Southeast Asia

The Donald J. Trump administration has pursued a foreign policy toward Southeast Asia that has simultaneously courted and alienated countries in the region. The White House has taken a tougher approach to regional security, including increasing freedom of navigation patrols in the South China Sea and developing a regional concept, the “Free and Open Indo-Pacific,” which draws clearer lines against coercive behavior in regional waters and trade practices, especially by Beijing. The U.S. president also has spent extensive time in Southeast Asia, a contrast to some of his predecessors. On the other hand, the Trump administration has angered many Southeast Asian states by ramping up trade wars, which could impact some of the region’s most trade-dependent economies. The White House often has placed an emphasis on relations with Vietnam, Singapore, the Philippines, and Malaysia, forsaking ties with Indonesia. To some extent, these decisions make sense. Vietnam and Singapore are close strategic partners that are generally aligned with U.S. concerns about China and have become increasingly worried about China’s regional assertiveness, especially in the South China Sea and regarding influencing other states’ political systems. The Philippines is a U.S. treaty ally, Trump seems to personally like Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, and the Philippines is the first country in Southeast Asia to embrace the idea of negotiating a bilateral free trade deal with the Trump administration, which jibes with the White House’s preference for bilateral trade liberalization rather than multilateral deals. But the Trump administration should, for the rest of its term, devote greater attention to U.S.-Indonesia relations, which have largely taken a backseat for this White House. For more on how the White House could bolster U.S.-Indonesia relations, see my new article for Pinter Politik, which draws upon my Council Special Report, Keeping the U.S.-Indonesia Relationship Moving Forward.

The past two weeks, both major contenders for the 2019 Indonesian presidential election took steps in advance of the contest next April, which almost surely will pit incumbent President Joko Widodo or Jokowi, against his rival from the last election, former lieutenant general and Gerindra party chief Prabowo Subianto. Jokowi picked his running mate, tapping Ma’ruf Amin, a cleric and head of Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), the mass movement that often claims it is the largest biggest Islamic organization in the world. Prabowo has chosen his running mate, the former deputy governor of Jakarta, Sandiaga Uno. Jokowi is a heavy favorite; currently, most polls give him the lead over Prabowo, who was beaten decisively in 2014. Although Jokowi may not have lived up to his many promises from 2014—to clean up corruption, dramatically improve Indonesia’s infrastructure, make government more “horizontal” and accountable to people, and promote rights and freedoms, among others—he retains a popular image as a down-to-earth politician. Jokowi also has fulfilled some of his promises to upgrade infrastructure and social welfare programs, and the economy has been growing by over 5 percent per year, though inequality remains stubbornly high. While democracy has regressed badly in recent years in much of Southeast Asia, from Cambodia’s collapse into complete autocracy to the Philippines’ turn toward illiberal populism, under Jokowi Indonesia has remained relatively free, despite some ominous political clouds that this presidential contest could exacerbate. Still, in June the country held peaceful—if relatively low-turnout—local and regional elections, with a wide range of offices up for grabs, a testimony to the massive decentralization process the country has undergone since the Suharto era. Prabowo cannot be counted out, though; he is a savvy campaigner whose populist appeals have similarities to the campaign strategies of leaders like Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte. In the run-up to the election, political maneuvering by both Jokowi and Prabowo illustrate still-deep flaws in Indonesian democracy, and hint at the dangers to further political reforms. Jokowi could have picked a more qualified vice president; the current vice president, Jusuf Kalla, is a very seasoned politician who, in slightly different circumstances, could have been president himself. Jokowi reportedly was considering for the vice presidential post the highly respected and experienced finance minister, Sri Mulyani Indrawati, as well as Mahfud MD, a former head of the Constitutional Court and senior lawmaker. (Jusuf Kalla could not serve another term.)  Instead, he picked a seventy-five-year old cleric who has relatively little legislative or executive experience, and who is less than a year younger than Jokowi’s current vice president. More worryingly for Indonesia’s democracy and history of secular government, although Jokowi’s running mate headed up NU, which has built a reputation as a mainstream and moderate organization, he had become famous—or infamous—long before running NU for views that are relatively hardline and controversial. He has fanned flames of anger and official discrimination against religious minorities like Ahmadiyas, as well as against gay and lesbian Indonesians and other minorities. Jokowi’s vice presidential pick, then, clearly looks like a move by the Indonesian president to co-opt or head off increasingly vocal, and politically powerful Islamist groups. These groups have thrived in recent years, in part, as I noted earlier this year in a Council Special Report on Indonesia and the U.S.-Indonesia relationship, because of the country’s political decentralization and growing social media landscape—decentralization has brought politics closer to people across the country, but Islamist groups also have proven capable organizers on local and regional levels. In the 2017 Jakarta gubernatorial elections, Islamist groups, reportedly linked with Prabowo and Prabowo allies, used massive rallies and disinformation campaigns to turn public opinion against the then-incumbent Jakarta governor, Ahok, largely because of his Christian and Chinese background. By selecting Ma’ruf Amin, the president seems to be trying to launch a pre-emptive strike against powerful hardline groups, some of whom may respect Jokowi’s vice presidential pick as one of them. (The cleric also notably can mobilize NU’s tens of millions of members.) Even if some Islamists still do not consider the cleric hard-line enough, it now will become tougher for Islamist groups to attack Jokowi as un-Islamic, or at least not concerned enough about religious issues. Prabowo’s campaign itself, in 2014, tried to cast doubt on Jokowi’s commitment to Islamic issues, and the former lieutenant general certainly could have taken that tack again in this race. But in picking the cleric, admittedly a move that could help Jokowi hold onto key blocks of religious and nationalist voters, Jokowi sets the stage for his own vice president to further inflame sentiments against minorities. Jokowi further suggests that his commitment to the liberal portion of liberal democracy—respect for the rule of law, equal protections, and the country’s secular foundations—is weak. Meanwhile, Prabowo has chosen as his vice president one of the richest politicians in the country, a man who also has little political experience—though his youth might be a winning contrast with Prabowo, who has been on the political scene for over two decades. Still, the fact that the former Jakarta deputy governor—he resigned the post this month to run as vice president—could potentially commit vast resources and fund-raising prowess to the presidential campaign likely was an enormous asset, in a country where campaign finance laws are ineffectual and vast sums are usually needed to run for higher office, to the detriment of democratic development.

The Cambodian People’s Party (CPP), led by Prime Minister Hun Sen, now utterly dominates Cambodia. The party won control of the entire lower house of parliament in elections last month. The full sweep—albeit in an unfree vote—is the culmination of Hun Sen’s increasingly brazen repression. Now, the key question is—with Cambodia having regressed politically, how will all of the country’s key actors, including Hun Sen, the remnants of the opposition Cambodia National Rescue Party (CNRP) and other opposition forces, and key donors and other foreign countries, respond? For more on what the international community, the CNRP, and Hun Sen will do now, see my new World Politics Review article.

Beginning tomorrow, U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo is in Asia for a trip to Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore, three important U.S. partners in Southeast Asia. In addition to bilateral meetings in these states, he will attend the ASEAN foreign ministers meeting in Singapore this coming weekend. Two of the countries he is visiting are going through dramatic political upheaval; Malaysia’s former governing coalition lost power in May for the first time in history, and in Indonesia politicians are gearing up for next year’s national elections, which could give President Joko Widodo a second term, or possibly lead to a government run by an alignment of populist, military, and Islamist forces. In addition, Southeast Asian states have generally been skeptical of several strands of the Trump administration’s regional policy. Even Singapore, a close U.S. partner, has worried that the White House’s “Free and Open Indo-Pacific” concept, which Pompeo will discuss in detail on the trip, is too binary an idea. Several have worried that the Trump administration could force countries in the region to choose openly between Washington and Beijing, a move that they say would backfire. (Pompeo spoke in detail about the Free and Open Indo-Pacific idea at the U.S. Chamber of Commerce on July 30.) Meanwhile, countries in Southeast Asia are worried about escalating U.S.-China trade disputes, and about the White House’s tough trade policies rebounding against them, too, as the administration harangues Southeast Asian states with trade deficits with the United States. The secretary of state surely will spend considerable time, at the ASEAN foreign ministers meeting this weekend, discussing North Korea, and U.S.-North Korea relations, and possibly about other White House priorities like U.S. relations with Iran. (North Korea’s foreign minister will attend the ASEAN meeting.) Regarding U.S.-Southeast Asia relations, however, several aspects of the trip will be important to watch for. (For an excellent overview of the Trump administration’s response to China’s Belt and Road Initiative, which Pompeo rolled out before the trip, see Alyssa Ayres’s piece on CNN.com.) How Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad responds. Mahathir, who led the surprising May victory over Malaysia’s former ruling coalition, has announced that Kuala Lumpur intends to scrutinize Chinese state-backed projects in Malaysia, and has expressed skepticism about Beijing’s landmark Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) infrastructure project. (The Wall Street Journal has reported that the Malaysian government is investigating whether funds from BRI were involved in paying off debts in the massive 1MDB scandal.) He also has announced that Malaysia, which had been relatively quiet on South China Sea issues under former Prime Minister Najib tun Razak, will take a more assertive posture to protect freedom of navigation and its interests in the South China Sea. But Mahathir also historically has had frosty relations with senior U.S. leaders, and at times has been vocally anti-American. Will he be willing to push Malaysia toward closer strategic ties with the United States, and will he really embrace the White House’s nascent Free and Open Indo-Pacific concept? China, after all, remains Malaysia’s most important economic partner. Whether any Southeast Asian states publicly endorse the Free and Open Indo-Pacific idea. Not only Singapore but also other Southeast Asian states generally do not want to be pushed into choosing between Washington and Beijing, but many countries in the region also privately share the White House’s concerns about China’s dramatic militarization of the South China Sea, and also about unfair Chinese trade practices. Vietnam, among Southeast Asian states, has taken the most assertive approach to Beijing’s South China Sea claims, and Vietnamese leaders have recently echoed the White House’s framing of the Free and Open Indo-Pacific concept, as Derek Grossman of the RAND Corporation has noted. Will Vietnamese leaders support the Free and Open Indo-Pacific idea, solidifying Vietnam’s closer embrace of the United States, as part of Hanoi’s multi-faceted strategy of deterrence in the South China Sea? How will Pompeo address issues of rights and democracy? In Malaysia, Mahathir has made restoring the rule of law, cleaning up corruption, and (at least somewhat) curtailing the repression of previous Malaysian administrations, a priority of his. In addition, Anwar Ibrahim, Mahathir’s probable successor, is a longtime democracy activist, and senior leaders of the Malaysian ruling coalition also are prominent rights and democracy activists. Will Pompeo use the Free and Open Indo-Pacific concept to focus on rights and democracy regionally, or is a real focus on rights and democracy impossible given the White House’s own focus on sovereignty and general de-emphasis of rights issues in U.S. policy? Similarly, in Indonesia, Pompeo will have an opportunity to address not only the regional democracy regression but also growing challenges to democracy within Indonesia, including from Islamist groups that have become increasingly active in local and national politics.

In Cambodia’s elections this past weekend, Hun Sen’s Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) reportedly won all 125 of the seats contested in elections that were slammed by international observers, Cambodia’s now-dissolved main opposition party, and human rights groups as being neither free nor fair. After all, the Cambodian government had dissolved the major opposition party and did not allow it to contest the election, and also had shut down multiple free media outlets in the run-up to the poll. On Election Day, the CPP had said it won one hundred seats, but by the next day, it was claiming it had won all 125. If the CPP indeed does claim all 125 seats, it would mean Cambodia no longer had any opposition party in the legislature at all—a change from the past, when it had stronger and weaker oppositions at times, but almost always had some opposition presence. It would become a one-party government. (Nineteen small parties participated in this election vote but none of them apparently won any seats.) The CPP has now said it will form a government within sixty days. In other words, this election, and the run-up period during which the government neutered civil society and opposition politics, seems to have decisively shifted Cambodia from a state that was some hybrid between democracy and autocracy—always leaning toward autocracy, for sure, but somewhere in between—into a complete autocracy. The country indeed is becoming little different, in its politics, from neighboring autocracies like Vietnam. Mu Sochua, vice president of the now-banned main opposition party, the Cambodia National Rescue Party (CNRP), said after last Sunday’s Cambodian election that this vote was the “death of democracy” in Cambodia. It appears Hun Sen fears neither internal nor external pressure and no longer cares to even pretend to oversee a democracy. He also may believe that a full autocracy offers the best chance of eventually handing power to his son, who appears to be groomed to become the country’s next ruler, with the support of the armed forces. But the election did not necessarily show a high degree of popular confidence in Hun Sen and his party. According to the Associated Press and other agencies, there were roughly six hundred thousand invalid ballots in the election. The high number may have materialized because many Cambodians spoiled their ballots, in protest of the lack of choices in the election—despite threats from the government against people who spoiled ballots. As Reuters notes, “As many as 594,843 votes, or 8.4 percent, of the 7.64 million votes cast, were invalid and spoiled, figures from the National Election Committee showed. By comparison, spoiled ballots in the last election, in 2013, comprised just 1.6 percent of the total.” The spoilage suggests that, for at least a sizable percentage of the population, extended CPP rule—especially with no checks on the CPP—is not what they wanted. It may further suggest that if the major opposition party had run, it could have done well. Despite the ballot spoilage, a sign of voter discontent, the opposition is stuck in a very tough place. Its most charismatic leaders are in jail or exiled abroad, and Hun Sen has boosted his already-immense power within the security forces. There seems little chance that prominent CNRP members could return to the country, unless they bend the knee to Hun Sen; the group may have to operate mostly in exile, at least for a period of time. Meanwhile, foreign countries have less leverage now than in the past, and the general democratic regression in Southeast Asia also helps Hun Sen. It is quite possible that now, after the election, Hun Sen will unleash further restrictions on media, civil society, and other activists voices, and clamp down even harder on individual opposition politicians. In a subsequent piece for World Politics Review, I will assess how the international community will respond to the Cambodian election, and the direction of Cambodian politics over the long term.  

By Richard Heydarian As Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte enters his third year in office, he has been fixated on his next big project: constitutional change. Under a new proposed constitution, drafted by a Consultative Committee composed of experts handpicked by the president, the Philippines is poised to potentially shift to a more federal form of government. Duterte and his supporters claim that the new constitution would empower the impoverished peripheries of the country and end the reign of so-called “imperial Manila.” The national capital region, the seat of power, generates more than one-third (36.5 percent) of the country’s entire GDP, but only contains roughly 10 percent of the country’s population. By providing individual states more autonomy under a more federal system, advocates of the constitutional reforms argue, the agricultural central and southern islands of Visayas and Mindanao would be able to close their development gap with the more industrialized north. As the first president hailing from Mindanao, and steeped in his Visayan heritage, Duterte made federalism and decentralization—which have been successful in neighboring Indonesia—a major campaign promise during the 2016 elections. Under the new proposed form of government, the Philippines would be broken down into eighteen regions, with their own regional assemblies and executive agencies. Senators would no longer be elected through nationwide elections; instead, similar to in the United States, they would hail from individual states. In this way, the new constitution hopes to make the Senate more representative of the entire country. Meanwhile, a new federal House of Representatives composed of four hundred members would replace the current lower house. The members would be selected based on geographic representation as well as proportional representation for marginalized groups. Economic and political dynasties rule the Philippines. According to academic studies, about one hundred eighty Philippine political dynasties dominate seventy-three out of a total of eighty-one provinces in the Philippines. A weak party system makes it easier for dynasties to thrive. They constitute up to 70 percent of the national legislature. In 2013, according to the World Bank, only forty family-dominated conglomerates absorbed more than two-thirds of newly-created growth in the country. The new constitution hopes to democratize the country’s socioeconomic landscape by reducing protections for domestic conglomerates, strengthening political parties, and placing tighter restrictions on the proliferation of political dynasties. Despite many reforms introduced in the new constitution, many experts, however, as well as much of the Philippine public, remain unconvinced. Indeed, the constitutional reform does not appear to be popular with the majority of public, according to surveys by Pulse Asia and Social Weather Stations, or with many opinion leaders. Close to three hundred of the country’s leading academics, including the presidents of the country’s top universities, have signed an open letter opposing the move for constitutional change. They have questioned the preparedness and capacity of peripheral regions to raise enough revenues on their own, the seemingly arbitrary designation of new regions in the constitution, the massive additional cost of the transition process, and the challenges of adding new layers of government as part of the proposed reforms. Duterte’s critics further claim that the idea of constitutional change is a thinly veiled plot to extend the president’s term in office, potentially up until 2030. The new proposed constitution abolishes the current single six-year term for the office of president in favor of a maximum of two consecutive four-year terms. Duterte is proposing a nationwide popular referendum on the new constitution, which is yet to be vetted by the legislature, by May 2019 and a full shift to a federal form of government by May 2022 if the referendum succeeds. But there are concerns as to whether the final version of the proposed constitution will have explicit prohibitions against Duterte running for president again beyond 2022. Duterte has sought to reassure the public by claiming that he will not seek office beyond his current term in office, which ends by 2022. But many remain unconvinced. Surveys show that the majority either oppose constitutional change or are unaware and unconvinced of its relevance. Indeed, there does not seem to be any public clamor for the move, which remains deeply controversial among the public. Even if Duterte does not try to gain more terms as president, the constitutional reforms could give him enormous influence over the country past his time in the presidency. Back in the early-1970s, former strongman Ferdinand Marcos extended his stay in office though introduction of a new constitution, which gave him almost unlimited powers over the country. Prominent constitutionalist Christian Monsod has described the new proposed constitution as a “Trojan horse” for the establishment of “constitutional authoritarianism.” After all, the draft constitution gives Duterte significant power to shape the contours of the Philippines’ entire political system through his chairmanship of an all-powerful Federal Transition Committee (FTC). The new body, which will come into effect shortly after the prospective approval of the new constitution, will oversee the formulation, design and implementation of the shift to a new form of government. In effect, critics claim, Duterte will become the overlord of the entire process of political transition, assuming powers that will allow him to determine, together with his handpicked members of the transition committee, the shape and direction of the new government, from its operating rules and regulations to the institutional design as well as who will be in favorable position to dominate the newly-created offices. Yet the perceived power grab has unleashed widespread backlash in government and in the broader civil society. No less than Duterte’s own allies in the more independently minded senate have opposed the railroading of the constitutional deliberation process. Most senators also remain skeptical of the need for a wholesale constitutional change. Major businesses as well as religious groups have also joined the chorus of opposition. The Ecumenical Bishops’ Forum, composed of Catholic and Protestant leaders, has criticized the proposed constitutional change as a “sinister” move, which could grant “Duterte the power to exercise a monopoly of executive, legislative and judiciary powers,” paving the way for “one-man rule.” As the president and his core allies seek to overhaul the country’s political system, a greater section of the society is pushing back with growing determination. Despite his popularity, Duterte is struggling to get his way on this issue. Richard Javad Heydarian is an academic, columnist for the Philippine Daily Inquirer, and author of Rise of Duterte: A Populist Revolt Against Elite Democracy (Palgrave, 2018).

Last week, the research and advocacy group Fortify Rights, which has amassed considerable expertise on the situation in Rakhine State and the abuses perpetrated by the Myanmar armed forces, released probably its most comprehensive report yet. The report [PDF], based on interviews with more than two hundred survivors of the killings in Rakhine State and some two years of research, strongly suggests that the Myanmar military carefully laid the plans for massive crimes against Rohingya in Rakhine State in late 2017. In fact, some of the evidence collected in the report makes the situation in Myanmar seem reminiscent of the type of planning that occurred in Rwanda, prior to the genocide against Tutsis there in 1994. The Myanmar military has denied any and all allegations that it planned atrocities in Rakhine State. As the Guardian notes, “A military inquiry into the conduct of soldiers released its findings in November 2017, exonerating the army.” As the Fortify Rights report shows, however, the killings of Rohingya in late 2017 were not just an outpouring of violence or some kind of inter-ethnic bloodletting that happened in the heat of Rakhine State political tensions. Its evidence shows that, well before an attack by a shadowy Rohingya insurgent group on police posts in western Myanmar in August 2017 which the Myanmar government claims supposedly triggered the violence, the Myanmar military had apparently launched a concerted effort to prepare for the killings of Rohingya that came after August. Fortify Rights reveals that, nearly a year before, the military had begun stripping Rohingya areas of possible defenses against violence, including confiscating makeshift weapons and removing Rohingya’s fences. The report also shows that the army trained Rakhine Buddhist vigilante groups, and armed them as well, and that in 2016 and 2017 the military moved new detachments of troops into northern Rakhine State, which would be the epicenter of the violence. All this , it shows, was in preparation for 2017, and these preparations allowed Rakhine Buddhists, and security forces, to go on a rampage in late 2017 against Rohingya, with the Rohingya fully unable to defend themselves. Perhaps more than any other piece of evidence yet unveiled about the situation in Rakhine State, the report demonstrates the need for international actors to take action against senior leaders of the Myanmar military responsible for the atrocities. There is no hope that the most senior army leaders will face any reckoning within Myanmar, given the army’s continuing dominance of many facets of Myanmar politics, and Aung San Suu Kyi’s weakness, as well as the weaknesses of the civilian government. The Myanmar government has not even allowed the top UN human rights official focused on Myanmar into the country to investigate the situation in Rakhine State. But the international community should take stronger action against the top levels of the Myanmar military—even if doing so, as some analysts predict, would alienate the majority of Myanmar citizens (at least Buddhist Burmans), who have rallied around the armed forces in the past two years. Top Myanmar leaders could, for instance, be referred to the International Criminal Court, or the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) could create a framework for investigating alleged crimes in Myanmar; the Security Council will not do so, since any proposal would be blocked by China and Russia, so a UNGA framework would be a possibility. Without some kind of accountability for the Myanmar armed forces’ top leadership, the prospect of the army committing similar abuses in the future is high. And future crimes, in Rakhine, or in other ethnic minority areas, could not only bring more suffering but also further set back Myanmar’s peace process, and further undermine the country’s already-shaky political stability.

Earlier this month, the Malaysian government arrested former Prime Minister Najib tun Razak on charges of corruption and criminal breaches of trust, in allegations related to the 1MDB state fund scandal. The charges were brought swiftly; the new Malaysian government has been in office less than two months, after winning elections in May that turned in part on voter anger at the perceived high levels of graft in Najib’s administration.  Najib’s arrest, after years of rumors surrounding the 1MDB fund, and investigations into it by authorities in the United States and other countries, is certainly a major signal that the new, Pakatan Harapan government, intends to take steps to improve the rule of law, which had been deteriorating badly in Malaysia However, simply pursuing charges against Najib, though an important signal of change, will not be enough to rebuild the rule of law in Malaysia. For more on how the Malaysian government can rebuild the country’s institutions, see my new piece in Pinter Politik.

More than four years after Thailand’s military seized power in a coup, the nineteenth coup or coup attempt in the kingdom since the end of the absolute monarchy in 1932, the country still seems far from a return to civilian rule. Since the coup, junta leader Prayuth Chan-ocha has repeatedly promised that elections will be held, only to put them off once again. Most recently, the junta allowed political parties to register earlier this year, and also suggested that new elections would be held by February 2019 at the latest. However, in recent weeks the military has waffled on this date as well, and is now saying that elections could be held next May—or possibly later. Yet even as Thailand’s junta prepares to push off elections again, Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-ocha has increasingly been welcomed in many leading democracies. Indeed, from Europe to Australia to the United States, countries have largely dropped efforts at pressuring Thailand’s government, even while Thailand’s political crisis stretches on indefinitely. For more on how the junta has renormalized relations with leading democracies, see my new World Politics Review article.

In early May, Malaysia was stunned by the victory, in national elections, of the opposition coalition, led by Mahathir Mohamad and essentially (from jail), longtime opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim. Although some journalists had, in the run-up to the election, noted that the opposition’s support appeared to be cresting, in the wake of years of massive corruption allegations against former Prime Minister Najib tun Razak and his allies, the win still came largely as a shock. Najib had governed increasingly autocratically, including by detaining many prominent opponents, and his coalition—which had ruled Malaysia since independence—also benefitted from control of state media, massive gerrymandering, and the ability to hand out large amounts of cash in the run-up to election day, a strategy it had used repeatedly in the past to ensure victory. Yet despite these obstacles, the Malaysia opposition won—and Najib and his coalition (eventually) conceded, marking the country’s first democratic transfer of power. Yet democrats throughout the rest of Southeast Asia, where many elections are due this year and next, should not take too much heart from Malaysia’s example. For more on why they should not, see my new piece in the Globalist.

Over the past decade, Southeast Asia’s democratic decline has accelerated, and in the past two years the recession has picked up notable speed. With the exception of Malaysia, which shocked the region with the defeat of the governing coalition in May, Southeast Asia’s hybrid states are backsliding, while its most authoritarian states are becoming more autocratic. Even Indonesia and Timor-Leste, the region’s most solid democracies, have become shakier in the past two years. In an extended interview with The Diplomat, I assess the state of democracy in Southeast Asia today, the regional and international causes for Southeast Asia’s democratic backsliding, and whether there are causes for hope for the future. See the interview here.

In my previous post, I discussed how, after a surprising victory in May elections, and jubilation among supporters of the former opposition coalition that they had finally broken through, ending the ruling coalition’s domination of Malaysian politics, Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad and other leaders of the governing alliance are now facing tough realities on many fronts. For one, they remain unsure of how much state money was allegedly stolen or lost by the previous government, and how much worse Malaysia’s national debt is than previous imagined—an issue of great significance to investors and ratings agencies. The new ruling coalition may well find it difficult to reconcile key planks of different parties within the governing alliance, especially on issues related to longstanding affirmative action programs for ethnic Malays—but also on other issues. Regarding the longstanding affirmative action programs for ethnic Malays, it seems almost impossible to imagine how Mahathir, supported by ethnic Malays, could take steps to reform the programs, even though other parties in his coalition would like to do so. Yet the programs have, in many ways, outlived whatever utility they had for the Malaysian economy and society. The new government also is struggling, to some extent, to balance demands from the various members of its somewhat unwieldy coalition for key cabinet positions—and, generally, for influence in the government’s decision-making processes. Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad recently announced that his cabinet will have twenty-nine ministers, a larger number than he originally envisioned, probably in order to keep the peace within the ruling coalition. And, looming over the coalition government’s long-term viability is the question of whether Mahathir and Anwar Ibrahim can get along, and how long Mahathir plans to stay on as prime minister—staying too long could well lead to Anwar’s supporters eventually trying to push Mahathir to the exits. But the new government also confronts major challenges in foreign strategic and economic relations. During the election campaign, Mahathir had questioned a wide range of investments in Malaysia backed by the Chinese government, Chinese lenders, and Chinese state firms. In recent weeks, he has taken steps to try to bolster Malaysia’s economic ties with Japan, which Mahathir apparently sees as a key counterweight to China’s growing economic dominance in Malaysia. Mahathir went to Japan for his first overseas visit after becoming prime minister, and in Japan he called for several steps to reinvigorate the bilateral economic relationship. As the Diplomat noted, Mahathir “signaled his determination to reduce Malaysia’s indebtedness to China. He requested yen-denominated soft loans in a bid to reduce debt servicing costs, made a pitch to Japanese investors, and pledged to strengthen Malaysia’s overall relationship with Japan.” Japanese officials, who see Tokyo in an almost existential struggle with China for strategic and economic influence in Southeast Asia, may indeed be receptive to Mahathir’s strategies. (Even as China has, in recent years, become Malaysia’s biggest trading partner, Japan remained one of the most important investors in Malaysia, and the biggest source of inbound foreign investment in Malaysia last year.) Reuters has reported that Japanese firms may be interested in taking stakes in some Malaysian state-linked companies, and increasing investments in a wide range of sectors in Malaysia. And yet Malaysian leaders must walk a very tight balance beam. Mahathir indeed seems serious about avoiding working on megaprojects with Beijing that could result in high debt burdens, and in readjusting Malaysia’s external relations, to create a more even balance between Japan and China. But Beijing is a dominant force in trade with Malaysia, and has extensive diplomatic tools to deploy as well. China will respond forcefully if it believes Mahathir intends to seriously diminish Beijing’s influence in Malaysia.

Following the surprise victory by Malaysia’s (former) opposition coalition in national elections in May, a spirit of jubilation erupted in much of the country, at least in regions not won by UMNO, the former key party in the ruling coalition. The once-docile state press, which had basically avoided coverage of the allegedly enormous 1MDB state fund scandal, began to report on investigations into 1MDB, allegations against former Prime Minister Najib tun Razak, and next steps in possible government actions against Najib. Prime Minister Mohamad Mahathir, as well as the new finance minister, Lim Guan Eng, moved quickly to try to get to the bottom of how much money had allegedly been taken from the state, both in the 1MDB scandal and also in numerous other projects. The prime minister told virtually any media outlet that would listen that his administration would be committed to reform—reform in government to reduce graft, reform in politics to restore the rule of law (possibly by creating new limits on the length of time ministers could serve), and reforms in the investment environment that would make Malaysia more attractive to foreign investors. Former Prime Minister Najib and his wife reportedly are being held in Malaysia, possibly so that they can be charged in a criminal inquiry. Former opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim, meanwhile, is out of jail and appears ready to reassert a major role in politics, perhaps in preparation for assuming the job as prime minister two or three years from now. Although Mahathir was hardly known for his kind treatment of free expression during his previous stint as prime minister, prominent critics of the former government, like famous cartoonist Zunar, seem to have had some restrictions on them lifted. But after the initial euphoria, Mahathir and his government now confront major challenges on nearly all fronts. For one, as the finance minister and other officials have repeatedly admitted, the new government was shocked by how little information they got in the transition period—papers were shredded at the finance ministry and computers locked—and the Mahathir government is still struggling to completely ascertain how much money was stolen in the previous era, and how much greater Malaysia’s debts are than was previously assumed. Mahathir’s government has even turned to crowdfunding to pay some government debts, a strategy unlikely to make a major dent in the debt burden. In addition, Mahathir continues to struggle to put together his cabinet, which needs to draw upon the diverse political parties in the somewhat-unwieldy coalition that won the May elections. Mahathir has called for a much smaller cabinet than Najib had—perhaps to reduce government excess and perhaps to give Mahathir more control—but horse trading over many cabinet posts has gone on for weeks, and threatens to continue on for weeks more. The prime minister already has given some top posts to key allies—people who did not come from Anwar’s party, which is the biggest part of the coalition—and the tussle over cabinet posts could signal that the government will struggle, in the long run, to reconcile the fact that Mahathir is the prime minister but that he has to rely on Anwar’s party for his support. Despite the promises of reform, too, some members of Malaysian civil society are not totally willing to believe that Mahathir, once a longtime autocrat, is willing to really alter the deep-rooted nature of the Malaysian state, including laws and practices that suppress free speech. As the New York Times noted in a recent piece on Mahathir’s approach to speech and expression, although some writers and cartoonists like Zunar seem to have had restrictions lifted, Mahathir has yet to jettison laws on sedition dating back to the colonial era, and laws restricting online speech, although he has promised to abolish an anti–fake news law passed in the waning days of the Najib government. Mahathir also faces major challenges on two other fronts, which will be examined in the subsequent post: How to rebalance Malaysia’s external economic relations, which he has promised to do, and how to reconcile the desire, among major parts of his coalition, to reform the country’s affirmative action laws benefitting ethnic Malays, with Mahathir’s own Malay base.

Since China’s Belt and Road Initiative was formally launched in 2013, Southeast Asia has been one of the major priorities of the infrastructure investment project. Beijing launched a new high-speed railway from Kunming to Laos (a line that is supposed to eventually stretch through Southeast Asia), a high-speed rail link connecting Kuala Lumpur and Singapore, and multiple other projects throughout the region. The giant infrastructure project still has many fans in Southeast Asian governments, and in Southeast Asian private companies. Laos’ government is pushing forward with the $5.8 billion railway, which it has touted as critical to transforming Laos into a transport hub for the region, to spark growth in parts of the landlocked state, and also to boost tourism in the country. According to the Nikkei Asian Review, at the recent Future of Asia conference held in Tokyo, Laotian Prime Minister Thongloun Sisoulith touted the rail as a project “of great importance” to the country’s development, downplaying concerns raised by some financial institutions of the railway’s potential debt burden; Laos could wind up assuming most of the cost of the $5.8 billion project, and piling up unsustainable amounts of debt. Meanwhile, Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, among other Southeast Asian leaders, has continued assiduously wooing Belt and Road projects and other infrastructure investments from Beijing. Indonesian president Joko Widodo, too, apparently continues to see Chinese infrastructure investment and financing as critical to his plans to upgrade Indonesia’s aging physical infrastructure. But in recent months, leaders and publics in some Southeast Asian states have become worried about the potential downsides of Belt and Road investments. Leaders in Southeast Asia are surely aware of the situation last year in Sri Lanka, in which the country, increasingly dependent on Chinese financing, wound up giving China a 99-year lease on the important port of Hambantota, in order to get a reduction in Sri Lanka’s debts. As the Nikkei noted, even International Monetary Fund head Christine Lagarde warned, in April, that some Belt and Road projects—mostly delivered through loans and not grants—could wind up saddling recipient developing countries with debt traps, unable to repay Chinese state firms and lenders back in the long run. Such concerns in Southeast Asia about Belt and Road remained relatively muted until recently; many countries do indeed need infrastructure investment, did not want to alienate their biggest trading partner, and were waiting to see how Belt and Road’s specific initiatives developed. But now, several of the largest Southeast Asian states—countries with close trade ties with Beijing—are voicing concerns. Before the Malaysian opposition’s surprise victory in May elections, now-Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad vowed to take a new look at many China-backed projects in Malaysia, including the Kuala Lumpur-Singapore rail line, to scrutinize how much they benefit Malaysia, how essential they are, and whether they involve wasteful spending. Although Mahathir and Anwar Ibrahim, who may be the next prime minister after Mahathir, have promised to maintain a strong relationship with China—Malaysia is China’s biggest trading partner in Southeast Asia—they are still expected to review multiple deals with Beijing. In Thailand too, a country that has become much closer to China economically and strategically over the past decade, some government leaders appear to be reassessing the value of Belt and Road projects. Thailand had promised to link up its eastern seaboard development project with Belt and Road initiatives, and also had welcomed the high speed line. But other countries’ Belt and Road debt problems, and the potential high cost and high debt associated with the rail line, could have soured the junta government on these Chinese initiatives. Construction has finally started on the rail line through Thailand, but this month the Thai government announced that it was, with other Southeast Asian states, considering launching a regional investment fund. The fund may be similar in some ways to Belt and Road (albeit on a much smaller scale)—a possible sign that Thailand wants to promote modest Belt and Road alternatives. The region’s smallest states, like Laos, have become so heavily dependent on China that they may feel they have no choice but to accept Belt and Road projects and other China-backed initiatives, even if they come with debt worries. But larger, more powerful economies may, at this point, be ending their honeymoon with Belt and Road.

In his book A Great Place to Have a War, Joshua Kurlantzick tells the story of the CIA’s covert war in Laos during the Vietnam War. He examines how the country became, surprisingly, a U.S. policy priority, and analyzes why and how the CIA was able to build the war into one of the biggest covert operations in U.S. history. He further uses the Laos war as a prism to examine the CIA’s operations in the global war on terror today.