Scholars frankly admitted that despite long experience in the field, they had not “encoun-
tered women’s complicity in violence, let alone violence against minorities” ( Jeffery and
Basu 1998, ix; see also Butalia 2001). And they found that answers to their questions—why
would women participate in a movement like Hindu nationalism, and does such participa-
tion hold the potential for empowering women?—were not found in the extant “scholarly
literature on women, religion, politics” ( Jeffery and Basu 1998, x). This extant literature was
more concerned with exegesis of theological texts and analysis of religious traditions rather
than women’s lived experience.
The literature on women in Hindu nationalism grew out of a set of assumptions within
feminism about what women’s interests are and how they are best realized. Feminist as-
sumptions about the “peaceful nature” of women played a role in shaping the continuing
surprise over women’s enthusiastic participation in Hindu nationalist politics from the 1990s
onwards. Assumptions about how women get empowered and how women’s private piety
is not (or should not be) related to public politics seem to have been critical in driving this
literature.
Saba Mahmood (2005) has argued that feminism has adopted a normative model of free-
dom that assumes that women only exercise agency insofar as they subvert or resist patriarchy
and patriarchal religion. Her investigation of women’s religious networks in Egypt leads her
to reject this hidden assumption. Instead she argues that we must understand women’s lives
in terms of the ethics and teleology they have adopted. In examining Muslim women’s par-
ticipation in networks that are religious, conservative, and antagonistic towards liberal poli-
tics, some scholars have found that understanding these women’s actions requires rethinking
their own feminist assumptions ( Jamal 2005). They argue that one has to reject the rigid
bifurcation of religion into the private sphere and feminism into the secular sphere.
There is a long feminist tradition of critically examining the ways in which patriarchy has
been supported by religious institutions and ideologies. This scholarly and activist tradition
is being called into question by some feminist scholars as part of a larger shift away from
liberal feminism towards post-secular feminism. Post-secular thought was first made famous
by Jurgen Habermas, who acknowledged his own blind spot in treating religious discourse
as inherently irrational and therefore irrelevant to democratic discussion. Instead, he argued
that religion offers a form of meaning-making to most humans and should be welcomed
into public discourse (2008). Post-secular feminism in particular is concerned with how to

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Rina Verma Williams and Nandini Deo

account for the religious experiences and beliefs of women; and it is increasingly critical of
the liberal foundations of much feminist thought (Deo 2016).
From a traditional or liberal feminist perspective the question is why do women work
against their own liberation? But from the perspective of Hindu nationalist women that
question looks patronizing. There are many reasons Indian women may participate in Hindu
nationalist politics; many of these reasons apply to Indian men too. The affective and reli-
gious rewards of participation are difficult to study but do more to hold together activist
networks than shared ideological fervor (Wood 2003; Munson 2008).

Conclusion
The remarkable results of the 2014 election point up the urgent scholarly and political need
for comparative political science to engage the case of Hinduism and Hindu nationalism
in India’s democracy. In power for two years at the time of this writing, the BJP is already
presiding over a climate of violent attacks on Christian churches, on minorities and lower
castes, on the eating or storing of beef, and on public displays of affection, stifling critical
speech on university campuses and undermining academic integrity. It is imperative as con-
cerned scholars that we understand what strategies at different inflection points in time can
bring a movement of politicized religion like Hindu nationalism to power—and thus what
strategies can be deployed to disempower them as well. While there are never any “surefire”
ways to combat the politicization of religion, recognizing and understanding the interaction
between contingency and strategy opens up the possibility of countermeasures.
The general comparative literature on religion and politics has not developed to a point
where it can offer guidance on such questions. First, it has been overly focused on the
­Abrahamic religions and driven by a problematic concern (obsession?) with the issue of women
in Islam. We seek to correct this imbalance through an interpretive and historical approach
that traces the setbacks and advances of Hindu nationalist politics through a gendered lens.
Second, prior scholarship focusing on Hindutva women has been underpinned by secular-­
liberal feminist principles that may impede the possibility of understanding Hindu national-
ist women—and Hindu nationalist politics—in or on their own terms.
Our findings suggest the need for scholars of religion and politics to denaturalize any
presumed linkages between religiosity and political activism based in/on religion: The polit-
icization of religion is not an automatic or naturally occurring process. Rather, it is one that
must be constructed. By focusing on Hindu nationalism’s uneven record of political success
and its uneven incorporation of women into the movement, we are able to demonstrate the
contingent and constructed path by which religion is transformed into politicized religion
mobilized for electoral gain. In this way Hinduism as a religion may have little or no impact
on the functioning of democracy. But Hindu nationalism as politicized religion can carry
the potential to manipulate, threaten, and even transform democracy—which is why it is so
important to pay critical scholarly attention to the contingent and constructed ways in which
religion becomes politicized. Our use of gender—including both how women are unevenly
incorporated into the movement and how they are active in resistance to it—is particularly
productive as a critical interpretive lens to understand the evolution of Hindu nationalist
politics and denaturalize the link between religion and politicized religion.
We believe our study of Hinduism and Hindu nationalism in Indian democracy can
offer significant insights into the relationship between religion, politics, and politicized reli-
gion in many other contexts within Asia and beyond. We hope our contributions will lead
other scholars to reexamine, for example, how Islamic piety can become or fails to become

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politicized Islamism. In particular, a study of the ways in which politicized Islam, or Islamist
groups, incorporate or fail to incorporate women—as well as the forms of resistance to such
movements manifested by women—would be especially productive and would circumvent
the difficulties of current overly normative (not in a good way) and imperialistic approaches
to this question. Simply undermining the assumption that religion itself is a powerful, un-
controllable, and destructive political force is a first step in mitigating the power that po-
liticized religion can deploy. The hard work of politicizing religion can in the end only be
countered by the hard work of understanding how religion gets politicized and how to resist
its politicization.

Notes
1 In first-past-the-post electoral systems (also called plurality systems), a constituency elects one
representative out of a pool that could include multiple candidates. If there are more than two can-
didates running, the winning candidate may win with less than a majority of votes. That is, instead
of requiring a winner who has 50 + 1% of the vote, in a first-past-the-post system the candidate
only needs more than the others, or a plurality of votes.
2 Abrahamic religions share a belief in a monotheistic deity whose disciple, Abraham, features in
the origin stories of the followers as a man whose faith is directly tested by God, who asks him to
sacrifice his son as a show of devotion.
3 Speech in Hyderabad. Quoted in Hindu Outlook II:5 (30 March 1938), 4.
4 The literature on both these campaigns is vast. For a start see Williams 2012; Pathak and Sunder
Rajan 1989; Liberhan Ayodhya Commission 2009; Gopal 1991.
5 Sunita Aron, ed., Hindustan Times. Interview with Williams, Lucknow, November 2013.
6 The embrace of the Black Madonna by Italian Catholics versus the doctrine of Mary by the V ­ atican
is one example; an example in South Asia is the embrace of Sufi shrines by Hindus and Muslims
along with the disapproval of them by Muslim ulema.
7 Quoted in “A Hindu Nationalist Stirs and Scares,” New York Times, 9 June 1991, 12.
8 Bharatiya Janata Party, “For a Strong and Prosperous India: Election Manifesto 1996,” 15.
9 “A Hindu Nationalist Stirs and Scares,” New York Times, 9 June 1991, 12.

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 38
Constitutional socialism
Yuxin Ma

Constitutional socialism has become a theory in China in recent years and has rallied ­support
from influential scholars in political, legal, economic, and philosophical fields, such as Jiang
Ping, Cai Dingjian, Wang Changjinag, Guo Daohui, Li Weiguang, and Hua Bingxiao. These
scholars believe that Chinese socialism needs both market economy and constitutional pol-
itics. Convinced by China’s success as a socialist country with a thriving market economy,
they insist that public ownership of productive means and wealth should be preserved; they
propose to adapt constitutionalism into China’s political system to guarantee her further polit-
ical, economic, cultural, and social developments. Scholars argue that constitutional socialism
originates in civil society and is guided by public opinion; it enables citizens to claim their
public power and to exercise their freedom and equality through orderly participation in con-
stitutional politics. The scholars’ main concern is how to restrict the power of the ruling CCP
and the state in order to guarantee citizens’ human rights. They argue that a good constitution
respects people’s sovereignty, attends to public opinion, restricts the power of the government,
and protects human rights and liberty. A good constitution in full practice can legitimize the
CCP, check and balance the power of the government branches, and protect the people’s rights.
They promote the supremacy of the constitution, the division of power, a democratic political
life, the protection of people’s rights, and the inspection of unconstitutional activities.
This chapter situates constitutional socialism in the context of China’s economic reform
and the global crisis of communism since 1980. It will trace the evolution of the theory and
its main proposals for China’s political reform, such as to democratize the CCP, to reform
the National People’s Congress, to practice intraparty or interparty pluralism, to combine
people’s sovereignty with the CCP leadership, to promote civil society and social power,
and to constitutionalize taxation. The last section explores the implications of the theory for
other Asian socialist countries—Vietnam, Laos, and North Korea.

The background
Constitutional socialism has been developed in the context of China’s economic reform,
the breakup of the Soviet Union, and the global failure of doctrinaire communism. Since
China concentrated on economic construction in 1978 and successfully transformed the

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country into a market economy in the late 1990s, her stunning economic achievements have
come together with appalling problems—the polarization of the rich and the poor, the sky-
rocketing price of housing, the inadequate education and public health facilities, pervasive
environmental issues, deteriorating morale, and increasing social tensions. If the CCP could
enjoy a performance-based legitimacy in the eyes of most Chinese citizens during the two
decades of fast economic growth, then the slowdown of its economic growth since the global
economic crisis in 2008 has only intensified its need for political reform. Chinese people can
see clearly that the root of all problems lies in the corruption of party-state officials who run
its backward political system.
As early as 1980, Deng Xiaoping identified China’s political problems as bureaucracy, power
overcentralization, patriarchy, and life tenure of leadership. He criticized the highly centralized
and authoritarian management in many working units—the top leaders monopolized all the
power and acted as authoritarian dictators. Both wrong thinking and a flawed political system
caused such problems. In the first decade of political reform (1979–89), according to a leading
scholar of constitutionalism, Cai, the state upheld the spirit of democracy and the rule of law,
with a focus on eliminating dictatorship. Intellectuals in humanity championed conceptual
changes and demanded more freedom, democracy, and election, but the state leaders pre-
ferred to keep the current political system while introducing democracy. The lively political
atmosphere from 1978–82 was a response to the end of the Great Cultural Revolution—the
CCP learned the lesson from its previous mistakes and revised its constitution to bring about
such changes: (1) adopt multi-candidate elections; (2) improve the National People’s Con-
gress (NPC) and make its Standing Committee a major legislative institution; (3) ­increase the
autonomy of local governments by establishing local Standing Committees; and (4) abolish
the life tenure of the party-state leaders. In 1986, Deng proposed to separate the party from
the state, reduce the size of the government, and give more central power to the local gov-
ernments. He believed that China needed democracy but not the Western model of checks
and balances (Cai 2011). In other words, the authority of the CCP should not be challenged.
When the Soviet Union dismembered and the doctrinaire Marxism/Leninism failed,
most communist states had to adopt political and economic reforms to ensure the survival
of their regimes. The Communist Party of the Soviet Union had monopolized all political,
economic, and ideological powers under Stalinist authoritarianism, which overemphasized
developing the productive force yet neglected democracy and citizens’ rights. The Soviet
state had ruled out civil society and individuals’ liberty. Through centralizing power, the
Soviet Union formed a totalitarian state to compete with Western countries as a superpower;
yet her people had a hard time identifying themselves with the state.
The success of China’s economic reform and the flaws in her repressive political structure
have stimulated Chinese scholars to construct creatively plural socialist theories to accom-
modate its reality and search for solutions to its political problems. These scholars realize
that contemporary socialism does not need to overthrow capitalism and that the people have
the ultimate right to determine whether a social system works. Jiang, the former president
of the Chinese University of Political Science and Law, directs the party-state’s attention to
the needs of the Chinese people—they want more freedom, dignity, justice, and democracy;
they make decisions based not on ideology but on how many rights and benefits, and how
much happiness a political system can bring them ( Jiang 2011a).
The market economy in China has generated social demands for political reform. Since its
previous economic achievement was based on the exhaustion of resources, labor, and land,
and could not reproduce itself in the long run, further economic reform will have to depend
on the transformation of her political and legal system. Only when the state has a democratic

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Yuxin Ma

system and protects human rights can economic prosperity last long. The earlier economic
development has led to the collapse of social values, rampant corruption, and violation of
law. To create the most favorable investment environment, money has married power in
many local governments. Economists have replaced intellectuals in championing political
reform. Although the government’s function has transformed, its power has increased in the
process of competing for interests with the society.
Although the National Congress of the CCP has in recent years brought the issue of
political reform to its agenda, constitutionalism scholar Cai finds that much has been talked
about on reforming the party’s leadership and changing its administration, but little change
has been made. Discussions on how to diversify the forms and broaden the channels of
democracy; how to democratize the party’s election, decision-making, management, and
supervision; and how to protect people’s rights to know, to participate, to express them-
selves, and to supervise the party are all up in the air. But the CCP is still in charge of every-
thing and coordinates every interest—it prescribes the norms for the party committee, the
NPC, the government, the National People’s Political Consultative Conference (NPPCC),
and the people’s organizations. The party’s will is turned into the state’s will through legal
procedures, and the party-recommended candidates become leaders of the government. A
positive change is that civil society has been more active, and the internet has provided
citizens greater freedom to express themselves, monitor state policies, and supervise govern-
ment officials. To make the government more open and responsible to the people, the then-­
premier Wen Jiabao in 2004 spoke of establishing a democratic system of decision-making,
working under the rule of law, and bringing the party under the supervision of the NPC,
the NPPCC, social media, and public opinion. Citizens increasing right-defense (weiquan)
movements have pushed the political reform forward (Cai 2011).

Revisiting socialism and constitutionalism

Theorists in China have developed new understandings of socialism in the context of
­China’s political reform. Jiang suggests that “new socialism” at the economic level means
“rich ­people, strong nation”—only when the people accumulate more material wealth will
the state be financially strong; at the social level, this means fair distribution of public wealth,
which leads to a harmonious society; at the political level, it means constitutionalism—the
supremacy of the constitution, the checks and balances of power, the people’s rights to elect
leaders, the protection of citizens’ rights, and the establishment of an inspection board to
check on unconstitutional activities ( Jiang 2011a). Jiang believes in a good balance of power
among the state, the society, and the individuals, and supports the societal power in promot-
ing public affairs and interests ( Jiang 2012).
Opposing the old socialism, which emphasized the power and supremacy of the state,
famous legal scholar Guo proposes that new socialism should focus on the society—the rights
and power of citizens and their social organizations (Guo 2012, 675). A well-known Xi’an-
based scholar of Chinese constitutionalism, Hua defines contemporary socialism as a consti-
tutional society in which universal equality, liberty, democracy, justice, and happiness should
all be realized. He maintains that the civil society is the base for constitutional socialism,
and multiple forces should jointly govern the state (Hua 2011, 140). Zhou Shuzhi at Sha’anxi
Provincial Social Science Academy revisits the Scientific Socialism of Marxism, which is
based on developing a productive force, respecting private property in the civil society, and
matching material rewards to a person’s labor. Zhou argues that the ultimate goal of Scientific
Socialism is democracy and proletarian rule under constitutionalism (Zhou 2012, 760).

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Advocates of constitutional socialism criticize Stalinism as fake Marxism because the com-
munist party leaders and privileged bureaucrats, rather than citizens, controlled the social wealth.
They disapprove of the authoritarianism of Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping in merging the
party with the state, practicing personal worship, and neglecting the rule by law. These scholars
suspect the utility of neo-Confucianism, despite its pragmatism and emphasis on people, and
question liberal socialism in Northern Europe, which is centered on private ownership, despite
its practice of constitutionalism, mixed private ownership, market economy, and social welfare.
In these scholars’ opinions, neoliberalism in China trusts the American values of free market and
democracy too much, neglecting the money politics in American presidential elections and the
discordance of American liberalism at home yet hegemony abroad. The scholars also disagree
with Nativists, who claim to be grassroots elite and are against intellectuals, and find their pro-
posal of equalizing wealth and elevating morality unpractical (Zhou 2012).
Additionally, advocates of constitutional socialism find that the main weakness of ­China’s
reform is the lack of a constitution-based general strategy to address all problems of the c­ ountry.
Top CCP leaders have realized the necessity of the checks and balances of power because the
corruption has challenged the legitimacy of the party. In 2004, the then-premier Wen told an
American journalist that the constitution must be the fundamental criterion for all government
activities, and no party, organization, or individual was above the constitution and the law.
Constitutionalism has been developed within the capitalist economy through the victories
of bourgeois revolution against authoritarian monarchs in different countries. It borrowed ideas
from ancient Greek democracy and Roman Republicanism. Gao Fang, a theorist of constitution-
alism, summarizes the fact that global constitutionalism has evolved into four distinctive models:
In Britain, it has been a compromise between the parliamentary and the constitutional monarchy;
in the United States, the absence of an authoritarian monarch and the bourgeois’ ­victory in the
war of independence has turned the country into a presidential republic; the turbulent French
Revolution has finally settled into a semi-presidential constitutional republic; in Japan, Meiji
constitutionalism had to accommodate the institution of a Shinto emperor (Gao 2011).
Constitutionalism has its foundation in democracy, and it operates by following the ­people’s
will. A Wuhan-based professor of political science, Yu Chongsheng argues that constitutional-
ism is the foundation of modern politics, and its basic principle of checks and balances of power
is key to all modern polities (Yu 2011a). Although several constitutions were issued in modern
China, Chinese experiments with constitutionalism have largely failed because of her long
tradition of an absolute monarchy, her slower development of commercial economy, and the
presence of imperialist powers. Late Qing reformers ­attempted a c­ onstitutional monarchy, but it
did not work. The early Republic of China experimented with a Presidential Republic, which
did not shape the course of modern China. The ­Provisional Constitution of Republic of China,
issued on March 11, 1912, declares people’s sovereignty and the division of power among five
branches of the government: the legislative, the executive, the judicial, the examination, and
the censor. But the Nationalist Party ruled in an authoritarian way and eventually lost mainland
China to the CCP in 1949. The Constitution of the People’s Republic of China was issued on
September 20, 1954, and ­declared that the new China is founded on the principles of socialism
and democracy. But the CCP leaders ruled China with no regard for the constitution.
Constitutional socialism contains traditional Confucian wisdom of benevolence and kingly
ways, and borrows positive values from bourgeois constitutionalism—constitutional politics,
democracy, the rule of law, human rights, and the checks and balances of power. Its advocates
propose using the social power of citizens and their civil society to supervise and restrict the
state power without challenging the authority of the state. Legal scholar Guo insists that civil
society should be the basic engine in constructing constitutional socialism. He finds there

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were different civil societies and states based on different economic bases; in the civil society
of socialist China, the productive means and the produced wealth should belong to all citizens.
Marxist civil society refers to the economic base of the modern state’s superstructure. Since
citizen’s social and economic lives are the foundation for their political lives, the state should
not interfere with citizens’ private lives, individual rights, and thinking (Guo 2012, 680).
Constitutional socialism proposes applying the universal constitutional values (people’s
sovereignty and citizens’ human rights) to define, restrict, and develop socialism as well
as to defend socialist democracy. At the First National Symposium on Socialism in 2006,
constitutional economic professor Hu Xingdou brought up the concept of constitutional
socialism. His usage won general approval and then was circulated by the socialist theorist
Jiang (Hu 2011, 85). Constitutionalism contains three elements—democracy, human rights,
and the rule by law. It is superior to liberal democracy because it is controllable—its process
is orderly and transparent, and its result is partially predictable, thus it can avoid violence.
Currently, socialist China has a market economy. Without constitutionalism and the checks
and balances of power, it runs the danger of becoming the market economy of the privileged,
which leads to rampant corruption, injustice, and polarization. Hu hopes that constitutional
socialism can check the power of officials, restrict the capital operations, and improve peo-
ple’s livelihood (Hu 2012, 683).
In 2011, Xi’an scholar Hua published his monograph Overcoming Liberalism: On
­Constitutional Socialism, the first comprehensive work exploring the relations between con-
stitutional socialism and the political reform in China. Hua’s theory has no intention of
challenging the dominant position of the CCP, and it aims at socializing the state from a
structure above the society into one that obeys the society. He argues that constitutional
socialism brings democracy under the rule of the constitution and strives for the common
interests of the community of free individuals; the theory upholds the priority and the
­supremacy of the constitution, respects citizens’ freedom and rights, and recognizes the
importance of civil society. Hua disapproves bourgeois liberal constitutionalism as a class-
based democracy, which defends the private ownership of the capitalist and his exploitation
of the workers (Hua 2012). He argues that constitutional socialism is people’s democracy,
which has a scientific structure and public ownership of the economy, guaranteeing justice,
and social harmony. Hua declares that only constitutional socialism can lead to a harmonious
socialist society that guarantees individuals’ complete development and (Hua 2012, 690).

Bringing the communist party under the constitution

In the first half of the twentieth century, constitutional protection of citizens’ freedom of
association had led to the founding of authoritarian parties that conducted unconstitutional
activities. To avoid that situation, twenty-two countries’ current constitutions include spe-
cific regulations on how to normalize the political parties. The CCP as the ruling party in
China has not followed the constitution. How should the constitution be employed to disci-
pline the activities of the CCP and balance its liberty and publicity? Some scholars argue that
the CCP has to reform itself into a constitutional party, which is more legitimate in people’s
eyes, and the elections and decision-making process within the CCP should be democratic.
Wang, from the Party School of the CCP, which trains top leaders of China, emphasizes that
the CCP is not above the constitution and all of its activities must observe the regulations
of the constitution. The CCP should provide a pool of candidates for its members to choose
from, adopt competitive election within the party, and separate the party from the govern-
ment (Wang 2011a, 54).

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Legal scholar Ye Haibo elevates constitution above all parties and argues that the
c­ onstitution guarantees the freedom and equality of all parties, and promise subsidies to all
parties. He proposes that each party should practice intraparty democracy, manage its own
finance, and prohibit unconstitutional activities (Ye 2011). The interparty equality can pre-
vent the strong party appropriating state apparatus for its own advantage and suppressing the
weak ones. Any party violating the constitution should be deprived of political participation,
and the judiciary (especially the constitution protection board) should have the exclusive
right to dissolve unconstitutional parties. Since a party does not have other funding except
membership fee and citizens’ donation, it has to rely on the state’s support. The state should
provide subsidies to all parties to support their public and democratic functions and release
their financial burdens. This helps avoid the collusion between the party and unclean money,
prevents interest groups corrupting the party and manipulating the political environment,
and protects citizens’ equal political participation.
Ye differentiates the external freedom and the internal freedom of the party: The former
means that the state cannot interfere in the citizens’ freedom of association nor in the party’s
decision on its organization, membership regulation, and participation in politics. Citizens
and parties have the right to appeal for the state’s noninterference. The latter refers to a party
member’s freedom to participate in the party’s activities and influence the political will of
the party. A party should encourage its members’ broad participation, guarantee their free
will, and avoid being controlled by a minority of members. The state can make democratic
principle mandatory for a party to guarantee its members’ freedom within the party.
Legal scholar Shi Wenlong in Shanghai explores how to institutionalize the CCP
­leadership and establish a stable and universally accepted model for such leadership. He
­proposes to make the CCP leadership in national and social lives specific and detailed, and
argues that the CCP should follow the law in transforming its political leadership into ad-
ministration, a process that helps legalize the administration of the CCP. It is necessary to
construct legal theory on the party’s administrative power and activities. He proposes that
The Law on the Relation between the Party and State Institutions be made to normalize and legal-
ize the party’s administrative power (Shi 2011).
Political scholar Zhao Shoufei investigates how to re-allocate the power of the party and
the state, and transform the governance model from the dualism between the state and the
society into the model with tri-players—the state, the party, and the society (Zhao 2012, 728).
He notices that Western parties come from the society, but the CCP was established before the
founding of the PRC; so, the CCP is not a party from the society nor a constitutional party.
The CCP has ruled the state not by the constitution and the law but by its own administrative
policies. He argues that such policy-based governance should be replaced by the rule of law.

Improving the NPC

On October 19, 2005, the white book On Constructing Democratic Politics in China defines the
democratic practices in China as follows: the election at the NPC, the negotiation between the
­CCP-led multiparty cooperation and the NPPCC, the autonomous rule of minority region, local
elections, protection of human rights, and the democracy of the government and the judiciary.
Zhou Shuzhi proposes to establish an Inspection Committee within the NPC to check and
discipline unconstitutional activities by any individual or organization, and convert the mili-
tary police into constitutional police (xianbingdui) to defend the constitution and constitution-
alism (Zhou 2012, 607). Hu Xingdou aims at making the CCP an inside player of the Congress
rather than an outside leader. He suggests that the Chinese president should be the chair of the

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Congress, and all members of the Political Bureau of the Central Party Committee be made
members of the Standing Committee of the NPC, and noncommunist representatives should
be protected. He proposes to choose people’s representatives through competitive elections so
that the elected can truly represent the people, as well as to make all representatives salaried
professionals so that they can devote themselves to people’s needs and will (Hu 2012).
Having realized that authoritarianism is not socialism, Hua envisions that constitutional
socialism nurtures civil society and permits the participation of multiple interests and the
competition of two teams for better policies within the NPC (Hua 2011a, 458). Without
challenging the CCP dominance in current socialist model, he proposes that the constitution
should restrict the activities of all agents of public power and the state should practice checks
and balances of power. His solution is to transform the NPC into a “complex ( fuhe)” parlia-
ment, with one house representing the rational and critical public opinion (gongyi), and the
other house representing the irrational mass opinion (zhongyi). Through democratic negoti-
ation, people’s will, originating in private interests, can be molded closer to the consensus of
the public opinion. The Standing Committee of the NPC can be reformed into the House of
public opinion, and NPPCC can be integrated into the Congress and made into the House
of mass opinion. Thus, the NPC can be divided into four branches. The House of public
opinion, as a professional organization, has the legislative power; the House of mass opin-
ion, as nonprofessional organization representing people, has the examination and approval
power; and the State Council has the executive power and the judiciary (Hua 2011b, 171).

Pluralism: intraparty or interparty?

To democratize the ruling CCP, some scholars suggest that the party should tolerate d­ ifferences
and form multiple factions, like the LDP in Japan. In negotiating constitutionalism and C ­ hina’s
single-party system, political scholar Chu Jianguo at Wuhan University argues that single-party
constitutionalism is a mixed polity, which combines the CCP leadership, people’s sovereignty,
and constitutionalism. He recognizes the importance of civil society—which is organized
and managed by a written constitution representing citizens’ basic rights and duties—and
the necessity that the government should be responsible to people and their representatives.
The key to single-party constitutionalism is to balance the elected NPC and the nonelective
ruling CCP. The power of the CCP should be restricted to the executive power, leaving the
legislative and judicial powers to the NPC. The power of the NPC should be strengthened
so that it can restrict the behaviors of elected leaders, make specific laws, and supervise the
government functions. Chu proposes to transform the NPC into a competitive institution and
make people’s representatives salaried professionals. Although that will increase the govern-
ment expense, it can reduce corruption and make politics more transparent. Since county-level
representatives are directly elected, a third of the candidates should be r­ ecommended by the
party, a third by the people, and a third nominated jointly by the party and the people. Chu
argues for the independent finance and personnel of the judiciary to guarantee its independent
functions. All judges are to be supervised by the NPC (Chu 2011, 116).
Other scholars argue that constitutional socialism requires the ruling CCP to be a
­constitutional party, which guarantees constitutionalism and multiparty cooperation.
­Political scholar Xiao Gongqin proposes a new authoritarianism, which is favored by the
party to certain degree. He suggests that the CCP should nominate two executive teams to
compete for organizing the cabinet within the NPC, which helps transform the interparty
competitions into intraparty contest for better policies. Citizens’ freedom of speech, assem-
bly, and association should be protected, and people’s representatives at the NPC should be

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elected through competitions. The new political system will have the CCP representing the
public consensus, two teams competing for the cabinet, and multiple parties participating in
decision-making (Xiao 2012, 657).
Wang from the Party School of the CCP argues that the key to political reform is to keep
the political communication among all players open and dynamic; one party or multiple ­parties
is only the matter of the form rather than the essence of democracy. Developing democracy
within the ruling CCP goes with the trend of political communication since democracy in-
volves the interaction between the mass and the public power. Public power originates from
the mass and relies on their authorization to operate. The mass can criticize and inspect the
operation of the public power, making its result approvable. By receiving feedback from public
criticism, the public power can adjust its deviation and improve its legitimacy. The volume of
political communication is determined by the level of the d­ evelopments of market economy,
civil society, and mass media. The smaller the difference between the amount of political ne-
gotiation (goutong) and that of political communication is, the more stable the political system.
Wang finds the carrier of political communication has extended from parties to civil organiza-
tions and highly developed media. Sales associations often have better strategies and channels in
defending group interests in the market economy, and internet and cell phones spread news fast
and more accurately. The political reform should nurture, support, and direct the development
of civil organizations. The CCP can expand its influence by using civil organizations to attract
people and new media for better outreach. Unfortunately, the CCP has not thought of how
to translate new practices into mechanism, procedures, and rules to follow (Wang 2011a, 54).

Developing civil society and social power

Constitutional socialism seeks to restrict the power of the state and balance the power and au-
thority of the government with citizens’ rights and freedom. For political reformers, the goal
of China’s reform is to reduce the state power and increase the power of the society. To correct
the socialist state’s interference in culture, economy, sports, and family lives, the reforms have
tried to liberate the society from the state and give some state power to the local government.
Jiang, former president of the Chinese University of Political Science and Law, finds that social
power begins with civil society and is the merger of public law and private law, public rights and
private rights. Central to private rights is freedom, the core of social rights is autonomy, and the
key to state power is coercion. Private right becomes social right if common interests become
involved—e.g., environmental issues as well as educational and consumer rights. Social rights in-
clude education, scientific research, public health, as well as culture among other things, and are
the properties of the nongovernment organization (NGO). Social organizations fill up where the
state power is deficient and are the lubricant between the government and private rights. To build
a harmonious society, private rights should be fully respected and protected. State power, social
power, and private power should be reasonably allocated, and all play active roles (Jiang 2011b)
Constitution scholar Li Haiping at Jilin University explores how people’s basic rights
have changed with the rise of social organizations. A social organization is self-organized,
self-managed, self-serving, and self-developing for the common interests of its members;
its self-rule means its broad participation in public affairs (Li 2011a, 311). No organization
and individual can interfere with its activities as long as it abides by law. A social organi-
zation’s self-rule defends human dignity and reflects the constitutional principle of people’s
sovereignty. The purpose of such self-rule is to develop the freedom of the organization to
participate in political life from being interfered with by the state. Social organizations’ self-
rule means self-determination, self-discipline, self-govern, and the right to noninterference.

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Yu Keping from Peking University proposes the party-state nurtures and supports the
social organizations, bring them under the rule of law, and adopt a joint governance of the
state and society. Government at all levels should attract social organizations to participate
broadly in the policy-making, encourage them to be involved in creative social manage-
ment and public service. Since the economic reform, civil society has emerged and citizens’
awareness and quality has improved. Social organizations have not only increased in number
dramatically but also played important roles in economic, political, and cultural lives. Such
organizations promote economic cooperation and development, create job opportunities,
make possible citizens’ participation, and build the mutual trust between citizens and the
local government. They have helped relieve poverty, promote social welfare, shape the civil
norms, maintain social unity, and enrich people’s cultural lives. Yu assesses that the activism
of social organizations has pushed the government’s policy-making to be more scientific and
democratic (Yu 2011b, 2).
Legal scholar Guo argues that civil society (including nonruling parties) has the right and
the ability to participate in state and public affairs. As the voluntary organizations of different
interest groups, civil society acts on behalf of the public. Through civil society, scattered citizens
come together to centralize their social will and turn their private interests into public ones. On
the one hand, civil society organizes and educates citizens, speaks for their interests, and defends
their freedom and rights. On the other hand, civil society interacts with the government, sup-
porting, supervising, and restricting the power of the government. Guo maintains that a robust
civil society is the condition for the democratization of the state and society (Gao 2011).
Political scholar Li Yang in Xi’an argues that public opinion originated in civil ­society can
criticize the government and comment on policies as long as it abides by law; and the consti-
tution should protect the political speeches on citizens’ public interests. Only when citizens
can discuss politics in the public sphere in a democratic way and formulate p­ ublic opinion can
those isolated and scattered citizens form the public (gongzong). Having a r­ ational, autono-
mous, and deliberative public is the necessary condition for the civil society. Public opinion is
formed in the civil society through citizens’ participation, reaching consensus, and building
mutual trust. Public opinion does not need to be unanimous, and is authentic only when the
discussion is free and differences are tolerated. Even when the state has to restrain the freedom
of speech to protect certain interest, it can only exercise subsequent punishment instead of
prior restraint. To keep public opinion alive, citizens should have access to information on
the government and public affairs, and mass media is the most important channel for them
to gather such information. Li Yang finds civil society in China is limited and inconsistent
because China lacks the stable sociability for a democratic public (Li 2011c, 240)

Taxation based on constitution

People’s complaints about taxation and corruption have directed political scholars’ attention
to the legislative problems of taxation. Li Weiguang, a specialist on taxation argues that the
constitution should be the foundation for the Tax Law, and it should regulate every link of
the taxation process. The government must follow the constitution and Tax Law in col-
lecting taxes and raising financial income, and the public must pay taxes in order to enjoy
the public facilities and services provided by the state. Only when taxpayers pay their taxes
can they enjoy their constitutional rights, and can the state have the resources to provide
satisfying public services. Li defines taxpayers’ rights in taxation as such: They can reject
any surcharge beyond the stipulations of the constitution and the Tax Law, participate in the
entire process of tax collection, and require the government to provide public facilities and

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services according to their needs. Li also emphasizes that taxpayers can supervise govern-
ment’s financial activities through their elected representatives at the NPC, and all taxation
by the government has to be approved by the NPC.
Li first introduces the characteristics of constitutional taxation: (1) Citizens follow the Tax
Law and turn in certain amount of their property to the State Taxation Administration, thus
enabling the government to perform public services. (2) Taxation is a legislative issue and
only the representatives at the NPC can make laws on all taxes and budgets by following le-
gal procedures. (3) If the Legislature authorizes the government or other institutions to take
charge of a specific tax issue, it should be constitutional and specific on the range and the
duration of such authorization. (4) The Constitution and the Tax Law should clearly define
the basic tax system and policy, supervise the government’s tax collection and distribution,
and guarantee citizens’ minimum living cost so that after taxation they still have enough to
maintain themselves and improve their lives and production. Whether this principle is fol-
lowed or not distinguishes a legitimate government from an authoritarian one. (5) Citizens
have the right to decide on the types, the quantity, the quality and the price of public services
provided by the government, to demand the entire process of tax collection and distribution
open and transparent, and to keep the government administration under their supervision
and control. If a tax secret needs be kept, its nature and duration should be clearly defined
through the legal procedure. (6) The Constitution and the Tax Law should treat every citi-
zen equally. Taxpayers with the same taxability should be taxed based on their income levels;
taxpayers with different taxability by how much public benefits they have received from the
government. (7) Citizens’ tax duties are defined by the Tax Law and change as the Tax Law
revises, but their property rights should never be violated. If the government or the tax in-
stitution violates the law and causes citizens property loss, compensation should be made to
the victims, and the government personnel responsible should be legally punished. (8) When
a new Tax Law takes effect, all taxation belonging to an earlier period should be processed
according to the old Tax Law.
With an ideal model of constitutional taxation in mind, Li finds many deficiencies in
China’s constitution that lead to her current tax problems. Above all, the constitution does
not clarify that the NPC monopolizes the legislative power to taxation. More than eighty
percent of China’s current Tax Laws are temporary regulations and acts issued by the State
Council with the authorization of the NPC. In principle, the government should be ex-
cluded from making the Tax Law because it benefits from taxation and provides public
services, such exclusion helps prevent the government from abusing tax power and reducing
its public services. Yet the executive power of the state has not only trespassed the legislative
power but also deprived the tax legislative power of the local governments. Second, the
constitution does not restrict the authorization of legislative power over taxation. The NPC
can only authorize legislative power on a specific tax rather than give out legislative power
over general and undefined taxes. In reality, many administrative institutions in China have
very broad tax legislative power. Third, the constitution does not require the government
to abide by law in its tax collection. Last, the constitution only emphasizes citizens’ tax duty
without mentioning their tax rights.
Li prescribes these principles to be added into the constitution: (1) Taxation should f­ollow
the principles of justice, righteousness, and protection of human rights. Tax ­collection and
abolition must abide by law. (2) The NPC should clearly define the basic tax system, taxpay-
ers, tax types, tax rate, tax deduction, and exemptions. (3) The NPC monopolizes the tax
legislative power. It can authorize a specific tax power to the government or other institu-
tions but not unlimited and undefined legislative power over taxation. (4) Taxpayers have the

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rights to participate in tax legislation, approve tax collection, supervise the use of tax money,
keep minimum living expense nontaxable, pay taxes following the proper ­procedure, re-
ceive judicial welfare, and be informed on finance and taxation. (5) The ­Supreme People’s
Court, the Constitution court, or the Board of Constitution Protection should supervise the
administration of Tax Law for any unconstitutional acts. (6) Citizens only need to pay taxes
approved by the NPC and have no obligation to pay taxation from other state institutions.
In addition, Li proposes to revise the Legislative Law. The Tax Law should differentiate
the basic tax system from a nonbasic system and restrict the arbiter liberty of taxation insti-
tution. Clear regulations should be made on the government’s power in collecting and using
taxes and the grace period for tax correction, as well as specifying the penalty amount. The
legislative or judicial interpretations are needed if legal ambiguity and tax administration
problems occur. The entire taxation process should be transparent, including tax legislation,
tax origin, tax system, tax collection, tax usages and expenditures, tax policy adjustment,
and all related legal procedures. Financial and taxation institutions should provide accurate
and detailed plans and accounts to society.
Li proposes that the Tax Law should draw a clear demarcation between government’s
right to collect tax and citizens’ ownership to their property—taxpayers are the owners and
rulers of national financial resources and the state is only the manager. The state collects
taxes based on taxpayers’ collective needs, provides social security and good public services,
and guarantees the financial activities of the government meet the public interests. All
new taxes or increased tax rates are only legitimate after they are approved by the NPC.
Taxpayers can decide on what kind of government they want, demand the government to
be thrifty, and resist government overexpansion. Financial legislation should follow the
principle of protecting taxpayers’ legislative and supervising rights. Only when taxpayers
participate in making financial decisions can their relationship with the state be smooth.
Li maintains under constitutionalism, taxation is legitimate and just—approved
by ­legal procedure and used for improving citizens’ welfare. It is checked by moral
­principle—for improving people’s welfare, and social discipline—everyone has to pay
and there is no exemption for the privileged. Those with same tax liability and income
should enjoy the same welfare after paying the taxes, those with different tax liability
should have different tax burdens. A good tax correction system allows people to make
timely correction. The government should defend social security, eliminate terror, ben-
efit the entire society, and defend citizens’ freedom, rather than rob, enslave, and oppress
them (Li 2011b )

Constitutional socialism for other Asian countries?

Constitutional socialism commits to the rule of law, human rights protection, and ef-
fective and accountable governance. It has the potential to provide long-term political
stability and sustainable development. It can be related to other single-party socialist states
like Vietnam and Laos—both have moved away from centralized economic planning and
emphasis on markets since the mid of 1980s. Vietnam has adopted socialist-oriented mar-
ket economy and utilized state-owned corporate management models. The government
encourages private ownership, economic deregulation, and foreign investment while
maintaining control over strategic industries. Vietnamese economy has achieved impres-
sive growth in agricultural and industrial production, construction, exports, and foreign
investment, but the reforms of the Communist Party of Vietnam (CPV) have caused in-
come inequality and gender disparities.

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The CPV is the only legal party in Vietnam and its ruling position is consolidated in
the constitution. The political reform in Vietnam since 1986 has focused on readjusting the
­operation of the CPV—separating the party from the state, the government, the military,
and the law; establishing institutionalized system for political participation; strengthening
the supervision and balance of power; and improving the CPV administration to match
the developing market economy. The political reform is moving the country away from
­“party-rule” or “rule by man” toward rule of law. To correct the authoritarianism and life-
long leadership in the period of 1957–85, the CPV revised its regulations in 1986, limiting
the party secretary to no more than two terms, and institutionalizing the age requirements
for party leaders to keep leaders young. The CPV has adopted the collective leadership
of Central Secretary Office and strengthened the supervision of the Central Committee.
­E lections for important leadership have practiced multi-candidate competitions, and can-
didates’ information are open for party members and citizens’ examination.
Since 2001, the drafts of political reports have been publicized before each National
Congress of the CPV to ensure the CPV can absorb wisdoms within and without broadly.
In 2002, the CPV introduced the inquiry system, granting every member of the Central
Committee the right to raise questions and get satisfactory answers from all other mem-
bers, the Central Political Bureau, the Central Secretary Office, and the Central Inspection
Committee. In 2006, the party secretary was elected through competitions between two
candidates. In May 2010, provincial party elections also adopted multi-candidate compe-
titions, and twenty percent of counties under each province practiced direct election for
party secretary and vice secretary. At the eleventh National Congress of the CPV in 2011,
the election for members and supplementary members of the Central Party Committee also
adopted multi-candidate competitions. However, the CPV firmly rejected multiparty system
and the idea of checks and balances of power.
The achievement of political reform in Vietnam testifies that the vitality of single-party
system lies in its institutionalized competition and democracy within the party. Even under
single-party system there is still room for expanding democratic politics. The key is whether
the ruling party dare face competition, whether it has the confidence to turn itself to peo-
ple’s appraisal and choice, whether the party can listen to people’s will, win their hearts,
and absorb them to participate in political reform in an orderly way (Wu and Zhang 2012).
Constitutional socialism gives citizens more power in electing their representatives and
influencing the decisions that affect their lives. Its proposal of party reform and emphasis on
civil society, government transparency, and people’ access to information is in the same spirit
with Vietnamese political reform. The Vietnamese constitution of 2014 stipulates the power
of authorities to override human rights if they deem it necessary. Vietnam has an impressive
level of internet penetration, but her citizens’ freedom of speech, assembly, and association
in the cyberspace are not guaranteed. Many journalists and online activists continue to suffer
harassment or remain in prison for expressing their views. Only when a good constitution
can restrict the power of the party-state and protect human rights will Vietnamese political
reform be more successful.
Lao People’s Revolutionary Party (LPRP, the communist party of Laos) had an intimate
relationship with the VCP because of their shared revolutionary struggle. The Vietnamese
had numerous channels to convey their influence—party, military, and economic. Thus, Lao
People’s Democratic Republic closely followed Vietnam’s policy line until the late 1980s. Laos
has achieved sustained growth since her reforms, averaging six percent a year since 1988. But
the subsistence agriculture still accounts for half of GDP and provides eighty percent of total
employment. LPRP monopolizes political power but leaves the operation of the economy to

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market forces. It does not interfere in the daily lives of the Lao people, provided they do not
challenge its rule. Attempts to police the religious, cultural, economic, and sexual activities of
the people have been largely abandoned, although Christian evangelism is officially discour-
aged. The state controls media but most Lao have free access to Thai radio and television, and
can travel fairly free to Thailand. Modestly censored internet access is available in most towns,
but those who challenge the communist regime receive harsh treatment. Constitutional so-
cialism emphasizes the constitutional rule of the ruling party and thus points to a direction for
the political reform in Laos. If the LPRP brings itself under the constitution, democratizes the
party, and tolerates civil society, its political reform can be more dynamic.
North Korea is a product of its all-pervasive propaganda, which penetrates in every
aspect of daily life. Challenging the assumption that North Korea’s ideology was Juche,
­Stalinism, Confucianism, or some combination of them, Brian Reynolds Myers argues that
the ­Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) is an ethnocentric nationalist state led
by its “beloved” leaders Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il, who can protect North Koreans
to oppose the South, where American influence has defiled the Korean culture and blood.
Its latest constitution of 2009 omits mention of communism (Myers 2011). North Korea is
reluctant to liberalize along the Chinese model because any step away from its ideology of
purity could challenge the legitimacy of the military and the Kim clan.

Note
1 In Chinese authoritarian tradition, “rule by law” refers to the socialist idea that the law is the
subjective whim of the king, dictator, or society itself. The “rule of law” is referring to objectively
defined rational law that all must obey, including the government. The concept of “rule of law”
is used in Western countries. Today political reformers in China use both terms to refer to the
­Chinese concept fazhi. In this chapter, I will use “rule of law” for fazhi.

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 39
Gender and politics of South Asia
Vidyamali Samarasinghe

Introduction
In the contemporary world of structured human organizations, political participation
represents the ultimate level of decision-making in the public sphere of human activity.
Women participating in politics is not just a matter of taking up a new activity in the
public sphere but rather of breaking into an arena in which the institutions and norms are
designed and populated primarily by men. Despite South Asia’s claim to fame of producing
a high percentage of female heads of state since the mid-twentieth century, the proportion
of women elected to legislatures in the region, from national levels to local levels, remains
pitifully low. While policy interventions, such as gender quota systems, particularly at the
local level of political processes, have attempted to rectify the overall gender imbalance
in political participation, politics in South Asia1 remain a man’s game, and government
remains a man’s club.

Social understructures: gender and patriarchy

Ideology of gender as evolved in the South Asian region places women firmly in the domes-
tic sphere, with their primary responsibility being rearing and caring for the children and
housekeeping. In general, from birth to death, through each and every life cycle, women
are socialized to adhere to these accepted norms of social behavior. A plethora of mutu-
ally reinforcing socioeconomic, religious, and cultural practices, which have taken different
forms, has been successful in perpetuating the patriarchal control of women in every part
of South Asia.
The four countries in this study have democratically elected governments.2 Gender
equality is enshrined in their respective constitutions. However, women’s participation in
governance in the elected bodies is severely restricted due to the hegemonic control of the
public space of politics by male political leadership. As Gail Omvedt (2005) has noted, the
“village square” (read: public space) has consistently been a male area in South Asia, domi-
nated physically and politically by the males of the community.

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 Gender and politics of South Asia

Research focus and context

It is the contention of this study that the very low representation of women in politics in
South Asia is a result of the impact of patriarchy. Further, I also argue that even the few
avenues opened for women’s active participation in the political processes are, in fact, only
accessed through the gateways created by the underlying patriarchal social systems. Within
that larger umbrella of the discourse, first, I analyze the impact of the struggle for indepen-
dence from British colonial rule on reinforcing women’s traditional reproductive role in
South Asian society. Second, I examine the seeming disconnect between the high-visibility
female political leadership as manifested by the string of elected female heads of state and
the dismal showing of female political representation in elected legislative bodies in every
country of South Asia. Third, I analyze the public policy on “gender quota system” and its
structure and form, as it has been implemented in the region. Fourth, I turn my attention
to examine briefly how women utilize public space in relation to social and political move-
ments, and public space’s possible effects on the political discourse in South Asia; finally, I
analyze the effects of gender-based violence and systemic corruption in the political spaces
on women’s ability to enter as well as play a role in the political arena in South Asia.

Gendered legacy of nationalistic struggle

The contemporary patterns of politics and political institutions of South Asia have been shaped
to a great extent by the colonial domination by the British. Under British rule, which spanned
a period of nearly one hundred and fifty years, the Indian subcontinent was a single unit of
administration.3 The struggle for independence was based on a tidal wave of nationalism,
which effectively used cultural icons to show the differences of “Indianness” in contrast to
the Western culture associated with the British rulers. One way affirming “Indianness” was
not allowing the traditional image of an Indian woman to change. As Kum Kum Sangari and
Sudesh Vaid have observed, “the recovery of tradition throughout the proto nationalist and na-
tionalist period was always the recovery of the ‘traditional’ woman- her various shapes readapt
the ‘eternal past to the contingent present’” (Sangari Kum Kum and Sudesh Vaid, 1989:10).
Mahatma Gandhi was one of the first to use the image of the Indian woman as a “moral
mother” who is a repository of both moral and spiritual values (Kumar, 1993). Undoubtedly,
he created an avenue for women to emerge into the public sphere of politics by actively
drawing them into the Indian freedom movement. Indeed, by choosing the spinning wheel
and salt as symbols of the freedom struggle in the civil obedience movement, he brought
the activities of the woman-specific domestic reproductive sphere into the public sphere of
political agitation. The image of women as envisaged by Gandhi had its roots in Hindu my-
thology. His gendered perspective for male national hero was Rama, while the stoic, chaste,
and sacrificial Sita was upheld as the national ideal for womanhood.
Actively encouraged by the Indian male political leadership, the Indian nationalist move-
ment drew large numbers of women into the political arena. Many of the women in the
Indian subcontinent who gained public visibility during the political struggle for indepen-
dence were drawn into the public sphere by virtue of their kinship ties to the male political
elite. Furthermore, their participation was seen mainly in terms of a supporting role to the
male leadership.4 As affirmed by Sarojini Naidu, a prominent Indian woman leader during
the struggle for independence, “remembers that in all great national crisis it is the man
who goes out and its women’s hopes and women’s prayer that serve his arm to become a

577
Vidyamali Samarasinghe

successful soldier” (quoted in Mazumdar, 1992:10). Two other associated characteristics that
were highlighted in relation to women during the struggle for independence in the subcon-
tinent as well as in Sri Lanka were the responsibility of (1) upholding the “traditional” role
of women in the reproductive sphere and (2) acting as the designated courier of South Asian
culture, in particular, in terms of dress and behavior ( Jayawardena, 1986).
Sri Lanka, known as Ceylon at that time, was an outlier of the Indian subcontinent.
The struggle for independence from British colonial rule did not have the intensity or the
strength of its more powerful neighbor. The elite and the middle-class women who spear-
headed the women’s movement during the struggle for independence in Sri Lanka were
known to operate within the existing patriarchal social structures ( Jayawardena, 1986).

Dynastic elitism: class and gender in postcolonial South Asia

South Asia can lay claim to an impressive list of women as presidents and prime ministers
from the 1960s to the present. Indira Gandhi of India and Sirima Bandaranaike of Sri Lanka,
daughter and widow, respectively, of the prime ministers of the two countries were pushed
into those positions in order to earn political capital through name recognition from the
electorate. Both turned out to be astute politicians who led their political parties to victory
in at least two rounds of parliamentary elections.
With the exception of Benazir Bhutto of Pakistan, all the other women in political leader-
ship in South Asia at the national level were/are widows.5 This also highlights an interesting
case of double standards in social and political acceptance. There is a widespread prevalence in
South Asian society, particularly in Hindu India, of a lower status designated to widows due
to religious and cultural practices. At the same time, there has been an overwhelming elec-
toral acceptance of a few elite women married to powerful men, despite their widowhood.
According to Hindu tradition, as Martha Chen has noted, a widow was expected either to
commit Sati6 or lead a chaste, austere, and ascetic lifestyle (Chen, 1998).7 Historically, it was
also the upper castes in India who imposed this lifestyle more strictly for widows. However,
in contemporary times, this social and religious convention of social discrimination against
widows does not seem to apply to women who inherit upper-class dynastic political power.
In predominantly Muslim Bangladesh and Pakistan, where interpretation of the Islamic doc-
trine has pushed women into a subordinate position compared to men, leadership at the high-
est level of politics has been earned in open elections by two dynastically connected elitist
women, both of whom are widows of former prime ministers. In predominantly Buddhist
Sri Lanka, while widowhood does not carry an explicit religious sanction, it is a status still
considered to be somewhat inauspicious. Both the woman prime minister and the woman
president in Sri Lanka were widows when elected to their respective leadership positions.
In India, the political power of a dynasty has extended beyond the positions of prime
ministers and executive presidents. Maneka Gandhi, widow of Sanjay Gandhi, who wielded
tremendous political power when his mother Indira Gandhi was the prime minister before
his tragic death, also entered politics and is now a minister in the Indian government. The
emergence of Sonia Gandhi, the widow of slain Indian prime minister Rajiv Gandhi, as the
leader of India’s Congress party and wide acknowledgement as the “king maker” of the party
reaffirms this contradiction.
The family ties to male political leadership, though more prominently displayed at the
national level, have also extended to the subnational provincial government level. While
female leadership at this level remains very low, few of the women who gained prominence
as chief ministers of a number of subnational units in India owed their position largely to the

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 Gender and politics of South Asia

patronage they received from powerful male politicians. Among twenty-nine political units
(states) and seven Union territories at the subnational level in India, only four are currently
led by females. Three among them, Jayalalitha (Tamil Nadu) (no longer in office), ­Vasundhara
Raje (Rajasthan), and Mehabooba Mufti ( Jammu & Kashmir), have close ­k inship/patronage
ties to powerful male political figures. Only Mamata Banerjee of West B ­ engal has risen from
a middle-class family to rise in the ranks of political leadership to be elected as the chief
minister.8
Using dynastic legacies for political power, even in modern democracies, is not unique to
South Asian politics. What is remarkable of South Asian political leadership is that widows
were pushed into its highest levels, despite the lower status accorded to women in general
and widows in particular in South Asian society. It is noteworthy that name recognition
associated with the class of political dynasties has undoubtedly outweighed the gendered
patriarchal social norms of widowhood. What is also interesting is that since assuming power
as heads of states, all of the women prime ministers and presidents of South Asia, and female
chief ministers at the subnational units in India, have quickly dispelled any notion that they
may be mere puppets in the hands of a male power base. When the Chief Minister of Bihar,
Lalu Prasad Yadav was incarcerated in 1997, his wife Rabri Devi was sworn in to replace
him. Though her tenure as Chief Minister of Bihar only lasted for a short time until Yadav
was released, Devi quickly came to be known as a savvy politician and an able administrator 9
(Aiyar, 1997).
An ideal principle in a democratic political system is the right of every citizen, woman
or man, to participate on equal terms in the political decision-making processes of her or
his country. While it is widely noted that in general, women are not able to compete on
equal terms with men in electoral politics, we also observe that class position within gender
demonstrated in legacy politics in South Asia does add a deviant crinkle into this analysis.

Women’s representation in electoral politics

The elected membership of women in the legislatures in South Asia, especially at the na-
tional parliamentary level, has been very low. In India, between 1991 and 2014, wom-
en’s representation in the Lok Sabha (national legislature) has ranged from 7.08 percent to
11.42 percent. In Sri Lanka, during the election cycles between 1994 and 2015, women’s
representation, in fact, decreased from 5.33 percent to 4.89 percent. In Pakistan, with the
­implementation of the gender quota system, women’s representation in the national assembly
increased from .92 percent in 1990 to 20.74 percent in 2013. However, it should be noted
that in Pakistan, women’s election under the gender quota system was based on nomination
and not on open elections. In Bangladesh, women’s representation in the national legislature
increased from 10.30 percent in 1991 to 19.71 percent in 2014.10 As in the case of Pakistan,
the gender quota system adopted in Bangladesh used a system of nomination by political par-
ties in selecting women representatives to the national legislatures. While in both Pakistan
and Bangladesh, women do have the legal right to compete at the open elections for seats in
the national legislatures, their success rate in gaining party nomination and winning seats in
open ­competition with men in direct elections has been very low.
It is also noteworthy that similar to the pattern observed at the highest level of politi-
cal leadership as prime ministers and executive presidents, a significant proportion of the
women elected to the national legislatures in South Asia are also beneficiaries of kinship ties
to male politicians (Samarasinghe, 2000; Wickrmasinghe and Kodikara, 2012). In the ab-
sence of such seeming relational advantages, an overwhelming majority of women in South

579
Vidyamali Samarasinghe

Asia find that male dominance of the political space is an insurmountable barrier to their
successful entry into this space. In a recent study of the local government elections in Sri
Lanka, it was clear that patriarchal control of the political space was so pervasive that women
aspirants found it almost impossible to break the barriers to enter even the nomination level
of the political parties11 (Samarasinghe and Liyanage, 2015).

Gender quota system: push to achieve gender balance in politics?

The gender quota system mandating reserved seats for women through legislative measures is
widely perceived as an attempt to redress gender imbalance in representative politics. Often
referred to as the “fast track” for drawing in women’s representation into the political space,
gender quota system seems to have invoked a “quota fever” around the world (Dahlerup and
Freidenwell, 2005). The expectation is that this policy push of bringing more women into
the public political space could create a critical mass of a hitherto grossly underrepresented
cohort of people. Furthermore, it is hoped that the emergence of such a cohort of women in
politics would act as a catalyst for change in moving forward in achieving gender balance in
political representation.
In the South Asian region, allocating reserved seats for women has been deemed
the most appropriate mechanism to initiate women’s representation in electoral poli-
tics. The structure and operational form of the gender quota system differ in Pakistan,
­B angladesh, and India. In Pakistan reservations for women in the national assembly go
as far back as 1956 when 3 percent of the seats were allocated to women. While percent-
age increased over the years, particularly as new constitutions were introduced, espe-
cially by succession of military rulers, elections on the gender quota system were mainly
by nomination by the incumbent members of the national assembly (overwhelmingly
male), mainly according to political party affiliations. As noted earlier, among the four
countries in this study, Pakistan has the highest percentage of women’s representation in
the national legislatures. According to the current constitution of Pakistan, 30 percent
of the seats in the national assembly are allocated for women, under the gender quota
system. However, women are not elected via direct elections.
The gender quota system of reservation of seats for women in the national assembly in
Bangladesh followed a similar pattern as in Pakistan. In the election cycles of 1973 and 1979
the gender quota system was implemented following upon the criteria laid down in the
first constitution of Bangladesh of 1973, when reservation for women in the National Par-
liament was first implemented. Election was by nomination by registered political parties.
When President Ershad imposed military rule in 1986, he promulgated a special ordinance
(No. XLV11 1986) whereby 30 women candidates nominated and seconded by 151 incum-
bent members of Parliament would be considered elected. In 1990, the tenth amendment to
the Bangladeshi constitution included Clause (3) to Article 65, mandating the provision of
30 reserved seats on a gender quota system. Elections for the reserved seats to the National
Parliament continued to be by nomination. This practice of indirect elections makes the
purpose of initiating a gender quota system somewhat of a mockery. It is the men who con-
trol the political parties and the national assemblies who get to elect the women representa-
tives under the gender quota system.
The 84th Constitution Amendment Bill in India, or Women’s Reservation Bill, mak-
ing provision for one-third reserved seats in state and national assemblies in India was first
introduced in the Indian Parliament more than fifteen years ago. It is still languishing in
Parliament. There are no policies on gender quota system in Sri Lanka.

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 Gender and politics of South Asia

Gender quota system at the local government level:

elective principle
The enactment of the 73rd and 74th amendments to the constitution of India, giving con-
stitutional status to the Panchayat Raj (local governance) institutions and urban local bodies12
and mandating a gender quota system of reservations of 33 percent of seats for women has
provided a landmark space for women to seek direct election to local governments. Acti-
vated in 1996, ­Panchayat Raj has now drawn in more than a million women at the rural and
urban local levels of governance in India. Since 1997, the direct election has been imple-
mented in local ­government elections in Bangladesh for the seats reserved for women. In
Pakistan at the local government level 33 percent are reserved for women but direct elections
are not the norm. Sri Lanka does not have a gender quota system in place at the local gov-
ernment level either.
Direct elections as mandated in the Panchayat Raj system in India since 1994 and under
The Union Parishad13 Ordinance of 1997 in Bangladesh have certainly created more political
spaces for women at the local government level. While a myriad of problems, including
deeply embedded patriarchal controls in both societies, lack of resources, gender-based vi-
olence, and inexperience in governance, have posed obstructions to women’s participation,
gender quota system based on direct elections have also given women the opening to emerge
into the public space of politics in large numbers. In 2014, there were more than 1 million
women representatives, accounting for more than 40 percent of the Panchayat Council elected
members in India. Such numbers give legitimacy to women’s presence in the public space
of politics, which they were hitherto denied. In the 1997 election in Bangladesh when the
direct election was implemented for the gender quota system more than 43,000 women can-
didates competed for 12,684 reserved seats (Chowdhury, 2013). Furthermore, it is also noted
that in countries of South Asia where gender quotas have been implemented, the popular
culture has gradually become more accepting of women’s direct participation in politics
(Pandey, 2008).
Sri Lanka is the exception to the general trend seen in Bangladesh, India, and Pakistan,
where the gender quota system has been adopted in one form or another. The Sri Lankan
case also presents a paradoxical situation. Notably, Sri Lanka fares significantly better than all
other South Asian countries in terms of gender inequality indices (GII) as measured by the
United Nations Development Fund UNDP.14 It enjoyed universal adult franchise since 1931,
while still a colony of the British and direct elections of political representatives have been
an uninterrupted feature of its electoral system. One would expect a better educated, healthy
population, particularly where there are no overt religious sanctions that discriminate against
women,15 to be in a better position to participate more actively in politics. But this is not the
case in Sri Lanka. While it had two women elected as heads of state, its female representation
at every level of governance has been consistently lower than that of its neighbors. The Sri
Lankan case demonstrates that notwithstanding relatively better human development stan-
dards enjoyed by both women and men, long-standing patriarchal controls in public life act
as deterrents for women’s entry into competitive politics. While women’s groups in Sri Lanka
have been consistently agitating for legislative reforms to incorporate a gender quota system
in order to breakdown the patriarchal barriers in the electoral process, they have not been
successful so far. Currently there are no legislative measures proposed to remedy the preva-
lent gender imbalance of political representation in Sri Lanka (Kodikara, 2009).
To be sure, top down legislative measures, such as the gender quota system, cannot be
expected to change patriarchal determinants of political processes overnight. Indeed, the

581
Vidyamali Samarasinghe

e­ xclusion of women in general from the arena of politics in South Asia illustrates the deeply
entrenched patriarchal culture of politics. As Lisa Baldez explains, gender quota system
may be perceived as an exogenous shock that would loosen the masculine hold on politics
(Baldez, 2006). However, as we have noted, some of the “conditions” imposed on the elec-
tion procedures, notably nominations of women, instead of direct elections reveal the dif-
ficulty of changing the norms set by patriarchal societies. Indeed, gender quotas, especially
at national legislatures as practiced in Pakistan and Bangladesh, do not inspire confidence
that they constitute a genuine effort of reaching gender balance in representative politics.
However, the very opening of political space to women under the gender quota system gives
a glimmer of hope that the initiative, flawed as it is currently practiced at the national leg-
islature level, could give women the political space to prepare them for more effective and
meaningful political roles in the future.

Beyond electoral representation: women in

social/political movements
Since gaining independence from the British, most of the women’s movements in the sub-
continent were directed at redressing the discrimination against and abuse of women in the
private sphere, such as in the issue of dowry and dowry deaths, rape, and male alcoholism
leading to gender-based violence. There were also long-drawn-out struggles, particularly
in India, for land rights in Telangana and in Bodhgaya and on protecting the environment,
which was critical for their livelihood survival as in the case of the Chipko movement
­(Samarasinghe, 2000). The protest movements were single issue-based initiatives. While
such initiatives brought women into the limelight as effective social activists, its impact on
women’s continued role in politics was limited.
Examples of direct political agitation led by women in South Asia also highlight the
sanctity of motherhood in different ways. During the thirty-year, ethnicity-based civil
war in Sri Lanka, a group of women from both ethnic groups16 formed a “Mothers front”
in 1990 to demand accountability from the government for the “disappeared” sons of the
Tamil ethnic group. While the political parties, especially those in the opposition in 1992,
did support the “mothers front” in the election campaign of 1992, once that political party
won power, the demands of the “mothers front” were ignored. As Kumudini Samuel has
noted, while the presence of the “mothers front” on the political scene was important at the
time, the movement itself was unable to translate the political gain of its public visibility to
a sustainable political empowerment process of its members (Samuel, 2006).
Mahila Agadi, the women’s arm of the ultranationalist Hindutva Shiv Sena political party
of India, demonstrates the success in mass mobilization of women along the lines of religious
fundamentalism that openly advocates the primacy of women’s role and responsibility as
mothers in agitating to protect the Hindu nation (Basu, 1995). A characteristic of the female
role in this movement is female aggression, street protests, and rallies. Mahila Agadi women
from the slums of Mumbai participating in street demonstrations openly shamed males by
offering them bangles that women wear to show contempt at their supposed emasculation
(Sen, 2007). Such actions highlight the perception of the Mahila Agadi women that it is
the men’s responsibility to lead the charge in protecting the Hindu religion and the Hindu
nation and the women’s role is to push them into action. The Mahila Agadi women, calling
themselves “dashing ladies,” revealed political networks created by lower-level women in
urban margins of Mumbai. Tarini Bedi calls it “political matronage” as opposed to “patron-
age” (Bedi, 2016).

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 Gender and politics of South Asia

Violence and systemic corruption: as deterrents

for women’s political participation
The increasing violence in the arena of politics in South Asia, especially during periods
of general elections in countries of South Asia, further exacerbates the problem of wom-
en’s entry into the public space of politics. Millenniums of patriarchal controls, which have
pushed women into the private sphere has failed to equip women to handle the so-called
“rough side” of politics. One of the most lethal weapons used in perpetrating violence against
women in the political arena is the threat of sexual harassment and rape. Rape symbolizes
the ultimate ostracism for women in societies as was seen in the case of rape victims during
the partition of India in 1948 and the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1972. Scholars note that
following the 73rd Amendment to the Indian constitution violence against women increased
and the newly elected female members fear sexual harassment and being beaten if they partic-
ipate in elections and in Panchayat meetings ( Jayal, 2006; Samin and Nasreen, 2002). In South
Asia, where sexual purity of women is often equated to an unblemished personal character,
only a very few women aspirants for political office would take the risk of being s­ ubjected to
unfair character assassination on issues of sexuality. This was a powerful deterrent for female
aspirants seeking political office at the local government level in Sri Lanka during the last
local government elections held in March 2011 (Samarasinghe and Liyanage, 2015).
Seeking elected office in democracies is an expensive venture. Unless they can claim
dynastic name recognition and/or family resources, lack of access to resources for women
compared to men is a significant deterrent against entering the political arena. And as the
Bangladeshi Prime Minster noted earlier, backing a woman for political office is tantamount
to losing the seat. Women cannot afford the expenses demanded in election campaigns,
meetings, and networking events. Added to these drawbacks is the systemic corruption in
the existing political system dominated by men who have better access to resources and
who would not hesitate to use them in corrupt ways in order to maintain their political
power (Samarasinghe and Liyanage, 2015). Finding financial backers is a daunting task for
women aspirants of political office.
Would women’s entry into political spaces would lead to a reduction of corruption in the
political system? Jain referring to the gender quota system at the local government level in
India was hopeful that by creating spaces for women’s entry at the grassroots level, there was
a distinct possibility of women transforming the state and its politics from within, leading
to less corruption (1996:6). Stories of women in local government in India standing up to
contractors; enforcing transparency; and, indeed, facing violence in return have also been
recorded (Neema Kudwa, 2003). But as Ann Marie Goetz has noted, upholding women as
political cleaners and new anti-corruption force may be a myth in the making. According
to her analysis to “expect women’s gender alone to act as a magic bullet to resolve a cor-
ruption problem that is much bigger than they are, that is systemic, is unrealistic to say the
least” (Goetz, 2007:102). She further contends that women in politics are seen as less corrupt
simply because they have been excluded from opportunities for such behavior. Indeed, some
women political leaders in South Asia, at the state and national levels have been accused and
(sometimes charged) for resorting to corrupt political behavior.

Conclusions and looking into the future

Males in patriarchal societies have jealously guarded their hold of the public sphere of
political decision-making as a male preserve. The high degree of male dominance of

583
Vidyamali Samarasinghe

politics has had adverse repercussions on women’s ability to enter the public space
of politics in several complementary ways. First, by enacting laws and statutes that control
women in the reproductive domestic sphere. Second, by the failure to enact public policy
provisions that would create enabling conditions for women to successfully straddle the
private sphere of ­reproduction and public sphere of formal wage work or politics. Third,
using their coveted position in the public sphere to articulate the importance and indeed
the sanctity of traditions, conventions, and beliefs that are orchestrated to confirm that the
woman’s place is in the home.
It is clear that men and women are differently incorporated as citizens of the state (Waylen,
1996). What we have seen in South Asia in relation to women’s participation in electoral
­politics is not a rejection of the patriarchy per se but a possible opening in the existing system
to emerge as political actors onto the public arena of politics. Family ties to male political
leadership have been the main path that has led women in South Asia to assume leadership
positions in politics as evidenced by the election of female heads of state in India, Pakistan,
Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka. While the same path has propelled a few women at the subna-
tional and parliamentary level to gain political recognition as well, in the absence of such
patriarchal privilege, entry into active politics for the vast majority of women in South Asia
is only distant possibility.
The introduction of the gender quota system introduced in order to rectify the gender
balance in women’s political participation in Pakistan, Bangladesh, and India has shown, at
best, mixed results. In Pakistan and Bangladesh women’s reservation seats for the national
assemblies are not based on direct elections, a privilege long enjoyed by men in electoral rep-
resentation in both countries. While electoral principle of direct elections is written into the
84th amendment for women’s reservation at the national and subnational levels of the Indian
constitution, the amendment is yet to pass in Parliament. Sri Lanka has no such legislation
or any in the pipeline for any level of the electoral reform based on gender quota system.
The gender quota system at the local level in India since 1994 and in Bangladesh since
1997 offers the best hope for active female political participation through direct elections.
­Admittedly, while legislation cannot be expected to change centuries-old patriarchal tra-
ditions overnight, they can be a catalyst for change over time as the voters get used to the
system and female Panchayat members in India and Parishad members get more experience in
governance issue.

Notes
1 The countries that form the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation, i.e. SAARC, are
Bhutan, Bangladesh, India, Nepal, the Maldives, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka are identified as South
Asia. For the purpose of this study I use Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka, mainly due to
the availability of comparative data.
2 India and Sri Lanka have nationally elected legislative bodies since 1948 and executive presidents
(as in the case of Sri Lanka since 1978). Pakistan had military rule on a regular basis since the mid-
1950s and in Bangladesh the military remained a most important force in national politics from
1975 to 1991 and from 1986 to 1991.
3 Sri Lanka, then known as Ceylon, was administered as a separate unit.
4 Jawaharlal Nehru wrote,
Most of us menfolk were in prison, and then a remarkable thing happened. Our women came
to the front and took charge of the situation. Women had always been there, of course, but
now there was an avalanche of them, which took not only the British, but also their own men
folk by surprise.
Jawaharlal Nehru. Discovery of India, 1982: 172

584
 Gender and politics of South Asia

5 The list consists of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi (India), Prime Minister Sirima Bandaranaike (Sri
Lanka), President Chandrika Kumaratunga (Sri Lanka. 1994–1996), Prime Minister Khaleda Zia
(Bangladesh, 1991–1996 and 2001–2006), and Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina (Bangladesh, 2009 to
present). Benazir Bhutto was the daughter of Zulfika Ali Bhutto, a former prime minister of Pakistan.
6 Sati refers to widow immolation at the funeral pyre of her husband. This was an ancient Hindu
practice in India, which was banned in the nineteenth century by the British colonial rulers.
7 As late as 1987, the case of 18-year-old widow Roop Kanwar was reportedly led to commit Sati.
The Indian government enacted the Sati Prevention Act of 1988, criminalizing any type of aiding,
abetting, or glorifying the practice of Sati.
8 Jayalalitha, former Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, was the protégée of the popular actor turned chief
minister M.G. Ramachandran known as MGR. Vasundhara Raje is the daughter of the ­Maharaja of
Gwalior and Mehabooba Mufti succeeds her late father Mufti Mohammad Sayeed. The exception
is Mamata Banerjee, Chief Minister of West Bengal, who gained political prominence of her own
accord. Anandiben Patel, who was the chief minister for Gujarat until August 2016, also did not
have a strong family or patron base when she first entered politics in 1994. In provincial councils
in Sri Lanka (subregional units of electoral representation), though not as ­politically important as
in India, the majority of elected female representatives have close family ties to prominent male
political leadership (Wickramasinghe and Kodikara, 2012).
9 Rabri Devi returned to active politics to become Chief Minister of Bihar from 1999 to 2000 and
from 2000 to 2005.
10 Source: www.ipu.org/parline-e/parlinesearch.asp. Retrieved October 26, 2016.
The different years shown for the four countries are based on the election cycles of the respective
countries.
11 The two researchers monitored nearly 90 female aspirants for elected political office in one of
the 25 districts of Sri Lanka in the local government election cycle of 2011 in Sri Lanka. None of
them had family political connections. While all of the women worked relentlessly to secure nom-
ination, only eight women successfully navigated the male dominant political party nomination
procedure and among them only five got elected.
12 Panchayat Raj institutions is a three-tiered system of local governance, consisting of Gram Panchayat
for a village or a group of villages with a population between 5,000; Thaluk Panchayat for every
block; and Zilla Panchayat for every district.
13 The Union Parishad is the bottom level of the local government governance system in Bangladesh.
14 According to GII rankings released by the UN in 2015, Sri Lanka was ranked at #72 with a score
of 0.370, well above India ranked at #130, with a GII score of 563. Bangladesh was ranked at #111,
with a GII sore of 0.503, with Pakistan was ranked at #121, with a GII score of 0.536. GII measures
disparities between men and women in three basic dimensions of Human Development, i.e. health,
knowledge, and living standards (UNDP, 2015).
15 The majority of the population (73 percent) in Sri Lanka is Buddhists. There are no religious in-
terpretations of Buddhism as practiced in Sri Lanka that explicitly discriminate women.
16 The civil war was between the Tamil ethnic group and the Sinhala ethnic group.

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Conclusion
 40
The future of Asian
­political development
Peter Moody

Prediction, the late Yogi Berra may have said, is difficult, especially when it is about the
future. “Asia” is an arbitrary designation of part of a huge land mass separated from what
we call Europe only by a relatively unimpressive mountain range (the Urals) and a narrow
oceanic channel (the Bosphorus) (and separated from what we call Africa by an even smaller,
artificial channel: the Suez Canal). This land mass has neither ethnic, linguistic, cultural, nor
economic unity; Asian societies arguably differ from one another as much as any one of them
differs from any particular society elsewhere. Perhaps the concept, as it is used today, is most
easily conceived in geopolitical terms: It was the home of several highly developed ancient
civilizations that became subject, directly or indirectly, to the Western European “world
conquest” from (roughly) 1750 to 1900. And certain Asians, or at least certain Asian elites,
do identify themselves with the continent, more in distinction from and political solidarity
against Europeans and Americans rather than from any common heritage.1

Futures that never quite worked out

Let’s look at the period following the end of World War II, an era marked by the end of Western
colonialism and the proliferation of new sovereign states. The early 1950s in Asia were marked
on the one hand by the local movements against colonialism and on the other by the conflict
between the socialist camp and the free world (to use the terms each side applied to itself ). This
was a cold war everywhere except Asia, which saw an extraordinarily violent clash in Korea and
growing insurgencies elsewhere. There was a proliferation of communist m ­ ovements, more or
less closely attached to the ruling communist regimes in the Soviet Union and China. Official
American policy defined, at least for public purposes, communism as a monolithic, disciplined
political movement, directed from Moscow, bent on world domination.2

Ripe for revolution

By the early 1960s, the major communist powers were in schism, although this was not univer-
sally perceived. The American commitment to the war in Vietnam was predicated (in one of
its many, often contradictory predications) on the containment of communism, a policy easiest

588
 Future of Asian p
­ olitical development

to rationalize on the assumption that communism was a unified, disciplined movement. Some
­realists maintained that whatever the fate of Vietnam, it would not affect any vital American
interest. Some also argued that no matter what America did, the communists would eventually
win anyway. But proponents of the domino theory argued that should Vietnam “go commu-
nist,” so would, eventually, the rest of the continent. So, a stand had to be made. This opinion
was not necessarily absurd, given the vitality in the early 1960s of communist movements else-
where on the continent and the competition between Russia and China for influence over them.
The decisive American military commitment to the Vietnam conflict came in 1965 ­(although
it could also be argued that this was the inevitable result of the American ­connivance in the
­overthrow of the friendly Vietnamese government in 1963 in the hopes of finding a more c­ ompliant
client and the fiasco that followed that). By 1975, the critics had been proved generally correct:
Vietnam and the rest of Indochina came under communist rule, and American policy had failed.

Land of miracles
But the consequences of the American defeat were not what anyone had expected. The only
“dominos” to fall were the other states within the former French Indochina. Elsewhere,
the communist movements were in disarray, reduced to terrorist bands. Maoist China, self-­
identified as the central inspiration of anti-imperialist revolution, was itself on the threshold
of a major transformation, the most radical of the major communist regimes becoming
almost overnight one of the most conservative. Even before this, as Vietnam fell, America
and China had forged a quasi-alliance geared at containing what then seemed to be the
­ever-growing military strength and ambition of the Soviet Union.
In the 1950s and 1960s, many assumed that communism fed on poverty, and Asia (as a whole)
was part of a “third world,” ripe for revolution. This view also was obsolete by 1970 or so.
Japan had recovered from wartime devastation and was on its way to becoming the world’s
second-largest economy. The four “little dragons” (Taiwan, South Korea, Hong Kong, and
Singapore) followed in Japan’s wake, as did, farther behind, other noncommunist Asian states.
In those parts free from civil war and socialist statism, Asia had become one of the world’s more
prosperous regions.
The “Asian” or Japanese model of development challenged both the American free-­
enterprise paradigm and Soviet or Chinese-style socialism. It involved close collaboration
between governments, especially professional bureaucracies, and business interests, with busi-
ness taking direction from government. The form of government was generally authoritarian
( Japan was a formal democracy, but the same crowd always won; it was the same deal with
Singapore), with a strong, autonomous state able to resist private interests that might divert
resources from overall economic development. The point is not that the Asian bureaucrats
were some sort of Platonic guardians committed to a common good; rather, their institutional
interests were served by a strong, autonomous state and by growing prosperity among the
population at large. By the 1980s, China was also moving in the direction of the little dragons,
rejecting autarchy in favor of engagement with the developed capitalist world and microman-
agement of the economy by the political sector in favor of increased scope for market forces.

Clash of cultures
During the Cold War, America welcomed the growing prosperity of its Asian allies:
­Prosperity strengthened the anticommunist forces. Given America’s huge economic pre-
dominance, the United States also gave its Asian allies virtually unlimited access to its

589
Peter Moody

market while tolerating their restrictions on its access. By the 1980s, however, America’s
relative predominance was declining, the United States stuck in “stagflation” and classic ar-
eas of American strength, particularly heavy industry, under pressure from Asian, especially
Japanese, competition. Those sectors in relative economic decline exercised great clout in
the American political system, provoking irritation against these Asian allies—particularly
by the late 1980s, as the threat from the Soviet Union and communism as a whole waned.
The Asian economic model, including its Chinese version, was predicated on limited
­political participation by the public at large. These undemocratic tendencies were also toler-
ated by the United States during the Cold War. But as the Soviet threat receded, the United
States increasingly pressured its allies to democratize, demands reinforcing those for economic
liberalization. With the collapse of communism in the late 1980s and early 1990s, liberal
capitalist democracy seemed to be the unquestioned wave of the future (Fukuyama, 1992).
The counterexample should have been China, with the brutal repression of the ­student-led
democracy movement of 1989. But the Tiananmen massacre was followed in short order by
the collapse of the East European communist regimes and not long after by the dissolution
of the Soviet Union itself. The Chinese case seemed an anomaly, and it was widely assumed
that China, too, eventually would get with the program.3
From the perspective of some in Asia, there was a downside to democratization inas-
much as it weakened the control of the state over society and so modified the premises on
which the Asian model was based. The loss of control went hand in hand with the eco-
nomic liberalization. Both conservative and (relatively) radical elites in Asia found com-
mon ground in decrying the American influence, basing their complaints on a purported
incompatibility of American ways with “Asian” culture. One major theme of the time
was the end of history—history resolving itself into an undifferentiated liberal democratic
mush. A seemingly contradictory theme was that the Cold War’s ideological conflict was
to be replaced by a “clash of civilizations” (Huntington, 1996), a theory with perhaps
a longer shelf life. Some Chinese commentators found a sort of dialectical unity of the
two themes: The end of history was an ideological claim by a hegemonic America used
to discredit any alternative vision of the world, justifying an American assault on other
“civilizations” to bring them to heel.
American pressures led to a pushback from the more conservative of the prosperous Asian
states and from certain intellectuals in China, asserting a particular set of “Asian values.” This
idea, articulated first by Singapore Singapore’s senior statesman Lee Kwan Yew, referred in
principle to a synthesis of various (not necessarily mutually compatible) Asian traditions—
Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, Confucianism, and others—that were in practice usually
­reduced to a watered-down, modernized Confucianism. The philosophical argument was
that the human rights asserted by Western elites did not, contrary to the claims made, en-
joy universal validity but were contingent outlooks developed in particular historical and
cultural circumstances. They served now as a weapon wielded by powerful interests in a
self-serving manner to impose their will on others. “Asia” had its own set of values, rejecting
the alleged extreme individualism of the West for a more collective or communal orienta-
tion, stressing not the isolated, autonomous individual but the human person enmeshed in
a network of other persons, with reciprocal expectations and ­responsibilities, focused on
the family, the community, and the state as an agent of the community.4 ­Proponents were
pleased to point to alleged defects in Western (mainly American) society: a grotesque sense
of entitlement, frayed family structures, personal irresponsibility, drug addiction, crime,
libertine social indulgences, on and on and on. This explained the economic stagnation of
the West in contrast to the dynamism of Asia.

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 Future of Asian p
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The global capitalist system

The Asian “miracle” came to an abrupt halt in 1997 (the Japanese miracle had already stalled
out several years earlier), the economic crisis pretty much ending talk of Asian values.
­Responding to outside pressure, Asian states had liberalized controls over capital move-
ments, encouraging an inflow of foreign money into the then-booming economies. By the
mid-1990s, Asian manufacturing firms were under intense pressure from Chinese competi-
tion and were accumulating debts that clearly were not going to be repaid. Fearful of losing
their money, foreign capitalists began withdrawing their funds from Asian banks, a process
that reached critical mass in the summer of 1997. Asian banks, stripped of reserves, were left
with bad loans as their main asset. The response was a round of competitive devaluation by
the economies most affected (Thailand’s, Malaysia’s, Indonesia’s, Hong Kong’s, and South
Korea’s). This panic came at the same time as other developments not entirely to the taste of
global liberal opinion: Hong Kong had just been returned to official Chinese ­jurisdiction,
and the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, up to that time a highly successful con-
servative international bloc, had expanded its membership to include several unashamed
­d ictatorships, the most disreputable being Burma (or Myanmar). Many in Asia traced the
collapse to the machinations of foreign capitalists who feared the waning of their influence
over Asian societies, the most prominent of these being the sinister George Soros: Western
big money would show Asia just who was boss.
Foreigners, for their part, found domestic roots for Asia’s problems, roots that previously
had been thought to nourish the Asian miracle. As the economies liberalized and the politi-
cal system democratized, the close relationship between business and the state remained, but
the balance of influence had shifted. The bureaucracy was in a position less able to dictate to
business interests, and politicians needed funds that business could provide to finance their
elections. Rather than directing economic activity into channels serving the power of the
state, bureaucrats protected their business cronies5 from the consequences of bad decisions.
The 1997 crisis does not necessarily show that the Asian model was incorrect, but it does in-
dicate that its successful functioning was contingent upon particular background conditions.
The distressed Asian states were “bailed out” by the International Monetary Fund (IMF),
a transnational organization over which the United States and American financial interests
wield great influence. The IMF imposed restrictions on how the money could be used and
what kind of policies the states could adopt, reinforcing the sense among many Asians that glo-
balization was indeed simply another version of imperialism, “the highest stage of capitalism.”
Asian states were already under American pressure to democratize and liberalize. American
policy became more aggressively militant after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001.
One rationale for the new policy seemed to be that the United States would be safe only if all
sources of threat were removed, by military force if necessary, and other cultures and political
systems reshaped to reflect American values. This policy was directed primarily against Islamic
states, but there were clearly those in East Asia, including some American allies, who might
have cause to fear that their ways of doing things were not entirely to American taste.

Peaceful rise
China’s economy, in the meantime, continued to flourish, and a certain fear of the United
States led some of China’s neighbors to desire a closer relationship with that country, a buf-
fer against American unpredictability. The growing strength of China reinforced the trend
in Japan to redefine itself as a “normal” country, that is, one able and willing to defend its

591
Peter Moody

interests by military means if necessary. Japan’s military reforms were ostensibly within the
context of the American alliance (with North Korean behavior providing a convenient ratio-
nale), but it could also be construed as directed against China in anticipation of a time when
an overextended and distracted United States could no longer provide help.
Around the turn of the century, China’s declaratory policy stressed “peaceful rise,” later
amended to “peaceful development.” China supposedly would not challenge American in-
ternational predominance and would fit itself into the American-led global system. This
policy had earlier been set by Deng Xiaoping, who had declared that in order to grow eco-
nomically, China required a generation of international peace.
A generation goes by quickly, however, and toward the end of the first decade of the
­t wenty-first century, China was showing greater assertiveness. The United States and the older
postindustrial countries had their own economic crisis in 2008. China continued to prosper,
leading some commentators to postulate a “Beijing model” superseding the “­Washington
consensus” (Ramo, 2004) said to underpin American primacy. This Beijing model turns out
to be much like the old Asian model—a state-led economic program based upon generating
capital from exports—although it lacked the egalitarian thrust of the earlier Asian versions.6

Return to power politics?

As China’s economy grew, so did the availability of funds for military development, and
during the 2000s, the Chinese defense budget increased more rapidly than government
spending as a whole. The money was channeled into the more high-tech areas—the air
force, the ballistic missile force, and especially the navy (with also much attention to cyber
warfare, although the capital investment there is probably not as demanding as in the other
sectors). In part, the increases reflected simple growing prosperity and also, no doubt, a
reward for the army for saving the Party’s hide in 1989 and an incentive to the soldiers to
obey a Party leadership now with very limited experience in military affairs. Also, though,
­China’s growth depended upon outside resources, and some of the military assertiveness
seemed geared toward protecting that access. Thus, China’s (reactivated) claims to all solid
land (and then some) in the South China Sea and inside the “first island chain” in the East
China Sea were at least in motivated by a desire to protect sea-lanes of communication and
to prevent the United States from being able to act completely at will within those areas.
China’s claims came at the expense of claims made by others, and if the smaller Asian
states had been gravitating toward China in the 2000s as a hedge against American arro-
gance, in the subsequent decade, there was a turn to America as a possible balance against
China (Holslag, 2015). The United States established or strengthened military relations with
Japan, India, and Vietnam. Around 2010, the United States began contemplating a “pivot to
Asia,” in part in reaction to the frustrations and disillusionments of its Middle Eastern adven-
tures. The military aspect of this contemplated a “land-sea-air” battle designed to maintain
American dominance west of the first island chain. Economically, the Obama administration
tried to negotiate a “Trans-Pacific Partnership,” a trade deal bypassing China, but this lacked
strong domestic support in the United States itself. At any rate, the pivot failed to show much
vitality during the Obama administration (Hendrick, 2014).
The United States had to act carefully. In the South China Sea, for example, the United
States was the only power with the ability to effectively resist Chinese claims, but it had
no territorial claims there itself nor did it have an opinion on the substantive merit of the
various local territorial quarrels (except that they should be settled peacefully). The United
States did try to assert the principle of freedom of navigation. Too strong a stand, however,

592
 Future of Asian p
­ olitical development

risked provoking a confrontation with China desired by no one, and too weak a stand would
undermine confidence in American staying power in the other Asian states, tempting them,
for lack of a better choice, once more to bandwagon with China.
In China itself, there was, or had been, something of a strategic debate on how to
­g uarantee access to resources. One faction actually questioned the wisdom of the new na-
val assertiveness: It would be a long time before China would be able to match the naval
strength of the United States. Rather, China’s focus should be westward toward Central
Asia ­( historically the source of most of the foreign threats to China anyway). There, China’s
strongest rival would be Turkey, strong on “soft power” (much of the indigenous populations
of Central Asia are Turkic in ethnicity), and at least until the 2010s, it exercised great cultural
influence as a model modern Islamic democracy. Turkey, however, could not rival China’s
financial and military strength; should China clean up some of its own politics and adopt
more enlightened policies toward its Islamic minorities, it could also have a modicum of soft
power in the region (Liu, 2010). The Xi Jinping regime’s policy of “one belt and one road”
seemed designed to give equal attention both to the South Seas and to Central Asia—risking,
perhaps, a lack of focus.

Fraying China model

Just as China was becoming more assertive internationally, its rate of growth slowed down
(as it was bound to do sooner or later). The sea of young unskilled workers began to dry
up, leading to a need to increase wages and so cutting into China’s comparative advantage.
China’s population was aging rapidly, and there were few kids to support their elders. Social
issues that could perhaps be overlooked in the years of exuberant growth—pervasive cor-
ruption, out of control pollution, and grotesque disparities of income and wealth—became
harder to ignore. The authorities’ response was a variation of the policy adopted by the dis-
credited former boss of Chongqing, Bo Xilai: Hit the black, sing the red. Bo’s main rival, Xi
Jinping, now the leader of the Communist party, undertook a hard-hitting campaign against
corrupt officials (perhaps targeting mainly his potential political challengers, although there
is no reason to think that they were not guilty of what they were accused of ), while giving
greater stress to ideological orthodoxy and cracking down on “Western” ideas. Some spec-
ulated that the new foreign policy militancy was a ploy to divert attention from domestic
problems, although there was no real evidence this was so.

Global jihad
In the meantime, radical Islam became a matter of urgent world concern. The issue is com-
plicated, as much of it resolves around non-state actors, multiplying the difficulty of reaching
deals and working out accommodations. And it also overlaps into traditional international
politics when Islamist movements (notably the Taliban in Afghanistan prior to 2002 and, in
a different way, Iran since 1978) attain state power. Otherwise, Islamist movements generate
tensions for states. Pakistan, for example, has had a special need not to antagonize and, in-
deed, to cooperate with the United States after the September 11 events; but at least segments
of the Pakistani political-bureaucratic establishment also find radical Islamists, especially the
Taliban, useful to them in their conflict with India over control of Kashmir.
Islam, of course, is itself highly diverse. In Central Asia, Islamic movements are often
compounded with ethnic nationalist movements.7 The cliché about Southeast Asian Muslims
(mainly Malays, in Malaysia, Indonesia, and parts of the Philippines) used to be that theirs

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was an exceptionally easygoing version of Islam, of a moderate, tolerant sort.8 More recently,
however, the influence of more orthodox and conservative, if not necessarily more militant,
forms of Islam have been growing in the region.
During the Cold War, America and the various Islamic movements had a common cause
in resisting the expansion of communism. America, China, and Pakistan all cooperated in
support of the anti-Soviet insurgency in Afghanistan in the 1980s, providing arms, money,
and training to militants from other parts of the Islamic world eager to fight the Russians,
with some of these Arab “Afghanis” coming to form the core of Al-Qaeda. The contempora-
neous Iranian revolution, however, signaled a turning point. The radical Islamists there were
as anti-Soviet as they were anti-American, but since the United States had been the main
foreign support of the overthrown regime, America bore the brunt of their hostility. And this
became increasingly true for Muslims everywhere as communist and Soviet influence faded.
China’s position is at least as complicated as America’s. China, together in a common hos-
tility to India,9 has long been a close ally to Pakistan, in Cold War days also an American ally.
China opposed the more activist American moves in the War on Terror. But China’s Muslim
ethnicities in the northeast have become more vociferous in making demands and also more
active in pursuing their goals. These movements seem to be primarily nationalist but are not
always averse to making common cause with the global Islamic jihadist movement.
The compound of religious and ethnic tensions is especially volatile in Central Asia, a
region of central Chinese interest. In 2001, China and Russia joined with all but one of
the former Soviet Central Asia “-stans,” countries with great reputations for corruption
and repressiveness, to form the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO). The ostensi-
ble ­t argets of the SCO are terrorism, “separatism” (ethnic nationalism), and “extremism”
­(Islamic ­radicalism). Cynics have described the organization as an alliance of tyrants against
their own peoples, but it may provide a modicum of regional stability.
Islamic terrorism seems likely to remain an enduring issue (although one point of this
exercise is that things are not always what they seem), even for states with nugatory Muslim
populations (such as Japan and Korea, which depend on access to Middle Eastern oil). The
American approach to the problem as a “war” obviously has problems, but it is not strictly a
law enforcement issue either.
This is not to say that Islamic radicalism will be the central issue in Asian affairs in future
years. Rather, there seems to be no reliable way to project what will be central at any particular
time. Events and developments are not chaotic or random. In retrospect, one can make sense
of how a situation arose and how one situation led to another. But attempts to extrapolate from
any particular point in time on how things will be in a decade or so are apt to be in vain.

Hardy perennials?
However vain extrapolation may be, policy formulation always involves some sort of contin-
gent prediction: If this happens, or we do this, something else will follow, and the policies
chosen affect what follows. The most conservative speculation is that over the long run,
things will remain more or less the same; and following the conservative line, and barring
radical changes in human nature and the human condition (on which, see the following), we
can assume that an inveterate clannishness (me and my brother against my cousin; me and
my cousin against the world) will lead to tensions along familiar cleavages: Chinese v­ ersus
Japanese, Koreans against Japanese (and against each other, as long as there remain two
states), Vietnamese against Chinese, Pakistanis against Indians (a relatively new cleavage),
ethnic majorities against ethnic minorities, Muslims against infidels, Sunnis against Shi’ites,

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on and on and on.10 These tensions can generally be managed and need not lead to violence.
And the various groups are as capable of mutual cooperation as of conflict. But the coopera-
tion is based in utility and expediency, while the conflict is visceral.

Cold War residues

Asia is the locus of most of what remains of the tensions that helped define the Cold War.
Korea remains a divided nation, as does China, at least in the opinion of the authorities in
Beijing. The Korean issue, I think, is the more volatile, although I would judge (at this point)
that it is unlikely to devolve into open violence. But should war actually break out in Korea
or in the Taiwan Strait, the consequences would be disastrous.

Korea
The division of the Korean peninsula was a product of the Cold War, originally a matter of
convenience in demarcating American and Russian zones of occupation. The division is ar-
tificial, and all Koreans (in principle) desire reunification. Prior to around 1989, the northern
regime seemed more actively eager for reunification than the south (the southern regimes,
perhaps sensing that reunification in practice would amount to a northern conquest).
By the end of the 1980s, North Korea was an economic and humanitarian disaster. South
Korea, already one of the world’s most prosperous countries, was in rapid transition to de-
mocracy. At that point, with the lesson perhaps rubbed in by the reunification of Germany,
the northern rulers perhaps concluded that reunification would mean the absorption of the
north into the southern system, and their concern shifted to regime survival. This, I think,
explains the northern nuclear weapons program: should the Democratic People’s Republic
of Korea (DPRK) be for whatever reason on the verge of extinction, it could take South
­Korea with it, along with a substantial portion of American forces stationed in East Asia.
This should give South Korea and the United States an incentive to see that the North
­Korean regime survived.
As it became clear that the DPRK was actively embarked on a program to build nu-
clear weapons, the American attitude toward the north shifted. The ostensive reason for the
American presence in the south was to deter a renewed attack from the north—that is, to
defend the security and integrity of South Korea. In principle, there should be no quarrel
with the north were the north no longer to threaten the south. By the 1990s, however, gen-
erational change and the expansion of the scope of political debate in the south led to the
general sense that the danger from the north was minimal. The weapons program shifted
American attention away from the goal of defending the south, to a focus on forcing denu-
clearization.11 In the early 1990s, America and the DPRK seemed close to war, a war no one
in the south thought desirable and in which the south was apt to suffer as much as the north.
War was averted (possibly) by a poorly thought-out deal between America and North Korea,
with America supporting a program to build a “peaceful” nuclear capacity in the north, the
United States committing South Korea and Japan to foot the bill.
So, South Korean and American interests have diverged. The old fear in the south was
that the United States might be tempted to strike some sort of separate deal with the north.
Since the 1990s, the greater fear has been that American belligerence would provoke a
fight. With democratization, control over the Republic of Korea government has shifted
between a “progressive” and a “conservative” tendency. The progressives indulge in an often
graceless anti-Americanism, although (since they can’t be totally convinced of the north’s

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harmlessness) not to the point of alienating American support entirely. They also favor a soft line
toward the north, providing the north with financial assistance and muting any objections to its
misbehavior. This partly reflects a hard-to-understand sympathy for their fellow countrymen
but is also based upon a kind of expediency: Assuming that a regime such as that of the DPRK
cannot last forever, Korean interests and regional stability are served if it grows into a prosperous
country with much to lose should there be conflict or in which, should the country collapse, the
fall will be a soft one or in which the economy will grow sufficiently that it can be absorbed into
the south without throwing that part of the peninsula into beggary. The conservative tendency is
less patient with the north and more inclined to active cooperation with the Americans but also
unhappy that they do not have more independent leverage over American actions.
If any political system should have collapsed in 1989, the DPRK should have been it. But
against all reason, it continues to survive. At this point, it is probable that as long as it sur-
vives, it will remain a nuclear power, albeit a minor one, and maybe the best one can hope is
that it doesn’t start selling weapons to terrorists or the like. Everyone fears the proliferation
of nuclear proliferation, but it also seems that when nuclear arms control conflicts with any
other goal or interest, that interest will take precedence over arms control. It should also be
evident by now that it is hopeless to bribe North Korea into disarmament. The authorities
there are happy to take whatever they are offered, and continue on their merry way.
In the early post-Cold War era, a kind of “Concert of Northeast Asia” might have made
sense as way of defusing the issue: Continuous consultations among the two Koreas, Russia,
China, Japan, and America addressed to issues of common concern, reassuring the DPRK
against external attack and so depriving it of its rationale or excuse for the nuclear program.
Things have probably gone too far and too long for this. At this point, since no one has any
intention of initiating aggression against the DPRK (barring social and political collapse,
which might provoke a Chinese occupation), the only alternative seems to be to hold firm and
wait for that regime’s surely inevitable, however long-postponed, transformation or collapse.

Taiwan
Taiwan as a political issue was originally defined as another “divided nations” problem,
similar in Asia to Korea and Vietnam. In the early Cold War, the authorities both in Beijing
and in Taipei considered Taiwan to be a province of China, differing only on which side
actually constituted the legitimate government of the entire country. Since democratization
in the late 1980s and 1990s, the Taiwan authorities no longer assert any legal authority over
the Chinese mainland, but their counterparts in Beijing continue to define Taiwan as “part”
of China. They claim that once reunification takes place, nothing on Taiwan will need to
change—supposedly the Taiwan side could even keep its own army—but this offer does not
attract much support on the island. The island still defines the state as the Republic of China,
the constitutional system that preceded the People’s Republic of China on the mainland.
Beijing desires a peaceful reunification, but it also says that any overt move toward formal
independence (say, proclaiming a “Republic of Taiwan”) will mean war.
Taiwan was a Japanese colony from 1895 to 1945, and so did not share in the momen-
tous revolutionary experience that roiled China during the first half of the ­t wentieth
century. According to agreement among the allies, Taiwan was to revert to China
(the Republic of China) after Japan’s defeat, and Chinese Nationalist forces occupied the
island in late 1945. The turmoil surrounding the occupation eventually led to open conflict
and ­m assive ­bloodshed especially among the educated portion of the island’s population.

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In the meantime, the Nationalists were losing the civil war against the Communists and
were gradually moving men and treasure to Taiwan, either to make a last stand or as a base
to recover the mainland. There was also a large-scale movement of people from the main-
land to Taiwan at this time. The Nationalist government placed Taiwan under emergency
rule, in effect a police state. The violence brought on by the initial restoration to Chinese
rule and the particular manner of government reinforced an enduring gap between the
immigrants from the mainland and the local population (and the descendants of each). The
hand of the dictatorship weighed upon everyone alike. But the mainlanders continued to
hold the key positions of state authority, and the mainlander population in general was
perhaps willing to put up with the autocracy because that was a means, they hoped, of
eventually returning home. The local population, of course, was already home. The gov-
ernment justified its repressive measures as required by the threat of communist espionage
and subversion, but it was at least as fierce against those who might want to make Taiwan
an independent country in its own right.
During the 1970s and 1980s, the island gradually evolved a genuinely democratic
form of government, with control of the state determined through the votes of the
population as a whole. In logic, this would be tantamount to independence, but the au-
thorities in Beijing credibly threaten to go to war should this be stated explicitly. And on
the island itself, there are still some, perhaps a diminishing number, with a sentimental
vision of a united China of which Taiwan is a part. Since the l980s, the Beijing au-
thorities have proposed reunification under the formula of “one country, two systems”:
Taiwan would come under the sovereignty of China but otherwise would retain its own
economic, social, and political institutions. This has little if any appeal to anyone on the
island—small wonder, seeing what has happened to Hong Kong, restored to Chinese
control under the same formula.12
The situation has been festering for seven decades, and one wonders whether the
­B eijing authorities themselves wish they had some graceful way out: Well, if Taiwan
rejects reunification, let them go—their loss. But it would be political suicide for anyone
proposing such a course: Beijing has been too vehemently for too long been insisting that
Taiwan is an integral part of an indivisible China. Perhaps one function, paradoxically,
of the Taiwan Anti-Session Law, passed by China’s National People’s Congress in 2005,
was to shelve the issue. Ostensibly, the act gives a legal basis for a military attack on the
island should it declare independence—something for which no law was needed in any
case. But the law also asserts that Taiwan already is a part of China, so there is really no
question of unification. Trouble will come only if Taiwan decides explicitly to secede.
At the time the law was passed, there were also hints by various political figures that
while the situation could not go on forever, in 20 years or so things might have worked
out—equivalent of punting the issue to the next generation. But the 20 years are moving
by quickly.
The illogical, unsatisfactory status quo is likely to persist with no logical way to work
itself out. China has no desire to attack Taiwan but may feel that there is no choice,
should Taiwan it proclaim its independence. For all practical purposes, Taiwan is an
independent state but cannot claim the dignity that goes with that status. Freedom of
political action, domestic and international, remains constricted. There is no reason to
expect violence, but misjudgment, a lapse from an undignified prudence by the Taiwan
authorities, demagogic grandstanding by a mainland authority under domestic political
challenge all could lead to catastrophe.

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Rebalancing power?
Ever since the Vietnam War era, some commentators have argued that the power of the
United States was overextended, that American influence was stretched too thin, that there
was need of a retrenchment.13 So far, the United States has certainly maintained its mili-
tary supremacy, but it no longer as hegemonic as it once was. A generation ago, it was be-
lieved that Japan (Number One!—Vogel, 1979) might replace America as the leading world
(or at least economic) power, but this has not yet worked out. In the early decades of the
twenty-first century, China seemed a more credible challenger, although China is likely to
­remain a regional or “great” power rather than a global power.
America was often criticized for fancying itself a “global policeman.” Whatever resent-
ment it caused, though, the role also had several general advantages. The hegemony gave
a certain structure and stability to world affairs. Those allied with the United States were
protected from non-allies but also from each other, and were able to divert much of their
potential defense burdens to the United States, while remaining able to complain about the
way America went about carrying them.
But the role of global policeman also burdened the American people generally, with
grossly disproportionate spending on a military, itself of grossly disproportionate size and
amplitude, and the loss of lives and health of soldiers in what developed into an endless chain
of pointless wars. The populist reaction against globalization spread to the United States,
with the loss of secure, high-paying employment for skilled and semiskilled labor. This was
blamed, rightly or wrongly, on competition with countries with a lower standard of living
and favored access to the American market.
China, however, is not likely to become a similar global hegemon, nor does it seem to want
the job. Since the turn of the century, however, China has been developing greater military
power and is attempting to extend its influence beyond its borders. The result is that those
in China’s path (for example, Japan, India, and Vietnam14) will tend, insofar as they are able,
to balance against it. On the one hand, foreseeing the decline of American influence, they
will strive to increase their own military strength. On the other hand, in the shorter term,
they will seek to strengthen ties with the United States to get whatever security these afford.
The United States’ own position is a delicate one. In the matter of the South China Sea, for
example, America has no territorial claims of its own and is officially indifferent to what
solution there is to the competing claims, desiring only that it be arrived at peacefully and the
freedom of the seas maintained. If America is too strong in asserting freedom of navigation, it
risks ­v iolent conflict with China, something no one wants. If it is too wishy-washy, the other
countries may lose confidence and feel the only choice is to bandwagon with China.
A new multipolar balance system is likely to see an increased number of nuclear-armed
states (if North Korea can have such weapons, what country, in reason should not?). This
may not be the disaster that it seems: Conceivably, a multipolar system could induce greater
prudence, each state exercising caution for fear of the reaction of the others. But the potential
for disaster remains obvious.

Islamism
The militant Islamic upsurge is a transnational populist movement, sometimes piggybacking
on ethnic grievances. In its own way, it is a revolutionary ideology (in Islamic orthodoxy,
this aspect of it embraced by the militants, there is no distinction of the political and religious
spheres), and in that very limited way, it is analogous to the communist movement. This is

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an analogy, though, that should definitely not be pushed too far. The Cold War was mainly
an ideological confrontation between sovereign states, and the appeal of communism was
in principle more cross-cultural than Islamism is likely to be.15 Radical Islamism is likely to
have its greatest influence within the traditionally Islamic cultures, and its lack of intrinsic
appeal beyond that may account for some of the militancy.
Islam can serve as a state ideology, as in Iran, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and elsewhere.
These states can on occasion coordinate with and provide support for radical and revolu-
tionary non-state movements (in this respect, following the Cold War pattern). But states
are able to make pragmatic accommodations: So, China and Pakistan have enjoyed what
amounts to a political alliance, based on common hostility to India, despite the huge
disparity in the legitimizing principles of each regime; and China and Iran also have a
generally good relationship: Their state interests generally coincide, and the geographical
distance between them means that they do not often grate up against each other. But it
is difficult to reach accommodations with non-state interests: They either triumph, are
defeated, or fizzle out.
Modernization theory held that the influence of religion weakens as standards of
living rise and lines of communication proliferate. This was not totally borne out by
the facts, at least in the short run. Religion can also be a salutary corrective to the cor-
rosive effects of modernization and the moral chaos that typically accompanies rapid
social change.16 Islamism is another rallying point for those left behind or debased by
globalized modernization. While there is no reason to think that Muslim populations as
a whole are highly radicalized, the more conservative (and sometimes militant) manifes-
tations of the religion are growing in mass appeal, even in what used to be the relatively
easygoing Southeast Asian communities.
Ethnicity is another force that modernization and globalization would supposedly wash
away. But ethnic nationalism remains an even stronger force than religion, and in Central
and Southern Asia, ethnic grievances and religious fervor reinforce one another. This will
likely make for continuing instability at the heart of the Eurasian landmass.
The Chinese position is particularly touchy. China has several recognized ­predominantly
Muslim ethnic groups, and the Uighur minority in Xinjiang has become increasingly
assertive in demanding greater autonomy or even independence. Uighur activists have
received some support from Al-Qaeda (and also, it seems, some covert and moral support
from the Turkish government). The Uighurs also seem to enjoy greater sympathy from
Western public opinion than is typical of Muslim political movements, perhaps a reflec-
tion of a certain anti-Chinese animus. But the Uighur nationalists also seem increasingly
inclined to resort to the tactics that have become too familiar e­ lsewhere—random bru-
tality toward soft targets.
While China needs to combat its own domestic terrorism, it cannot but have conflicted
attitudes toward especially the American War on Terror, viewing it as in part a way of en-
hancing the scope of American power. Also, China requires stability in Central Asia, much of
whose population is Sunni Muslim, and much of that population discontented. For the west
Islamism, to the extent it remains connected with terror, will be an irritation—­a nalogous to
but more dangerous than organized crime. In Asia, it is a potential threat to core state interests
and the physical integrity of the established powers. Should Islamists achieve state power—
anywhere—they will likely moderate their radicalism although (as Iran perhaps shows) not
necessarily by much, and only in the very long run. The frustrating thing is that Islamic
attitudes are an articulation of legitimate grievances but grievances for which there is no
legitimate means of redress.

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Demographics
Future developments are subject to forces beyond politics, although these forces are them-
selves affected by policy. The force receiving the greatest contemporary attention is climate
change, whether human-generated or not. How extensive this is and how consequential
remain matters of controversy, although various governments have staked out positions on
it, whether in fact or for show. And, of course, the reciprocal effects of climate on human
development and human development on climate are nothing new (Elvin, 2004). It seems
likely that China will be beset by chronic water shortages and encroaching desertification in
the north. Other parts of the continent will have too much water: Some of Bangladesh may
soon be inundated by rising seas. Dam building along the upper Mekong adds to the already
plentiful tensions between China and Vietnam.
The potential for the most profound change in human relationships lies in demographics.
Asian societies tend to be family-centered, patriarchal, and prone to high birth rates. Family
strength persisted, in spite of economic pressures and state policies designed to weaken family
­cohesion, through the revolutionary upheavals of the twentieth century. In China, not even
radical Maoism did much to disrupt the structure of the typical rural family, certainly much
less than the changes brought by the subsequent liberalization (Meng, 2008). Western visitors
as late as the 1980s could not but be in awe of the reverence held even by urban teenagers for
the authority of their parents.
First world elites used to worry about a population explosion, especially in poor countries.
The population growth, it might be remarked, was not caused by surging birth rates but by
declining death rates: an indication that things actually were getting better. There may be
lingering concerns about this “problem,” but the most effective solution seems to be economic
development. Generally speaking, the birth rate falls as the society as a whole grows more pros-
perous. For those prosperous societies, the more chronic problem may be the “birth dearth.”
Lower rates of population growth have some short-term benefits. Partly as a result of the
one-child policy, partly a response to general demographic trends, by the 2010s China was
finally running out of young unskilled workers available at low pay to man the firms produc-
ing for export. The increased value of labor may lead to a more general and more equitably
distributed standard of living, and declining competitiveness in the global market may give
impetus to the long-discussed but not quite implemented move to change the economic
focus from exports to domestic consumption (Table 40.1).
The most distressing trend is the unbalanced sex ratio at birth (the number of boys born
compared to the number of girls) in the countries with low birth rates. “Normally” about
105 boys are born for every 100 girls; the ratio evens out as the children age, boys being
more delicate and susceptible to the misfortunes of infancy. The poorer states in this list fall
pretty much into this pattern (with the exception especially of Vietnam). Japan, despite its
abysmal birthrate, is a somewhat surprising exception to the general trend. The chart shows
a 1.12 ­ratio in China, but this is probably understated. A ready explanation is the single-child
­policy, with families eager, if there is only one child, for it to be a boy.17 The problem is
that the same disparity appears in other areas where there has been no such policy—South
­Korea,18 Vietnam, India, Singapore, and Taiwan. The impact of the single-child policy
(modified in 2016, after the damage had been done) may have been marginal, with younger
couples, especially in urban areas, restricting themselves to one child by choice.
The pragmatic consequences of low birth rates and skewed sex ratios are on balance not
promising. There may be some benefit to educated young women who, to be crass, find
themselves at a premium in a sellers’ market. Given the weakening of social structures that

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Table 40.1 B
 irth rates and sex ratios at birth for selected Asian states

Births/1000 pop. Boys/girls at birth

Afghanistan 38.84 1.05

China 12.7 1.12
India 12.87 1.12
Indonesia 17.04 1.05
Japan 8.07 1.06
Malaysia 20.06 1.07
Pakistan 23.19 1.05
The Philippines 24.24 1.05
Singapore 8.1 1.08
South Korea 8.26 1.07
Taiwan 8.85 1.09
Thailand 11.26 1.05
Vietnam 16.26 1.12

Source: Infoplease.com.

reinforced traditional morality, they are less prone to focus their ambitions on being wives
and mothers, so exacerbating the declining birth rate. The other side is a surplus of men,
the poorer among them with little prospect of establishing their own families. These “bare
sticks” (to use the traditional Chinese terminology) risk having little to do besides hanging
around causing trouble, and will be an obvious source of social unrest.
Assuming some constructive way be found to deal with this reserve army of oafs, the
future could be comfortable, if somewhat sterile, as the society begins to consume its capi-
tal rather than building on it (as may already be happening in Japan). Migration could be a
source for renewing the young and productive, although certain of these societies have not
been welcoming to immigration. Should there be large-scale immigration (presumably from
the poorer areas of Asia), the character and culture of the various societies would change,
making extrapolation of trends even more vain than it already is.
Other possibilities really go beyond the limits of extrapolation. Work in artificial intelligence
and genetic engineering may compensate for declining productivity and an aging population
(one thinks here of the Japanese fascination with robotics). But here we are moving into the realm
of science fiction. But some Asian societies may be pioneering the way to our post-human future.

In sum
Asia is a geographic concept without clear physical, ethnic, linguistic, or cultural boundaries.
It designates a region that includes numerous ancient, literate, highly sophisticated civiliza-
tions, lumped together as a consequence of their subjugation, direct or indirect, to pressures
from a modernizing Western Europe. This subjugation generated massive social change that
may at long last be playing itself out. Asian societies are prepared to take a place as active
participants in the action of the world, rather than as passive recipients of outside pressures.
A cursory review of recent history, though, shows it is risky to articulate just what this
will mean. It is possible to make some sort of coherent narrative from the political and dip-
lomatic experience of the continent but only in retrospect. An attempt to reason out the
“logical” next step at any particular point in time is likely to be in error.

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Prediction (contingent prediction, not prophecy19) rests explicitly or implicitly on some

sort of theory of how the world works: If something is the case, then something else will follow.
In principle, such contentions can be corroborated or refuted but only if (a meta-­contingent
proposition?) everything else relevant can somehow be allowed for, “controlled.” In the real
world, things are rarely under control. We have in effect a multi-level, multi-handed, non-
zero-sum game, with unidentified (or non-existent) rules, rules (if there are any) that shift in
the course of play. Outcomes are not arbitrary, and many of them rest on human choice—but
this will be the “vector choice” of many different humans desiring incompatible things, so
results will rarely be close to what anyone in particular desires or expects.
The most nearly safe starting point is probably with culture, conceived as a set of expecta-
tions people have about how other people will act in particular circumstances. Generally, these
expectations have been resilient. Even after revolutionary breaks older ways tend to reassert
themselves, especially after a generation or so. Traditional structures take up old roles (clans in
certain Chinese localities as a basis for political organization) or find new roles (caste in India
also becoming a way to mobilize votes, as well as access to the benefits of affirmative action).
In this case, the proper bet (despite the very long odds) would be that things will be more
or less what they are now, and ethnicity, personal habits, and beliefs (or “mindsets”) will
continue to condition behavior. But given what has already happened, it is clear that radical
change is compatible with this kind of continuity.
This is not helpful: Things will be much the same but different; and which is which is
undetermined. This chapter has tried to show the frustrations inherent in projecting from
current trends, while, contradictorily, sketching out some plausible developments by doing
just that. It cannot be excluded that the world, Asia included, is on the verge of massive
existential change. Even so, it is possible that this will make less difference than we might
imagine. But it also implies that all bets are off.

Notes
1 Given the complexity of the continent, any discussion must be limited in scope. Because of my
own limited competence, this discussion tends toward the Sinocentric, and it may give undue
weight to the role of the United States (although America has been the main factor in world affairs
generally since 1942).
2 A minority perceived the fragility of the Sino-Soviet alliance, predicting that Mao Zedong would
prove to be an “Asian Tito”—that is, his brand of communism would be milder than the Moscow
variety. But when the split did come, the Chinese, in words anyway, proved to be considerably
more radical than the Soviets.
3 Indeed, some continue to expect this.
4 In fact, these Asian values are pretty similar to traditional (pre- and postmodern) Western values,
and they may represent something of a spontaneous human consensus.
5 “Crony capitalism” prior to 1997 generally referred to the system in the Philippines under P
­ resident
Marcos but later came to be applied to the general prevalence in East Asia of close ties between
business and government.
6 For the initial version, somewhat idealized, see Ramo (2004).
7 Official Chinese English-language sources regularly attack what they call the ETIM, East ­Turkestan
Islamic Movement, which supposedly agitates among the Chinese Uighurs (Chinese-language
sources seem not to use the term). The I evidently stands for Islamic, although it equally could
­represent Independence; and the grievances of Uighur dissidents seem to be more consistently
ethnic than religious—although, perhaps, this is a distinction compelling mainly to outsiders.
8 Even this generalization required qualification. A failed communist coup attempt in Indonesia
in 1965 resulted in a months-long pogrom against communists, with an untold number of
deaths; the Muslim religious establishment, hostile to godless communism, was one of the
forces behind the slaughter.

602
 Future of Asian p
­ olitical development

9 In the Cold War era, America induced Pakistan into what the Americans thought was an anti-­
Chinese alliance. The Pakistanis joined because they thought they might get American support in
their quarrel with India—something that was not and indeed did not happen.
10 One problem with the clash of civilizations thesis, I think, is that clashes within the so-called
­civilizations are often intense and enduring as clashes between the civilizations.
11 It must be said that American actions in the Balkans in the 1990s and later actions in the Mid-
dle East (and throw in as well the fate of Iraq, which probably would not have been invaded if it
­actually had nuclear weapons, and Libya, which gave up its program to please the United States)
did nothing to convince the North Koreans of the wisdom of nuclear disarmament.
12 It should be acknowledged, though, that the situations are not quite analogous. Taiwan has
(at least on occasion) been assured that no CPC cadres will be sent to the island, and the island will
supposedly be allowed to retain its own armed forces.
13 Ironically, one of the most historically informed versions of this analysis appeared right on the eve
of the collapse of the iron curtain and the at least temporary uncontested triumph of the United
States (Kennedy, 1987).
14 The Philippines, under President Duterte, initially seemed inclined to bandwagon with China—
perhaps a hangover resentment against the colonial power (by one from a non-elite background),
perhaps a lack of confidence in American staying power.
15 Radical Islamists also come in different, mutually hostile varieties (Sunni versus Shi’ite, notably).
16 Compare the rapid spread of evangelical Protestantism in China today, or, for that matter, ­changing
what needs to be changed, the revived appeal of Confucianism.
17 There are laws in China against infanticide and sex-selective abortion, but by their nature, these,
especially the second, are impossible to enforce.
18 Anecdotal evidence suggests that sex-selective abortion is prevalent in Korea, and the 1.07 ratio
given may be too low.
19 As Chairman Mao says somewhere, a Marxist-Leninist is not a fortune-teller.

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Hendrick, Robert. 2014. Fire in the Water: China, America, and the Future of the Pacific. Annapolis, MD:
Naval Institute Press.
Holslag, Jonathan. 2015. China’s Coming War with Asia. Malden: Polity.
Huntington, Samuel. 1996. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New York:
­Simon and Schuster.
Kennedy, George. 1987. The Rise and Fall of Great Powers: Economic Change and Military Conflict 1500–2000.
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Liu Yazhou. 2010. “On Advance Toward the West.” Fenghuang, August 5.
Meng Xianfeng. 2008. “Three Assaults on the Family Over the Past Century and the Choice We Have
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Ramo, Joshua Cooper. 2004. “The Beijing Consensus.” The Foreign Policy Centre. London.
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603

21st-Century Maritime Silk Road 149
228 Massacre 22
1868 Provisional Statute for the Administration
of the Steppe 243
1955 system in Japan 344
1969 Nixon doctrine 344
1977 ASEAN Preferential Trading Arrangement
(PTA) 164
1978 Guidelines for Defense Cooperation 344
1987 ROK Constitution 91–92
1992 ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA) 164
1992 Consensus in Taiwan 82
1993 Vienna Declaration 381
1997 Asian Economic Crisis: effect on
ASEAN 102
AAP (Aam Aadmi Party) 57
Abe, Prime Minister Shinzo 84–87
Abrahamic models of religion and politics
553–554
absolutism: Southeast Asia 27
ACFTU (All-China Federation of Trade Union)
260–261
ACMW (ASEAN Committee to Implement the
Declaration on the Protection and Promotion
of the Rights of Migrant Workers) 383
Act East Policy: India 337–338
activism: China’s Internet 398–402; Thailand’s
Internet 394–397; women in social/political
movements 580
ACWC (ASEAN Commission on the
Promotion and Protection of the Rights of
Women and Children) 383
ADB (Asian Development Bank): land bridging
473–474; membership 479
Adolat Social Democratic Party 67
adult suffrage: Indian Constitution 307
affirmative action policies 497–499
Afghanistan: Pakistan trade treaty 171
Afghanistan-Pakistan Transit Trade Agreement
(APTTA) 171
AFTA (ASEAN Free Trade Area) 101, 104, 164
agrarian political roots in Southeast Asia 27
Index
agriculture: Central Asia 190; Southeast Asia
162–163
AHRD (ASEAN Human Rights Declaration)
102, 379–380
AICHR (ASEAN Inter-Governmental
Commission on Human Rights) 382–383
aid management: Central Asia 125
AIIB (Asia Infrastructure Investment Bank) 80,
149; membership 479
Air Self-Defense Forces (ASDF) 86
Akayev, President Askar 64
Aksaqals 242
AL (Awami League): rivalry with BNP 50
All Parties Hurriyat Conference (APHC) 333
All-China Federation of Trade Union (ACFTU)
260–261
All-India Conference of Hindus 548
Almond, Gabriel: The Civic Culture 237; political
culture research 195
American War on Terror see WOT
anti-colonialism: Southeast Asia 27–28
anti-racism: India’s foreign policies 330–331
APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation):
Asia-Pacific regionalism 141; East Asian
economic regionalism 142–143; golden age of
multilateralism 359; Lima Summit 148
APF (Asia Pacific Forum of National Human
Rights Institutions) 381
APHC (All Parties Hurriyat Conference) 333
April Revolution in South Korea 19
APT (ASEAN Plus Three) forum 144
APTTA (Afghanistan-Pakistan Transit Trade
Agreement) 171
ARF (ASEAN Regional Forum) 101, 360
Arthashastra 113
ASDF (Air Self-Defense Forces) 86
ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian
Nations) 100–104; 1997 Asian Economic
Crisis effect 102; ASEAN Way 101; Charter
102; CMI effect 102; Commission on the
Promotion and Protection of the Rights
of Women and Children (ACWC) 383;
Committee to Implement the Declaration on
605
Index
the Protection and Promotion of the Rights
of Migrant Workers (ACMW) 383; economic
advances 103; economic integration 164–168;
expansion 101–102; export structure 160–162;
external foreign relations outside of 106–107;
external trading 165–167; formation 100;
free trade 104–107; Free Trade Area (AFTA)
101, 104, 164; golden age of multilateralism
360; Human Rights Declaration (AHRD)
102, 379–380; human rights standards
379–380; income group standings 155;
Inter-Governmental Commission on Human
Rights (AICHR) 382–383; intraregional
relationships outside of 104–106; intraregional
trade 164–167; multilateral institutional
development 359; Plus Three (APT) forum
144; Preferential Trading Arrangement
(PTA) 164; Regional Forum (ARF) 101, 360;
security 103; South China Sea dispute with
China 107–108; Southeast Asian involvement
154; territorial disputes 105–106; Treaty of
Amity and Cooperation 101
ASEAN-India Free Trade Area 104
Asia Infrastructure Investment Bank see AIIB
Asia Pacific Forum of National Human Rights
Institutions (APF) 381
Asian Development Bank see ADB
Asian financial crisis 36–37; East Asian
economic regionalism 143–144; multilateral
institutional development 360
Asian Power and Politics 213
Asian solidarity 339
Asian values 3, 33–34; East Asian political
culture 200–203; human rights 377; illiberal
political culture 199; political motives 199;
shared core value system 199; Southeast Asia
political culture 212–213
Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation see APEC
Asia-Pacific nationalism 459–461; government
relationships with nationalism 463–467;
post-Cold War 465; prejudices 461–463;
regional security 460; territorial sovereignty
disputes 460
Asia-Pacific regionalism 141–142
Asoka Mehta Committee 320
Association of Southeast Asian Nations see
ASEAN
asymmetrical citizenship: India’s democratic
adaptations 309–311
attitude adjustment sessions in Thailand 396
Australia: democratic stability and durability
431–432
authoritarianism: assertion of power 442;
Central Asia 69–70; combination with
formal democratic elections 62–63; East
Asia versus Southeast Asia versus Central
Asia 3; Indira Gandhi period in India 44;
606
KMT Taiwanese rule 22; military role in
Southeast Asia 36; South Korea 91; Southeast
Asia after democratic rule 28–29; Southeast
Asian support 213–219; Turkmenistan 66;
Uzbekistan 67
authority: traditional support/rejection 201–203
Awami League see AL
Ayub Khan, General Mohammad 51
backsliding democracy 435, 440–441; Brunei
438–439; Burma 439; China 437–438;
Indonesia 435–436; Malaysia 437; Papua New
Guinea 436; Sri Lanka 439–440
Backward Classes Commission 310–311
backward classes in India 310–311
Bakiyev, President Kurmanbek 64
balancing gender in politics 578–580
Balwant Rai Mehta Committee 320
Bandung Conference 99–100; human rights
374–375
Bangkok Declaration 375–378
Bangladesh: Bangladesh, China, India, and
Myanmar (BCIM) Economic Corridor 475;
BNP and AL rivalry 50; democratization
48–50; economic transformation 174;
formation 49; future of democracy 57; gender
quota system 578; Nationalist party (BNP)
49–50; political culture 226–227; praetorian
political-military relations 422; religious
extremism 50; state of democracy 435;
women’s electoral representation 577
Bay of Bengal Initiative for Multi Sectoral
Technical and Economic Cooperation
(BIMST-EC) 116
BCIM (Bangladesh, China, India, and
Myanmar) Economic Corridor 475
behaviorism: political culture 197–198
Behera, Navnita: International Relations: Theory in
South Asia 113
Beijing model 589
Belt and Road Initiative see BRI
benevolent government 285
Berdymukhamedov, President Gurbanguly 66
BERSIH (Coalition for Clean and Fair
Elections) 394
Bharatiya Janata Party see BJP
Bhutan: geography shaping economics 177–178
Bhutto-led movement in Pakistan 51–52
bilateral relations: South Asia 115–116
BIMST-EC (Bay of Bengal Initiative for
Multi Sectoral Technical and Economic
Cooperation) 116
BJP (Bharatiya Janata Party): fourth phase
of Indian democratization 46; Hindu
nationalism 45; women involvement 550–551
blogging: China 392; Malaysia 393–394
BNP (Bangladesh Nationalist party) 49–50

Boonngamanong, Sombat 396
border security 448
bourgeois class: Southeast Asia 32
BRI (Belt and Road Initiative): China’s energy
policies 302–303; land-based and maritime
corridors 470–471; multilateral institutional
development 367
British colonization: South Asia 41
Brother Watch scandal 401
Brunei: affirmative action policies 499;
backsliding democracy 438–439; inclusivity
of national identities 497; language
policies 496
bureaucratic polity: Thailand 30
Burma: backsliding democracy 439; military
as state institution 36; political culture 211;
praetorian political-military relations 422
Burmese Way 33
cabinet system: India 315–316
CA-C (Central Asia-Centre) pipeline 185
CAEFI (China Association for Enterprises with
Foreign Investment) 260
CAFTA (China-ASEAN FTA) 145
Cambodia: ethnic violence 488; political-
military reforms 425; revolutionary political-
military relations 421; territorial dispute with
Thailand 105–106
capital punishment: human rights 378
capitalist class: Southeast Asia 31–32
CAPS (Central Asia Power System) 188
cardinal guides of Confucius 524
CASA-1000 project 130
Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC) 183–184
caste system: Hinduism 551; India 223–224;
India’s democratic adaptations 309–311;
women’s leadership roles 576–577
CCA (Computer Crime Act) 395
censorship: Internet in China 398–402; Internet
in Thailand 394–397
center-periphery relations in Indonesia 436
Central Asia: agricultural economy 190;
authoritarianism 3; community traditions
244–245; energy exports 136; energy market
126; fall of Communism 61; human rights
136; Islamic movements 590–591; security
137; socioeconomic development 68;
trade 136
Central Asia democratization: authoritarian
durability 69–70; democratizatsiya movement
62; international influences 70–71;
Kazakhstan 62–64; Kyrgyzstan 64–65;
obstacles 68–69; parade of sovereignties in
USSR 62; Tajikistan 65–66; Turkmenistan
66; Uzbekistan 67–68
Central Asia foreign policies: aid management
125; chief executive control over 131;
Index
Chinese interests 134–135; energy 136;
EU 134; human rights 136; independence
priority 124–125; Kazakhstan 127;
Kyrgyzstan 129; lack of autonomous 125;
limited capacity 132; parochial priorities
131–132; Russian interests 132–133;
security 137; Tajikistan 130; trade 136;
Turkmenistan 130–131; US interests 133–134;
Uzbekistan 128–129
Central Asia political culture: colonial
administrative system 242–244; folk tales
244–245; geographic locations 239; informal
social relations 241; nomadic society 240–241;
patrimonial growth 239–240; patrimonialism
237–238; post-Soviet transition 238–239;
sedentary administrative systems 241–242
Central Asia political economy: agriculture 190;
energy resource dependency 182–187; water
resources 187–190
Central Asia Power System (CAPS) 188
Central Asia-Centre (CA-C) pipeline 185
century of humiliation: China 76–77
CFRD (Collective Forces of Rapid
Deployment) 512
Chaturon, Prime Minister 396
checks and balances of power 564
Chen Shui-bian, President 23, 82
Chen Yi 22
Chengiz Khan 244
Chiang Ching-kuo, President 22, 82
Chiang Kai-shek 21–22, 82
Chiang Mai Initiative (CMI) 102
children’s human rights 383
China: ASEAN trade 165–167; Asian
regionalism vision 364–365; authoritarian
assertion of power 442; backsliding
democracy 437–438; Bangladesh, China,
India, and Myanmar (BCIM) Economic
Corridor 475; bilateral agreement with
US on climate change 278; Central Asian
interests 134–135; Central-Asia-China
pipeline 185–186; century of humiliation
76–77; China-Pakistan Economic Corridor
(CPEC) 475; Cold War foreign relations 77;
communist party democratization 564–565;
Confucian culture 542–543; constitutional
taxation 568–570; constitutionalism 563;
coopetition relationship with US 81; core
interests 80–81; cross-strait relations with
Taiwan 82–83; democratic political culture
263–265; diverting attention from domestic
problems 590; dualist nature of civil
organizations 260–262; East Asia economic
regionalism 148–149; economic reform
254–255, 561; economic rise impact on
East Asia 145–146; economy 4, 77; Eurasian
leadership 517; favorability trends 463;
607
Index
foreign policies 76–81; as global hegemon
595; golden age of multilateralism 360;
government relationship with nationalism
465; gross industrial output 257; harmonious
world 79; human rights 381; India’s
relationship post-Cold War 336; influence on
Central Asia democratization 71; influences
on Southeast Asia 98–99; insecurity and
vulnerability 77; Internet activism 398–402;
Japan rivalry over East Asian regionalism
349; Japan’s security 346, 349–350; KMT
governance of Taiwan 21–22; land bridging
472–475; land-based and maritime corridors
470–471; Legalists 288; Maritime Sea
Road 475–480; microblogging websites
392; Myanmar exports 167; nationalism 79,
262–263, 461; new socialism 562–563; Nine-
Dashed Line 80–81; North Korean relations
91; NPC improvements 565–566; Pakistan
economic growth 173; Pakistan relationship
115; peaceful development policy 80; peaceful
rise 588–589; pluralism 566–567; political
excesses 289; political-military reforms 424;
population 4; post-Mao reforms 253–254;
power politics 589–590; private economic
growth 255–260; rational order 283; RCEP
147; revolutionary political-military relations
421; security 78–79; Silk Road project 80;
social demands for political reform 561–562;
social power and civil society 567–568;
sociopolitical stability 262; soft power
expansion 272; South and East China Seas’
maritime and island territories 80–81; South
China Sea 107–108, 480–483; South Korean
relationship 93; state-owned enterprises
versus private enterprises 258–259; traditional
political culture and democratic transition
262; tributary system 358; US involvement in
Asia 78; see also Confucianism
China-ASEAN FTA (CAFTA) 145
China Association for Enterprises with Foreign
Investment (CAEFI) 260
China Dream slogan 273
China Merchants Group (CMG) 476
China National Petroleum Corporation
(CNPC) 184
China Ocean Shipping Company China
Shipping (COSCOCS) 476
China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC)
173, 475
China’s energy policies 295; Belt and Road
Initiative 302–303; connecting investment
capital, energy resources and international
policy 301–302; conservation 298;
dependence 298; diplomacy 299; efficiency
297; versus energy laws 297; energy security
versus energy safety 296–297; Going Out
608
298; independence versus interdependence
298; international cooperation 298; results
299–300; transitioning from realism to
idealism 300–301
China’s foreign policies: global governance
277–279; India 275–276; Japan 276; passive to
proactive international posture shift 271–272;
Russia 274–275; US 273–274
China’s Huaxiaism 281–285; clash of
civilizations 283; Confucian model 285–286;
consistency of thought 283–284; good
governance 284; Laozi model 289–290;
Shang Yang model 286–289; social elements
impede rejuvenation 283
Choplon, Abdulhamid Sulayman 245
Choson Dynasty 525
Chun regime 20
CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States)
509–511
citizen journalism 388–389
civic culture 210; political culture 237;
Southeast Asia 34–35
The Civic Culture 195, 237
civil service system in Singapore 530
civil society: China 260–262, 567–568;
political-military reforms 424
civilian control: political-military reforms 424
civil-military relations see political-military
relations
clan relations 241
clash of civilizations 283, 586–587
class: women in dynastic legacies 576–577;
Southeast Asia economics 31–33; see also
caste system
climate change 597; South Asia multilateralism
119; US-China bilateral agreement 278
Clinton, President Bill 82
CMG (China Merchants Group) 476
CMI (Chiang Mai Initiative): ASEAN growth 102
CNPC (China National Petroleum
Corporation) 184
Coalition for Clean and Fair Elections
(BERSIH) 394
coalition governments: India 45–46
cognitive approach to cultural politics 237
Cold War: Asia-Pacific nationalism 465; China’s
foreign relations 77; clash of cultures 586–
587; Indian foreign policies 333–337; Islamic
movements 591; Japan’s foreign policies
changes 344–347; North Korea security and
foreign policies 90; South Korean foreign
policies 92; Southeast Asia democratization
29; Southeast Asia foreign relations 100;
tension residues 592; US-Japan defense
partnership 86; US-Pakistan relationship 51
Collective Forces of Rapid Deployment
(CFRD) 512

Collective Rapid Reaction Force (CRRF) 512
collective security in Eurasia 511–513
Collective Security Treaty see CST
Collective Security Treaty Organization see CSTO
colonialism: British of South Asia 41; Central
Asia political culture 242–244; human rights
373; political-military relations 420–422;
Southeast Asia 27–28, 99
Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS)
509–511
communism: doctrinaire failure 561; fall
of in Central Asia 61; Southeast Asia
modernization 30
communist movements: clash of cultures
586–587; Japanese model of development 586;
Vietnam conflict 585–586
communist party democratization 564–565
Communisty Party of Nepal (CPN-Maoist) 48
Communisty Party of Tajikistan 65
communitarianism: Southeast Asia 215–216
community traditions: Central Asia 244–245
comparative politics 1–3
Computer Crime Act (CCA) 395
conflict avoidance: Southeast Asia 215
Confucian culture: Confucianism comparison
535–536; democratization 540–544;
incompatibility with democracy 538–539;
public attitude towards democracy 536–538
Confucian Democracy 33
Confucianism: challenge to development
of democracy 204; Choson Dynasty 525;
Confucian culture comparison 535–536; East
Asia economic development 525–527; flow
across East Asia 524–525; good governance
284; hardworking, saving, and education
529; Huaxiaism 285–286; Japan 524; political
versus personal ethics 200; rise of East Asia
527–529; South Korea 525; teaching of
Confucius 523–524; Vietnam 525
Confucius 523–524
Congress system in India (INC) 43–45, 313, 329
conservation: energy 298
consistency of thought: China 283–284
consolidation: Japanese democracy 17–18; South
Korean democracy 21; turnover test 15; two-
turnover test 16
constant virtues 524
Constitutional Government Party: Japan 16
constitutional socialism: checks and balances
of power 564; civil societies 563–564;
communist party democratization 564–565;
constitutionalism 563; development 560–562;
new socialism 562–563; North Korea 572;
NPC improvements 565–566; pluralism
566–567; social demands for political reform
561–562; social power and civil society
567–568; taxation 568–570; Vietnam 570–571
Index
constitutionalism 563
constitutions: human rights 381; Indian
Constitution 307–308
contested regionalism 361–365
continuity: political-military relations 423
core interests: China 80–81, 272
corruption: women’s political participation
deterrents 581
COSCOCS (China Ocean Shipping Company
China Shipping) 476
cotton industry: Uzbekistan 190
coup d’états 414
CPC (Caspian Pipeline Consortium) 183–184
CPEC (China-Pakistan Economic Corridor)
173, 475
CPN-Maoist (Communist Party of Nepal) 48
crosscutting: ethno-religious 492
cross-national survey projects 196
cross-strait relations between Taiwan and China
82–83
CRRF (Collective Rapid Reaction Force) 512
Crush Malaysia campaign 100
CST (Collective Security Treaty) 125; Eurasian
regionalism 511–513
CSTO (Collective Security Treaty Organization)
71; Eurasian regionalism 511–513
CU (customs union) Eurasia 515
cultural hierarchy: political culture research 198
culture: civic culture in Southeast Asia 34–35;
demographics 597–598; ethnic nationalism in
India 43; ethno-religious politics in Southeast
Asia 35–36; regionalism 506; relativism
204; West Bengal 40; see also Asian values;
Confucian culture; political culture
Daoism: good governance 284; Laozi model
289–290
Declaration on the Right to Development
(DRD) 375
Declaration on the Rights of Asian Indigenous
Peoples 372
definition of self-interest see DSI
democracy: backsliding 435; Confucian culture
incompatibility 538–539; deficit 196; forms
3; populist versus liberal 540; public attitudes
towards 536–538; regimes 416; religion
relationship 546–547; Southeast Asia support
213–219; stability and durability 431–433;
values in China 263–265
democratic adaptations in India 305–306;
constitution 307–308; diversity and
asymmetrical citizenship 309–311; elections
311–312; local democracy 319–321; political
institutions 314–318; political parties 312–314
Democratic Liberal Party (DLP) 21
Democratic People’s Republic of Korea see
North Korea
609
Index
Democratic Progressive Party see DPP
democratization 3; Bangladesh 48–50;
communist party in China 565–566;
Confucian societies 540–544; Hong Kong
541, 544; India 43–47; Japan 16–18, 23,
540; Kazakhstan 62–64; Kyrgyzstan 64–65;
Nepal 46–48; North Korea 544; occupation
and domestic leaders 17; Pakistan 51–53;
political culture 204–205; political-military
relations 419; reverse waves 15; Singapore
541, 544; South Korea 18–23, 541; Sri
Lanka 53–54; Taiwan 21–24; Tajikistan
65–66; Turkmenistan 66; Uzbekistan 67–68;
Vietnam 544
democratization in Central Asia: authoritarian
durability69–70; democratizatsiya movement
62; international influences 70–71;
Kazakhstan 62–64; Kyrgyzstan 64–65;
obstacles 68–69; parade of sovereignties in
USSR 62; Tajikistan 65–66; Turkmenistan
66; Uzbekistan 67–68
democratization in East Asia 15–24; export-
driven economies 24; Japan 16–18;
occupation by foreign powers 24; regime
legitimacy challenges 24; regional tensions
over disputed islands and maritime routes
24; South Korea 18–21; Taiwan 21–24;
waves 15–16
democratization in South Asia: Bangladesh
48–50; future 56–57; India 42–46; Nepal
46–48; Pakistan 51–53; Sri Lanka 54–55
democratization in Southeast Asia: absolutism
27; agrarian political roots 27; Asian values
33–34; civic culture 34–35; Cold War 29;
class-based economics 31–33; democratic
unraveling and authoritarian rule 28–29; East
Timor 29; ethno-religious politics 35–36;
European colonialism 27; independence from
colonization 28; Japanese colonization 28;
modernization 30–31; Myanmar political
reforms 29; nationalism and anti-colonialism
27–28; role of institutions 36–37
democratizatsiya movement: Central Asia 62
demographics: future predictions 597–598
Deng Xiaoping 271
development financing: China 279
Dienes, Leslie 242–243
Diet 16
diplomacy: energy 299
Directive Principles of State Policy (DPSP) 308
divergence on public morality 378
diversity: ethnic language policies 496; India’s
democratic adaptations 309–311; South Asia
40; Southeast Asia foreign policies 104
DLP (Democratic Liberal Party) 21
doctrinaire communism failure 561
Doha Development Round 119
610
domestic leaders: occupation democratic
achievements 17
DPJ ( Japan Democratic Party) 18
DPP (Democratic Progressive Party) 22–23;
victory over KMT 82
DPRK see North Korea
DPSP (Directive Principles of State Policy) 308
DRD (Declaration on the Right to
Development) 375
DSI (definition of self-interest) 194; influencing
political behavior 201–204
dualist nature of Chinese civil organizations
260–262
durability of democracy 431–433
Dutch: priyai 27
Duvergian epochal party 312
dynastic legacies: class and gender 576–577
EAEC (East Asian Economic Caucus) 142
EAEC (Eurasian Economic Commission) 515
EAEG (East Asian Economic Group) 142
EAEU (Eurasian Economic Union) 516–517
EAS (East Asia Summit) 349
East Asia: Asia-Pacific regionalism 141–142;
authoritarianism 3; Confucian roles in
rise of East Asia 527–529; Confucianism
and economic development 525–527;
development of Confucianism 523–525;
external factors in rise of East Asia 530; GDP
growth 157–159; GNI per capita 156; income
group standings 155; open regionalism 141
East Asia democratization 15–24; export-driven
economies 24; Japan 16–18; occupation
by foreign powers 24; regime legitimacy
challenges 24; regional tensions over disputed
islands and maritime routes 24; regionalism
141–142; Rise of East Asia 523; South Korea
18–23; Taiwan 21–23; waves 15–16
East Asia economic regionalism: APEC 142–143;
ASEAN Plus Three (APT) forum 144; Asian
financial crisis 143–144; China 148–149;
China’s economic rise 145–146; RCEP 147;
US and TPP 146–147
East Asia foreign policies: China 76–81; Japan
84–89; North Korea 89–91; South Korea
91–93; Taiwan 81–84
East Asia political culture: Asian values
200–203; cultural relativism 204; democratic
culture 204–205; illiberal 199; modernization
204; traditionalism and liberal democracy
205–206
East Asia Summit (EAS) 349
East Asian Economic Caucus (EAEC) 142
East Asian Economic Group (EAEG) 142
East Asian Miracle 159
East China Seas’ maritime and island territories:
China’s interests 80–81

East Timor: independence 29
Ecological Movement of Uzbekistan 67
economic regionalism in East Asia: APEC
142–143; ASEAN Plus Three (APT) forum
144; Asian financial crisis 143–144; China
148–149; China’s economic rise 145–146;
RCEP 147; US and TPP 146–147
Economic Union Treaty 509
economics: ASEAN 103, 164–168; Bangladesh
transformation 174; Central Asia foreign
policies 125; China 4, 77, 134, 145–146,
254–255, 470–471; class-based in Southeast
Asia 31–33; Confucianism and East Asia
525–527; corridors 474; EAEC (Eurasian
Economic Commission) 515; EAEU
(Eurasian Economic Union) 516–517; ethnic
inequalities 493–494; EurAsEC (Eurasian
Economic Community) 514–515; external
factors in rise of East Asia 530; family spirit
influence 528; global financial crisis impact
on Kazakhstan’s economy 63; hardworking,
saving, and education factors 529; India
4, 43, 170–171, 332; Japan 4; multilateral
institutional development 366–367; Nepal
transformation 174; North Korea post-Cold
War 90; Pakistan transformation 173; Russian
interests in Central Asia 133; security 450,
452–453; socioeconomic development in
Central Asia 68; South Asia 111, 171–178;
Southeast Asia 30, 31, 154–164, 212; Sri
Lanka transformation 173–174; Taiwan
diversification of trade ties 84; Turkmenistan
energy exports 131
education: factor of economics 529; Islam
226–227
EE (energy efficiency) 297
EE&C (Energy Efficiency and
Conservation) 298
elections: India 311–314; Southeast Asia
institutions 37
employer employee relationships 528
energy: Central Asia 126, 136, 182–190;
China’s policies 295–303; conservation 298;
dependence 298; diplomacy 299; efficiency
297; independence versus interdependence
298; international cooperation 298;
Kazakhstan oil dependency 183–184; natural
resources and patrimonial political cultures
239–240; policies versus laws 297; resource
disputes in South Asia 176; Russia and
Central Asia trade 185; security versus safety
296–297; South Asia cooperation 177–178;
trading system 299; Turkmenistan 131,
184–186; water dam project in Tajikistan 130
Energy Policy Act of 2005 297
Ershad, President Hussain Muhammad 49
Eternal heavenly 240
Index
ethics: Confucian 200
ethnic conflict in Southeast Asia 488–490;
affirmative action policies 497–499; economic
inequality 493–494; ethnic fractionalization
490–491; ethno-religious crosscutting 492;
geographic distribution of ethnic groups
494–495; inclusivity of national identities
497; language policies 496; transmigration
499–500
ethnicity: fractionalization 490–491;
modernization washing away 596;
nationalism in India 43; politicization of
masses 228
ethnolinguistic lines in India 42–43
ethno-national identities: South Asia 41
ethno-national movements 225–226
ethno-religious crosscutting 492
EU (European Union): ASEAN trade 165–167;
Central Asian interests 134; energy policy
297; influence on Central Asia democratization
71; multilateral institutional development
standard 359
EurAsEC (Eurasian Economic Community)
514–515
Eurasia: land bridging 472–475; Russian
partnership with Central Asia 133
Eurasian Economic Commission (EAEC) 515
Eurasian Economic Community (EurAsEC)
514–515
Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) 516–517
Eurasian regionalism: CIS (Commonwealth
of Independent States) 509–511; collective
security 511–513; EAEU (Eurasian Economic
Union) 516–517; Economic Union Treaty
509; EurAsEC (Eurasian Economic
Community) 514–515; GUAM (Georgia-
Ukraine-Azerbaijan-Moldova) 511; identity
claims 509; intraregional trade 510; leadership
517–518; military and security cooperation
510; Old World continent 507; peacekeeping
forces 512–513; post-Soviet Union political
geography 508; preservation of economic ties
509; state sovereignty 508
European colonialism: Southeast Asia 27–28
European Union see EU
expansionism: Japan 85
export-driven economies: East Asian
democratization 24; Kazakhstan oil 183–184;
South Korea 19; Southeast Asia 159–162;
Taiwan’s democratization 22; Turkmenistan
resources 184–186
exports to GDP ratios 159–160
external foreign relations outside of ASEAN
106–107
extremism: Bangladesh 50; global jihad 590–591;
Islamic upsurge 595–596; Kazakhstan 64–65;
Pakistan 52–53
611
Index
Facebook: usage overview 391
fall of Communism: Central Asia 61
family values influence on economics 528
FAO (Food and Agriculture Organisation) 174
Farabi, Al 235
favorability trends in China 463
Ferdowsi, Abolqasem 245
Fidokorlar (Self-Sacrifice) National Democracy
Party 67
Fifteenth CCP Congress 257–258
Fifth Republic of South Korea 20
Financial Crisis in 1997 36–37
financing: China’s development financing 279
First Past the Post (FPTP) 311
fiscal revenue-sharing system in China 254–255
five constant virtues 524
folk tales: Central Asia 244–245
Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) 174
food security: South Asia 174–175
foreign policies 3; ASEAN 100–104; Central Asia
124–126, 131–132, 136–137; China 76–81,
134–135, 271–279; EU interests in Central
Asia 134; India 338–339; India-Pakistan
conflict influence on 114–115; intra-Southeast
Asia 104–106; Japan 84–89, 342–351;
Kazakhstan 127; Kyrgyzstan 129; Modi’s
Indian 337–338; North Korea 89–91; post-
Cold War India 333–337; post-independence
India 328–333; Russian interests in Central
Asia 132–133; South Asia 111–119; South
China Sea dispute between ASEAN and
China 107–108; South Korea 91–93; Southeast
Asia 98–107; Taiwan 81–84; Tajikistan
130; Turkmenistan 130–131; US interests in
Central Asia 133–134; Uzbekistan 128–129
The Four Books 523–524
Fourteenth CCP Congress 257
fourth branch of government 68
Fourth Electoral System: India 312
FPTP (First Past the Post) 311
fractionalization: ethnic 490–491
Frankfurt School 196
free speech 378
FREEDOM (Freedom for Russia and Emerging
Eurasian Democracies and Open Markets) 70
Freedom House 430–431
frugality factor of economics 529
FTAs (free trade agreements): ASEAN 104–107;
China-ASEAN FTA (CAFTA) 145; Eurasian
regionalism 509; Pakistan 171; SAFTA 176;
SAPTA 176; South Korea 92–93
future developments: demographics 597–598;
Islamism 595–596; Korea 592–593;
rebalancing power 595; Taiwan 593–594
Gandhi, Rajiv 45
gas resources: Turkmenistan 184–186
612
GCBA (General Council of Burmese
Association) 27
GDP (gross domestic product): agriculture and
industry East Asia 162–163; Asia 1; growth in
East and Southeast Asian economies 157–159;
India 170; ratios of exports 159–160
Geertz, Clifford 197
gender: Hindu nationalism 554–556; inequality
indices (GII) 579; quota system 578–580; see
also women
General Council of Burmese Association
(GCBA) 27
geo-economics 471; BRI land-based and
maritime corridors 470–471; China’s
Maritime Sea Road 475–480; land bridging
472–475; South China Sea 480–483
geography: distribution of ethnic groups
494–495; economics 177–178; political
culture 239
geopolitics 471–472
Georgia-Russia conflict 510
Georgia Ukraine Azerbaijan Moldova (GUAM)
128, 511
Ghandi, Rajiv: India’s foreign policies 332–333
GII (gender inequality indices) 579
global capitalist system 588
global financial crisis: Kazakhstan’s economy 63
global governance: China 277–279
global jihad 590–591
global multilateralism: South Asia 118–119
global policeman role of US 595
GNI (gross national income) 156
Going Out policy: Chain 298
golden age of multilateralism 359–361
Golden Shield project 398
good governance: China 284
government: by assassination 17; relationship
with nationalism 463–467; Southeast Asia
political culture 216–218
Gramsci, Antonio 196
The Great Firewall 398–399
great game image of Central Asia 124–126
gross domestic product see GDP
gross industrial output: China 257
gross national income (GNI) 156
GSDF (Ground Self-Defense Forces) 85
GUAM (Georgia Ukraine Azerbaijan Moldova)
128, 511
Guided Democracy 33
Guidelines for Defense Cooperation 344
Gyanendra, King 48
hackers in Thailand 397
Han Han 400
hardworking factor of economics 529
harmony: China foreign policies 79; Southeast
Asia culture 215

Hasina, Sheikh 49–50
hierarchical structure: India 223
Hindu nationalism 552–553; India 45; politics
548–549; women in politics 549–551,
554–556
Hinduism: authoritarian elements 3; caste
divisions 551; heterogeneous practice 551;
Nepal political culture 230; politicizing
552; Sanatana Dharma 551–552; studying 2;
textual plurality 551
Hindutva 46
historical legacies of multilateral institutional
development 358–359
Hong Kong: Confucian culture affecting
democratization 541; Confucianism 525;
democratization 544; urbanism 530
Hu Jintao 272
Hua 564
Huaxiaism 281–285; clash of civilizations 283;
Confucian model 285–286; consistency
of thought 283–284; good governance
284; Laozi model 289–290; Shang Yang
model 286–289; social elements impede
rejuvenation 283
hub-spoke strategy 358
human rights: ASEAN 102; Asian identities
373–374; Asian values 377; Bandung
Conference 374–375; Bangkok Declaration
375–378; capital punishment 378; Central
Asia 136; colonial history 373; Declaration
on the Rights of Asian Indigenous Peoples
372; divergence on public morality 378; free
speech 378; international implementation
380; Kazakhstan 63; national level 380–382;
non-state voices 372; religious influence
377–378; right to development (RTD)
375–376; standard setting initiatives 374;
subregional level 382–384; subregional
standards 379–380; treaties 372; UDHR
372–374; universality 376; Uzbekistan 67
Hume, A.O. 312
Huntington, Samuel 237
hybrid political-military relations 419–420
hydroelectricity: Central Asia 187–190
ICF (Industrial and Commercial Federation) 261
dealism: China’s energy policies 300–301
identities see also political culture
illiberal political culture 199
Imperial Rule Assistance Political Association 17
INC (Indian National Congress) 42–45,
313, 329
inclusivity of national identities 497
income group standings 155
independence: Central Asia post-USSR collapse
124–125; East Timor 29; energy 298;
Southeast Asia colonies 28
Index
India: anti-racism 330–331; Bangladesh, China,
India, and Myanmar (BCIM) Economic
Corridor 475; bilateral relations in South
Asia 115–116; cabinet system 315–316; caste
system 223–224; China’s foreign policy
275–276; Chinese relationship post-Cold
War 336; coalition governments 45–46;
Congress system 329; cultural influences on
Southeast Asia 98–99; democratic stability
and durability 432; democratization 42–46;
economy 4, 173, 475; electoral reform
311–314; ethnic nationalism 43; future
of democracy 57; gender quota system
578–579; global multilateralism 118–119;
Hindu nationalism 45; Hindu nationalist
politics 548–549; Hinduism relationship with
democracy 546–547; Hindutva 46; human
rights 381; imperial domination 330; Indian
Foreign Service 329; India-Pakistani conflict
and South Asia foreign policies 114–115;
Indira Doctrine 332; Indira Gandhi period
44–45; international economics 332; Iran
relations 336; Judiciary 317–318; languages
224–225; Look East policy 179; Mahila
Agadi 580; MFN status 177; multilateral
institutional development 363; national
security foreign policies 331; nonalignment
329–330; nuclear weapons 331–334;
Operation Blue Star 44–45; Parliament 316;
partition of British India 41; political culture
223–226; population 4; professional political-
military relations 420; religious identities
223–224; response to China’s Maritime Sea
Road 477; rural and urban development 43;
Sikh nationalist movement 225; socialist
economics 172; South Asia centrality
170–171; South Asia cultural ties and trade
linkages 110; South Asian fear of hegemony
111; US nuclear deal 116; US relationship
post-Cold War 335–336; wars with Pakistan
331; West Asia relations 336; women in
leadership positions 577; women in nationalist
movement 575–576
India-Japan Joint Statement of 2015 337
Indian National Congress (INC) 43–45,
313, 329
India-Pakistan Joint-Counter Terrorism
Mechanism 114
India’s democratic adaptations 305–306;
constitution 307–308; diversity and
asymmetrical citizenship 309–311; elections
311–312; local democracy 319–321; political
institutions 314–318; political parties 312–314
India’s foreign policies: Modi’s 337–338;
multilateralism 338–339; post-Cold War era
333–337; post-independence 328–333
Indira Doctrine 332
613
Index
Indira Gandhi period 44–45
Indonesia: affirmative action policies 499;
backsliding democracy 435–436; chronic
haze affecting Malaysia and Singapore 105;
civic culture 34; Crush Malaysia campaign
100; ethnic conflict 489; ethnic economic
inequalities 493; ethno-religious politics 35;
human rights 382; inclusivity of national
identities 497; language policies 496; military
dictatorships 36; oligarchies 31; praetorian
political-military relations 422; response
to China’s Maritime Sea Road 477–478;
South China Sea disputes 482; Suharto’s
distribution of resources for personal gain 36;
transmigration 500
Indo-Pacific naval ports 478
Indus Valley Civilization 40
Indus Water Treaty (IWT) 177
Industrial and Commercial Federation (ICF) 261
industrialization: Southeast Asia 159–164
informal regimes 238
informal social relations: political cultures 241
insecurity: China 77
institutions: decay 237; post-Soviet Central Asia
238; role in Southeast Asia democratization
36–37
interdependence: energy 298
intermixing ethnic groups 494–495
International Bill of Rights 375–378
international human rights 380
international influences on Central Asia political
regimes 70–71
International Relations in India: Theorizing the
Region and Nation 113
International Relations Theory and South Asia:
Security, Political Economy, Domestic Politics,
Identities, and Images 113
international relations theory (IRT) 111–113
International Relations: Theory in South Asia 113
International Stabilization in Afghanistan Force
(ISAF) 126
internationalism: Japan 345
Internet: activism in China 398–402; citizen
journalism 388–389; liberalizing effects
in Malaysia 393–394; microblogging in
China 392; Thailand’s censorship of anti-
government voices 394–397; usage effects
on political participation 389–390; usage
overview 390–392
interpretive tradition: political culture 197–198
intraregional Southeast Asian foreign relations
104–106
intraregional trade: Eurasia 510
intrastate security 446; balancing with state
451–452; concerns over state security 451;
domestic and international factors 448; policies
452–453; security of social groups 449–450
614
Iran: Indian relations 336
Irish constitution’s Directive Principles of Social
Policy 308
IRP (Islamic Renaissance Party) of Tajikistan 65
IRT (international relations theory) 111–113
ISAF (International Stabilization in Afghanistan
Force) 126
Islam: Central Asian 68; extremism in
Pakistan 52–53; future predictions 595–596;
Organisation of Islamic Conference (OIC)
Declaration of Human Rights in Islam
377–378; Pakistan and Bangladesh political
culture 226–227; radical 590–591
Islamic Party of Malaysia (PAS) 35
Islamic Renaissance Party (IRP) of Tajikistan 65
island of democracy see Kyrgyzstan
IWT (Indus Water Treaty) 177
Jammu Kashmir Liberation Front ( JKLF) 333
Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna ( JVP) 228–229
Japan: 1955 system 344; ambivalence with US
342–343; ASEAN trade 165–167; China’s
foreign policy 276; Chinese security concerns
346; Confucian culture 540; Confucianism
524, 527; Defense Agency ( JDA) 86; defense
policies 344; Democratic Party (DPJ) 18;
democratic stability and durability 431–432;
democratization 16–18, 24; domestic political
obstacles to foreign policies 88; economic
corridors 473–474; economic influence
on Korea 530; economy 4; education 529;
expansionism 85; export-driven economy
24; family spirit influence on enterprises
528; foreign policies 84–89; government
mobilization of nationalism 465–466;
Guidelines for Defense Cooperation with
US 344; human rights 381; India-Japan
Joint Statement of 2015 337; invasion and
colonization of Southeast Asia 28; JDA 86;
LDP legitimacy challenge 24; linkages with
international organizations 84; Ministry
of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) 347; model of
development 586; multilateral institutional
development 363; Mutual Defense Assistance
Agreement with US 343; NDPO (National
Defense Program Outline) 86–87; North
Korea nuclear crisis 345; NSC 350; Obama’s
visit to Hiroshima 89; pan-Asianism 358;
party cabinets and transcendental cabinets 16;
population 4; port exclusion from Maritime
Sea Road 476; professional political-military
relations 421; security policies post-Cold
War 345; Self-Defense Forces (SDF) 85–86;
South China Sea maritime pivot 482; South
Korea colony 18; South Korean relationship
92–93; state secrecy law 350; strengthening
military power 87; Taiwan colony 21;

TPP 88; UN-centered internationalism 345;
US defense partnership 86–87; US military
occupation influence on democratization 24;
US-Japan MDG update 86–88; US-Japan
security and economic cooperation 85;
US-security alliance 351; WWII surrender
85; Yoshida Line 344
Japan’s foreign policies: ambivalence between
Asia and West 342–343; Asian regionalism
348–349; domestic determinants 347;
geostrategic post-Cold War changes
344–347; Japan-China rivalry over East
Asian regionalism 349; low-profile military
posture with high-profile foreign economic
policies 343–344; proactive pacifism 349–351;
regional cooperation 348; role in Asian
politics 351; September 11, 2001 terrorist
attacks on the US 346; US-centered security
bilateralism as pillar 344–346
Jatis 40–41
Javanese concept of power 210–211
JDA ( Japan Defense Agency) 86
JKLF ( Jammu Kashmir Liberation Front) 333
judiciary: human rights 381; India 317–318
JVP ( Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna) 228–229
Karimov, President 67
Kautilya 113
Kazakhstan: Chengiz Khan 244; democratization
62–64; energy policies 136; foreign policies
127; global financial crisis impact on economy
63; human rights 63; Kenessary Kasymuly
244; nomadic practices 240; oil resources
183–184; OSCE 63; religious extremism
63–64; Russia relationship 127; socioeconomic
development 68
Kazi 243
KazMunaiGas (KMG) 183–184
KCIA (Korean Central Intelligence Agency)
19–20
Kenessary Kasymuly 244
Khalistan movement 225
Khazanov: symbolic system 240
Kim Dae-jung 21
Kim dynasty 89–90
Kim Young-sam 21
kinship ties 241
KMG (KazMunaiGas) 183–184
KMT (Kuomintang): DPP victory over 82;
governance in Taiwan 21–22
Koirala, Prime Minister 47
Korea: Confucianism role in economic
development 527; education 529; Japanese
economic influence 530; Korean War
89; partitioning after World War II 18;
reunification goal of North Korea 90–91;
WWII division 89
Index
Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA)
19–20
Korean War 89
Krygyzstan: socioeconomic development 68
KSOR (Collective Rapid Reaction Force) 512
Kuomintang see KMT
Kyrgyzstan: democratization 64–65; folk tales
245; foreign policies 129; hydroelectricity
production 187–190; nomadic practices 241;
Russia relationship 129
land bridging 472–475
Landé, Carl: political patronage 211–212
languages: India 224–225; policies 496
Lao People’s Revolutionary Party (LPRP)
571–572
Laos: revolutionary political-military
relations 421
Laozi model 289–290
Lasswell, Harold: Psychopathology and Politics 237
LDP (Liberal Democratic Party) 17–18,
legitimacy challenge 24; Uzbekistan 67
leadership in Eurasia 517–518
Lee Teng-hui, President 23, 82
Legalists: China 288
legend of Oguz Khan 244
legislatures: Southeast Asia 36–37
legitimizing policies with nationalism 464–465
liberal democracies 540; traditionalism 205–206
Liberal Democratic Party see LDP
liberalization: Internet effects in Malaysia
393–394; IRT 111; regionalism 505–506;
South Asian economies 173; Southeast Asia
economy 159–164
Liberation Tigers of Tamil Elam see LTTE
literary traditions: Central Asian culture
244–245
LoC (Line of Control) 114
local democracy: India 319–321
local government gender quota systems 579–580
low birth rates 597
LPRP (Lao People’s Revolutionary Party)
571–572
LSP (Love Save Pneumoconiosis) 399–400
LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Elam) 54;
civil war with Sri Lankan government 229
Ma Ying-jeou, President 23, 82–83
Mackinder, Halford J. 239
Mahendra, King 47
Mahila Agadi 580
Malaysia: affirmative action policies 497;
backsliding democracy 437; dispute with
Philippines over Sabah 105; ethnic conflict
489; ethnic economic inequalities 493;
ethno-religious politics 35; Indonesian
chronic haze 105; Internet’s liberalizing
615
Index
effects 393–394; language policies 496;
modernization 30; professional political-
military relations 420; South China Sea
disputes 482; transmigration 500
Maldives: state of democracy 433–434
malnourishment: South Asia 174
Manas 241, 245
mandala model 113
Maoists in Nepal 47–48, 230–232
March First Movement 18
maritime routes: regional tensions over
disputed 24
Maritime Sea Road 475–480; India’s response
477; Indonesia’s response 477–478; origins
476; port exclusion 475–476; port investments
476–477; US response 478–480
Maritime Self-Defense Forces (MSDF) 85
market economy transition of China 257
MDG (Military Defense Guidelines): US-Japan
update 86–88
Mearsheimer, John 275
media: Indian political culture 225; Pakistan and
Bangladesh political culture 227
Meiji Restoration 16
MFN (most favoured nation) status 177
middle-classes: Southeast Asia democratization 32
migrant worker rights 383
military: coups from 1946–2014 418; Eurasian
cooperation 510; Eurasian regionalism 511–513;
involvement in politics 414; North Korea
priorities 90; Pakistan political culture 227;
political control 414; regimes 416–417; role in
Southeast Asia democratization 36; threat to
weak Pakistan civilian governments 53; types
of political-military relations 414–416
Military Defense Guidelines see MDG
Milliy Tiklanish (National Revival) Party 67
Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) 347
Mishler, William 198
mobilizers of nationalism 464
modernization 2; political culture 204; religion
596; Southeast Asia democratization 30–31;
washing away ethnicity 596
Modi, Prime Minister Narendra 46, 337–338
MOFA (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) 347
Mongol administrative system: Central Asia 241
morals: economy 212; nationalism prejudice 462
most favoured nation (MFN) status 177
mothers front 580
MSDF (Maritime Self-Defense Forces) 85
multilateral institutional development: China,
Japan, and US preferences and agendas 362–
363; China’s foreign policies 78; contested
regionalism 361–365; Europe as standard
359; golden age of multilateralism 359–361;
historical legacies 358–359; India 338–339;
security 367; status transitions 365–368
616
multiparty autocracy regimes 416–417
multipolar balance system 595
Musharraf, General Pervez 52
Muslims: homeland demand 226
Myanmar: authoritarian values 218;
Bangladesh, China, India, and Myanmar
(BCIM) Economic Corridor 475; ethnic
conflict 489–490; ethnic economic
inequalities 493; ethnic intermixing
494–495; exports to China 167; inclusivity
of national identities 497; military
dictatorships 36; political reforms 29
mythical ancestry: Central Asia political culture
240–241
NAM (Non-Aligned Movement) 114
national character see political culture
National Defense Program Outline (NDPO)
86–87
national defense security 451
national human rights 380–382
national human rights institutions (NHRIs)
381–382
national identities: Confucianism 527;
inclusivity 497
national integration: South Asia 41
National People’s Congress (NPC) 565–566
national power: China 287
National Revival (Milliy Tiklanish) Party 67
national security: India 331
National Security Council (NSC): Japan 350
nationalism: China 79, 262–263; ethnic
nationalism in India 43; government
relationships with 463–467; Hindu 45,
552–553; liberal democracies 461; moral
perspective 462; Sikh nationalist movement
225; Southeast Asia 27–28; strategic interests
461–462; women’s involvement in India
575–576; see also political culture
nationalism in Asia-Pacific 459–461;
government relationships with nationalism
463–467; post-Cold War 465; prejudices
461–463; regional security 460; territorial
sovereignty disputes 460
Nationalist Party see KMT
nation-building: political-military processes
420–422
natural resources: patrimonial political cultures
239–240
Nazarbayev, Nursultan 62–63
NCP (Nepali Congress Party) 47
NDMA (Non-Discriminatory Market Access) 177
NDPO (National Defense Program
Outline) 86–87
Nehru, Jawaharlal 43: India’s foreign
policies 329
neofunctionalist approach to regionalism 506

neo-patrimonialism 36; political-military
relations 415; state- and nation-building 422
neorealism: IRT 111
Nepal: democratization 46–48; economic
transformation 174; future of democracy
56– 57; geography shaping economics
177–178; neo-patrimonial political-military
relations 422; political culture 230–232
Nepali Congress Party (NCP) 47
Nevitt, Christopher 261
New Left political culture 196
new regionalism approach (NRA) 506–507
new socialism 562–563
New Structure movement 17
NHRIs (national human rights institutions)
381–382
Nine-Dashed Line 80–81
Nixon doctrine 344
Niyazov, Saparmurat 66
nomadic societies: Central Asia political culture
240–241
Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) 114
nonalignment: India 329–330
nondemocratic alternatives: openness 196–197
Non-Discriminatory Market Access
(NDMA) 177
Norris, Pippa: democratic deficit 196
North Korea: Chinese relations 91; Cold
War 89–90; constitutional socialism 572;
democratization 544; foreign relations
89–91; future predictions 592–593; Japanese
response to nuclear crisis 345; Korean
peninsula reunification goal 90–91; Korean
War 89; military priorities 90; partitioning
18; political-military reforms 425; regime
survival 89–90; relationship with South
Korea 92; revolutionary political-military
relations 421; South Korea’s sunshine
policy 92
NPC (National People’s Congress): improving
565–566
NRA (new regionalism approach) 506–507
NSC (National Security Council): Japan 350
Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty 512
nuclear weapons: India 331–334; North Korea
345, 592
Obama, President Barack: TPP 146; visit to
Hiroshima 89
OBOR (One Belt One Road) 134, 149;
multilateral institutional development 364
OCAC (Organization of Central Asia
Cooperation): merging with EurAsEC 514
ODED-GUAM (Organization for Democracy
and Economic Development) 511
OEF (Operation Enduring Freedom) 126
Oguz Khan 244
Index
OIC (Organisation of Islamic Conference)
Declaration of Human Rights in Islam
377–378
oil resources: Kazakhstan 183–184;
Turkmenistan dependency 184–186
oligarchies: Southeast Asia 31–32
One Belt One Road see OBOR
open military interventions 1950–2012 418
open regionalism: East Asia 141
Operation Blue Star 44–45
Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) 126
oral traditions: Central Asian culture 244–245
Organisation of Islamic Conference (OIC)
Declaration of Human Rights in Islam
377–378
Organization for Democracy and Economic
Development (ODED-GUAM) 511
Organization of Central Asian Cooperation
(OCAC) 514
OSCE (Organization for Security and
Co-operation in Europe) 63
OTA (orientation toward authority) 194,
201–204
Overcoming Liberalism: On Constitutional
Socialism 564
Pacific Theater: igniting WWII 85
Pakistan: Afghan refugees 44; China
relationship 115; China-Pakistan Economic
Corridor (CPEC) 475; democratization
51–53; economic transformation 173;
gender quota system 578; India-Pakistani
conflict and South Asia foreign policies
114–115; MFN status 177; military threat to
weak civilian governments 53; partition of
British India 41; political culture 226–227;
praetorian political-military relations 422;
Shia- Sunni conflict 53; socialist economics
172; Soviet occupation in Afghanistan 52;
trade agreements 171; US relationship 51,
115; wars with India 331; women’s electoral
representation 577; Zia years 52
Pakistan Muslim League (PML) 52
Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) 52
pan-Asianism: Japan 342, 358
Panchayat Raj 579
Panchayat system 47, 231
Papua New Guinea: backsliding democracy 436
parade of sovereignties in USSR 62
Park Chung-hee 19
parliamentary democracy: India 316; Kyrgyzstan
64–65
partitioning: British India 41; Korea 18
party cabinets: Japan 16
Party of Industrialists and Entrepreneurs 66
PAS (Islamic Party of Malaysia) 35
passive Chinese foreign policies 271–272
617
Index
paternalism: Japanese enterprises 528; Singapore
211; Southeast Asia 216–217
patriarchy: Central Asia 68; gender and 574;
traditional support 201–203
patrimonialism 239–240: Central Asia post-
Soviet space 237–238
PCA (Permanent Court of Arbitration) 80
PDP (People’s Democratic Party) 65–67
PEA (Private Enterprises Association) 261
peaceful development: China 80
peaceful nuclear explosions (PNEs) 331
peaceful rise of China 588–589
peacekeeping forces in Eurasia 512–513
People’s Democratic Party (PDP) 65–67
People’s Republic of China see China
Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) 80
personal ethics: Confucian 200
Philippines: affirmative action policies 499;
civic culture 34; democratic hope 432–433;
dispute with Malaysia over Sabah 105; ethnic
conflict 489; Human Rights Commission
382; language policies 496; Marcos regime
extraction of resources for personal gain
36; middle-class impact on democratization
32; military role in authoritarianism 36;
modernization 30; oligarchies 31; political
patronage 212; South China Sea dispute
481–482; transmigration 500
Phongsak 396
pluralism: China 566–567; constitutional
socialism 566–567; Southeast Asia societies
27, 35
PML (Pakistan Muslim League) 52
PNEs (peaceful nuclear explosions) 331
political blogs: Malaysia 393–394
political Confucianism 200
political consolidation: South Asia 41
political control: military 414
political culture 4; authoritarian values and
levels of democracy 217–218; authoritarianism
215; Bangladesh 226–227; behaviorism
197–198; Central Asia colonial administrative
system 242–244; Chinese democratic 263–
265; civic culture 210; communitarianism
215–216; cultural hierarchy 198; cultural
relativism 204; democratic 204–205; East Asia
Asian Values 199–203; folk tales 244–245;
geography 239; government intervention
216–218; harmony 215; history of studying
195–197; illiberal 199; India 223–226;
informal social relations 241; interpretative
tradition 197–198; modernization 204;
nationalism 262–263; Nepal 230–232;
nomadic societies 240–241; Pakistan 226–
227; paternalism 216–217; patrimonialism
237–240; perceptions of power 210–211;
political motives behind Asian Values 199;
618
political patronage 211–212; respect for
authority 216–217; sedentary administrative
systems 241–242; South Asia 222–223;
Southeast Asia 210–212; Southeast Asia Asian
values 212–213; Southeast Asia citizens’
perspectives 213–219; Sri Lanka 227–230;
traditional Chinese 262; traditionalism and
liberal democracy 205–206; transition politics
238–239
political economies 3–4
political economy of Central Asia: agriculture
190; energy resource dependency 182–187;
water resources 187–190
political economy of East Asia: APEC 142–143;
ASEAN Plus Three (APT) forum 144; Asian
financial crisis 143–144; China 148–149;
China’s economic rise 145–146; RCEP 147;
US and TPP 146–147
political economy of South Asia: developmental
challenges 174–175; economic liberalization
173; India’s centrality 170–171; inward-
looking economic growth model 171–172;
politics over economics 177; regional conflicts
175–176; regional cooperation 178–179;
socialist orientation 172
political economy of Southeast Asia: ASEAN
integration 164–168; economic development
154–159; future 168; liberalization and
industrialization 159–164
political elites: Southeast Asia modernization 30
political excesses: China 289
political institutions: India 314–318
political movements: women’s participation 580
political parties: India 312–314; religious 65–66;
Southeast Asia democratization 36–37
political patronage 211–212
political regimes 416–417
political-military relations: civil-military fusion
within revolutionary party regimes 419;
continuity 423; decline of military influence
423–424; democratization 419; hybridity
419–420; military dominance over political
system 417; number of coups 1946–2014
418; open military interventions 1950–2012
418; professionalism 419; state- and nation
building processes 420–422; types 414–416
politicizing: Hinduism 552
Pollack, Detlef 198
population: Central Asia political culture
concentration 240; China 4; growth 597;
India 4; Japan 4
populist democracy 540
ports: China’s Maritime Sea Road 475–480
positive neutrality: Turkmenistan 130–131
post-colonial era: political-military relations
420–422
post-Mao reforms in China 253–254

poverty: RTD (right to development) 376;
South Asia 174
power: authoritarian assertion 442; checks
and balances 564; China’s national 287;
political patronage 211–212; politics future
589–590; rebalancing 595; security concerns
over China’s economic power 478–479;
Southeast Asian perceptions 210–211; US
overextension 595
PPP (Pakistan People’s Party) 52
praetorian political-military relations 415;
state- and nation-building 421–422
PRC see China
prefectures: China 287
Preferential Trading Arrangement (PTA) 164
private economic growth in China 255–260
Private Enterprises Association (PEA) 261
priyai 27
proactive Chinese foreign policies 271–272
proactive pacifism: Japan 349–351
professional political-military relations 414–415,
419; state- and nation-building 420
PSA (production sharing agreement):
Turkmenistan resources 184–186
psychology: behaviorism 197–198
Psychopathology and Politics 237
PTA (Preferential Trading Arrangement) 164
public morality: human rights 378
Pye, Lucien and Mary 200: Asian Power and
Politics 211
Qzone 392
radical Islam 590–591; future predictions
595–596
Rahman, Prime Minister Mujibur 49
Rakhmon, President Emomali 65
Rana authoritarian system in Nepal 230
Rana dynasty: Nepal 46
Rao, Narasimha 333–334
Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) 46
rational order: China 283
RCEP (Regional Comprehensive Economic
Partnership) 107, 147, 479
reactors to nationalism 464
realism: China’s energy policies 300–301; IRT
111; regionalism 505; security 446
rebalancing power 595
reform bureaucrats 17
regimes: legitimacy challenges: East Asian
democratization 24; North Korea survival
89–90; types 416–417
Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership
(RCEP) 107, 147, 479
regional development bank membership 479
regional multilateralism: South Asia 116–118
regional security landscape 454–455
Index
regional tensions over disputed islands and
maritime routes 24
regionalism 504–507: Asia versus Europe
2; Asian 348–349; Asia-Pacific 141–142;
contested 361–365; culturalism 506; East Asia
140–142; fifth wave 505; four waves 504;
human rights standards 379–380; institutional
development during status transitions
365–368; international relations liberals
505–506; international relations realists 505;
new regionalism approach (NRA) 506–507;
South Asia cooperation 178–179; see also
Eurasian regionalism
religion: Abrahamic models of religion and
politics 553–554; ethno-religious crosscutting
492; ethno-religious politics in Southeast Asia
35–36; global jihad 590–591; human rights
377–378; India 223–224; India’s asymmetric
citizenship 309–311; modernization 596;
political parties 65–66; politicization of
masses 228; relationship with democracy
546–547
religious extremism: Bangladesh 50; Kazakhstan
63–64; Pakistan 52–53
Republic of China see Taiwan
Republic of Korea see South Korea
Resettlement Administrative Commission 243
resilience 451
resources: Central Asia dependency 182–187;
Central Asia water 187–190; Kazakhstan
dependency 183–184; South Asian
cooperation 177–178; South Asia disputes 176;
Turkmenistan dependency 184–186
respect for authority: Southeast Asia 216–217
reunification of Korean peninsula goal 90–91
reverse waves of democratization 15
revival of private businesses 256
revolutionary political-military relations 415;
state- and nation-building 421
Rhee Syngman 19
right to development (RTD) 375–376
rise of East Asia 523: Confucian roles 527–529;
external factors 530
ROC (Republic of China) see Taiwan
Rogun Dam project 189
ROK (Republic of Korea) see South Korea
royal dictatorships 416
RSS (Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh) 46
RTD (right to development) 375–376
rural development: India 43
Russia: Central Asian interests 132–133; China’s
foreign policies 274–275; CIS 509–511;
EAEU (Eurasian Economic Union) 516–517;
energy trade with Central Asia 185; EurAsEC
(Eurasian Economic Community) 514–515;
Eurasia leadership 517; Eurasia security
511–513; Georgia conflict 501; influence
619
Index
on Central Asia democratization 72;
Kyrgyzstan relationship 129; land bridging
473; multilateral institutional development
363; port exclusion from Maritime Sea
Road 475; post-Soviet transition of Central
Asia 238–239; post-Soviet Union political
geography on Eurasia 508; relationship with
Kazakhstan 127; see also Soviet Union
Russian Federation’s Eurasian land bridge 473
SAARC (South Asian Association for Regional
Cooperation) 116–118, 178–179; Drug
Offences Monitoring Desk (SDOMD)
118; Summit in Kathmandu 116; Terrorist
Offences Monitoring Desk (STOMD) 117;
transnational crimes 117–118
SAFTA (South Asian Free Trade Area) 176;
South Asia regional multilateralism 116–117
same culture, same race slogan 342
Sanatana Dharma 551–552
SAPTA (South Asian Preferential Trade
Agreement) 176
SCO (Shanghai Cooperation Organization)
71, 364
Scott, James: political patronage 211–212
SDF (Self-Defense Forces) 85–86
SDOMD (SAARC Drug Offences Monitoring
Desk) 118
SEATO (Southeast Asian Treaty
Organization) 100
Second Plenary Session of the Ninth People’s
Congress 258
Second Republic of South Korea 19
security: ASEAN 103; Asia-Pacific nationalism
460; balancing intrastate and state 451–452;
Central Asia 125, 137; China 78–79, 134,
478–479; contested and porous borders
448; domestic and international factors
448; economic 450–453; energy 296–297;
Eurasian 510–513; Europe versus Asia 2;
food security in South Asia 174–175; future
455–456; global jihad 590–591; historical
roots 4447; Indian national 331; internal
cohesion 447; intrastate 446; intrastate over
state concerns 451; Japan 344–345, 349–351;
Kazakhstan foreign policies 127; Kyrgyzstan
foreign policies 129; multilateral institutional
development 367; national defense 451;
policies 452–455; political development 447;
political-military reforms 424; realism 446;
regional landscape 454–455; resilience 451;
Russian interests in Central Asia 132–133;
SDF 85–86; social groups 449–450; South
Asia regional multilateralism 117; South
Korea 92; state 445; survival 445–446;
Tajikistan foreign policies 130; Turkmenistan
foreign policies 130–131; US interests in
620
Central Asia 133–134; US-Japan partnership
86–88; Uzbekistan foreign polices 128–129
sedentary administrative systems 241–242
SELA (Self-Employed Labourers’ Associations) 261
Self-Defense Forces (SDF) 85–86
Self-Sacrifice (Fidokorlar) National Democracy
Party 67
September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks on the US:
Japanese foreign policies 346
SES (Single Economic Space) 514
Sesame Credit 438
sex ratio at birth demographic 597
Shah Bano controversy 550
Shahnameh: The Persian Book of Kings 245
Shang Yang model 286–289
Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO)
71, 364
Sharif, Prime Minister Nawaz 54
shariyat 243
Shia-Sunni conflict: Pakistan 53
Shimla Agreement 114
Sikh: nationalist movement 225; Operation Blue
Star 44–45
Silk Road project 149; China 80; land
bridging 472–475; multilateral institutional
development 367; trade 136
Sina, Ibn 245
Singapore: affirmative action policies 497; civil
service system 530; Confucian culture 541;
Confucianism 525, 528; democratic hope
433; democratization 544; elections 37; elite
rule and paternalism 211; ethnic conflict
489; ethnic economic inequalities 493;
ethno-religious politics 35; human rights
381; Indonesian chronic haze 105; language
policies 496; professional political-military
relations 420; transmigration 500
Single Economic Space (SES) 514
single-party autocracy regimes 416–417
Sinhala-Tamils conflict: Sri Lanka 53–54
Sinhalese-Buddhist youth movement 228
Sirapop Kornhaut 396
Sixth Republic of South Korea 21
SLFP (Sri Lanka Freedom party) 54
social constructivism: IRT 111
social disequilibrium 237
social group security 449–450
social movements: women’s participation 580
social networking: activism in China 398–402;
Chinese tracking 438; citizen journalism
388–389; liberalizing effects in Malaysia 393–
394; microblogging in China 392; Thailand’s
monitoring and censorship 394–397; usage
overview 390–392
social phenomena: different causes in Asian
context 3
social power: China 567–568

social structures: post-Soviet Central Asia
238–239
socialism: new socialism 562–563; South Asian
economies 172
socioeconomic development: Central Asia 68
sociopolitical stability: China 262
soft power expansion: China 272
South Asia: British colonization 41; diversity
40; economic unity 111; energy cooperation
177–178; ethno-national identities 41; food
security 174–175; gender and patriarchy 574;
gender quota system in politics 578–580;
GNI per capita 156; income group standings
155; Indian cultural ties and trade linkages
110; Indian hegemony fear 111; Indus Valley
Civilization 40; invasions 40; malnourishment
174; national integration and political
consolidation 41; partition of British India
41; political unity 111; poverty 174; regional
conflicts 175–176; resource disputes 176;
women and Indian nationalism 575–576;
women in social/political movements 580;
women’s political participation 576–578, 581
South Asia democratization: Bangladesh 48–50;
future 56–57; India 42–46; Nepal 46–48;
Pakistan 51–53; Sri Lanka 53–54
South Asia foreign policies: bilateral relations
115–116; global multilateralism 118–119;
India-Pakistan conflict 114–115; international
relations theory 111–113; regional
multilateralism 116–118
South Asia political culture 222–223;
Bangladesh 226–227; India 223–226; Nepal
230–232; Pakistan 226–227; Sri Lanka
227–230
South Asia political economy: developmental
challenges 174–175; economic liberalization
173; India’s centrality 170–171; inward-
looking economic growth model 171–172;
politics over economics 177; regional conflicts
175–176; regional cooperation 178–179;
socialist orientation 172
South Asian Association for Regional
Cooperation see SAARC
South Asian Free Trade Area see SAFTA
South Asian Preferential Trade Agreement
(SAPTA) 176
South China Sea 480–483; ASEAN dispute with
China 107–108; China’s interests in 80–81
South Korea: 1987 ROK Constitution 91–92;
authoritarian era 91; Chinese relationship 93;
Confucian culture 541–542; Confucianism
525–527; democratic stability and durability
432; democratization 18–23; export-driven
economy 24; export-led industrialization 19;
family spirit influence on enterprises 528;
Fifth Republic 20; foreign policies 91–93;
Index
future predictions 592–593; government
relationship with nationalism 466; Japanese
relationship 92–93; KCIA 19–20; Korean War
89; military junta legitimacy challenge 24;
neo-patrimonial political-military relations
422; partitioning 18; port exclusion from
Maritime Sea Road 476; relationship with
North Korea 92; ROK 19; Second Republic
19; Sixth Republic 21; sunshine policy 92;
Third Republic 20; US military occupation
influence on democratization 24; US
relationship 92; Yushin Constitution 20
Southeast Asia: agriculture and industry GDP
162–163; ASEAN 154; Asian values 33–34;
authoritarianism 3; authoritarianism versus
democracy support 213–219; Bandung
Conference 99–100; Chinese influences
98–99; Cold War impact on foreign relations
100; colonialism 99; development 153–154;
electoral institutions 37; export-driven
economy 159–162; GDP growth 157–159;
GNI per capita 156; government intervention
216–218; income group standings 155;
Indian influences 98–99; legislatures 36–37;
mainland versus maritime policies 99; moral
economy 212; plural societies 27, 35; political
parties 36–37; postcolonial challenges 100;
territorial disputes 105–106; trade relations
164–167
Southeast Asia democratization: absolutism
27; agrarian political roots 27; Asian values
33–34; civic culture 34–35; class-based
economics 31–33; Cold War 29; democratic
unraveling and authoritarian rule 28–29; East
Timor 29; ethno-religious politics 35–36;
European colonialism 27; independence
from colonization 28; Japanese invasion
and colonization 28; modernization 30–31;
Myanmar political reforms 29; nationalism
and anti-colonialism 27–28; role of
institutions 36–37
Southeast Asia ethnic conflict 488–490;
affirmative action policies 497–499; economic
inequality 493–494; ethnic fractionalization
490–491; ethno-religious crosscutting 492;
geographic distribution of ethnic groups
494–495; inclusivity of national identities
497; language policies 496; transmigration
499–500
Southeast Asia foreign policies: ASEAN
100–104; diversity 104; external relations
outside ASEAN 106–107; history 98–100;
intra-regional relationships 104–106; South
China Sea dispute 107–108
Southeast Asia political culture 210–212; Asian
values 212–213; authoritarian values and
levels of democracy 217–218; authoritarianism
621
Index
214–215; citizens’ perspectives 213–219;
communitarianism 215–216; harmony 215;
paternalism 216–217; perceptions of power
210–211; political patronage 211–212; respect
for authority 216–217
Southeast Asia political economy: ASEAN
integration 164–168; economic development
154–159; future 168; liberalization and
industrialization 159–164
Southeast Asian Treaty Organization
(SEATO) 100
Soviet Union: Afghanistan occupation 44, 52;
parade of sovereignties 62; US-Japan defense
partnership 86; USSR collapse and Central
Asia independence 124–125; see also Russia
Sri Lanka: backsliding democracy 439–440; civil
war 54; democratization 53–54; economic
transformation 173–174; future of democracy
56–57; gender quota systems 579; mothers front
580; political culture 227–230; professional
political-military relations 420; Tamil civil
war 229; trade agreement with Pakistan 171;
women’s class and leadership positions 576;
women’s electoral representation 577
Sri Lanka Freedom party (SLFP) 54
Sridharan: International Relations Theory and
South Asia: Security, Political Economy, Domestic
Politics, Identities, and Images 113
stability of democracy 431–433
state control: civil organizations 261
state of democracy: authoritarian power
assertion 442; backsliding 435, 440–441;
Bangladesh 435; Brunei 438–439; Burma 439;
China 437–438; Indonesia 435–436; Malaysia
437; Maldives 433–434; Papua New Guinea
436; Philippines 432–433; Singapore 433;
Sri Lanka 439–440; stability and durability
431–433; Thailand 434
state secrecy law: Japan 350
state security 446; balancing with intrastate
451–452; contested and porous borders 448;
intrastate concerns over 451; policies 452
state sovereignty: Eurasian regionalism 508
state-building processes: political-military
relations 420–422
state-owned enterprises versus private enterprises
258–259
status transitions: multilateral institutional
development 365–368
STOMD (SAARC Terrorist Offences
Monitoring Desk) 117
strategic restraint: China 271–272
subregional human rights 379–384
Sukarno, President: Crush Malaysia campaign 100
sunshine policy 92
survival 445–446
symbolic system 240
622
Taishō Democracy 16
Taiwan: 228 Massacre 22; 1992 Consensus 82;
colony of Japan 21; Confucian culture 541–
542; Confucianism 525; cross-strait relations
82–83; democratization 21–24; diplomatic
recognition to Beijing 82; diversifying trade
ties 84; export-driven economy 24; family
spirit influence on enterprises 529; foreign
policies 81–84; foreign trade for economic
development 530; future predictions 593–594;
international support of independence 82;
KTM legitimacy challenge 24; participation
in UN-affiliated organizations 84; Provincial
Assembly 22; revolutionary political-military
relations 421; South China Sea disputes 482;
TPP 84; US relationship 84
Tajikistan: democratization 65–66; foreign
policies 130; hydroelectricity production
187–190; oral and literary traditions
245; religious political parties 65–66;
socioeconomic development 68; water dam
energy project 130
Tamils-Sinhala conflict in Sri Lanka 53–54
Tangwai 22
Tashkent Declaration of January 1966 114
Tax Law 570
taxation: constitutional in China 568–570
Tengri 240
Tentative Stipulations on Private Enterprises 256
territorial disputes: Asia-Pacific nationalism 460;
Southeast Asia 105–106
terrorism: Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF)
126; SAARC 117; see also extremism
TFA (trade facilitation agreement) 119
Thailand: affirmative action policies 499;
bureaucratic polity 30; elections 37;
ethnic conflict 489; human rights 382;
Internet monitoring and censorship
of anti-government voices 394–397;
language policies 496; middle-class impact
on democratization 32; military role in
authoritarianism 36; modernization 30–31;
praetorian political-military relations
421–422; state of democracy 434; territorial
dispute with Cambodia 105–106
Thai-Style Democracy 33
Thiensutham Suthijitseranee 396
Third Electoral System: India 312
Third Republic of South Korea 20
Tore 240
TPP (Trans-Pacific Partnership): Japan 88;
membership 479; multilateral institutional
development 363; Southeast Asia 106–107;
Taiwan’s admission 84; US and East Asia
146–147
trade: ASEAN external 165–167; ASEAN
intraregional 164–167; Central Asia foreign

policies 136; China and Central Asia
134–135; China-ASEAN FTA (CAFTA)
145; China’s Maritime Sea Road 475–480;
economic corridors 474; energy 299; energy
with Russia and Central Asia 185; Eurasia
intraregional 510; facilitation agreement
(TFA) 119; global multilateralism 119; India’s
centrality 170–171; MFN status 177; Russian
Central Asia 133; Taiwan diversification 84;
US and TPP 146–147
traditionalism: liberal democracy 205–206;
OTA and DSI 201–204
The Tragedy of Great Power Politics 275
transcendental cabinets 16
transit trade directions 474
transitology 61
transmigration in Southeast Asia 499–500
transnational crimes: SAARC 117
Trans-Pacific Partnership see TPP
transpacific shipping in China’s Maritime Sea
Road: China’s port investments 476–477;
India’s response 477; Indonesia’s response
476–477; Maritime Sea Road origins 476;
port exclusion 475–476; South China Sea
480–483; US response 478–480
Trans-Siberian Railway 473
treaties: human rights 372
Treaty of Amity and Cooperation 101
tributary system in China 358
Trump, President Donald: TPP 146–147
trust deficit: political culture 238
Tsai Ing-wen, President 23, 83–84
Turkmenbashi 66
Turkmenistan: democratization 66; energy
exports 131; energy foreign policies
136; foreign policies 130–131; legend of
Oguz Khan 244; mythical ancestry 240;
nomadic practices 240; positive neutrality
130–131; resource dependency 184–186;
socioeconomic development 68
turnover test 15; Japan 17–18; Taiwan 23
twisted Diets 18
Twitter: usage overview 391–392
two-turnover test 16; Japan 17–18; Taiwan 23
UAS (Uzen-Atyrau-Samara) pipeline 183
UDHR (Universal Declaration of Human
Rights) 372–374
Uighurs 596
Ukraine: leaving CIS 510–511
UMNO (United Malay Nationalist
Organization) 35
UN (United Nations): Convention on the
Law of the Seas (UNCLOS) 80–81, 481;
Declaration 1373 117; India’s involvement
118; India’s multilateralism 338–339;
international human rights 380; Japan’s
Index
UN-centered internationalism 345;
peacekeeping missions 278
UNCLOS (UN Convention on the Law of
the Seas) 80–81, 481
UNCTAD (United Nations Conference on
Trade and Development) 332
UNFCCC (United Nations Framework
Convention on Climate Change) 119
Union of Soviet Social Republics see
Soviet Union
The Union Parishad Ordinance of 1997 579
United Malay Nationalist Organization
(UMNO) 35
United National Party (UNP) 54
United Nations see UN
United Progressive Alliance (UPA) 116, 313
United States see US
United Tajik Opposition (UTO) 65
Universal Declaration of Human Rights
(UDHR) 372–374
universality of human rights 376
UNP (United National Party) 54
UPA (United Progressive Alliance) 116, 313
urban development: India 43
urbanism: Hong Kong 530
Uruguay Round 119
US (United States): 1969 Nixon doctrine 344;
APEC involvement 142–143; ASEAN trade
165–167; Asia-Pacific regionalism 141–142;
attitudes towards North Korea 592; bilateral
agreement with China on climate change
278; Central Asian interests 133–134; China’s
US policy 273–274; Chinese relations during
Cold War 77; Chinese views on involvement
in Asia 78; clash of civilizations with Asia
586–587; coopetition relationship with China
81; East Asia economic regionalism 148;
Energy Policy Act of 2005 297; Guidelines
for Defense Cooperation with Japan 344;
India nuclear deal 116; India relationship
post-Cold War 335–336; India-Pakistan
conflict 114–115; influence in South Korean
democratization 19, 23–24; influence on
Central Asia democratization 70–71; influence
on Japan’s democratization 17, 24; insurgency
against Soviet occupation in Afghanistan 44;
Japan defense partnership 86–87; Japanese
security alliance 351; Japan’s ambivalence
towards 342–343; Kyrgyzstan base closure
129; multilateral security bloc with Asian
allies 358; Mutual Defense Assistance
Agreement with Japan 343; Obama’s visit
to Hiroshima 89; Operation Enduring
Freedom (OEF) 126; overextension of power
595; Pacific regionalism vision 362–363;
Pakistan relationship 115; power politics
589–590; rebalancing towards Asia 366;
623
Index
relationship with Pakistan during Cold War
51; response to China’s Maritime Sea Road
478–480; South China Sea island building
482; South Korean relationship 92; Southeast
Asia foreign relations 106; Southeast Asian
Treaty Organization (SEATO) 100; support
against Soviet occupation in Afghanistan 52;
Taiwan administrative control post-World
War II 21; Taiwan relationship 84; three no’s
policy towards Taiwan 82; TPP and East Asia
146–147; treaty of friendship and cooperation
with Uzbekistan 128; US-centered security
bilateralism as pillar for Japan’s foreign
policies 344–346; US-Japan MDG update
86–88; US-Japan security and economic
cooperation 85; Vietnam conflict 585–586
USSR see Soviet Union
UTO (United Tajik Opposition) 65
Uzbekistan: cotton production 190;
democratization 67–68; foreign policies
128–129; human rights 67; oral and literary
traditions 245; treaty of friendship and
cooperation with US 128; water dam dispute
with Tajikistan 130
Uzen-Atyrau-Samara (UAS) pipeline 183
Vajpayee, Atal Bihari 334–335
Valikhanov, Chokan 245
Verba: The Civic Culture 237
Vienna Declaration 381
Vietnam: conflict 585–586; Confucianism
525; constitutional socialism 570–571;
democratization 544; ethnic conflict 489;
government relationship with nationalism
466; paternalism and respect for authority
218; political-military reforms 424;
revolutionary political-military relations 421;
South China Sea disputes 482
violence: women’s political participation 581
voting rights: India 307–308
vulnerability: China 77
war on terror see WOT
water resources: Central Asia economy 187–190;
South Asia sharing 177–178
624
weak-state approach to foreign policies 77
Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) 90
Weber, Max: West versus East cultures 210
Weibo 392
West Asia: Indian relations 336
West Bengal: cultural identity 40
Western countries: nondemocratic alternatives
openness 196–197
Westminster system 228
white terror period in Taiwan 21
Wittofogel, Karl 239
WMD (Weapons of Mass Destruction): North
Korea 90
women: class positions in dynastic legacies
576–577; gender and patriarchy 574; gender
quota system 578–580; Hindu nationalism
549–551, 554–556; human rights 383; Indian
nationalist movement 575–576; political
participation deterrents 581; representation
in electoral politics 577–578; social/political
movements 580
Women’s Reservation Bill 578
World War II see WWII
WOT (war on terror): Chinese attitudes towards
596; Japanese foreign policies 346
WWII: Japanese model of development 586;
Japan’s surrender 85; Korean peninsula
division 89; political culture studies 195; ripe
for revolutions 585–586
Xi Jinping 79–80
Xi Jinping’s Chinese foreign policies: global
governance 277–279; India 275–276; Japan
276; Russia 274–275; US 273–274
Xue, Charles 401
Ye Zicheng, Professor 282
YMBA (Young Men’s Buddhist Association) 27
Yoshida Line 344
Yousafzai, Malala 226–227
Yushin Constitution 20
Zhou rites 286
Zia years in Pakistan 52
Zuola 400