In writing this book, I have benefited greatly from numerous discussions that I have had with many friends and scholars over the last 20 years. I have also profited from various seminars on Indonesia’s foreign affairs given by Indonesian officials, diplomats and academics. Many of these seminars and talks were behind closed doors or off the record, and therefore they cannot be cited. Nonetheless, they have had a strong influence on my study.

Many friends in Indonesia have shared their expertise with me, and in doing so have enriched my understanding of both Indonesia’s domestic politics and foreign policy. Their names are too many to be mentioned here but I would like to offer all of them my sincere thanks.

A significant portion of the study was conducted between 1988 and 1989 during my sabbatical leave in three institutions: the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies in Singapore (ISEAS), Ohio University and Cornell University. Each possesses an excellent library, and I am grateful to the staff of those libraries for assisting me in my research.

A few friends have read the early version of my manuscript, either in part or in full. I would like in particular to thank Chin Kin Wah, N. Ganesan, Michael Leifer, Jamie Mackie and Nancy Viviani for their useful suggestions. I am also grateful to Triena Ong who has given me editorial advice. Nevertheless, for any mistakes and shortcomings which still exist in this book, I am alone responsible.

Leo Suryadinata

July 1995

Singapore

The remarkable negative shift in American policy against China dominates US policy in Southeast Asia and the broader Indo-Pacific region, one of two top policy arenas of acute US rivalry with China. The other is competition for dominance in the high-technology industries determining which country will be the world’s economic and military leader. In both critical policy areas, the United States seeks to counter Chinese challenges and prevent feared Chinese dominance and its negative impact on American security and well-being.

President Joseph Biden entered office in January 2021 with clear priorities focused on countering the pandemic that ravaged the country amid the national government’s mismanagement, reviving and making more competitive the stalled economy in ways beneficial to American workers, reducing partisan divides that have caused government gridlock and mass protests that undermine the democratic process, and protecting minority rights against unjust law enforcement. Foreign policy was secondary. There was a strong emphasis on a return to close cooperation with allies and partners; cooperation with international groups seeking multilateral solutions to salient global issues involving public health, climate change and nuclear non-proliferation; and a priority on Asia as the most important region for American security, economic and political interests.

President Biden and senior members of his administration came late in endorsing the dramatic negative turn in US policy towards China carried out by senior leaders of the Trump administration and bipartisan majorities in Congress beginning with the administration’s National Security Strategy in December 2017. Candidate Biden disparaged China’s ability to challenge US power. By early 2021, however, the president and senior aides repeatedly warned against major dangers posed by China’s challenges. Biden stressed that China had reached a stage, through predatory economic practices, where it challenged the United States for leadership in high-technology industries that provided the foundation for US economic and military leadership, thereby threatening US domination by China. Meanwhile, the president’s countering of Chinese expansionism in Asia showed repeatedly in his meetings with key allies and partners, giving high importance to the four-party Quad grouping involving Australia, India, Japan and the United States to advance US interests in the region in contrast to China’s ambitions for dominance and control.

Over the course of the last decade, Cambodia’s relations with China have gone from strength to strength, deepening across every field imaginable, and at a pace that gives new meaning to the phrase “breakneck speed”. While the COVID-19 pandemic slowed—and for a brief period entirely halted—the constant stream of official and business delegations from China, Phnom Penh has been expecting their rapid return (some more eagerly than others) when normalcy and regularly scheduled flights resume. The sheer scale of Chinese engagement with Cambodia was well encapsulated by one Cambodian official who noted to the author that the number of official visits to his department was so high they could barely keep up—with at least one group arriving every week. At the same time, the vast amount of Chinese aid and foreign direct investment is omnipresent—hundreds of miles of new roads (of varying quality) built under the ambit of China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), new Phnom Penh skylines dominated by Chinesebuilt office buildings and condominiums, and once-sleepy provincial towns and suburbs packed to the gunwales with Chinese-owned factories and shophouses. A visit to the port city of Sihanoukville, constantly touted as the kingdom’s “New Shenzhen”, regularly yields the inevitable joke by Cambodian colleagues when entering the city: “Did you remember your passport? We’re in China now.”

While English remains the second language of choice for the kingdom’s elite, professional class and students, one can easily live and work in Cambodia fully ensconced in putonghua—a far cry from the early 2000s when “Chinese language” meant Chaozhou and Hokkien, and traditional rather than simplified characters on shop signs. Confucius Institutes abound, including branches at various ministries (including the Ministry of Defence), and the kingdom’s Chinese language media regularly trumpets in laudatory terms a daily drumbeat of new initiatives demonstrating the unbreakable ties of Sino-Cambodian friendship. The appointment of Chinese-born, naturalized Cambodian businessman Chen Zhi—chairman of the Prince Group conglomerate—as advisor to Prime Minister Hun Sen last year demonstrated to many observers the incredible depth and new reality of Sino-Cambodian relations.

Introduction

Using the various “determinants” discussed above as a backdrop, this chapter examines Indonesia’s foreign policy before Suharto came to power. What was its nature? What were the major issues? Who made the policies? A brief study of Indonesia’s foreign policy before the New Order is important because Suharto’s foreign policy, to a certain extent, has shown continuity with that of Sukarno.

Various factors which have been identified in the previous chapter, such as leaders’ perceptions of Indonesia’s territory and role, the dominant political culture and Indonesia’s capabilities, have affected Indonesia’s foreign policy throughout the period from the revolution to the Suharto era.

Pre-New Order policy can be divided into at least three periods: the revolutionary period (1945-1949), the Liberal Democracy Period (1950-1958), and the Guided Democracy Period (1959-1965).

The Revolutionary Period (1945-1949)

Before considering Indonesia’s foreign policy during the revolutionary period, it is necessary to ask whether there was a foreign policy before December 1949. Some observers argue that, prior to that time, Indonesia was not an independent state because the Dutch had not transferred sovereignty. Accordingly, prior to 1949-1950, Indonesia did not have any foreign policy.

Indonesian nationalists argue that Indonesia was already a sovereign state when independence was declared. A state is defined in terms of independent government (a republic), clear boundaries (those of the Dutch East Indies, although before December 1949 the nationalists were not in full control) and a population (Indonesian peoples who lived in the Dutch East Indies). Moreover, when independence was proclaimed, the Republican Government was the only government because the Japanese had capitulated on 15 August 1945, and Allied troops only arrived a few weeks later. After mid-September, the Allied Forces led by the British intended to restore Dutch rule in Indonesia. Their actions brought them into physical conflict with Indonesians who were then struggling for their independence. Although the republic was initially confined to a limited area and was not recognized by all the major powers, it was recognized by some small states (in the Middle East) and by some major powers (the Soviet Union in 1948, before the Dutch transfer of sovereignty). Since Indonesia was already a state in 1945, its foreign policy also began in that year.

In any case, the fact remains that the Republicans were able to establish a foothold in Java and expand their influence.

Introduction

This chapter examines Indonesia’s policy towards China under Suharto. It explains why it took so long for Jakarta to normalize relations with Beijing and what obstacles arose in the process. What were the factors that contributed to the diplomatic breakthrough in 1989? What were the roles of the military and the President in this normalization process? Are there any issues which may affect the relations?

Sino-Indonesian Relations under Sukarno

It is a well-known fact that, during Sukarno’s time, Indonesia was on good terms with the PRC, especially in the mid-1960s when Indonesia, together with the PRC, attempted to set up the Conference of New Emerging Forces (CONEFO) headquartered in Jakarta. CONEFO was supposed to be a United Nations of poor countries because at the time, the PRC had not yet been admitted to the UN, and Indonesia had just left the organization. This did not mean, however, that all socio-political forces in Indonesia were in support of close Beijing-Jakarta relations. On the contrary, the army was worried about a Beijing-Jakarta axis but was not able to move Indonesia away from the PRC anti-colonialist coalition.

In the 1960s, prior to the emergence of the New Order, there were three political forces competing for influence in domestic politics. Communist influence continued to grow after the 1957 by-elections and the Army also gained in strength after crushing the 1958 regional rebellions in Sumatra and Sulawesi. The President, who was becoming more left-wing in his political orientation, initially attempted to balance the PKI against the Army and vice-versa, but gradually he moved closer to the PKI. Fearing the rise of the military, the PKI wanted to establish a Fifth Army under its control made up of peasants and workers. Sukarno lent his support to the idea and sent Omar Dhani, the chief of the Air Force, to negotiate with the PRC in the hopes of getting small weapons for the Fifth Force. Apparently, the President wanted to balance the army’s strength by aligning himself with the PKI and the Air Force.

This balance of power game came to a sudden end on 30 September 1965 when an alleged communist coup took place. Six generals were kidnapped and slain, but General Nasution escaped. General Suharto, who was the commander of the Strategic Unit in Jakarta, was not on the list.

If 2020 was a year dominated by COVID-19 worldwide, it is difficult to label 2021 any differently, especially in Laos. While much of the Global North enters a stage of pandemic recovery, and talk of life in the post-pandemic world, this is just beginning in Laos; one of the early success stories of COVID-19, with only a small number of infections in 2020. From 19 September 2021, Vientiane entered its strictest ever period of lockdown, with cases of the delta variant soaring and concerns about the pandemic spreading throughout the capital causing strict restrictions on movement, including large numbers of roadblocks. The extended lockdown was only showing signs of easing at the time of writing in November 2021. Different parts of the country have been under various degrees of lockdown, but it is clearly unlikely that the country will return to a widespread state of pre-pandemic normality at the end of 2021.

While it is easy to view 2020 and 2021 in Laos as solely about COVID-19, and the initial sections of this chapter focus on that, there have been other significant developments in Laos. These can be split into three main themes. The first relates to infrastructural developments, particularly the completion of the Laos–China Railway, set to open on 2 December 2021—it also marks the rising presence of China in Laos. The second involves political developments aiming to strengthen the rule of law and the government campaign against drugs. This is pertinent as 2021 saw Southeast Asia’s largest ever drugs bust in Laos. Other political developments include attempts to combat corruption and the rise of repression against freedom of expression, especially around internet freedoms. The third theme is about economic developments, including concerns about rising levels of debt and inflation, attempts to stabilize the Lao kip, and the reform of state enterprises. The chapter finishes with some suggestions as to what 2022 may offer and some tentative predictions as to what is worth watching closely.

COVID-19 Arrives in Laos, Again

Laos escaped 2020 relatively unscathed by COVID, with only forty-one cases and zero deaths by the end of the year. Even in a region that experienced fewer COVID-19 cases than elsewhere in the world, this low level seemed positive. All went seemingly well until the Lao New Year in April 2021.

Overview

Jokowi’s initial response to the COVID-19 pandemic was driven by a firm resolve to avoid lockdowns in the hope that Indonesia could evade a large wave of infections until vaccines became available. The arrival of the highly transmissible Delta variant in 2021 shattered this optimism. According to official estimates, 144,000 people in Indonesia have died from COVID-19. More than half of these deaths occurred during the intense wave of infections that engulfed the country between June and September 2021. The Delta wave caused a health system collapse and widespread economic disruptions. It also damaged President Jokowi’s personal credibility, as public trust in his ability to manage the crisis sank to the lowest levels since the pandemic began.

Amid the raging health crisis, the Indonesian Parliament (the Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat, or DPR) took up two legislative priorities. The 2021 Law on Special Autonomy (Otsus) for Papua was passed in July despite sustained protests by Papuans and a challenge in the Constitutional Court. Touted by the government as means for accelerating development, the new law effectively ends Papua’s ability to govern itself by transferring key fiscal and political powers back to Jakarta. In contrast to the speedy passage of the Otsus law, the sexual violence bill that has languished in the DPR since 2016 was shelved once again. Lawmakers accommodated objections by Muslim organizations to the consent-based definition of sexual violence in the bill and dropped key provisions for victims’ rights. But even this watered-down version could not be passed when Islamist parties insisted on revising the law to ban sex outside of marriage, including LGBTQ relations.

Two regional developments tested Indonesia’s reliance on ASEAN for managing its foreign policy objectives. Following the coup in Myanmar, Indonesia’s foreign minister skilfully navigated a myriad of interests to prevent recognition of Myanmar’s military government, but the bloc’s five-point consensus had little success in curbing the regime’s atrocities against civilians. Australia’s acquisition of nuclear-powered submarines through the AUKUS deal upset Indonesia’s longstanding efforts to prevent intensification of great power rivalry in Southeast Asia. Support for the deal from the Philippines and Singapore also exposed deep divisions within ASEAN, once again raising questions about ASEAN’s ability to serve as a buffer against geopolitical competition in the region.

Everywhere I spoke about ASEAN, I have always been asked about its importance, and even its relevance, in the face of its perceived failure to address at least three major issues—the South China Sea, the Northern Rakhine (Rohingya) problem and human rights. One of the quickest ways to counter arguments against the charges of the irrelevance of ASEAN is the fact that it has formal partnerships with all the major powers in the world—the United States, China, Russia, Japan and the European Union (EU) and many more are waiting in the queue. This is despite the long and arduous process of applying to become an External Partner. Even the seemingly simple act of signing the Instrument of Accession to the Treaty of Amity and Cooperation (TAC) follows the same long and sometimes cumbersome process that takes several months to complete. If ASEAN were irrelevant, I would say, why would these external parties go through all this? Obviously, the answer lies in their perception that indeed, ASEAN matters and that, of course, they would want to benefit from ASEAN’s growing economic and political/security importance as well as push their own agenda into that of ASEAN. The dynamics of how this happens will be the subject of this section, using the autoethnographic framework I described earlier.

ASEAN has not indicated any ranking or category of hierarchy for its external partners but it is generally understood that such a hierarchy exists. Among the Dialogue Partners (DPs), nine are sub-classified as Strategic Dialogue Partners (SDPs) while Canada has also indicated its desire to become one. This de facto categorization is reflected in Table 6.1.

The growing interest by other countries in ASEAN is also reflected in the number of applicants waiting to be accepted as external partners of ASEAN. These are: Bangladesh, the UK, Morocco, Fiji (Observer Status), Ecuador, Egypt, and Mongolia.

The TAC issued in 1976 is a fundamental peace treaty that all members, external partners and observers of ASEAN must accede to. Thus, countries and regional organizations desiring to apply for formal relationships with ASEAN regard it as their first step towards their acceptance for any category of external partnership.

The hope that the COVID-19 pandemic would be contained in 2021 did not materialize as the coronavirus continued to ravage the economies around the world, including Southeast Asia. Although there were important lessons learned from 2020, the pandemic was far from over in 2021 for most Southeast Asian economies. Uncertainty continued to prevail as the region once again struggled with managing the pandemic and juggling between health and economic needs. Living with COVID, rather than a “zero COVID” strategy, soon emerged as the new norm for some of the economies in Southeast Asia,

This chapter assesses the key factors affecting economic growth and recovery in 2021 as well as the prospects for sustaining the recovery in 2022. There are four main sections in this chapter. The second year of the COVID-19 pandemic in Southeast Asia is reviewed in the first section. The second section examines the impact of COVID-19 on regional growth in 2021 and 2022. The third section discusses the main factors that can affect the prospects of achieving or deterring the achievement of the forecasted growth. The conclusion is given in the last section.

Continued COVID-19 Disruptions

Containing the COVID-19 Pandemic: The Race to Vaccinate in Southeast Asia

One year of hard-earned lessons from managing the pandemic and the rollout of COVID-19 vaccines at the start of 2021 provided hope for global recovery. But the subsequent emergence and rapid transmission of the Delta variant, which became the dominant form of COVID-19, soon disrupted the fragile global recovery. Once again, countries all over the world continued to wage battle against the coronavirus through vaccinations as well as a transition towards managing COVID-19 as an endemic disease.

In Southeast Asia, the number of COVID-19 cases started to surge upwards in the first quarter of 2021 (Figure 1). Daily COVID-19 cases per million shot up towards the second half of the year. This was due in part to the spread of the highly contagious Delta variant and the slow rates of vaccination as well as the easing of restrictions in the early part of the year. The number of new cases per million peaked in the third quarter for some economies, but the average daily caseload in Southeast Asia started to decline towards the end of October 2021.

What a difference a year makes. At the beginning of 2021, Philippine president Rodrigo Duterte seemed nearly invincible: four and a half years into his single, six-year term, one could plausibly speculate that he would be able to exercise considerable influence over the succession process and install his own “anointed” candidate as the next president of the republic in the May 2022 elections. This would go against the usual pattern in Philippine politics, whereby governing coalitions start to splinter as elections approach and the leader is unable to satisfy all those who have earlier joined his or her camp. Duterte, arguably, might have been different. Throughout his time in office, ever since his meteoric rise from his Davao City mayoral post to the presidency in 2016, Duterte had effectively used a combination of mass appeal, strongman tactics and patronage not only to keep most of his coalition intact—but also to expand it. He had also shown himself to be the “Teflon populist”, with his popularity riding high even amidst the corruption scandals, infighting and incompetence that surrounded him. Maybe, just maybe, Duterte’s combination of charisma and coercion would enable him to buck the historical trends.

Most likely, it seemed in early 2021, Duterte would be able to engineer his replacement by either his daughter, Sara Duterte-Carpio (who had succeeded him as mayor of Davao City), or by his trusted special assistant Christopher “Bong” Go (elected to the Philippine Senate, with Duterte’s strong endorsement, in 2019). By the end of 2021, Duterte remained immensely popular, with 72 per cent approval, thus retaining his long streak of high survey ratings. But he had, quite clearly, squandered much of his influence over the process by which the next president was to be chosen. In the latter months of the year, very deep (and very public) intra-familial splits threatened the long-term viability of the House of Duterte. If the family’s national-level power is to re-emerge at some point in the future, it will quite likely be with the father out of the picture and the daughter at the helm.

The 1 February 2021 military coup in Myanmar ended a decade of political liberalization and triggered a countrywide popular uprising, which soon turned into armed resistance and ultimately all-out civil war. By year’s end, the military was locked in a battle for survival with a wide range of resistance forces from nearly every sector of society, while the state and economy were collapsing, and millions of people faced a deepening humanitarian emergency. The international community fretted about the growing crisis and demanded that the violence stop but was ultimately unable to do much more than watch as Myanmar fell apart.

The Antecedents of the Coup

The coup followed months of escalating tensions between the military and the civilian government, triggered by military allegations that the 7 November 2020 elections, which delivered a landslide victory to the incumbent National League for Democracy (NLD), were marred by widespread fraud. As the commencement date for the new parliament on 1 February edged closer, the military sought several legal avenues for delaying it, calling, first, for a special sitting of parliament and, later, a meeting of the National Defence and Security Council and even a Supreme Court intervention. These demands, however, were rejected by the civilian authorities, resulting in intense, face-to-face negotiations between representatives of the NLD and the military during the last few days of January to try to resolve the brewing constitutional crisis. Officially, the military simply wanted an acknowledgement of their grievances and a proper investigation of the election results, which at least some NLD leaders were reportedly willing to consider. According to some sources, however, the military was actually pushing for some form of power-sharing arrangement, which would have been a much greater concession for the NLD to make. Either way, the negotiations failed, and in the early morning of 1 February, the military once again took control of the capital, arrested the country’s elected leaders and declared a state of emergency. The initial takeover was quick and bloodless, but it triggered a conflict that would cost thousands of lives and fundamentally change the face of Myanmar politics.

Introduction

Indonesia and Vietnam share a common historical experience in that these two Southeast Asian countries achieved their independence through revolution, and the leaders of each country have emphasized this point from time to time. They have even argued that this common experience has formed the basis of Indonesia-Vietnam relations. How true is this assertion? What is the nature of their relations? Has Communist ideology been a major factor in the relations between Communist Vietnam and anti-Communist Indonesia? What has really determined bilateral ties? What has been the role of Suharto in Indonesia’s policy towards Vietnam? And last but not least, what are the prospects for the future?

Origins of Relations

Indonesia has had informal contacts with Vietnam since the 1940s. Diplomatic ties between Jakarta and Hanoi were only established after the Afro-Asian Conference in Bandung. Jakarta set up a Consulate-General in Hanoi in December 1955, three months after it had established a Consulate-General in Saigon. This policy of equidistance to the two Vietnams was abandoned during the Sukarno period when revolutionary fervour was rising and Indonesia’s foreign policy was moving towards the left.

In 1959, Ho Chi Minh was invited to visit Indonesia and was given an honorary degree by a regional Indonesian university. In the same year, Sukarno returned the visit. When the Vietnam war escalated, members of the Indonesian elite, many of whom had been involved in the anti-colonial movement, sympathized with the North Vietnamese. Many of them saw the South Vietnamese as American puppets. On 10 August 1964, Sukarno finally decided to upgrade diplomatic relations between Jakarta and Hanoi from consulate to ambassadorial level. This led to the suspension of diplomatic ties between Jakarta and Saigon, and the Indonesian consulate in Saigon was closed. Soon after, Indonesia decided to recognize the National Liberation Front of South Vietnam (NLFSV) and allowed the establishment of its representative office in Jakarta. Indonesian relations with Communist states, including North Vietnam, became much closer. Together with the PRC, they formed what was known as the Jakarta-Hanoi-Phnom Penh-Beijing-Pyongyang axis. This was the so-called honeymoon period, not only between Indonesia and the PRC, but also between Indonesia and North Vietnam.

Introduction

This chapter examines Indonesia’s role in the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) and Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation (APEC) Forum. In the first part, the following questions on NAM are asked: How important is NAM to Suharto’s Indonesia? Why has Indonesia been interested in becoming the Chairman of the NAM conference? What has been done by Indonesian leaders to achieve this objective? Have they been successful? In the second part, another set of questions are posed: What has been the importance of APEC to Suharto’s Indonesia? Why did Suharto change his mind on APEC? Was it for economic reasons or political reasons, or both? Is it the way for Suharto to project Indonesia’s international leadership position?

The Non-Aligned Movement

Origins of NAM

Indonesia perceives itself as one of the founders of the Non-Aligned Movement, and it wants to be recognized as such. Not surprisingly, Indonesia has tried very hard in recent years to secure the chairmanship of the NAM conference.

In most Indonesian publications on the subject of Indonesian foreign policy, the Non-Aligned Movement has been considered to have originated at the 1955 Afro-Asian Conference, also known as the Bandung Conference. The Bandung Principles, or Dasasila Bandung, are believed to be the basis of the NAM principles. In fact, the first conference of the Non-Aligned Movement was held in 1961 in Belgrade, Yugoslavia. Josip Broz Tito of Yugoslavia, Jawaharlal Nehru of India, and Abdul Nasser of Egypt are always linked with the Movement and the countries that they represented have, in turn, chaired the Movement. Indonesia was always left out.

The first Conference of the Non-Aligned Movement was attended by 28 countries which had expressed concern over tensions in the international arena, especially relations between the two superpowers. The conference participants wished the superpowers to refrain from using military means to solve their differences and stated that they did not wish to be aligned with either superpower. The non-aligned countries would be willing to work with any country to achieve world peace. Although Indonesia was one of the participants in this conference, its role was not conspicuous.

The second NAM Conference was held in Cairo in 1964. At this conference, there was a conflict of interest between India and Indonesia. India was in favour of peaceful co-existence of countries with different political systems while Indonesia advocated confrontation between the New Emerging Forces (Nefos) and the Old Established Forces (Oldefos).