Southeast Asia

In early 2018, I wrote a short article for the Washington Post, arguing that the global populism wave would likely continue sweeping through countries that year—despite the fact that, at least in parts of the world, it appeared to be plateauing. And indeed, in 2018 populists won control of governments in Brazil, Italy, and Mexico, among other countries. Meanwhile, populists like the Philippines’ Rodrigo Duterte maintained extraordinarily high popularity ratings—one recent poll showed that Duterte still enjoyed an approval rating of 81 percent, according to a Pulse Asia survey taken in December. Most world leaders never approach such popularity levels. Now, in 2019 and 2020, some political observers are again arguing that populism has already peaked. Gideon Rachman recently contended, in the Financial Times, that populism “faces its darkest hour” in 2019. A recent New York Times Interpreter column claimed that populism had a “rocky” time in the West in 2018, citing the Democratic Party’s gains in the U.S. midterm elections, and mixed election results for Poland’s populist Law and Justice Party in recent elections, among other factors. Nonetheless, the populist wave seemingly will continue rising this year and next—with potential new victories both in the West and in other parts of the globe. For more on the continued populist resurgence, see my new piece on World Politics Review.

After nearly five years under a junta, Thailand will hold national elections on March 24. They could be a turning point for a country that has been considered one of the most stable states in Southeast Asia despite weathering nearly two decades of political strife. It is more likely, though, that the elections will further entrench rule by the military and an increasingly assertive monarchy at a time when many Southeast Asian democracies are failing. For more on why the elections could lead to further instability—or even outright conflict again—see my new CFR article.

By Pavin Chachavalpongpun Thai politics continues to be drawn along the monarchy’s fault lines, following the recent dramatic events, which exposed deep conflicts between opposing monarchical factions. The newly established party of former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, Thai Raksa Chart, tested the waters by proposing a candidate for the premiership. This candidate happened to be the eldest daughter of the late King Bhumibol Adulyadej, Princess Ubolratana. Princess Ubolratana accepted the invitation of the Thai Raksa Chart Party to serve as a candidate for the premiership in the upcoming elections to be held on March 24. Soon after the news was made public, the responses from Thais were mixed. Certainly, supporters of the Shinawatras were delighted, reasoning that Thaksin might finally make peace with the palace. Meanwhile, enemies of Thaksin condemned the party and him for politicizing the royal institution. As public debate went wild about the grand entrance of Ubolratana into the political ring, another event further shocked Thais. King Vajiralongkorn, younger brother of Ubolratana, released a statement preventing her from participating in electoral politics and essentially telling her to withdraw—claiming that her action defied the supposed tradition of the monarchy staying above Thai politics. The statement could be viewed as somewhat ironic given the fact that some members of the royal family have long interfered in Thai politics. There are two schools of thought about what happened with the nomination—and then rejection—of the princess’s candidacy. One school of thought is that Thaksin sought approval from King Vajiralongkorn for Ubolratana’s newfound role in politics. After all, Thaksin has wanted to reconcile with the monarchy rather than challenging it, and he needs a royal pardon in order to return to Thailand, after more than a decade living outside the kingdom as a fugitive from Thai justice. Somehow, the deal collapsed, perhaps simply because the palace underestimated the relatively positive popular response to the idea of Ubolratana’s political role. In other words, in this scenario the king approved the move, but then after Ubolratana’s popularity became apparent, the palace recanted—it feared a prime minister Ubolratana could reduce the power of the king and possibly bolster Thaksin’s position as the country’s most powerful leader. The other school of thought about what happened is that both Thaksin and Ubolratana ignored the king and made their dramatic move without obtaining his permission in advance. Her candidacy therefore surprised the palace and was seen as a direct challenge to the king and his allies in the military, where the king is consolidating power—as he is with other institutions in Thailand, as researcher Eugenie Merieau has shown. Hence, it was obligatory for Vajiralongkorn to condemn Thaksin for the politicization of the monarchy, Ubolratana for allowing herself to be manipulated, and the Thai Raksa Chart Party for breaking the royal tradition of supposedly avoiding politics—moves that allowed the king to portray himself as standing up for the monarchy’s constitutional role while simultaneously eliminating a threat to his power, at a time when the monarchy is becoming more clearly and deeply involved in politics. As this time, Thailand’s Constitutional Court, the top court, is considering whether to disband the Thai Raksa Chart Party. Should the party be dissolved, the other pro-Thaksin party, Puea Thai, would be politically vulnerable—by itself it might not be able to win a majority of seats in the lower house of parliament, and it too could face efforts to remove its members from politics or even dissolve it after the election in March. Meanwhile, Thaksin’s move to bring Ubolratana into politics might, in the long run, actually damage the power of the Thai monarch—even if, right now, the king is gaining strength and control of politics. The Ubolratana incident demonstrated certain fissures within Thai royalty—challenges that could eventually undermine the powerful institution. For one, the incident further revealed a seeming lack of unity within the royal family. Second, even if pro-Thaksin parties wind up banned or otherwise damaged by the Ubolratana incident, the event forced the king to directly involve himself in politics, fully revealing that the monarchy is not really a constitutional monarchy, and does not truly stand above politics. In so doing, the event may have further damaged the king’s credibility and, in the long run, made it easier for Thais to view the monarchy as simply another political actor. For many Thais, too, the Ubolratana incident reaffirmed that the monarchy and Thaksin are equally divisive, and both are willing to take major decisions about the future of the country without any consultation with the broader populace. Politics remain an almost entirely elite-dominated affair, precluding real democracy, no matter what happens in the March election. The incident also reminds Thais that the deep divisions that have corroded Thai politics for more than a decade will continue. Pavin Chachavalpongpun is an associate professor at Kyoto University’s Center for Southeast Asian Studies.

As I summarized in a blog post last week, Thailand has in recent days seen some of its most dramatic political developments in decades. After days of rumors, one of the pro-Thaksin Shinawatra parties, Thai Raksa Chart, nominated Princess Ubolratana as its candidate for prime minister. This abrupt insertion of the princess into the election season had some potential negative consequences; it could have led to Thailand having an elected prime minister who was basically impossible to criticize, which hardly would have helped boost accountability in a country where politicians’ impunity is a longstanding problem. However, the princess, at the head of a coalition of popular and populist parties, might have fostered stability in Thailand, at least for a time. The princess-led coalition likely would have stormed to election victory, and a massive victory further would have provided the government legitimacy. Instead, after the princess’s nomination was announced, Thailand’s king quashed it; on Monday, Thailand’s Election Commission formally rejected Princess Ubolratana’s candidacy. Although it is impossible to know for sure, given the opaqueness of the Thai monarchy, some longtime observers of the Thai royals, like journalist Andrew MacGregor Marshall, are suggesting that Thaksin and Princess Ubolratana went forward with this plan without consulting Thailand’s king, the princess’s younger brother. That initially seemed hard for me to believe, given how important the king’s approval was to this plan. But it is certainly possible, given how quickly and how bad Thaksin’s plan went, that MacGregor Marshall is right. The outcome of the election in March still remains unclear. As Jonathan Head of the BBC has noted, the pro-Thaksin party that nominated Princess Ubolratana may not be so easy to disqualify before elections; only Thailand’s top court can make this decision. So, it remains possible that pro-Thaksin parties, probably the most popular in the country, could still take a majority of seats in the March election, despite the blow of losing Princess Ubolratana as the Thai Raksa Chart prime minister candidate. And it also remains possible that a group of pro-military parties, with current junta leader Prayuth Chan-ocha as prime minister candidate, will put together a coalition that makes Prayuth prime minister. In either of these scenarios, though, stability is unlikely. A win cobbled together by pro-military parties would be very unpopular among supporters of pro-Thaksin parties; a victory by pro-Thaksin parties would probably lead to intense efforts by the military (and possibly the palace) to defang and hobble those parties, a tactic tried many times in the past. In the event of a win by pro-Thaksin parties, a royal-approved coup could happen; Thailand is already tense, with reports of movements of army vehicles around Bangkok sparking coup rumors, which have been denied by the armed forces. Continued instability is the most likely scenario, with no end in sight to the unrest that has damaged the country for nearly two decades, and has contributed to Thailand’s drift away from being a powerful regional actor and an attractive destination for foreign direct and equity investment. This political fracas further has clearly shown that Thailand’s most unaccountable actors remain the most influential in the country, and are actually gaining power. The military will remain extremely powerful, either with Prayuth at the head of government or with a very weak and hobbled pro-Thaksin coalition leading the lower house of parliament. And Thailand’s king has demonstrated that, even more than his father and mother were, he is willing to directly intercede in politics, and is amassing even greater power around himself. As Eugenie Merieau has shown, the king has increasingly gained the upper hand over the military, and also has consolidated power in many other ways, including taking direct control of the Crown Property Bureau, bolstering his power over Thailand’s most powerful monastic body, reducing the influence of the royal Privy Council—and now wading directly into the election campaign. The king’s increasing power will further damage Thailand’s possibilities of returning to real democracy—or any type of stability either.

In the run-up to Thailand’s elections on March 24, Thailand’s ruling junta initially seemed to have set the stage for the military and its allies to maintain power, one way or another, over the country. They would do so by ensuring, via the new junta-backed constitution, that no one party or coalition commanded control of the lower house of parliament, allowing pro-military parties to eventually cobble together control. Junta leader Prayuth Chan-ocha this week formally became the candidate for prime minister of the leading pro-regime party, according to the Bangkok Post, after months of playing it coy about whether he would try to remain in charge of the Thai government. But in recent weeks, the junta’s confidence may well have ebbed. The Puea Thai party and its allies in the campaign grew bolder on the campaign trail, and began to publicly announce their belief that the pro-Thaksin Shinawatra parties could indeed win a majority in the lower house, even though the new constitution seemed to have stacked the deck against them. Initial days of the pre-election period drew enthusiastic crowds, probably a positive sign for Puea Thai and its allies. Then, on Friday, the pro-Thaksin parties dropped what appeared to be a bombshell into Thai politics. The Thai Raksa Chart party, widely seen as another pro-Thaksin vehicle in addition to Puea Thai, announced that Princess Ubolratana, the older sister of Thailand’s King Vajiralongkorn, would stand as prime minister on the Thai Raksa Chart ticket. No such senior royal has ever stood for prime minister before, although Ubolratana formally gave up her title in the 1970s to marry a foreigner. Ubolratana long has had a seemingly friendly relationship with Thaksin. The announcement seemed to presage a tectonic shift in Thai politics, and could potentially lead to a cooling down of what has been one of the most chaotic political climates in Southeast Asia. The princess, who would be a popular choice, would head a government, supported by Thaksin (and presumably approved by the king), and defeat the pro-junta party and its allies. Power would swing away from the military and toward a populist/royalist nexus—although the king certainly has segments of the military who are loyal to him. A pro-Thaksin party would once again be in control in Thailand—pro-Thaksin parties have won every election since 2001—and Thaksin and his sister Yingluck, who was deposed in a coup in 2014, might return to Thailand and even once again play some kinds of roles in Thai politics. The announcement also held out the promise of some kind of truce in Thai politics. The military would likely lose in the election, and be forced to give up some significant control over politics—and would not launch measures after the election to try to nullify or undermine a win by pro-Thaksin parties. A shift in power away from the military—at least many segments of the military – might allow for national reconciliation among various segments of the Thai population, a government that could stay in power throughout its term, and thus a parliament that could focus on Thailand’s major needs on issues like education and economic reforms. At the same time, the announcement was still very dangerous for any return to real pluralistic democracy in Thailand. With a princess—even one who renounced her titles—potentially at the head of government, the press, the public, and civil society might be cowed to criticize the government, unsure whether the country’s harsh lèse majesté laws would endanger them for investigating and critiquing a prime minister Ubolratana. How would such a government be held accountable, given lèse majesté laws and the personality cult built around the monarchy? Then, a few hours ago, the king suddenly announced that it would be inappropriate and contrary to Thailand’s constitution for his sister to participate in politics as a prime ministerial candidate. (Of course, royals have long involved themselves in politics, albeit not openly, in a way that is not normal for a constitutional monarchy.) So, the kingdom was thrown into further turmoil. Did Thaksin, the princess, leaders of pro-Thaksin parties, and the king strike a deal, only for the king to walk away at the last minute—perhaps due to some royalists’ distrust of Thaksin, as Andrew MacGregor Marshall has suggested? Did Thaksin and his allies go forward with their plan with Ubolratana without the king knowing—which would be an unbelievably bold move, given the vast power of the Thai monarchy? So what happens now? I will cover the scenarios and the election in a further blog post and CFR Explainer.

By Elena Collinson A federal election is due this year in Australia. While the Liberal-National Coalition government has yet to formally announce a polling day, the stage has effectively been set for a May election. According to Australian law, May 18 is the latest possible date a federal election could be called. The opposition Australian Labor Party (ALP) is favored to win, having consistently polled ahead of the Coalition over the last year, at least, and having extended their lead in polls in the aftermath of Malcolm Turnbull’s ouster from the Coalition prime ministership in an internal Liberal Party leadership contest last year. Labor has made efforts over the last two years to articulate a comprehensive foreign policy framework, with cohesive public messaging on key issues—for the most part—by the shadow cabinet. This disciplined approach seems to augur for consistency and certainty in their public diplomacy should they win control of government. In his first major foreign policy speech on October 29, opposition leader Bill Shorten was emphatic about crafting a foreign policy that was clear-eyed about a changing world, and one that would “speak with a clear Australian accent.” Asked what this meant precisely, shadow foreign minister Penny Wong stated, “Confidence, independence, making sure that our primary focus, as always, is on Australia’s national interests.” Should the ALP win control of government, Shorten’s personal criticisms of U.S. President Donald J. Trump during the U.S. presidential election campaign and thereafter may present some difficulties in navigating the U.S.-Australia relationship. In October 2016, Shorten declared Trump “entirely unsuitable to be leader of the free world,” having earlier that year described Trump’s policies as “barking mad.” In January 2017, Shorten called the new president’s policy barring visitors from several Muslim-majority from entering the United States “appalling.” While some Coalition ministers had also publicly deployed colorful language to describe Trump during his candidacy, then Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull had refrained from wading in with comments. To be sure, leaked footage of Turnbull impersonating Trump during a speech to the Press Gallery Mid-Winter Ball—a closed-door equivalent to the White House Correspondents Dinner—emerged in June 2017, only a few months after Trump was inaugurated. However, the off-the-record speech was no serious attack in the public sphere on the American president, with Turnbull asserting that it was “light-hearted, affectionate, good natured.” Indeed, this assessment enjoyed some support from the opposition and seemed to be swiftly accepted by Washington with the U.S. embassy in Australia saying the footage was taken “with good humor that was intended.” Shorten’s unflattering comments about Trump might make for some initial awkwardness. As might comments by shadow defence minister Richard Marles, who said in October 2017, “An immigration system which overtly seeks to discriminate on the basis of religion is clearly repugnant. So pro-American advocates like myself are now in a position where on certain issues we will need to be deeply critical of the United States.” But any rift this may cause between the two countries is likely to be superficial. Shorten and the senior members of his shadow cabinet have articulated an “unshakeable” commitment to the U.S.-Australia alliance, terming it a “pillar” of the ALP’s foreign policy vision and “central to Australia’s strategic interests.” While stating that Labor would have no qualms “speaking truth to power” they have also demonstrated an intent to work in with others in the region “to ensure that the United States recognizes that it is integral to the region we collectively seek”. That said, trade issues will continue to be an irritant in the bilateral relationship so long as Washington continues to move away from the rules-based multilateral trading system. With respect to China, there is no immediate indication that the ALP’s approach will differ significantly from that of the current government. Criticisms from Labor of the government’s handling of the Australia-China relationship have predominantly centred on rhetoric, variously characterizing it as “disjointed megaphone diplomacy,” “Chinaphobic” and “unwise and provocative,” as opposed to disagreement on policy substance. On matters of national security the ALP have often been in lockstep with the Coalition, supporting legislation to counter foreign interference after revelations of growing Chinese influence in Australian politics, a ban on foreign political donations, and the decision to block Chinese companies Huawei and ZTE from involvement in the rollout of Australia’s 5G network. Labor has also been supportive of strategies to balance China’s regional rise, actively engaging in the push to forge closer ties with Pacific nations, and articulating a strong commitment to the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue. There is also general consensus between the two major parties on how to approach human rights issues as well—Wong has stated, for example, that the Australian government is handling the mass internment of an estimated one million Uighurs and other Muslim minorities in Xinjiang “the appropriate way” by enunciating Canberra’s concerns “very clear publicly and privately” but not immediately reaching for sanctions against Beijing. Shorten has also rejected the notion of “pre-emptively framing China as a strategic threat,” placing some distance between the Labor Party’s proposed China policy and the more adversarial posture toward China reflected in the U.S. National Security and National Defense Strategies and amplified in Vice President Mike Pence’s tough speech on China last October. His statement also comes against a domestic backdrop in Australia of increasing wariness of Chinese state influence and interference in Australian politics, academia and industry, and rising alarm at the Chinese government’s moves toward the playing of a more aggressive diplomatic game, most recently with its detentions of foreign nationals, including Australian citizen Yang Hengjun. Turnbull in December 2017 spoke of “unprecedented and increasingly sophisticated attempts to influence the political process”—an assessment received from Australia’s intelligence agencies—citing “disturbing reports about Chinese influence.” And in December 2018 the New South Wales Labor Party’s headquarters were raided by investigators from the Independent Commission Against Corruption, reportedly looking for financial records linked to an annual Chinese Friends of Labor party fundraising event. Shorten’s statement seemingly is trying to reassure Beijing that despite growing and serious Australian concerns about China a Labor-led Australia would continue to pursue constructive engagement with Beijing. Two areas of potential difference in a Labor-led China policy may be on Australian strategy in the South China Sea and participation in the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Marles, a self-described “China hawk,” might push in a Labor cabinet for Australia to increase its actions in the disputed waters, having signaled an openness to such in the past. It is unclear exactly what this increased activity would look like, however. Marles has not explicitly advocated for Australia to conduct freedom of navigation operations within the twelve nautical mile zone of disputed territory, but he has stated that “Labor would consider opportunities for further cooperation with partners in the region.” The ALP has also expressed an “open mind as to how Australia and China can best collaborate on the [BRI],” and has not ruled out participating in joint infrastructure projects to develop northern Australia. Labor also has committed to “a significant increase” in Australian outreach with Asia generally, matching Australia’s “economic and trading agenda with our broader geopolitical priorities.” Key initiatives on this front were nominated in some detail in the ALP’s “Future Asia” policy framework, launched in 2017. One priority in Labor’s overall Asia strategy is to deepen economic ties with Indonesia, one of Australia’s most important, and often contentious, bilateral relationships. Shorten has pledged an “early visit” to Indonesia should he be elected prime minister, and asserted that reaching a level of “strategic trust” with Indonesia would be “a central objective” of a Labor government. Tensions in the Australia-Indonesia bilateral relationship arose anew late last year with the government’s announcement that Australia would recognize West Jerusalem as Israel’s capital. Indonesian Foreign Minister Retno Marsudi declared that this was a “really big blow” that would “affect bilateral relations” and Indonesia’s trade minister indicated that it would adversely impact the conclusion of a Australia-Indonesia free trade agreement (FTA). In one instance of emphatic divergence from the current Coalition government, Labor has stated that, if it wins power, it would reverse the government’s decision on recognizing West Jerusalem as the capital of Israel. However, the Australia-Indonesia FTA could still stall under a Labor government given the ALP’s opposition to a provision allowing for the importation of foreign workers. There is also the potential for a rhetorical flare-up between Australia and Indonesia should Abu Bakar Bashir, the radical Indonesian cleric linked to the Bali bombings which claimed the lives of eighty-eight Australians, be given early release, as Jakarta is considering. Shorten had declared in January this year that jail is “where he belongs.” However, it is unlikely that a Labor government would take a strong stand on this front, with Shorten conceding his views were “a personal opinion.” In office, Labor also likely would maintain Canberra’s “Pacific pivot”, having committed to place the Pacific at the center of Australia’s regional foreign policy. This would likely include a Labor government moving forward with Prime Minister Scott Morrison’s promise to establish a $2 billion fund to support infrastructure projects in the region. Despite some variances, it appears at this point that there would be no substantial foreign policy overhaul under a Labor government. As Wong noted in 2017, there is bipartisan support for the Australian foreign policy white paper released that year. The white paper, Australia’s first in fourteen years, examines the shifting power dynamics in the Indo-Pacific region, with a particular focus on the challenges presented by China’s rise coupled with concerns about decreased a potential decreased U.S. role in the region. Wong said the ALP recognized that “long-term planning is in the national interest, and that the nation is better off when changes of government don’t translate into the digital burning of months and years of public service work.” While there may be some differences between Labor and the government in terms of the execution of policy priorities, all indications currently point to a preference for broadly staying the same course. Elena Collinson (@elenacollinson) is a senior researcher at the Australia-China Relations Institute, University of Technology Sydney.

While Thailand has struggled toward a much-delayed election, it finally looks like the vote is going to happen on March 24. The country’s election commission announced the March 24 date earlier this week, after the king promulgated a royal decree for the election to occur. Whether the election will be free and fair, and will result in any real progress putting Thailand back on the road to pluralist democracy, is unclear—and there is not a ton of reason for optimism. Although there is some possibility that a relatively free vote could be held on Election Day, and real progress could be made toward a return to democracy, there are many obstacles in that path. As Human Rights Watch has noted, the Thai authorities have utilized “unrelenting repression” against activists, dissidents, pro-democracy campaigners, and others in civil society in the run-up to the election. The constitution passed during this period of military rule further places massive obstacles to real pluralist democracy, and sets the stage for the army to continue to wield power behind the scenes for decades, and for Thailand to be “led” by a weak parliament. Meanwhile, the king has increased his power substantially in the two-plus years since the death of his father—a further roadblock that could prevent transparency and plural democracy. Although theoretically a constitutional monarch, he has gained complete control of the Crown Property Bureau (CPB); Forbes has written that the CPB holds assets worth as much as $30 billion, including prime real estate in downtown Bangkok. The king’s control over the military is growing as well; together, these trends clearly belie the idea that he is a constitutional monarch. Now, in the run-up to the vote, another one of Thailand’s serious challenges is coming to the fore again. After a period of (relative) quiet in Thailand’s southernmost provinces in recent years—“relative” in an area where there is still an ongoing insurgency and seven thousand people have died in the past two decades—violence is flaring up again. Deep South Watch, a group that monitors the conflict, said that the death toll in the southernmost provinces in 2017 was its lowest in fourteen years, for instance, and levels of violence were relatively low through most of 2018 too. Last week, attackers killed two Buddhist monks at a temple in southern Thailand. It was the first time a monk had been attacked in the south since 2015. On the same day last week, someone launched multiple bombings against security forces in the south, and Thai authorities shot dead an insurgent in a different firefight. In addition, the insurgents, who are believed to operate in diffuse cells without any clear sole leader, released a statement in early January encouraging fighters—and their supporters—to continue to battle the Thai state. As usual in the southernmost provinces, determining the exact causes of why violence ebbs and flows is difficult, given the opaque leadership structure of the insurgency and, often, the lack of reliable information about its operations. As Sunai Phasuk of Human Rights Watch told Al Jazeera, the insurgents may have launched this recent wave of attacks partly as retribution for the “recent assassination,” in early January, of an man alleged by the Thai government to be an insurgency leader, who was killed by gunmen in the south while he was riding his motorcycle. The man killed, Doloh Sarai, also was a Muslim cleric. But beyond the possible immediate retribution, the insurgency drags on, and may be accelerating, in part due to a lack of clear policy toward the south by the military. While the civilian government that ran Thailand between 2011 and 2014, before the 2014 military coup, attempted to make progress in negotiations with the insurgents—and seemed ready to possibly offer a higher degree of autonomy to the southernmost provinces—since the coup any movement on the situation in the south has stalled. The junta government still holds some talks with some representatives of the insurgency, although key leaders from the core faction of the insurgency have refused the junta’s pressure to join the talks. Insurgents may be realizing that the military is digging in for good—and will likely be in charge even after elections—and ramping up their attacks in response, hoping to convince the armed forces that doing nothing about the south will have consequences for the Royal Thai Army and the country generally. Overall, the combination of an election that could fail to move Thailand back toward pluralist democracy, the possibility of an angry reaction by many Thais if the election leaves the political calculus unchanged, and the revival of violence in the south make for a potentially grim 2019 for the kingdom.

In the months before Brazil’s elections in October 2018, many experts both within and outside the country dismissed the possibility that Jair Bolsonaro, a former army captain and previously obscure far-right congressman, could win the presidency. Bolsonaro did not belong to one of the major political parties, and had a history of pro-dictatorship, racist, and misogynist rhetoric that seemed beyond the pale for the fourth-largest democracy in the world. Yet in late October, Bolsonaro notched a resounding victory, winning the Brazilian presidency with 55 percent of the vote. The rise of extreme, anti-establishment heads of state is not confined to places where immigration or opposition to free trade are driving populists’ rise. In fact, as I have written, the rise of leaders like Bolsonaro and Philippines President Rodrigo Duterte reveals that autocratic populism is highly flexible, thriving in many different scenarios, and driven by different core grievances. It is thus actually even more dangerous to international stability than it would be if it only could grow in the soil of Europe and North America. Duterte’s brand of brutal leadership can thrive in a wide range of environments, posing a global threat to democratic government. For more on how Duterte is, in many ways, a model for autocratic-leaning populists in other parts of the world, see my new review of Jonathan Miller’s biography of Duterte in the Washington Monthly.

Since the mid-2000s, democracy has regressed in nearly every part of the world. Global monitoring organization Freedom House (for whom I consult on reports on several Asian states) has recorded declines in global freedom for twelve years in a row. States like Bangladesh, Thailand, and Turkey have seen democracies completely collapse. Countries where democracy seemed to be making gains in the early 2010s, like Myanmar and Cambodia, have slid backwards, with Cambodia falling into one-party rule. In a recent article for the Washington Post, I outlined how hard it will be for countries to rebuild free political systems after their democracies collapse. As a recent study by the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change found, elected populists tend to hold office, on average, more than twice as long as elected non-populist leaders, giving these populists considerable time to undermine democracy. The same study found that populist leaders often expand executive power dramatically and foster widespread corruption. In fact, in states where autocratic-leaning populists are destroying democracy, it may be even harder to rebuild than in places, in the past, where old-school strongmen like military coup leaders simply crushed democracy. Yet even after democracies collapse or severely regress, all hope is not lost. The road back to free politics is very arduous—and certainly sometimes unfixable—especially after autocratic-leaning populists undermine democracy. But there are some ways that citizens in regressing democracies can help preserve their political institutions, keep hopes of democracy alive, and possibly help their political systems rebound in the future. For more on how they can do so, see my new piece in World Politics Review.

In addition to regression on the issue of press freedom, Southeast Asia witnessed backsliding on rights and freedoms in many other areas in 2018, with Malaysia as a notable exception to this trend. Cambodia, the Philippines, Thailand, Myanmar, and even Indonesia exemplified a continued democratic regression. Cambodia became a clearly one-party state after a sham election in July, although at the end of the year Hun Sen and the CPP, under pressure from foreign governments, slightly relaxed their pressure on the opposition and civil society. However, this relaxation was probably just a means of convincing major foreign donors not to impose tougher sanctions against Cambodia, and not really a shift in how Hun Sen treats the opposition or civil society. Meanwhile, the Thai junta did everything it could to prevent real political opposition from coalescing. It banned political parties from organizing for most of the time before the February 2019 elections, putting most parties at a disadvantage before the election. The ban was only lifted in December. In the Philippines, President Rodrigo Duterte cracked down hard on press freedoms, as I noted in a previous blog, including trying to shut down the Rappler, one of the country’s best-known independent outlets. But he also appears to be trying to intimidate other journalism outlets, and has floated plans of launching more extrajudicial killing squads, in addition to those already tasked with wiping out drug suspects – these new squads would purportedly attack anyone linked to a communist insurgent group. Duterte also continued to weaken the independence of the judiciary and the power of the political opposition. In Laos, where the country’s new leadership has promised to take tough measures to root out graft, there are signs of progress on fighting corruption, including the firing of two provincial governors alleged to have been involved in corruption. But overall, the anti-corruption campaign has made modest inroads at best, and promises by the new leadership to bolster transparency and accountability have had no real effect on what remains a highly authoritarian and opaque government. And in Myanmar, the National League for Democracy/Aung San Suu Kyi government has proven a massive disappointment, overseeing stalled democratic reforms, regression on press freedoms, and a scorched earth policy toward the Rohingya in western Myanmar. However, 2019 might not be so grim for rights and freedoms in Southeast Asia. Although Thailand’s junta has tried to stage-manage elections called for February to ensure that the outcome is favorable to the military – and possibly even one resulting in a former general as prime minister – it cannot completely control the actual election. There is considerable reason to believe that, although the election will not be totally fair – the military is trying to slant the playing field against the long-ruling Puea Thai party – the actual Election Day will be free, marking some progress after nearly five years of military rule. In addition, an election brings some degree of uncertainty, and there is a chance that the vote will result in a parliament that has real authority and popular legitimacy and puts the country back on the path to democratic rule. There are other potentially hopeful signs in 2019 for rights and freedoms in the region. An election in Indonesia could showcase continued democratic consolidation there, even despite Jokowi’s increasingly authoritarian actions in the past year, and his selection of a cleric as running mate who has, in the past, made harsh statements about a range of minority groups in Indonesia. Malaysia’s government, which has made a strong start on democratic reforms, needs to move quickly to reform the country’s institutions, and set the stage, via legislation, for making lasting inroads against graft. In 2019, the Malaysian government has a chance to push through serious reforms designed to battle corruption, improve government transparency, and protect civil society, showcasing real democratic progress.

Charles Dunst is a journalist based in Phnom Penh. He was written for the New York Times, the Atlantic, the Washington Post, the South China Morning Post, and the American Prospect, among other publications. Cambodia became a one-party state in late July, with Prime Minister Hun Sen’s Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) taking 125 of the available 125 National Assembly seats in an election devoid of legitimate opposition, as the CPP-controlled Supreme Court had dissolved the Cambodian National Rescue Party (CNRP), the main opposition, in November 2017. And yet, while the sixty-six-year-old Hun Sen, who, according to the Phnom Penh Post, promised in March to rule for at least ten years (while also noting that it “could be more”), is beginning to talk more openly about succession, his clan’s neopatrimonial grasp on power appears to be looser than often assumed by many Cambodia experts and citizens of the kingdom. In October, Hun Sen, according to Voice of America, called his son, Hun Manet, “the possible future leader of Cambodia.” As reported by Reuters, the prime minister further denied nepotism and defended the promotion of three sons to senior government posts, saying “They all have doctorates or master’s degrees. Why should they waste them? I should find work for them.” Hun Sen’s elevation of his progeny is the apparent first step in a long-term effort to secure an eventual patrimonial succession aimed to keep his family firmly in control of Cambodia. His clan, according to a bombshell Global Witness report, has through allegedly shady business dealings tied to its power over Cambodia, amassed a combined wealth estimated to be between $500 million and $1 billion. The eventual elevation of Hun Sen’s children to power would possibly enable the clan to continue lining their pockets. The prime minister’s current shortsighted and unpopular governance, however, runs the risk of inflaming existing anger and displeasure among Cambodian youth. His increased closeness with China and failure to adequately improve social services and limit corruption, coupled with young people’s limited memory of the Khmer Rouge period from which Hun Sen claims to have delivered Cambodia, has made him potentially unpopular among this younger generation. His unpopularity among Cambodian youths, and the even weaker appeal of his children, imperils a succession to Hun Manet or another member of Hun Sen’s clan. Almost two-thirds of Cambodia’s population is below the age of thirty. These young people, unlike many of their parents and grandparents, do not feel as if they owe Hun Sen for delivering Cambodia from the Khmer Rouge period. Often, they focus instead on how Cambodia lags behind other countries in the region in development. Cambodia’s 2013 national elections—which were largely free and fair and held long before the CNRP’s forced closure—offer some evidence of Hun Sen and the CPP’s unpopularity among the country at large, and particularly among young people. In that election, the opposition almost won control of the lower house of the legislature, shocking the CPP; it may actually have won the election if not for vote irregularities. The CNRP depended heavily on young and urban voters for its strong showing.   Hun Sen’s plans for patrimonial succession would likely include elevating one of his sons, probably Hun Manet, to the top of the CPP’s organizational structure and then running him for prime minister in a sham election—a repeat of the unfree and unfair 2018 election, with a different figure at the top of the ticket. In order to keep up a democratic veneer, this succession would require some public campaigning and, despite a lack of legitimate electoral competition, leave the clan vulnerable to political opposition during the succession period – as other autocratic leaders have found when trying to pass power to their children. In recent years, Hun Sen has increasingly allied himself with China, as Beijing both props up his regime and has provided Cambodia with at least $4 billion in bilateral loans. In return, Hun Sen has given China cover at ASEAN meetings, helping divide the organization and preventing a coordinated response on issues related to the South China Sea, among others. Cambodians young and old, however, have skepticism about China’s influence in their country. “The negative influence of China on the Cambodian government is real and something that should not be overlooked,” Ou Virak, the founder of Future Forum, a Phnom Penh-based think tank, told the Diplomat in November. “The threat is real about how close we have got to China.” While Hun Sen’s authoritarian regime is not now checked, his actions, particularly his alignment of Cambodia with China, often inflame the public, including the young—and this anger could come out in a succession period. In addition, younger Cambodians are often angry at the government’s graft and lack of effectiveness—views that also could erupt after Hun Sen and his iron rule passes from the scene. Noan Sereiboth, a twenty-nine-year-old political blogger and researcher, told German news service DW in July that the CPP has failed to provide its citizenry with adequate medical care, education, and public transport, or done enough to fight corruption. While this anger is currently controlled by the CPP’s legitimacy among some segments of the population due to continued high growth rates, the repression of the opposition, and splits within the opposition itself, in a period of succession anger might well erupt, coalescing around opposition to a handover of power to another member of Hun Sen’s family. Hun Sen is unlikely to face a serious revolution while he leads the country, as he forcefully wields fear to solidify his power. Hun Sen rules through “a system of personal patronage in which money was passed upward in exchange for protection” but one that is effective in maintaining his grip on power, writes Sebastian Strangio in his book Hun Sen’s Cambodia, a seminal account of the prime minister’s regime. This power is tied directly to Hun Sen’s political and personal capabilities; it remains unclear if Hun Manet has similar skills. In a succession period, however, a new leader would be weaker than his predecessor. “One of the greatest threats to personalist regimes’ stability is succession. Systems governed around a cult of the individual set up a self-defeating incentive structure,” writes Brookings Institution nonresident fellow Torrey Taussig in the American Interest. “Domestically, the succession dilemma facing autocrats makes their systems more prone to volatility and infighting among elites.” When a country’s governance revolves around a single person—such as Cambodia around Hun Sen—the leader’s successor, even his son, should be able to step in and immediately assert similar control over potentially volatile elites. Hun Manet, however, has failed to demonstrate such skills; he is also likely to face external opposition led by youth, including the remaining CNRP leaders, who oppose the CPP. The Hun Sen clan recognizes the need to win over this youth and get them to favor Hun Manet’s succession. Mory Sar, co-founder of the Cambodian Youth Network, told VOA Cambodia in June 2018 that the CPP is unnerved by its lack of effective control over a youth population. Hun Sen has tried to increase his popularity among youth voters by implementing educational reforms and raising the minimum wage. A VOA Cambodia investigation found that a CPP drive to ensure voter loyalty included instructions to recruit “new members, especially youth, to support the party.” Additionally, Hun Many, Sen’s fifth son and a current CPP lawmaker, is the president of the Union of Youth Federations of Cambodia (UYFC). Hun Many himself is quoted by a state-friendly outlet, the Khmer Times, as saying: “The next youth generation must vow to maintain and support the harmony of the country” — a not so subtle call for the youth to support a harmonious succession to Hun Manet. It is unclear if this engagement has effectively quelled youth discontent with the CPP. Besides the fact that younger Cambodians may not buy into a continuation of rule by the Hun clan, once Hun Sen dies or hands over power during his lifetime, Hun Manet or another chosen successor would face the standard difficulties of succession. These will include proving to senior government figures and the public alike that he is worthy of such power. “In personalized authoritarian systems, the death of a leader poses a serious challenge to regime survival,” writes political scientist Anja Osei in a working paper for the World Congress of Political Science. Only “a small group of non-monarchies that have experienced a ‘seamless passage of power from one autocratic ruler to his preferred heir.’” Indeed, while Hun Manet, if he was handed power, would initially control the armed forces, military police, and secret police, he so far appears to lack his father’s ability to appeal to the public and engender public support. “Hun Manet’s military credentials do not automatically equal party support,” writes Jonathan Sutton of the University of Otago in East Asia Forum. “Whether he is capable of managing the endemic rivalries and factionalism that characterize the party remains to be seen.” It is difficult to imagine Hun Manet, who has been described as “stiff”, according to Singapore’s TODAY news service, and lacks his father’s political capabilities, securing popular support or even convincing enough Cambodian elites to back him. He would, however, need these elites to support his succession, especially if he takes power after his father’s death and is unpopular with a motivated public. As Sutton adds, “There is little positive evidence that Hun Manet has enough support among the Cambodian political elite to hold power on his own any time soon.” Indeed, in a succession Hun Sen’s likely chosen son would be primed to face both public and internal opposition in his path to power.

During the first two years of the Trump administration, Washington has dramatically reduced its rhetorical focus on democracy promotion in Asia. For instance, the president has mostly ignored issues of human rights and democracy when meeting with leaders of abusive regimes, like the Thai Prime Minister and junta leader, Prayuth Chan-ocha. This approach is consistent with Trump’s overall realpolitik; he usually does not raise rights issues in meetings with other authoritarian leaders either, and he often seems to have more contempt for democratically elected leaders around the globe than for autocrats. At the same time, however, despite my own previous pessimism about the White House’s approach to democracy promotion, there are some signs that the Trump administration recognizes that focusing on human rights should remain a U.S. priority in Asia. For more on my analysis and predictions of the direction of U.S. democracy promotion policy in Asia, see my new World Politics Review column.

2018 was a brutal year, in many ways, for civil society activists, rights advocates, and democratic politicians throughout Southeast Asia. Cambodia’s government transformed from an autocratic regime where there was still some (minimal) space for opposition parties into a fully one-party regime. Thailand’s junta continued to repress the population, attempting to control the run-up to elections in February 2019 that the junta hopes will result in a victory for pro-military parties and their allies. The Myanmar government continued to stonewall a real investigation into the alleged crimes against humanity in Rakhine State, despite significant international pressure to allow an investigation. Meanwhile, in the Philippines, President Rodrigo Duterte appears to have moved on from using extrajudicial killings in his war on drugs to preparing to utilize extrajudicial killings in other ways. Last month, Duterte raised the idea of creating a new death squad to fight against communist rebels in the Philippines, for instance. And even in Indonesia, one of the freest states in the region, the Jokowi government has given off worrying signs of increasingly authoritarian tendencies. Jokowi has politicized top law enforcement posts, overseen criminal investigations of opponents, and shown other worrying signs, according to an analysis of his growing authoritarianism published in New Mandala by Tom Power, a PhD candidate at Australian National University. (Malaysia is a rare bright spot for rights and democracy in Southeast Asia this year—in fact one of the few global bright spots for democracy in 2018.) Perhaps nowhere has the increasing crackdown on rights and freedoms in Southeast Asia been more visible than in the area of press freedom. Of the journalists featured on Time magazine’s series of covers of people of the year, three are from Southeast Asia. Two of those featured are Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo, journalists for Reuters who have been jailed in Myanmar, essentially for investigative reporting into aspects of a massacre against the Rohingya. (They are officially charged with breaking the Official Secrets Act.) The two men have already been in jail for a year—despite their trial being decried as a sham by rights organizations and prominent rights advocates—and they face in total seven-year prison sentences. Suu Kyi has defended their jailing, and the two reporters’ time in prison is emblematic of Myanmar’s worsening climate for independent journalism, even under Suu Kyi’s government. As the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) has noted, three other Myanmar journalists were arrested in October, and overall the Official Secrets Act, defamation charges, and physical threats are chilling the climate for reporting in the country. The climate for press freedom is poor in Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam as well. For example, in Cambodia, one of the leading print outlets, the Cambodia Daily, closed in 2017, reportedly under pressure from the Hun Sen government. Another leading independent outlet, the Phnom Penh Post, was sold to a new owner in 2018, amid worries that the new management would curb critical and investigative reporting. Many Phnom Penh Post staff members quit. Meanwhile, in Vietnam the government continued to aggressively shut down independent bloggers and writers, and Thailand’s junta has continued to harshly repress reporters and editors, such as reportedly pushing for the sacking of the top editor of the Bangkok Post, a leading Thailand newspaper, for his critical coverage of the military regime. Maria Ressa, the head of Rappler, one of the Philippines’ toughest and most groundbreaking news sites, is probably the best-known case of press freedom under attack in Southeast Asia. Before becoming the CEO of Rappler, Ressa had amassed a broad range of experience, including working for two decades for CNN, for whom she covered everything from the rise of Islamist terror networks in Southeast Asia to the post-Marcos era in the Philippines. She has received a wide range of awards for her work, including an Emmy nomination and an Overseas Press Club award. Like many authoritarian-leaning populists, Duterte aggressively demonizes the media, and Rappler in particular seems to infuriate him, with its hard-hitting, deep-digging style. The Duterte administration seems determined to put Rappler out of business. In early 2018, the Philippine SEC announced that it was revoking Rappler’s license. The media organization fought, and continued operating, but it was then accused of libel by the Philippine national bureau of investigation, and then was hit with tax evasion charges by the Philippine tax agency. Ressa herself also was charged with tax evasion, only a few days after she got a press freedom award from CPJ. She and the media outlet deny the charges, and noted how quickly the Philippine government had moved to file charges, seemingly without considering all motions and evidence. The case is now proceeding—but the climate for press freedom in the Philippines, which long combined tough investigative reporting with one of the most dangerous environments for journalists in the world, looks like it will only get grimmer in 2019.

Over the past two years, the international community, and much of the media, has focused on the situation in western Myanmar’s Rakhine State, where a brutal campaign against the Rohingya, reportedly by the Myanmar military and its associates, has been called crimes against humanity and genocide by leading rights organizations and the United Nations. The situation in Rakhine is undoubtedly horrific, and there appears to be little chance of it improving measurably in the coming years. Despite an agreement by Bangladesh and Myanmar to begin repatriating Rohingya from Bangladesh back to Myanmar, few Rohingya are willing to return, given that little has changed on the ground in Rakhine State. Some Rohingya are trying to escape refugee camps to prevent themselves from having to return to Myanmar. The horrendous situation in Rakhine State, which is essentially defended by Myanmar’s civilian leader Aung San Suu Kyi, is compounded by the fact that, in other parts of the north, east, and northeast, violent conflict has spiked as well, despite getting little attention from the international media, save some Southeast Asia–focused outlets. The spiraling conflict in other parts of the country undermines any hope for a longtime peace agreement between the central government and ethnic minority armies, adds to instability in Myanmar, and potentially further empowers the military, which takes advantage of instability to continually assert itself as the real power in the country. As Asia Times recently noted, the Karen National Union (KNU), one of the longest-standing insurgent groups, now has pulled out of the Myanmar government’s peace initiative with ethnic minority rebel outfits, at least temporarily. This deals a further blow to the sputtering peace initiative, one of the Suu Kyi administration’s biggest priorities. The KNU had been the biggest group to sign onto the initiative. The withdrawal sets the stage for possible renewed conflict between the KNU and the military. Meanwhile, in the north, the Kachin Independence Organization and its armed wing, the Kachin Independence Army (KIA), which are not signatories to the peace imitative, have been engaged in significantly stepped-up conflict with army units. As longtime Southeast Asia conflict expert Anthony Davis notes, the military has been engaged in the broadest counterinsurgency program in Myanmar in “decades,” and in response the KIA has prepared for long-term guerilla warfare with the military, with no end in sight. Davis notes that the military launched multiple dry season offensives against the KIA earlier in the year. These offensives have caused significant civilian casualties, with internally displaced people fleeing to camps throughout Kachin State. UNCHR, in a report released earlier this year, said there had been a recent “spike in reported human rights violations and abuses and violations of international humanitarian law in Kachin and Shan states.” Meanwhile, the lack of any progress between the central government and ethnic armies in the north and east like the KIA further convinces other insurgent groups that Naypyidaw has no real interest in peace. Many of the smaller ethnic armies are increasingly suspicious of the peace initiative, while the United Wa State Army, the biggest armed ethnic group in Myanmar, has no real reason to move forward and support the peace initiative. The United States has little influence over Naypyidaw’s approach to these myriad conflicts. U.S.-Myanmar relations are tense, due largely to the crisis in Rakhine State. Other outside actors—notably China—do have real leverage over Naypyidaw’s approach to the ethnic armies, especially since some of the conflicts, such as those in Shan state, flare up right by China’s borders. China has shown some signs of support for the peace process, such as paying for some representatives of armed insurgent groups to attend talks with Naypyidaw and serving as an interlocutor for some of the ethnic armies. But if Naypyidaw can provide stability on China’s borders by crushing insurgent groups, rather than a peace deal, Beijing probably would be happy with that result too. So far, Beijing seems content to mostly back the Myanmar military’s approach to Kachin State. Fortify Rights, a rights documenting group, released a report in August noting that Beijing has tried to keep aid groups from assisting internally displaced people in Kachin State, near the Chinese border, a move that could cause even more suffering.

In the U.S. midterm elections, Democrats took control of the House of Representatives, the U.S. lower house of Congress, for the first time since 2010, ending two years of unified Republican control of the U.S. government. (The Senate, the upper house, remained in Republican hands.) Although the House of Representatives is not normally the leading actor on many foreign policy issues—the executive branch is endowed with far greater power over foreign policy in general—when it comes to Southeast Asia Congress has in recent times had significant influence, as I have noted. Congress has in recent years played an outsized role in Southeast Asia policy in part because recent U.S. administrations paid less attention to the region than they did during the Cold War, and in part because there were prominent congressional leaders who took a close interest in Southeast Asia. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and his staff, for instance, have been major players in U.S. policy toward Myanmar for decades now. For more on what the election means for U.S.-Indonesia relations, see my new Pinter Politik column.