The past decade has seen fundamental and dramatic changes in Indonesian national politics which have affected all aspects of public life. The forced resignation of President Suharto amid the Asian financial crisis in May 1998 ended the stranglehold of the authoritarian New Order regime which had ruled Indonesia for thirty-two years, and ushered in a new reformasi era characterized by rejection of many key features of the New Order. In a zeal to outlaw authoritarianism and build a more pluralistic democracy, Indonesia carried out four successive amendments to the 1945 constitution which, among others, abolished the social-political role of the armed forces, ensure a clear separation of power between the executive, the legislative, and the judiciary, enshrine the principles of human rights in the constitution, and allow the development of a truly multiparty system. To prevent the rise of another longterm leader like Suharto who was able to manipulate the Consultative Assembly to elect him for seven consecutive five-year terms, the presidential term has been limited to two non-renewable five-year terms while the president and vice-president are to be directly elected by the people. As a reaction to the overt centralization under the New Order which gave little room for regional initiatives, the post-Suharto governments have also introduced sweeping regional autonomy.

After difficult early years of transition, marked by various internal conflicts and political instability, relative normalcy and political stability seemed to have been restored by 2004 as Indonesia succeeded in holding its first direct presidential election, affirming its status as the world's thirdlargest democracy. The newly democratic Indonesia recognizes freedoms of expression and association as key principles, giving rise to a vibrant and increasingly critical civil society, free-wheeling media, and numerous political parties. These fundamental changes in Indonesia's political landscape have led to a re-structuring of relations between the state and society, between the central government and the regional governments, and between the various institutions of the state, which in turn has transformed the ways that decisions are made. One of the key areas affected by these political changes is in the making and implementation of Indonesian foreign policy, which during the previous era had been the prerogative solely of the predominant executive.

On 23 October 1991 Cambodia took a tentative step towards lasting peace when the four Khmer factions and 19 countries signed a UN-brokered peace accord in Paris which ended the 13-year-old war in Cambodia. It is at best a fragile peace as indicated by the series of violent events — the mob attack on Khmer Rouge leaders and demonstrations against corruption — that took place in Phnom Penh after the signing of the peace accord.

To understand how “peace” finally returned to Cambodia, it is necessary to examine the events that led to the first “breakthrough” in June which in turn led to the signing of the peace accord on 23 October. Before doing that, it may be useful to understand what the peace accord actually entails.

The UN Peace Accord: Main Features

Under the accord, the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) will, on the advice of the 12-member Supreme National Council (SNC) headed by Prince Norodom Sihanouk, run the country until UN-supervised free elections are held, probably in April 1993. The day-to-day administration will continue to be in the hands of the State of Cambodia (SOC), the regime installed by Vietnamese forces in January 1979, while UNTAC will oversee the running of five key ministries — defence, finance, foreign affairs, interior and information.

During this period, a 10,000-member UN peace-keeping force will be deployed inside Cambodia to enforce the ceasefire — in place since 1 May 1991 — and to demobilize the four Khmer factions. Under a compromise agreement, 70 per cent of each of the four rival armies will be demobilized by UNTAC — which is expected in Cambodia in April or May 1992 — with the remaining 30 per cent to be held in UNTAC-controlled cantonments until just before the elections when they are expected to be totally demobilized or absorbed into a new Cambodian national army under the new government.

About four million out of the 8.5 million Cambodians are eligible to vote, and they will choose a 120-member national assembly, based on the electoral system of proportional representation. Political parties with a minimum of 5,000 members will be eligible to contest the elections. The presidential election is expected to be held immediately after the elections for the national assembly.

Southeast Asian Affairs, the annual publication of the ISEAS – Yusof Ishak Institute, was launched in 1974 as an annual review of the politics, economies and international relations of Southeast Asia and its individual states. It is the only publication of its kind and is used by scholars, think tanks, universities and others interested in contemporary Southeast Asia.

As Professor Donald Weatherbee said in his short commemorative essay in Southeast Asian Affairs 2013 to mark the fortieth anniversary of the publication, “the collected volumes of Southeast Asian Affairs have become a compendium documenting the dynamic evolution of regional and national developments in Southeast Asia from the end of the ‘second’ Vietnam War to the alarms and struggles of today.” The chapters in the publication are written by experts and analysts both from within Southeast Asia and abroad in Australia, Northeast Asia, North America, Europe and India. As Weatherbee put it in the same essay, “A full list of contributors … reads like a kind of who's who in Southeast Asian studies.”

The present publication, Turning Points and Transitions, is produced to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of ISEAS in 1968. It comprises a selection of 57 chapters from the 45 issues of Southeast Asian Affairs from 1974, the first year of its publication, to 2018.

The Twists and Turns of International Relations

During these years, Southeast Asia went through major political and economic transformations.

Consider the international relations of the region. The communist victories in South Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia in 1975 crystallized the region's division into two blocs — one communist and the other non-communist. There were alarms then over the intentions of a victorious Hanoi regime with a seemingly invincible “million-man” army supplied by the Soviet Union and China. The nervousness was not unwarranted, given Hanoi's hostile propaganda against ASEAN and its selfcharacterization as the “beachhead” or “vanguard” of socialism in Southeast Asia, which was interpreted in the region as implying that it was only a matter of time before other countries would be “liberated”. With the withdrawal of U.S. military power from the mainland of Southeast Asia, the field seemed open for communism to advance into a strategic vacuum.

Implicit in the Five Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA) of 16 April 1971 is an assessment, generally agreed upon by the participating states, of the contemporary situation in Southeast Asia. Explicit in ANZUK, established in November 1971, is the action which Australia, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom agreed at the time was required in the circumstances by their national interests, and which was acceptable to Malaysia and Singapore, the other two partners. But in the changed circumstances of 1974 their assessments of the regional situation have diverged, and priorities in the pursuit of national interests have been changed by political choices and economic pressures. ANZUK (an integrated command of the three services set up by Australia, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom independently of the FPDA on the grounds of efficiency and economy), a modus operandi of the FPDA, was neither its purpose nor its prescription. With the end of the process of dismantling ANZUK on 1 January 1975, the FPDA remains intact as a convention of consultation on what is still agreed to be an area of common concern, though not necessarily of common diagnosis in description, or common direction of action. The strategic baby has not been thrown out with the tactical or political bath-water. Whether it will be more or less effective as a pentagonal pattern of power without ANZUK can only be assessed in the light of the new circumstances as reflected in the five facets of the national interests of the members.

Changed Circumstances

What were the circumstances out of which grew both the Five Power Defence Arrangements and the ANZUK Force? The precipitating issue was the announcement by the British in 1968 of the accelerated and specific timetable of their withdrawal from their base in Singapore, and from their commitments under the Anglo-Malayan Defence Agreement. The robust image of Mountbatten of SEAC (Southeast Asia Command) in 1945 and of Mountbatten of India in 1947 had faded in the eyes of the world and in the esteem of the British people. Dilatory, if not dilettante, strategic thinking was caught up by the urgencies of political party change and economic stringency which set the background and the pace of the Labour Government's announcement in 1968 of complete British withdrawal before the end of 1971, thus setting the terminal date by which alternative arrangements were required to be made.

The decline in oil prices that started in the early 1980s adversely affected the Indonesian economy, partly contributing to the recession in 1982 and part of 1983. However, the decline in oil prices also forced the country to restructure its economy to one that is more diversified and balanced, and thereby more resilient to face the 1990s.

The new series of gross domestic product (GDP) figures announced in the presidential speech in Parliament on 16 August 1989 shows that the non-oil and gas sector grew at a rate faster than the oil and gas sector in the economy during 1983–88. The Indonesian economy grew at an annual average rate of 5.1 per cent during the Fourth Five-Year Plan period (1984–88). The GDP growth rates were 6.74 per cent in 1984, 2.47 per cent in 1985, 5.88 per cent in 1986, 4.98 per cent in 1987, and 5.65 per cent in 1988. The non-oil and gas sector grew by 4.91 per cent in 1984, 5.45 per cent in 1985, 6.24 per cent in 1986, 5.62 per cent in 1987, and 7.36 per cent in 1988.

The structure of production, pattern of export, and structure of government revenue all changed with the decline in oil prices. The importance of the non-oil and gas sector increased in the production structure while the reliance on oil and gas exports declined. Within the non-oil and gas sector the export of manufacturing products increased compared with that of primary products. Sources of government revenue shifted more from oil and gas taxes to income and value-added taxes.

Another major factor which contributed to the shift in the structure of production that resulted in an increase in the export of manufactured goods was the government's commitment to the liberalization of the economy. In this connection, financial market liberalization was one of the major programmes of the liberalization policy.

As a result of the above factors, the year 1989 also observed spectacular growth in its capital market. Within a short period of twelve months, market capitalization soared to 5 trillion rupiah from 1 trillion rupiah at the end of 1988. Several new banks comprising both national private banks and foreign joint-venture banks were opened in the country.

At the end of 1997, many Thai people hoped that 1998 would be the starting point for reforming the country. Even though the Thai economy was severely hit by the economic crisis, the new government of Chuan Leekpai promised economic recovery and better governance. As time went by, however, and the economy went into a sharp decline, expectations slowly diminished. The Chuan government rode out these difficulties, and had some success in projecting itself as the only option, but encountered increasing pressures from a critical civil society.

Thailand under the IMF

When the International Monetary Fund (IMF) was asked by Thailand to help in the crisis after the devaluation of the baht in July 1997, many sectors of Thai society welcomed it as a force that could discipline what was perceived as an irresponsible gang of politicians and businessmen whose ineptitude had brought the country to its knees. Many technocrats even hoped that the structural adjustment programme might help dismantle crony capitalism in Thailand.

Initially, the IMF imposed a largely traditional formula on Thailand, involving cuts in government funding, increased taxation, high interest rates, greater disclosure, and financial sector reforms. It did, however, require much greater reforms of the financial sector than was normal for such programmes, together with other structural reforms to open the country up to foreign investment, and accelerate the spluttering pace of privatization. Thailand had experienced IMF tutelage before — in the mid-1980s when a period of global recession had a particularly debilitating effect on the financial sector. It was prepared to accept new IMF controls because officials felt that the key to recovery was to win back the confidence of foreign capital, and to do this it had to adhere to the IMF programme.

The Chuan government was more willing than its predecessor to take tough decisions, and to implement them. However, there was no initial easing of the economic problems. The baht declined to an all-time low against the U.S. dollar in January (US$1 = 55.5 baht) before it began to strengthen as part of a broader regional trend in February. Even as the currency stabilized, the economy plunged deeper into recession, contrary to the expectations of the IMF and others.

The title of my first contribution to Southeast Asian Affairs in 1980 was “Laos: The Vietnamese Connection”. A great deal has happened in the Lao People's Democratic Republic (LPDR) over the past three decades, both internally, and in its relations with its neighbours. The Lao People's Revolutionary Party (LPRP) is still in power, but it is a party riven by ambition and greed. The country is wealthier than it was thirty years ago; but the urban-rural divide is more marked than ever. Wealth is concentrated in the cities, most of it in the hands of Party members and their families. The resources of the country, which the French had glimpsed a century before, most of which are located in rural areas, are now being rapidly exploited, but not for the benefit of the rural majority. Neighbouring states have hungrily eyed these resources, and seized their opportunities to obtain a share — none more so than China. So just as what was interesting about Laos in 1980 was the Vietnamese connection, so in 2009 what is interesting is the developing Chinese connection, and what this means for Lao politics and policies.

To focus on the Chinese connection is not to suggest that the Vietnamese connection no longer matters. It certainly does. Rather it is to focus on economic and political changes that are now taking place. What I want to do in this article is to examine the changes that were becoming apparent in 2008 in three areas: in politics; in economic development; and in international relations. But I shall deal with these in the reverse order, for Lao politics are all but opaque in the absence of any media reporting or discussion, and it is only by examining the shifting influence of neighbouring states, and popular responses to the impact of development policies, that some light can be cast on Lao politics.

International Pressures

The Rise of China

In early 2008, for the first time the growing Chinese presence became a matter of popular concern and debate in the LPDR. The trigger was an announcement in September 2007 that a consortium of three Chinese companies would build a new 20,000-seat stadium in Viang Chan (Vientiane) in time for Laos to host the Southeast Asian games in December 2009.

Although it is false to assume that a new decade ushers in a new era, in the study of international politics it is in many ways convenient to think in terms of decades, because it allows for a point in time to assess the past, to analyse the present and to point to the future. With this proviso made, it can nevertheless be asserted that the first three years of the 1970's have marked a watershed in the international affairs of Asia and particularly Southeast Asia. The events which have changed the pattern of international relations in Southeast Asia and will clearly distinguish the present decade from the past include:

First, the rapprochement between China and the West and the rest of Asia, heralded by President Nixon's visit to Peking in February 1972 and the seating of China in the United Nations in 1971.

Second, the reshaping of American policy in the region along the lines of the Nixon Doctrine of self-help and put into effect through the winding down of the Vietnam War, the signing of the Vietnam Ceasefire Agreement in January 1973, and the phased withdrawal of American troops from Vietnam and Southeast Asia.

Third, the withdrawal of British military bases from Malaysia and Singapore initiated in 1968 and completed in 1971 and succeeded by the more fluid and ambiguous Five Power Defence Arrangements between Australia, New Zealand and the United Kingdom (ANZUK) and Malaysia and Singapore.

Fourth, the increasing Sino-Soviet rivalry, and the growing Soviet involvement in South and Southeast Asia marked by the Soviet-Indian Treaty of 1971 and the expanding Russian naval presence in the Pacific and Indian Oceans.

Fifth, the growing Japanese domination of the economies and markets of Southeast Asia, and the shaping of a new political role for Japan in Asian affairs commensurate with her economic power.

Finally, the shifting of the foreign policies of Australia and New Zealand to a more Asian orientation and to a greater involvement in Asian affairs following the Labour Party victories in both countries.

Despite a reduction in tension, however, Southeast Asia still remains in a state of flux and transition.

If 1998 was the year of economic crisis, 1999 was the year of recovery. The pervasive gloom of 1998 receded somewhat, but Southeast Asia still, at best, presented a mixed picture. Economic recovery among the older members of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) generated a palpable sense of optimism. Even Indonesia, with its battered economy, could inspire some hope after it held a relatively peaceful and fair parliamentary election, followed by a presidential election which resulted in the establishment of a democratic government with the moral and political legitimacy to govern. But there was also tragedy, followed by humanitarian intervention, in East Timor and, for Indonesia, enormous uncertainties remained. Elsewhere, the reforms needed to deal with the weaknesses in state and corporate governance which the crisis had highlighted were only partially addressed, raising doubts about the sustainability of the recoveries. Conditions in Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam were worse than in 1998. The durability of the new democracy in Indonesia was not assured, while in the rest of Southeast Asia, progress towards more tolerant, enlightened, and democratic societies was patchy, mixed with stasis, even regression.

ASEAN sought to overcome a crisis of credibility. The broader Asia-Pacific strategic environment remained relatively benign. There were, however, more signs of Sino-American competition. China's claims and posture in the South China Sea remained a troubling long-term strategic lever against Southeast Asia.

The Association of Southeast Asian Nations

A Question of Credibility

The death of Azahari bin Husin in a shootout with Indonesian police near the East Java town of Malang on 9 November 2005 was widely acclaimed as the most important victory against the regional terror group Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) since the capture of Hambali. But it became increasingly clear during the year that Malaysian-born Dr Azahari — known as the “Demolition Man” for his skills in assembling the first Bali bombs that killed 202 three years earlier — did not answer to the JI hierarchy and was operating as his own man. Indeed, in 2005 it became obvious that old ways of thinking about JI and regional terrorism were no longer adequate — if they ever were in the first place.

The dominant model, perpetuated in the media by prominent commentators Rohan Gunaratna and Zachary Abuza, views JI as an al-Qaeda franchise, with a clearly demarcated command structure and organizational boundaries, dedicated to the establishment of an Islamic caliphate embracing much of Southeast Asia. To the extent this image was ever valid, as Sidney Jones points out, it represents a five-yearold “snapshot” of JI with little relevance today. A fluid pattern of alignment and realignment between autonomous jihadi factions characterized the terrorist threat in 2005, and this trend is likely to strengthen in the future.

What knits these factions loosely together is not “a very horizontal and exceptionally compartmentalized organization” with a “very rigid cell structure”, as Abuza insisted after Bali's second series of suicide bombings on 1 October 2005, but a shared world-view based on personal allegiances forged in exile, training camps on the Afghan border, or the conflict zones of Sulawesi, Maluku, and — looking forward — Mindanao. Gunaratna has even declared Mindanao the “new strategic base of Jemaah Islamiyah”, but like Abuza, misperceives the nature of this threat.

This overview examines Mindanao's growing role as the regional terrorist crossroads in 2005, but from the perspective of local realities, not externally imposed organigrams. It demonstrates a kaleidoscopic interplay of foreign and domestic jihadi groups only possible in Mindanao's lawless enclaves, where for all practical purposes the Philippine state has failed.

In the past year, the mass media have highlighted three developments in Southeast Asia, which thus became the subjects of public attention. One was the start of the implementation of the new Charter of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), particularly the establishment of the ASEAN Inter-governmental Commission on Human Rights (AICHR). Another was the scheduled elimination on 1 January 2010 of tariffs on most goods traded among China and the six older, and more advanced and heavily trading, ASEAN members — Brunei Darussalam, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand (the other ASEAN members are Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam). The third was the response of Southeast Asian countries to the regional impact of the global economic crisis.

The media spotlight on these developments has led the public to expect some dramatic, overnight changes in the region because of them. As an academic, I have sought to dampen such expectations, called for caution, and urged the media and the public to refrain from rash predictions and speculation. As the Americans say, “the jury is still out” on these three questions.

The ASEAN Charter

The drafting of the ASEAN Charter by a task force of senior ASEAN officials, its signing by the ASEAN leaders in November 2007, and its entry into force in December 2008 were significant for six reasons. For the first time, after forty years of existence, ASEAN has adopted a charter for itself, comprehensively placing it more firmly on a rules-based path.

If one looks closely at the Charter's contents, this is more than a matter of form. For the first time, the ASEAN countries have committed themselves in a formal document to norms having to do with the internal behaviour of states. As first enshrined in the 1976 Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia, norms for inter-state conduct had guided ASEAN and other countries related to it — the peaceful settlement of disputes, the rejection of the threat or use of force, and non-interference in the internal affairs of nations. This is important in itself, but the Charter goes beyond that. In it, the ASEAN countries have declared their aspiration for such goals as democracy, human rights and fundamental freedoms, the rule of law, good governance, constitutional government, and social justice.

Events during the last twelve months since November 1974 have, if anything, convinced even most sceptics of the undeniable seriousness of the security situation in Peninsular Malaysia. Burgeoning, as it has, in the wake of the historic victories of the communist forces of Vietnam and Cambodia, the terrorist activities of the Communist Party of Malaya (CPM) and the rising toll of security forces personnel have indeed created a sense of concerned anticipation among outside observers. It is, of course, only too tempting to become somewhat alarmed about the developments in Malaysia in view of the disappointingly phlegmatic reaction of the other Southeast Asian states to the communist takeover of Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos and, for the prophets of doom, the equally disheartening way in which the much acclaimed domino theory appears to be fizzling out. Moreover, the grim forebodings of some Malaysiawatchers ever since the tragic days of May 1969 might understandably find a new lease of life with the revival of the undisguised racial connotations of the CPM's terrorist and propaganda campaign against the ruling Barisan Nasional (National Front) Government of Tun Abdul Razak.

New Trends in Communist Strategy

In the heat of the moment, especially after several sensational attacks such as the blowing up of the National Monument in August, the grenade-throwing incident at the Police Field Force Brigade Headquarters in Kuala Lumpur in October, and the daylight assassination of the Perak Chief Police Officer in Ipoh in November, it is easily forgotten that the authorities had, in fact, warned almost a year ago of the imminence of an escalation in communist terrorist activities following the disclosure of the three-way split within the CPM. The rationale for this anticipated course of events, as pointed out in the background paper, was that each of the rival factions would try and outdo the others in its revolutionary fervour by stepping up its terrorist tactics. The evidence, so far, certainly indicates the exceptionally virulent policy of the CPM (Marxist-Leninist) faction. Official reports of the Perak Chief Police Officer's assassination specially mentioned that pamphlets of the CPM (M-L) were found at the scene of the incident, while at least two clashes between the security forces and the communists in August in the border areas of Kroh in Kedah and Betong in Thailand were reported to have involved the CPM (M-L) elements.

The main variable of Southeast Asian politics in 1976 was the emergence and institutionalization of the communist governments in Indochina. International politics in the region was primarily responses arising from this fact, involving mutual assessment, diplomatic fencing and a series of attempts by the various governments adhering to basically two ideologically contradictory political systems to formulate a working relationship. For the noncommunist governments of Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore and Thailand, even the anticipation of an eventual communist takeover in South Vietnam did not prepare them for the swiftness and the completeness of the communist victories throughout 1975. The Cambodian proclamation of a revolutionary government on 17 April was followed by the entry of North Vietnamese troops into Saigon on 30 April and, only a few months later, a bloodless transition of power took place within the coalition government in Laos, leaving the Pathet Lao in total control of the country by the end of November. Domestic politics in the noncommunist states was not solely a function of the external threat of communism, but political issues were recognizably forced or attenuated by the considerations of internal subversion, the weakening of the political will of leaderships and the need to build up national resilience, particularly in states which are the nearest neighbours of Indochina. In the new communist states the concern, domestically, was to create an administrative infrastructure to facilitate economic development and reconstruction and the protection of their territorial borders and newly gained sovereignty.

For the student of politics interested in unravelling the meaning behind the packed events and developments in the area a year after the establishment of the three communist regimes in Southeast Asia, it may be efficient to utilize the theme of the confrontation of contradictions, for without any question the noncommunist governments in the region have to deal with the presence of a fundamentally different, if not opposed, political force — communist governments which have emerged as a regional power very suddenly. This article will explore the handling of this contradiction from the stand point of the noncommunist states of ASEAN and that of communist Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. It proposes to examine first, the perceptions of the ASEAN states of the political situation and their policies; secondly, the perceptions, priorities and policies of the communist states; and thirdly, the dialogue and interaction between the ASEAN and the lndochinese states.

Introduction

Following on from the tragic events of September 1999, East Timor will shortly become the world's newest nation. Presumably, in time it will also become a member of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). As it charts its way forward, one of the key challenges it faces will be to define its international economic orientation. Indonesia and Australia will always be East Timor's major trading partners and diplomatic focus, in addition to its membership of the Portuguese-speaking world.

However, there is a broader question of whether its world-view, and its political, economic and social institutions, will be predominantly “Southeast Asian” or “South Pacific”. This is meant not simply in a geographic sense, since a case could be made for the fact that it belongs to either region. Nor is it addressing the issue of whether an independent East Timor will join both ASEAN and the Pacific Islands Forum (or whether it might even be forced to choose between them). Rather, it is the more fundamental question of whether its economic performance will more closely resemble that of its neighbours to its northwest or east. That is, will it be an outward-looking, growing and increasingly prosperous country, or a mendicant, aiddependent state, with a bloated public sector and stagnant living standards. The latter, unfortunately, characterizes many of the Pacific Islands.

In many respects, after the immediate task of rehabilitation is completed, East Timor will resemble a typical Pacific Island economy, albeit at the poorest end of the spectrum. It will be a large aid recipient, dependent also on remittances. Its institutions are weak, and its human capital resources rather limited. It is small, both in a geographic and a demographic sense, and rather isolated.

With its history of neglect and oppression, it is difficult to be optimistic about the future. The challenges might appear insuperable. Much of its physical infrastructure is shattered, while the supply of public utilities is most inadequate.

More than 80,000 of its people are still located in squalid refugee camps across the border in West Timor, and in other parts of Indonesia. It does not possess a constitution, a political system, or a functioning bureaucracy.

Ever since Indonesia's “New Order” regime under President Soeharto seized authority from Sukarno's “Old Order” in 1966, political scientists have attempted with varying degrees of objectivity and involvement to characterize the elements of policy and control that have allowed an outwardly authoritarian military oligarchy to maintain and consolidate power for nearly two decades. Thousands of academic and journalistic words have been written seeking to explain the political dynamics of Soeharto's rule. For example, it is tempting to fix it squarely in its indigenous cultural setting: Soeharto as a Javanese king and Indonesia as his kingdom. Ben Anderson saw the major tendencies of the modern state replicating the colonial state. Some western analysts have applied the bureaucratic polity paradigm as explanatory. Donald Emmerson has identified growing “bureaucratic pluralism” as the key feature of the polity. Indonesian social scientists themselves are not averse to playing the model game. In a trenchant structural criticism of the New Order, Gajah Mada University's Dr Mohtar Mas'oed reacted to 1984's contentious draft legislation (discussed below) that would further consolidate the New Order as the regime moves towards a possible 1988 leadership watershed. Dr Mohtar described Indonesia as a “hegemonic-bureaucratic-corporatist” state: that is, it is institutionally led by the military which co-operates with civilian technocrats who are supported by national entrepreneurs who in turn join forces with the international business community. Policy making is done in a bureaucratictechnocratic framework avoiding prolonged bargaining.

To the degree that Indonesian leaders are even cognizant of the esoteric analyses of their political system, often they must seem in a “real world” sense irrelevant to the task of unity in a plural society in the context of rapid economic development with its attendant social dislocations. In a realpolitik sense this requires in the last analysis coercive controls to back up authoritative decision making. Indonesian leaders insist, however, on the uniqueness of their experience in that they are giving expression to an identity defined by the Pancasila — the Five Principles of the Indonesian State: belief in one God, humanitarianism, national unity, consensual democracy, and social justice. First enunciated in 1945 as the basis for unity in the prospective independent state, the vague and general universal values embodied in the Pancasila became the constitutional basis for unity in a society characterized by plural ethnic and religious groups.