Various students of Southeast Asian agriculture have been at a loss to explain the peculiar distribution of glutinous rice as a staple crop throughout northern and northeastern Thailand, Laos, and neighbouring regions of Yunnan, Burma, Vietnam and Cambodia (see map).1 Moerman has observed that, “Although this crop … helps to define and isolate a continuous culture area of about 200,000 square miles, it is given scant and inaccurate mention in the literature on rice.”2 He goes on to suggest that certain “environmental factors” have probably played an important role in establishing glutinous rice in this area.3 This environmental explanation of origins is echoed with equally little elaboration by Watabe,4 but the latter denies that physical geography alone can account for the continuing preference for glutinous rice over modern non-glutinous varieties of comparable suitability. He contends that the persistent cultivation of glutinous rice, “is primarily due to an acquired preference of traditional use in the local diet.” Moerman5 and others have recognized the inadequacy of dietary preference as a sole explanation for persistence, but have so far refused to proceed beyond environmental speculations, even though they have provided a wealth of relevant ethnographic data.

When the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) was founded in 1967 one of its stated objectives was “to promote South-East Asian studies.” The Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand as members of ASEAN in their call for “a strong and resilient Southeast Asia” realize the validity of the regional concept and the consequent need to advance studies on the area. In fact they are emphasizing the indigenous component of the concept.

The history of the Malay world in the eighteenth century is characterised by a constantly shifting balance of power, extreme flexibility in the political patterns, and an ongoing search for strong friends and advantageous allies. Malay and European sources relating to the period contain an often overwhelming amount of information concerning seemingly endless conspiracies, broken treaties, negotiations, and re-alignments. Yet from this maze of detail distinct themes emerge, one of which concerns the activities of various Malay anak raja (sons of kings and pirates) and anak baik (sons of nobles). Existing material allows for the compilation of a number of interesting biographies. We can, for instance, follow the career of Perak's Raja 'Alim, who might have successfully unseated his cousin and become ruler himself had it not been for Dutch intervention. The wandering life led by a Siak prince, Raja Ismail, and his unceasing efforts to rally support for a triumphant return to his homeland are similarly described in both Malay chronicles and the missives of Dutch governors. Such accounts make for absorbing reading and undoubtedly have their own intrinsic historical value. On the other hand, it is perhaps more fruitful to regard anak raja like Raja 'Alim and Raja Ismail not so much as individuals as representatives of a distinct social category within what has been called the “ruling class.” If viewed in this light, the activities of many anak raja mentioned in the records take on a new dimension, and comments concerning their role in Malay history assume a wider application.

As recently as 1875 Thailand had an extremely decentralized political system in which regional and local authorities enjoyed considerable autonomy from the central government. By the end of King Chulalongkon‘s reign in 1910, however, a very centralized political system had emerged in Thailand. This rather remarkable transformation from decentralization to centralization has usually been explained in terms of Western diplomatic and economic pressure upon the Thai government in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and the reforms which the government undertook to meet this pressure. Earlier studies by scholars such as Walter Vella, D. G. E. Hall, and John F. Cady have strongly emphasized the importance of Western pressure and advisers for the transformation of the Thai political system. More recent studies, in particular those of David Wyatt, have emphasized the importance of domestic factors in this process of change and stressed the creativity of the Thai response to the West. All of these studies have in common, however, an emphasis upon the importance of national level politics in the process of centralization. It will be the argument of this paper that it is also necessary to examine provincial-level politics in the period from 1875 to 1910 to understand why centralization in Thailand was so thoroughgoing and why it proceeded so rapidly. For this purpose the paper will focus on northern Thailand in the area which is now covered by the provinces of Chiang Mai, Lamphun, Lampang, Phrae, and Nan.

One of the most obscure periods in modern Burmese history comprises the reigns of King Tharrawaddy (1837–1846) and his eldest son, Pagan Min (1846–1852). Historians have relied, to varying degrees, on Colonel Henry Yule's unsympathetic and inaccurate retelling of court gossip which portrays the two monarchs as bestial lunatics who murdered and plundered at will. This assessment is as exaggerated as it is simplified and ignores the very real structural problems the Burmese nation experienced between the first and second Anglo-Burmese Wars.

When Dr. Lim Boon Keng, an eminent Western-educated Chinese and one of the comparatively few Chinese Christians in Singapore, was converted to Confucianism in 1899, the grip of Confucianism on overseas Chinese intellectuals had shown its strength. In the intellectual history of the Chinese in Singapore and Malaya, the spread of Confucianism and nationalism were the chief causes of ferment and change in the period 1899–1911. Between them these new ideas did much to transform the overseas Chinese communities and make them more adaptable to the modern world. The Confucian revival movement was the first among the stimulants of change. To understand its influence on the development of the overseas Chinese communities, it is necessary to trace its origins back to China.

Recent developments have made the Thai Government increasingly uneasy about the continuing disturbances in various parts of the country. The vexing problem of Communist subversion and Vietnamese minorities in the Northeast appears to be matched by growing anxiety over the increase in banditry, assassinations, and the activities of several illegal organized groups in the extreme South. Concern is mounting particularly over reports of alarming agitation by resentful elements in the southern Thailand-Peninsular Malaysia border region. Perhaps the most unpleasant strand in the pattern of unrest, and the most serious threat to national integrity, is the tendency to irredentism among the Muslim Malays in the provinces of Pattani, Yala, Setul and Narathiwat in southern Thailand.

Prior to entering a coalition with the ruling Alliance party at the beginning of 1973, and incorporation in the broader National Front coalition in June 1974 Parti Islam Se Malaysia (usually abbreviated to Party Islam or PAS, though until recently widely known as the Pan Malayan Islamic Party) had long been established as Malaysia's leading opposition party; within the National Front its position is second only to that of the Alliance. Nonetheless political scientists and historians have devoted little attention to this party, though they have almost uniformly condemned it for an alleged association with a most reactionary form of Malay communalism. Not surprisingly the picture that has emerged is partial and rather obscure. For example, we know little of the events surrounding the party's origins and its initial formative years: virtually all accounts of PAS begin with its successes in the 1959 national and state elections, and the few statements hazarded on its earlier history have been incomplete and factually wrong. In this article I want to clarify some of the factual confusion relating to these events, and to offer an interpretation of the various ideological forces that gave rise to the formation of this party.

One of the more recent drop-outs from the world's electoral club was the Philippines, a nation with a remarkably stable two-party system stretching, in the years since independence, over some twenty-five years. With the imposition of martial law in September 1972, the curtain was drawn, at least temporarily, on the longest running democracy in Southeast Asia. The purpose of this study is neither to praise nor bury the pre-1972 Philippine electoral system, but rather to look more closely at some recurring patterns which emerged during this period—patterns which, it will be argued, conform to a “machine model” of politics.

This paper explores receptivity to agrarian change in a Malay rice farming village in Negri Sembilan in 1958–59. Villagers, who earlier were extremely resistant to agricultural change, were at that time experiencing an acceleration and convergence of several trends, among them population growth, governmental attempts to introduce new techniques in food production and increasing reliance on cash crops to buy food. A gradual acceptance of agricultural change was beginning to occur but acceptance was highly selective and the basis of selectivity was not immediately apparent. This paper attempts to specify factors responsible for the selective use of new techniques as well as those crucial to overall change.

After the abortive coup of 1965, the army-based government of General Suharto became firmly established in Indonesia. From that year till 1971, a marked feature of the “New Order” government of Suharto was the rapid growth of the Golkar, an army-controlled confederation of anti-communist organizations which was founded in 1964. The name “Golkar” is actually an acronym for Golongan Karya which can be translated as “functional groups”. In the 1971 general election, Golkar won 236 out of 360 seats in Parliament and 64-5 per cent of the popular vote. The huge gains made by Golkar gave the impression then that functional groups had come to stay as a major factor in Indonesian politics. Supported and sponsored by the army, with financial means, transportation and communications facilities at its disposal, the power of the functional groups seemed to overshadow the influence of the other political parties (e.g. Nahdatul Ulama, Partai Nasional Indonesia) that had until recently been the major organizations that dominated Indonesian politics.

The decade of the 1950s constituted a turning-point in the history of Malayan rubber. This was marked by a changed world rubber market, along with incipient changes in Malayan economic aspirations and policies. Internationally, the creation of a large synthetic rubber industry in the main consuming country, the United States, posed a challenge to the competitive position and long-run prospects of Malayan plantation rubber. While coping with this challenge, the rubber industry, as the mainstay of the Malayan economy, had to simultaneously satisfy emergent claims for domestic development. Indeed, Malayan rubber was itself confronted with two coterminous developmental issues: its own internal development towards more efficient forms of production; and the provision of a resource base for the development of other economic and social sectors. By way of response to these cumulative challenges, a transformation occurred with respect to the government's role in Malaya's rubber economy, with rubber emerging as the lynchpin of an evolving development strategy. In the process, the Malayan rubber plantation industry was to undergo a fundamental and wide-ranging structural transfiguration.

In August 1953, Dr Ali Sastroamidjojo formed his first Cabinet in Indonesia. In doing so, he heralded the beginning of some major changes in Indonesian policies, both domestic and foreign. It is the purpose of this paper to examine certain aspects of the latter policy, particularly with respect to the United Nations.

Southeast Asia continued to be disturbed by the colonial issue even after the major dependencies in the region had won their independence. One of the sources of disturbance was the retention by the Netherlands of West New Guinea when Indonesia obtained its independence on 27 December 1949. But the colonial issue did not disappear with the “recovery” by Indonesia of West Irian, as they called West New Guinea, nor even by the termination of the “confrontation” against Malaysia. The issue persisted for another decade because the eastern half of New Guinea was governed by Australia, the northern part as a trust territory under the United Nations and the southern half as a colony. Moreover, what is the actual status of West Irian? Is it any less a colony now than it was under the Dutch?

The action of the 30 September Movement on 1 October 1965 in Indonesia is sometimes described as an abortive coup d'état. In fact it would be more in accordance with reality to call it a pseudo-coup. It is true that in line with the technique of launching a coup, the movement led by Lieutenant-Colonel Untung from the palace guard quickly occupied strategic and vital points in Jakarta, the capital, such.as the telecommunications centre and the central radio broadcast station. It is also true that Untung on 1 October issued a decree dismissing the Sukarno Cabinet, i.e. the government of the day, and establishing the Revolution Council as ‘the source of all authority in the Republic of Indonesia’. In reality, however, no action was taken against President Sukarno and his Ministers (apart from the Minister for Defence and Security, General Nasution, and the Minister/Commander of the Army, General Yani) in the form of arrest or other ways of political neutralization. As expressed by the former commander of the air force, Omar Dani, during his trial for his alleged involvement in the 30 September Movement: ‘Why did they (Untung and his associates) act as if they were not serious? There was no concrete takeover of power. The President was still in power, and so were his Ministers and his military commanders’.