Democracy or Alternative Political Systems in Asia: After the Strongmen [1 ed.] 1138658073, 9781138658073

Table of contents :
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
List of contributors
List of abbreviations
PART I Overview
1 After the strongmen: the beginning of democracy in Asia?
2 Personalist leadership styles and legacies: a comparative survey of East and Southeast Asian nations
PART II Northeast Asia
3 Taiwan’s democratization after the strongmen: leadership matters
4 After Chun Doo-Hwan: the progress of democratization and the residue of authoritarianism in South Korea
5 China after Deng Xiaoping: the search for a non-democratic development model
PART III Southeast Asia
6 The Philippines after Marcos: unchanged after changes
7 Malaysia after Mahathir: late democratization amidst development, the strong developmental state, and developmentalism
8 Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture: pluralism, tolerance and rule of law, 1998–2013
9 The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra and the new politics in Thailand
Index

Citation preview

Democracy or Alternative Political Systems in Asia

From the 1980s onwards, a tide of democratization swept across the Asian region, as the political strongmen who had led their countries since the end of World War II began to fall. Although it is generally assumed that once authoritarian leaders no longer hold power, the political landscape drastically changes and democratic transition is simply a matter of time, this book shows that the move towards democracy in Asia has by no means been a linear process, and there have been a number of different outcomes that reflect the vastly divergent paths towards liberalization that Asian nations have followed. This book examines seven countries that were previously under authoritarian or semi-authoritarian rule, but then followed very different trajectories towards increasing liberalization following the fall of political strongmen: South Korea, Taiwan, China, the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand. Importantly, the case studies reveal the factors that may enable transition to a more democratic system, and at the other end, the factors that inhibit democratic transition and push countries down a more authoritarian path. In turn, three key models that follow the fall of a political strongman emerge: democratization with substantial political reform and consolidation; democratization with limited political reform, leading to weak democratic institutions and instability; and an alternative political system with sustained authoritarianism. By tracing these very different paths and outcomes in the wake of a strongman’s fall, the contributors present valuable information for countries on the course towards democratization, as well as governments and organizations that work to facilitate this process. This book will be welcomed by students and scholars interested in Asian politics, and governance and democratization studies. Hsin-Huang Michael Hsiao is Distinguished Research Fellow and Director of the Institute of Sociology, Academia Sinica, Taiwan.

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Democracy or Alternative Political Systems in Asia After the strongmen

Edited by Hsin-Huang Michael Hsiao

First published 2014 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2014 Hsin-Huang Michael Hsiao The right of the editor to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Democracy or alternative political systems in Asia : after the strongmen / edited by Hsin-Huang Michael Hsiao. pages cm. – (Routledge contemporary China series ; 113) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Democratization–Asia–Case studies. 2. Democracy–Asia–Case studies. 3. Authoritarianism–Asia–Case studies. 4. Asia–Politics and goverment–20th century. 5. Asia–Politics and goverment–21st century. I. Xiao, Xinhuang, editor of compilation. II. Whitehead, Laurence. Personalist leadership styles and legacies. JQ36.D47 2014 321.8095–dc23 2013025057 ISBN: 978-0-415-67725-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-85211-9 (ebk) Typeset in Times by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

Contents

List of contributors List of abbreviations PART I

ix x

Overview

1

1

3

After the strongmen: the beginning of democracy in Asia? HSIN-HuANG MICHAEL HSIAO AND L.C. RuSSELL HSIAO

2

Personalist leadership styles and legacies: a comparative survey of East and Southeast Asian nations

18

LAuRENCE WHITEHEAD

PART II

Northeast Asia 3

Taiwan’s democratization after the strongmen: leadership matters

41 43

CHIH-CHENG LO

4

After Chun Doo-Hwan: the progress of democratization and the residue of authoritarianism in South Korea

58

JONG-YIL RA

5

China after Deng Xiaoping: the search for a non-democratic development model STEVE TSANG

78

viii

Contents

PART III

Southeast Asia

97

6

99

The Philippines after Marcos: unchanged after changes SAMuEL C.Y. Ku

7

Malaysia after Mahathir: late democratization amidst development, the strong developmental state, and developmentalism

114

FRANCIS KOK-WAH LOH

8

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture: pluralism, tolerance and rule of law, 1998–2013

137

SuHARDIYOTO HARYDI AND PETER CAREY

9

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra and the new politics in Thailand

157

HuGH PEI-HSIu CHEN

Index

178

Contributors

Peter Carey Emeritus Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, uK and Adjunct Professor at the Faculty of Humanities, university of Indonesia, Jakarta, Indonesia Hugh Pei-Hsiu Chen Professor, Graduate School of Southeast Asian Studies, National Chi Nan university, Taiwan Jan Suhardiyoto Harydi Former Indonesian journalist and Oxford university Reuters Fellow (1999-2000), who has written extensively on Suharto’s “New Order” regime Hsin-Huang Michael Hsiao Distinguished Research Fellow and Director, Institute of Sociology, Academia Sinica, Taiwan L.C. Russell Hsiao Non-Resident Senior Fellow at the Project 2049 Institute in Arlington, VA, and National Security Fellow at the Foundation for the Defense of Democracies in Washington, D.C. He is currently a J.D. candidate at the Columbus School of Law of the Catholic university of America in Washington, D.C., uSA Samuel C.Y. Ku Professor and Director, Institute of China and Asia-Pacific Studies, National Sun Yat-Sen university, Taiwan Chih-Cheng Lo Associate Professor, Department of Political Science, Soochow university, Taiwan Francis Kok-Wah Loh Former Professor of Politics, universiti Sains Malaysia, Penang, and currently President of Aliran, a Malaysian NGO devoted to social reform movement Jong-Yil Ra university Distinguished Professor, Division of International Studies, Hanyang university, Seoul, South Korea Steve Tsang Professor, School of Contemporary Chinese Studies, and Director, China Policy Institute, university of Nottingham, uK Laurence Whitehead Senior Research Fellow, Nuffield College, University of Oxford, uK

Abbreviations

BA BN BPK CCP CPI DAP DPP DPRD FDI FOMCA GAM GDP GNP GNP ICA IFC IPCMC ISA JI KFR KMT KOSTRAD KPI KPK Lakas-CMD LGC MCA MIC MILF MPR

Barisan Alternatif (united Front) (Malaysia) Barisan Nasional (National Front) (Malaysia) State Audit Agency (Indonesia) Chinese Communist Party (China) Corruption Perception Index Democratic Action Party (Malaysia) Democratic Progressive Party (Taiwan) Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah (local representative councils) (Indonesia) Foreign direct investment Federation of Malaysian Consumers Associations Gerakan Aceh Merdeka (Indonesia) Gross domestic product Grand National Party (Korea) Gross National Product Industrial Co-ordination Act (Malaysia) Inter-Faith Commission (Malaysia) Independent Police Complaints and Misconduct Commission (Malaysia) Internal Security Act (Malaysia) Jemaah Islamiyah (Philippines) Kidnap for ransom Kuomintang (Chinese Nationalist Party) (Taiwan) Special Forces and Army Strategic Reserve (Indonesia) King Prajadhipok’s Institute (Indonesia) Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi (Corruption Eradication Commission) (Indonesia) Lakas-Christian Muslim Democrats (Philippines) Local Government Code (Philippines) Malaysian Chinese Association (Malaysia) Malaysian Indian Congress (Malaysia) Moro-Islamic Liberation Front (Philippines) Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat (Indonesia)

Abbreviations xi MuI NDP NEP NGO NKRI NMDP NPA OFW PAD PAP PAS PDI-P PFP PKB PKI PR PRC PSPD ROC ROK TRT TSu uDD uLD uMNO

Indonesian Council of ulama National Development Policy (Malaysia) New Economic Policy (Malaysia) Nongovernmental organization Indonesian unitary Republic (Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia) New Millennium Democratic Party (Korea) New People’s Army (Philippines) Overseas Filipino workers People’s Alliance for Democracy (Thailand) People’s Action Party (Singapore) Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (Pan-Islamic Malaysian Party) (Malaysia) Partai Demokrasi Indonesia-Perjuangan (Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle) People First Party (Taiwan) Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa (National Awakening Party) (Indonesia) Indonesian Communist Party (People’s Consultative Assembly) (Indonesia) Pakatan Rakyat (People’s Pact) (Malaysia) People’s Republic of China People’s Solidarity for Participatory Democracy (Korea) Republic of China (Taiwan) Republic of Korea Thai Rak Thai (Thailand) Taiwan Solidarity union (Taiwan) united Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (Thailand) united Liberal Democrats (Korea) united Malays National Organization (Malaysia)

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Part I

Overview

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1

After the strongmen The beginning of democracy in Asia? Hsin-Huang Michael Hsiao and L.C. Russell Hsiao

The rise and fall of Asia’s strongmen After the end of World War II, many nations throughout Asia were ruled by authoritarian leaders or governed by totalitarian regimes. Many leaders who ascended to the pinnacle of political authority were military generals and politicians who went on to lead their nations toward independence. By the time the war drew to a close, these leaders were being celebrated as national heroes for bringing about an end to the bloodshed. They reigned with unmatched power and authority in the post-war political systems of their native countries. Many of the fledgling regimes established by these leaders in Asia were supported by the United States. For its part, Washington was concerned that the absence of strong government under military control would invite communist insurgencies and possible coups during this period of nascent political transition.1 Over the decades that followed independence, as Asia developed economically and the threat of communist expansion faded, repressive regimes led by these authoritarian leaders had to face up to growing calls for political liberalization, both from within and from the international community. To be sure, many Asian states were receiving direct financial and military support from the West. These countries could enjoy rapid economic growth in part because of the assistance they received, which subsidized the cost of military and other securityrelated types of spending. The patron–client relationship allowed leaders to invest more resources in industrial development to spur economic growth. Yet, as these countries’ economies grew, so too emerged a broader constituency with more influence in public affairs and a stake in the political future of these nations. Indeed, the type of assistance that Asian nations received was not keeping pace with the democratization that was taking place within many of these societies. Countries throughout the region were being shaped by two conditions: economic development and democratization. These conditions were nurtured by sustained economic growth in Asian countries and a gradual weakening of authoritarian rule as a result of external and civil society pressures. While financial and military support had achieved the objective of rebuffing external communist encroachment, it also came at a high social and political cost. It had the

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effect of strengthening the autocratic governments of these countries. To some extent, international assistance contributed to the democratic paralysis of Asian societies. These authoritarian leaders were difficult to depose by democrats and reformers because of concerns that the state bureaucracy might collapse if their leaders fell – thus leading to a takeover by communist forces. Therefore, many Western leaders turned a blind eye to the abuses perpetrated by these strongmen. Human rights issues were swept under the carpet as subordinate to the perceived existential threat of communist expansion. Throughout the course of their rule, authoritarian leaders enjoyed nearabsolute control over the political system; they erected autonomous institutions outside the purview of democratic governance. These undemocratic and extrajudicial institutions protected their leaders’ authority by building a web of loyalists within the bureaucracies. Furthermore, in many cases during a period of strongman rule, the political elite laid vast claims to personal fiefdoms and family control over political and economic power. The outlawing of opposition parties was a commonplace practice. Media and state-owned businesses were also controlled by the political elite, and the security apparatuses were there to protect the assets and interests of leading authorities. The United States, to be sure, was the preeminent power in the Asia-Pacific region after World War II. The overriding security concerns of the communist threat, however, kept the United States in lockstep with many strongman leaders, such as Chiang Kai-shek in Taiwan, Syngman Rhee in South Korea, Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines, Ngo Dinh Diem in Vietnam, and Sukarno and then Suharto in Indonesia, to name a few. These Asian leaders were staunch anticommunists. They were focused on maintaining political stability and control, and singularly unconcerned with issues such as democratic rule and institution building. The United States supported these leaders largely because they shared a common enemy: communism. Subsequently, these leaders were each given a blank check to rule like Caesar within their territories. The fear of the communist threat justified Western support of these governments’ deployment of Draconian laws and security measures to prevent adversaries from effectively opposing the elites’ political rule. When the Communist Bloc began to fracture from within and the former Soviet Union began to crumble, the risk of a concerted communist expansion posing an existential threat to the United States also began to fade into the background of Western leaders’ strategic calculations. From the top down, the security imperatives for supporting these strongmen leaders who once dominated the political narrative in capitals in the West began to recede. The most visible manifestation of this change in US attitudes toward the Communist Bloc may be seen from former US President Richard Nixon’s trip to the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in 1972, which led to the eventual normalization of relations between the two countries. This act had the unintended effect of signaling that the blank checks that some Asian leaders received because they were anticommunist were no longer going to be honored by Washington. Suddenly, being a staunch anti-communist did not assure the support of the United States.

The beginning of democracy in Asia? 5 Opposition to the political repression carried out by autocrats throughout the Asia-Pacific began to find advocates in the outside world as information seeped through the cracks of state-sponsored censorship – a tool used by many closed regimes for controlling information and thus public opinion. These regulations were set up as a pretext to limit the ability of potential communist insurgents to organize politically and militarily, but were exploited by the authorities to suppress any opposition to the regime at their own discretion. Reports about egregious human rights abuses by oppressive and corrupt leaders were finally able to reach the outside world, in particular the United States, which was itself undergoing a social change that was altering the worldview of its citizens. In an authoritarian regime, to be sure, the incentives for elite-driven reform are generally limited given that the political leaders do not have to be accountable to the people in order to rule. In such cases, external pressure is necessary for leverage in moving the democratization process forward. Elite political control weakened as external pressure increased and internal security dynamics changed, allowing opposition voices to find a broader audience and space in which to operate. Calls for democracy – the only viable alternative political system – in these Asian countries were heard not only by their compatriots but also abroad. This opening helped mobilize public opinion in the international community, which in the case of the United States prompted Congress to apply pressure on the executive branch to take action to respond to abusive practices and to stop shielding authoritarian leaders. Furthermore, it provided cover for stronger US support for the region’s democrats, who shared similar values. The pressure applied by external actors, particularly the United States, played a pivotal role in reinforcing popular dissent against autocratic rule and the Caesarian style of governance that was common among the autocrats of the region. Pressure from external actors, especially from the US Congress, forced the political authorities that were dependent on economic and other forms of assistance from the United States to open up the public space and liberalize regulations on political opposition and other freedoms. This dependent relationship gave Washington enough leverage to make demands for political reforms. The newfound US support thus helped shape the conditions that allowed reformers and democrats from within to push for change with additional leverage versus the existing ruling elites.

Asia’s democratic wave The democratic tide that began to ripple throughout Asia in the 1980s completely altered the region’s political landscape. This rash of democratization – termed “Democracy’s Third Wave” by Samuel Huntington because it followed the ebbing of the second wave of the 1960s – fundamentally altered the region’s political character, and its future. The regional transformation clearly unsettled the authoritarian political elites, who were under siege from the wave of liberalization sweeping the region (Huntington 1991a, 1991b). Indeed, these movements were a direct challenge to autocratic rule. Different regimes and different

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strongmen responded in their own ways to calls for democracy. Instead of following the path toward liberalization, some leaders tried to impede demands for political reform, justifying their authoritarian rule under a shared ideology. This effort was packaged under the banner of a shared set of “Asian values.” As the chapters in this book illustrate, different countries took different paths. “Asian values” may be seen as an attempt to legitimize the authoritarian nature of the existing political system in many of the regimes under discussion. The concept was a culturally deterministic theory offered by Singapore’s patriarch, former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew, and supported by former Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad. Lee and Mahathir argued that Asian societies were systematically different and ill-suited to adopt Western-influenced democratic systems because “Asian values” are not compatible with Westernstyle democracy. Yet a popular counter-narrative to the indigenous “Asian values” discourse was absent in many Asian societies, largely as a result of Draconian restrictions on freedom of assembly and expression in those countries during authoritarian rule. However, the strong and vibrant democracies of South Korea and Taiwan (both of which are Confucian-influenced societies) that emerged from their authoritarian past belie the generalization of there being monolithic Asian political values and demonstrate a far more dynamic political culture in the region (Kim 1994). The experiences of Asian nations demonstrate that there is no linear model for political evolution. There is no roadmap for democratization. Democratization is not an end in itself but a political process rooted in a set of principles. Democracy works only when those principles are shared by the governing authority and the constituency through a legitimate political process that is accountable to the wishes of the governed. However, when the constituency is faced with an anti-democratic system, there is a set of conditions that facilitate the tipping point for a mass-centered movement that helps shape the path toward democracy. The tipping point depends upon a set of preconditions: it requires a fertile environment that is hospitable for an active civil society which civically participates in the political process or actively challenges government by decree, exerting external pressure on the ruling elites.2 Examples include the Philippines’ People Power Revolution that overthrew Ferdinand Marcos’s authoritarian regime in 1986; the dangwai [outside the party] movement in Taiwan that rolled back 38 years of martial law under the Chinese Nationalist Party (Kuomintang, or KMT), and led to the formation of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) in 1986; the democracy movements leading up to the 1980 Kwangju Uprising that precipitated the fall of South Korean military dictator Chun Doohwan in 1988; and, to a lesser degree, the popular unrest in Indonesia following the 1997 financial crisis that crippled Suharto’s rule and initiated a transition that finds them on the cusp of the path toward democracy.3 The push for greater democracy came from a bottom-up process coupled with external pressure on the ruling elites to initiate a top-down process to liberalize politically. In spite of the wave of democratization that swept through Asian societies, the political institutions built by autocrats and some norms of citizen behavior

The beginning of democracy in Asia? 7 remained intact even after these authoritarian leaders relinquished their rule. Indeed, Draconian laws shaped the behavior of the public in its interactions with the government, and these institutions reinforced the legacy of strongman rule even after they were removed from formal power. Informal power lasts far longer than formal power. Authoritarian institutions and norms brought about by oppression are difficult to deconstruct. This is true even for new national leaders with popular support, since previous modes of rule have been institutionalized over many decades. Even a free and direct presidential election cannot immediately undo the entrenched bureaucracies solidified by decades of persistent authoritarian rule. These rules and norms have been woven broadly and deeply into the social fabric. To be sure, four decades of rule by heavy-handed leaders has left a deep footprint in many Asian societies. Persistent authoritarian rule has, in some nations, led to the formation of weak democratic institutions – and in some cases, the legacy of the strongmen’s rule still continues to haunt a nation in transition.

Making the transition after the strongman’s fall The type of transition process that occurs following the end of a strongman’s rule varies. The political trajectory is contingent upon a combination of internal and external factors that influence a society’s development and its political system. Whether the state is a strong authoritarian state or a weak authoritarian state, and whether there is an active civil society or a passive civil society are components that determine how democratization plays out and shapes its result.4 The transition process may play out as a carefully orchestrated handover of power that preserves the structure of the existing bureaucracies and political institutions, with only the actors changing. Alternatively, the transition process may be marred by protracted instability as factions such as democrats, reformers and existing political elites compete for political control. Such a transition process could cause a state of paralysis in the political process if a power-sharing compromise were not reached. In other cases, the end of a strongman’s rule may cause a revolution that could fundamentally alter the socio-economic make-up of the society and its political foundations – leading to uncertain and unpredictable outcomes. There were also cases wherein the end of strongman rule opened up previously shut political channels for public participation and decision-making by an emerging civil society, and contributed to the gradual erosion of authoritarian rule and the formation of nascent democratic institutions and governance. The challenges facing many nations during democratization from an authoritarian model in Asia include grappling with deficits in the development of democratic institutions and reverting to the so-called authoritarian model. Such deficits include the establishment of non-democratic constitutions in fledgling nations, election-related repression, non-transparent executive decision making, anti-democratic politics, corruption, human rights abuses that erode public trust in government, the taking of political prisoners, judicial independence, and civilmilitary rule. A chronic challenge that the region’s democracies face – having

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made the transition mostly from some form of authoritarian model – is the fact that an habitual deference to authority figures, especially in times of instability, has become normalized in some Asian societies. These practices – seemingly more removed from the political norms in more democratized societies – are swept under the carpet in the process of transition, only to surface time and time again during periods of instability. This point is underscored by the presence in many Asian democracies of a certain nostalgia for the “good old days,” when most Asian countries were governed under martial law or strict authoritarian rule while experiencing rapid economic growth. The persistence of this attitude highlights a more systemic challenge in Asian countries and illustrates a shortfall in democratic governance. This attitude, however, may be altered as generational changes affect political attitudes. In some democracies throughout Asia, the election campaign system is still under-regulated. Moreover, just because there is a multi-party system does not mean that a party’s candidate, when elected to govern, will do so democratically after they win the election. In the absence of democratic consolidation, weakened public trust in democratic institutions that govern may lead to a democratic recession. That is why democratic governance is a process that also requires assistance to consolidate it, since systematic failure in the political parties’ ability to govern democratically, or the legislative body’s ability to function with due process, will undermine the legitimacy of and public trust in democratic institutions. How a society responds to the changes that take place following the end of strongman rule is a reflection of the social and political institutions that are in the system. How societies manage the transition from a strongman’s rule – and the system of political control associated with that authority figure – reveals the strengths and weaknesses of the institutions of that society. Moreover, a study of the experience of these societies after the end of strongman rule shows the internal variables that may enable the transition to a more democratic system, or alternatively, the variables that inhibit democratic transition and in some cases push the country down a more authoritarian path. Three Northeast Asian nations (i.e., South Korea, Taiwan, and China), and four Southeast Asian nations (i.e., the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand) were selected as the case studies for this book. The reason for selecting these seven nations is that each nation was under authoritarian or semi-authoritarian rule, and the fall of the political strongman in these countries followed somehow different trajectories. The wave of political liberalization that followed the end of strongman rule throughout Asia began in the Philippines in 1986, when Ferdinand Emmanuel Edralin Marcos was forced out of office through a national election. Marcos’s ouster was followed by the termination of General Chun Doo-Hwan’s rule in 1987 in South Korea. In 1988, Taiwan experienced its most significant political watershed event when President Chiang Ching-Kuo passed away, marking the collapse of the Chiang dynasty and the KMT’s monopoly on political power.5 In 1989, students in Beijing marched on the streets in an unprecedented call for more government accountability. Afraid that these protests could quickly spiral

The beginning of democracy in Asia? 9 into calls for a change in government, Beijing leaders ordered a crackdown on the protests in Tiananmen Square, which resulted in a massacre and a major shake-up of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). The late Chinese patriarch Deng Xiaoping stepped down as chairman of the Central Military Commission shortly thereafter and “retired” from politics three years later in 1992. The end of Deng’s reign marked many important milestones in the Communist Party’s place in the PRC’s political system, but it was far from anything like a democratic one. In 1990, Lee Kuan Yew passed the baton of Singapore’s executive seat to his son, Lee Hsien Loong. In 1998, the resignation of Suharto in Indonesia also signified an unprecedented change in Indonesia’s political history. This was followed in 2003 by Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad’s announcement regarding his own retirement from Malaysia’s tenuous politics, which he created. Finally, the ouster of Thailand’s new strongman Thaksin Shinawatra in 2006 by an alliance of the Royal Thai Army and the royal family steered Thai politics back to uncharted and uncertain waters, with the king serving as the custodian of Thai democracy. Although the sequential order of events suggests a correlation, the “cause” of each strongman’s “fall” from national leadership was unique and complex. So were the short-term and long-term consequences of their deposition, and while the “causes” are debatable, the consequences serve as empirical evidence of the political transformation that occurred in these countries after the fall of the strongman. Thus, the central concern of each case study to follow is the “consequences” and not the “causes,” though the latter in some cases had in fact a direct bearing on the former, and will be addressed throughout the course of this book. More recently, the political tide that sprang from the “Arab Spring” that swept through the Middle East and North Africa eventually making its way to Asia highlights several profound trends in the current global system. One of the most pronounced features of the new international system is the technology and communications boom. Advances in, and the more prevalent use of, communication technologies have, with the advent of the Internet, helped facilitate the ability of activists from various sectors to communicate with each other and get their message across to the general public. Cross-sectoral coalition building is an essential component of mass-driven democratization. Indeed, communication technology and information sharing through the Internet have helped to build coalitions of interest groups that cut across different sets of interests and geographies. The information technology boom is in a way facilitating the globalization of democratization. At the same time, as urbanization continues to push more and more people into cities with greater access to the Internet, and as education improves in urban centers, cyberspace will continue to become a place for more people to network and organize. On a more rudimentary scale, communication has helped the spread of information. For instance, the events that transpired in the village of Wukan in China’s Guangdong Province were replicated – although without the same success – in other parts of the southern province. Such actions could not

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have been possible in previous decades when people did not have such effective ways of communicating as mobile phones and the Internet, especially via social media. Indeed, the length of time it took to get messages to people prevented the generation of momentum so essential to catalyzing a tipping point similar to what took hold in the Middle East and North Africa with the Arab Spring. Basically, information technology is helping to change the political landscape, and will continue to play an important role in pushing the limits set by governments. It has been and will continue to be an important tool to help expand the bases of the mass movements and grassroots challenges to authority that will only help to change the laws that suppress people’s freedom.

Three emerging typologies The objective of this overview chapter is to capture the political transformation processes following the end of strongman rule and the effect that it had on the democratization process in the countries used as case studies. The observations included under each typology are based on a review of the sequence of events that occurred after the end of strongman rule. In using this methodology, three discernible typologies emerge. They are (1) democratization with substantial political reform and consolidation, (2) democratization with limited political reform leading to weak democratic institutions and instability, and (3) an alternative political system with sustained authoritarianism. Democratization with political reform and consolidation A common characteristic in this typology is that the fall of the strongman marks the beginning of a democratic transition that eventually leads to the consolidation of democracy. This was true in the cases of Taiwan, South Korea, and more recently Indonesia. The end of the strongman’s rule led to an opening of previously closed channels for political participation, encouraging more public involvement by civil society and other social agents in the governance process. An active and vibrant civil society is, in this typology, a prerequisite to managing and moving the transition process forward toward democratic consolidation. An active civil society that has the capacity to participate in the broader political process has provided a broader foundation for legitimizing the transition process and the end-state of the transition (see Chapters 3, 4 and 8). Furthermore, some prior and initial top-down liberalization steps in the political arena also provided the cover that led to a push to allow the formal establishment of a political opposition. For instance, “the Chiang Ching-Kuo era [in Taiwan] was a time of transition, from ‘hard’ to ‘soft’ authoritarianism; Under Lee Teng-hui, there was another transition from soft authoritarianism to new democracy.”6 The crucial bottom-up mobilization, which may only be permitted or fought for during a period of weak authoritarianism, of course, led to changes in the Caesarian style of governing prevalent among many post-war Asian states. To be sure, in the case of South Korea, the government was “faced with increasingly strong democratic

The beginning of democracy in Asia? 11 movements in the late 1980s, successive authoritarian regimes tried at least to appear to be pursuing democratizing reforms, listening to voices from a wide range of societal forces, in ways more liberal than in the past.”7 Democratization from the bottom up meant that the government had to become more responsive to the concerns of the people in order to stay in power. Following a period of transformation, democratic consolidation was manifested in the transfer of power to different political parties and the public’s involvement in the electoral process. At the same time, the economic growth that was taking place in Taiwan and South Korea gave the people more of a stake in the political decisions that were being made which affected the economy. Because political institutions in these countries were already relatively stable and had democratic legitimacy, the risk of a political revolution was minimal. External intervention from the United States played a crucial role in both instigating change and preventing it, at one point or another. In this typology, the transition of power from strongman rule, which was preceded by a period of weak authoritarianism, normally witnessed a strong and vibrant civil society in place, which even then contested and made greater demands upon the government to become more accountable to the needs of its people. In the case of Indonesia, which is very different from Taiwan and South Korea, civil society mobilization and rivalry between the nation’s secular and Islamic factions had a long-term resonance and ramifications. Electoral politics and competition have further brought about the polarization of political principles and the rise of political Islam, as well as the emergence of a secular and pluralist agenda by moderate Muslim parties. The ability of the political system to manage these differences, however, is a demonstration of the success and resilience of the political system. More specifically, Suharto’s handpicked successor, B.J. Habibie (in office 1998–1999), a German-educated aeronautical engineer, bowed to popular aspirations for an early general election and a sweeping program of political reform, which included two decentralization bills in April 1999 that launched the process of local self-government for the country’s 130-plus districts. These developments marked a new era in Indonesia’s political history. Around 150 new political parties were established.8 Democratization with limited political reform leading to weak democratic institutions and instability A common characteristic in this typology is that the end of strongman rule leaves a leadership vacuum in the existing political structure. In some cases, the strongman fails to pick a successor who could gain support from other powerful factions thus leading to political turmoil. In other cases, the political opposition is unable to organize collectively and does not gain the trust of the public. In the Philippines, Malaysia, and Thailand – where the transition process has been beset with many setbacks – the changes highlighted the volatile situation and a lack of public trust in the governing institutions. Even though these countries are by definition democracies, they are not consolidated democracies and thus

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susceptible to unstable bursts of violence and instability that can fundamentally challenge the governing authorities. Indeed, failures in governance can lead to a trust deficit that could result in the backsliding of people’s confidence in democracy. These norms are more likely to lead to a fallback to previous established methods of government. The transition remains incomplete and the consolidation of democratic norms is unable to take hold because the people do not trust these institutions. Because open corruption, mismanaged expectations and other issues that are less commonly discussed in the public space are now visible, a sense of disillusionment can take hold. In other cases, political leaders pass power on to a chosen successor and the political establishment still controls major instruments of political power and does not liberalize (see Chapters 6, 7 and 9). In some cases within this typology, a new kind of opposition force with different social foundations emerges after the strongman. With it come new constituencies, a sign that a relatively independent political economic power may be emerging. The question remains whether the necessary institutions are in place and ready to accommodate and protect the nascent democratization process. In other cases, following the end of strongman rule, real and growing demands for democracy have been on the rise. Oftentimes, these are advocated by various civil society groups and nongovernmental organizations, opposition party leaders, and even sometimes reformist leaders in the ruling party as well. In the case of Thailand, the so-called “Thaksinization” of the country has raised the question of whether real political strongman politics can be established in such a short period of time. While Thaksin could be characterized as a “quasistrongman,” he was nevertheless considered to be a rival to the conservative royalists’ approach to “Thai-style democracy.” The king, to be sure, has in fact been the real strongman all along. When the coup abolished the 1997 constitution, it was a clear sign of a setback for – or even retreat of – Thailand’s slow and gradual democratization. Thai-style democracy (placing the monarchy at its core) has emerged as a “legitimate alternative to Western-style democracy.” In a way, Thaksin’s rule was “electoral power without moral authority.” To be sure, the most significant criticism of Philippine politics is how power sharing is restricted to the top few at the expense of the broad masses at the bottom. For instance, Marcos distributed political benefits and advantages to those loyal to him through a personalized network of patron–client relationships, while others had few opportunities to get involved in the decision-making process. The mass-centered movement toward democracy (for example, People Power in the Philippines) facilitated a new beginning for politics in that country. However, it did not change the structure; new social forces instead tried to operate within the system. Unexpected forces emerged after the strongmen, as there was continued domination by the powerful top few (political families). As a result, the strain of patron–clientelism remained; a weak civil society had little ability to promote reform; the military’s political influence remained unchanged; and political parties continued to serve the ambitions of public figures, not to represent any political cause or ideal:

The beginning of democracy in Asia? 13 Politically, the Philippines is still controlled by a elite core of politicians, mainly drawn from the already wealthy or influential families. This class still dominates access to the political inner circles, making it difficult for new entrants to access the decision-making process.9 In Malaysia, it is significant that the democratization process in the multiethnic country has occurred without an outbreak of widespread ethnic violence, unlike in most South Asian and Southeast Asian countries. The usual explanation is that consociationalism underscores Malaysia’s political stability and that now its democratization process, too, is inadequate.10 Alternative political systems with sustained authoritarianism A common characteristic in this typology is that the transition following the strongman is a tightly managed process where the political elites pass the baton to one another, meaning that power transfer happens only within the authoritarian political party, leaving no room for an outside political actor to participate in the process. It is interesting to note that, in the case of China, there was an absence of democratic institutions outside the purview of the CCP, within a system that leaves no capability for any opposition to organize or challenge the existing political authorities that control power. In countries following this typology, authoritarian parties maintain control of political power (see Chapter 5), even as neighbors democratize and both experience economic growth. In cases within this typology, there are no paradigm shifts in terms of real politics, even though it marks the end of paramount strongman power. The political set up after the strongman is laid down well in advance: in the case of Deng Xiaoping, he even pre-arranged his successor – the so-called “third-generation” leader Jiang Zemin. In turn, the “fourth-generation” leader Hu Jintao succeeded Jiang in 2003. In China, there was no democratic transition, only economic “liberalization.” Deng did not really wish to pursue further political liberalization, but rather economic liberalization, and so Jiang’s policy was merely a continuation of Deng’s policy. Sustained rapid and coordinated economic growth has been the top priority for the Chinese leadership, and a “democratic policy-making mechanism” allowed vigorous implementation of “the rule of law” in all political, administrative and judicial sectors to check the abuse of power. In order to pre-empt popular demands for liberal democracy, the dictatorial party claims to practice “democratic centralism.” To be sure, there are many problems in China’s search for a developmental path. One of the most troubling statistics concerns the rising number of so-called “mass incidents.” In 2010, China was rocked by 180,000 protests, riots and other mass incidents – more than four times the tally of a decade earlier. That figure, reported by Sun Liping, a professor at Tsinghua University, rather than official sources, does not tell the whole story about the turmoil in what is now the world’s second largest economy (Orlik 2011). The myriad of problems facing China’s political development include social,

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regional, and class inequality; social unrest (mass incidents); political corruption; the fragility of financial institutions; human rights violations; and severe restrictions on political and media freedoms. According to a report from the China Internet Network Information Center, the number of Internet users in China has grown to 538 million in 2012.11 Information technology helps to connect civil society and enables reformers to strengthen their capacity to push the envelope for change within the Chinese political system. At the same time, however, information technology can also be used as a tool for repression. The deliberate spread of false information or government propaganda and deception could lead to a breakdown of trust in society, and could even mobilize certain conservative forces to question calls for democracy. Ostensibly, a society with low trust does not correlate well with democratic institution building. Information technology not only helps to transform a country from within, but it also affects international relations between different nations on a global scale. Increasingly, states and countries are no longer immune from events that occur beyond their borders or their immediate neighborhood. For example, the self-immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi, a Tunisian fruit-stand vendor, served as a catalyst for the Tunisian revolution and precipitated the entire Arab Spring movement, which spread throughout the Middle East and North Africa, eventually even making its way to China. These incidents should serve as a demonstration to authoritarian elites that they are no longer immune to events that happen outside their borders. The incredible outpouring of calls for political liberalization throughout the Middle East and North Africa was enabled by public knowledge that such things had taken place outside their own country.12 Had it not been for this highly networked Internet generation, such a quick spreading of the movement would most likely not have been possible. The same applies to Asia, which is far more networked than the Middle East and North Africa. The region is highly connected, and events within the region and the world will increasingly shape the outlook and actions that are taken by people within. Advances in communication technology and the increasing use of the Internet are important tools for democratization. For instance, the CCP just saw its oncein-a-decade leadership succession, in which fourth-generation Party leaders handed the reins of political power to those of the fifth generation. Chinese leaders have been effective so far in marginalizing and isolating unrest, even as mass movements, from the domestic and international communities call for greater liberalization and reform. The authorities’ measures have been effective due in part to the sheer size of China and the lack of integration. Much of the Chinese population still lives in rural areas, yet the world’s most populous nation had 690.79 million people living in urban areas at the end of 2011, compared with 656.56 million in the countryside, according to the Beijing-based National Bureau of Statistics.13 Indeed, “with greater self-confidence and increased competence, the Communist Party under Hu was willing to allow greater scope for experimentation in finding ways to enable China to develop without moving towards a liberal

The beginning of democracy in Asia? 15 democratic system.” At the same time, “corporatist ideas were taken on board where they appeared to work. A larger scope was allowed for civil society to operate so long as the Party felt confident that it could keep civil society in line when and where required.” The point is, however, that: the bottom line remained unchanged – the Communist Party must remain dominant, even if intra-party reforms, such as greater “inner party democracy” appeared to portray the paramount leader as more responsive than his predecessors. Indeed, the increased scope for debate among party leaders was one of the means through which the Communist Party sought a Chinese development model.14

Conclusion The end of the political strongman’s rule has played an important role in opening up new political possibilities in the seven Asian nations under study. Although the change in political power has not guaranteed the realization of democracy, it has provided a catalyst for democratization and the realistic possibility of such an end-state. The political evolution of Asian nations demonstrates that there is no linear model for post-strongman rule. There is no roadmap for democratization. Democratization is not an end in itself but a political process rooted in a set of principles. Democracy works only when those principles are shared by the governing authority and the constituency through a legitimate political process that is accountable to the wishes of the governed. However, when the constituency is faced with an anti-democratic system, there is a set of conditions that facilitate the tipping point for a mass-centered movement that helps shape the path toward democracy. The tipping point depends upon certain preconditions: it requires a fertile environment for an active civil society that civically participates in the political process or actively challenges government by decree, exerting external pressure on the ruling elites.15 Beyond the top-down process of elite-led political liberalization under bottom-up pressure, democratization also requires that an active civil society in these countries push for change. The type of transition process that occurs following the end of a strongman’s rule is a reflection of the internal characteristics of that country. The political trajectory following the end of strongman rule is contingent upon a combination of internal and external influences that shape its developmental path. Whether the state is a strong authoritarian state or a weak authoritarian state and whether there is an active civil society versus a passive civil society are two major components in a larger picture that affects how internal pressures respond to external stimulus. In some cases, the process played out as a carefully orchestrated handover of power that preserved the structure of the existing political institutions, changing only the actors. In other cases, the transition was beset by instability as political factions competed for control. Such a transition could cause a state of paralysis

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in the political process. In yet other cases, the end of a strongman’s rule was either the consequence or cause of a political revolution that could fundamentally alter the socio-economic makeup of the society and its political foundations – leading to very uncertain and unpredictable outcomes. Finally, there were also cases wherein the end of strongman rule facilitated a civil society active in public decision-making, which contributed to the gradual erosion of authoritarian rule as well as the formation of nascent democratic institutions and governance. Going forward, the prospects for democracy in Asia face many challenges that include grappling with deficits in the development of democratic institutions and the rise of the so-called “authoritarian model.” Issues include the establishment of non-democratic constitutions in fledgling nations, election-related repression, anti-democratic politics, corruption, human rights abuses that erode public trust in government, political prisoners, a lack of judicial independence, and civil-military rule. There still remain many temptations or institutional deficits that might create new strongmen in Asian states. A chronic challenge that the region’s democracies face – having made the transition mostly from some form of authoritarian model – is an habitual deference to authority figures at times of instability – a habit that has become normalized in many Asian societies. Such deference – seemingly more removed from the political norms in more democratized societies – is swept under the carpet in the process of transition only to surface, time and time again, during periods of instability. This point is underscored by the presence of nostalgia in many Asian democracies for the “good old days” of rapid economic growth, even as many countries were under martial law or strict authoritarian rule. The persistence of this attitude highlights a more systemic challenge in Asian countries, and illustrates a shortfall in democratic governance. This attitude, however, may be altered as generational changes affect political attitudes. Although democratization may increasingly appear as being in peril in Asia, democracy’s march forward in the region is irrefutable. Still, the corrosion of democratic rights in Asian countries in recent years requires a rethinking of the benchmarks of democracy promotion for many of the transitioning countries. The case studies included in the following chapters offer valuable advice for the countries making the transition, as well as for the governments and organizations working on facilitating the democratization process.

Notes 1 See US Department of State, available at http://history.state.gov/departmenthistory/ short-history/containmentandcoldwar (last accessed August 24, 2013). 2 See, for example, Gladwell 2001. 3 It should be noted that democratization has many shades. It is more instructive to compare the process between two events during the same period than to compare events from two different periods. 4 See Hsiao and Hu, 2010. 5 See Hsiao (editor) 2008.

The beginning of democracy in Asia? 17 6 7 8 9 10 11

12 13 14 15

See Chih-Cheng Lo, Chapter 3 in this book. See Jong-Yil Ra, Chapter 4 in this book. See Peter Carey, Chapter 8 in this book. See Samuel C.Y. Ku, Chapter 6 in this book. See Francis Kok-Wah Loh, Chapter 7 in this book. See “Chinese web users hit 538 million,” available at www.pcmag.com/ article2/0,2817,2407356,00.asp; “Chinese internet users to overtake English language users by 2015,” available at www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/broadband/9567934/ Chinese-internet-users-to-overtake-English-language-users-by-2015.html (last accessed August 24, 2013). See “How Luther went viral,” available at www.economist.com/node/21541719 (last accessed August 24, 2013). See “China’s urban population exceeds countryside for first time,” www.bloombeg. com/news/2012–01–17/china-urban-population-exceeds-rural.html (last accessed February 1, 2012). See Steve Tsang, Chapter 5 in this book. See, for example, Gladwell 2001.

Bibliography Gladwell, Malcolm (2001) The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference, Boston: Little Black Bay. Huntington, Samuel P. (1991a) “Democracy’s third wave,” available at: http://muse.jhu. edu/journals/jod/summary/v002/2.2huntington.html. Huntington, Samuel P. (1991b) “How countries democratise,” available at: www.jstor. org/discover/10.2307/2151795?uid=3739936&uid=2129&uid=2&uid=70&uid=4&uid =3739256&sid=21101220541793. Hsiao, Hsin-Huang Michael (editor) (2008), Asian New Democracies: The Philippines, South Korea and Taiwan Compared. Taipei: Taiwan Foundation for Democracy. Hsiao, Hsin-Huang Michael and Ming-Sho Ho (2010), “Civil society and democracymaking in Taiwan: Reexamining the link,” in Yin-wah Chu and Siu-lun Wong (editors) East Asia’s New Democracies: Deepening, Reversal, Non-liberal Alternatives, London: Routledge, pp. 43–64. Kim, Dae Jung (1994) “Is culture destiny? The myth of Asia’s anti-democratic values,” available at: www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/50557/kim-dae-jung/is-culture-destinythe-myth-of-asias-anti-democratic-values. Orlik, Tom (2011) “Unrest grows as economy booms,” available at: http://online.wsj. com/article/SB10001424053111903703604576587070600504108.html.

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Personalist leadership styles and legacies A comparative survey of East and Southeast Asian nations Laurence Whitehead

Introduction All the Asian nations under review here (China, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, South Korea, Taiwan, and Thailand) have undergone foundational political transformations within the lifetimes of their eldest generation. The Japanese conquests of the early 1940s disrupted pre-existing government systems throughout the region. China and Thailand had never been governed directly by the European empires, but fell under the control of Japan, which for decades ruled Korea and Taiwan as colonial possessions. Japan also seized British, Dutch, and US colonies in Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, and the Philippines – thus the surrender of Imperial Japan in 1945 cleared the way for the establishment of an entirely new international order in East and Southeast Asia, with the refoundation, on new bases, of China, North and South Korea, and Thailand, and the decolonization of Western-ruled nations in the region. In all cases, the refounding of nations involved the emergence of a new generation of national leaders, and a reconstitution of the political order in accordance with their ideologies, programs, and international commitments. Chiang Kai-shek, Mao Zedong, Lee Kuan Yew, Ferdinand Marcos, Sukarno, and Suharto, together with a rather longer list of personalities in Malaysia, Thailand, and South Korea emerged as powerful national leaders with the ambition to found, or transform, their nations. They were seen not just as current holders of high political office, but also as architects of entire national political systems. As such, they enjoyed a degree of personal discretionality, and exercised the considerable additional powers required to create regimes capable of overcoming previous weaknesses, backwardness, and insecurities to endure through time and constrain the actions of subsequent generations of ambitious political leaders. They presented themselves as state-builders, as “fathers” of their respective nations, and their leadership styles (the plural is important here) complemented their exceptional circumstances and unconstrained ambitions. In this chapter, the writer makes a comparative assessment of the legacies of these Asian strongmen. In particular, the chapter attempts to trace and account for the alternative patterns, or “styles,” of political leadership that emerged as

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 19 these foundational leaders inevitably gave way to more institutionally constrained successors. The writer’s credentials for attempting this task come from previous work on the democratization of other authoritarian regimes. While this background offers some useful insights into the processes reviewed here, these Asian foundational leaders (or strongmen) did not always pave the way for standard processes of democratization. Indeed, some of their successors have been quite explicit in their intentions to maintain and preserve the authoritarian aspects of the power structures they inherited. There is also the old question of how far the lessons or models of political behavior derived from one regional context can be expected to fit other regions with different histories and different political cultures. In addition to these complications, the more fundamental question that has long troubled political science and comparative politics is: how can scholars evaluate leadership patterns or styles in an objective and scientific manner? Students of politics generally prefer to study institutional structures and incentives, or aspects of political behavior that can be independently measured and verified. They fear that comments on political leadership may slip into anecdote or personal interpretation, and therefore fail the basic tests of social science. (But see the recent work of Kane and Patapan (2012), Mees and Siexas (2012), and Nye (2008), which serve as correctives to such concerns.) But after all, as these case studies illustrate, and as this chapter assumes, if one attempts to explain the foundation and subsequent evolution of new political regimes without reference to the personal interactions and practices of the founders, so much may be left out that the analysis loses purchase on reality. It would make little sense to study Cuban politics without reference to the biography and persona of Fidel Castro, for example; and surely the same applies to the China of Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping.1 More broadly, the test of a good comparative social analysis cannot be simply its objectivity (in the narrow sense of replicability). A multiplicity of methods and techniques of enquiry – including sociology, for example, and even anthropology – may add something of value. The appropriate mix depends in part upon the phenomenon under investigation, and in part upon the skills and resources of each analyst. In the author’s case, a background in area studies and comparative historical analysis indicates where he is most likely to add value. Dialogue with a team of regional and country specialists provides the linguistic and contextual knowledge needed for reliable comparative work. More than one perspective can contribute to the elucidation of this topic, and his objective is to initiate a debate rather than to close one. The most crucial test of such an approach is its usefulness in addressing issues of importance (Rueschesmeyer 2009). With those qualifications in place, this chapter seeks to apply established social science concepts and scholarly methods to the comparative analysis of leadership practices in the eight aforementioned nations. The analysis proceeds as follows: The second section reflects further on the initial framing device of the Asian strongmen, testing it against more standard comparative politics categories such as dynastic politics, “charismatic” leadership, “delegative” democracy,2 and even “sultanism.” These alternative ways of

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characterizing the varieties of strongman/personalist rule differ in major respects, but they share a root concern with the bases of legitimation on which all such regimes must rest. The third section focuses more precisely on an enlarged region (East and Southeast Asia) and a specific period of time (after the post1945 foundational principles have been defined), and questions how universal the leadership practices detailed in the case studies are, and whether they are the product of a geographical and historical context. The fourth section reviews the eight cases from a comparative perspective, sketching a typology that involves grouping them into pairs that correspond to the four alternative trajectories of succession that follow from the rule of a strongman. The fifth section examines alternative possible trajectories that may follow when the rule of a strong leader ends. The sixth section considers the alternative legacies of the strongman period, and how such memories and inheritances could impact the prospects for subsequent democratization. It stresses in particular the distinction between improvised and tactical styles of leadership on the one hand, and strategic or foundational approaches on the other. The conclusion to this provisional comparative survey turns to the prospects for future political development in the region, drawing out some implications of the analysis, while also acknowledging the importance of variables other than leadership style.

Strongmen and types of personalist rule What accounts for the strength of personalist rule in so many of the sovereign states that emerged from the collapse of the Japanese imperial system in 1945? According to one classical interpretation (which is heavily influenced by the history of European political systems prior to 1914), large-scale modern regimes only achieve a reasonable degree of stability when the bulk of their subjects view those who rule them as (more or less) legitimate; it is not possible to perpetuate any durable system of rule purely through conquest and repression. There is scope for debate about whether Hitler and Stalin falsify the assumptions upon which Max Weber built his typology – the term “totalitarian” was intended to cover those cases, and to correct that omission. But in any case, all twentiethcentury European attempts to construct a permanent political order essentially on the basis of terror and repression happen to have failed. In Asia, the cases of Mao’s China and Chiang’s Taiwan might conceivably be counted as counterexamples, but in both cases it can be debated both whether they were essentially based on repression and also whether in the end they really failed.3 Let us assume that some kind of legitimacy is a prerequisite for durable authority4 in the modern state. Weber famously distinguished between three possible sources (tradition, rationality, and charisma), although Herbert Marcuse was duly scornful of this classificatory schema, pointing out that the Prussian bureaucracy pursued state rationality to the extreme, but was headed by a traditional authority (the term “Kaiser” says it all), who was not subject to any of the disciplines enforced lower down. Be that as it may, as far as our region is concerned, the overwhelming impact of Western colonization, followed by the

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 21 Japanese imperial onslaught, undermined most of the potential sources of traditional political authority. Only the King of Thailand (converted into a figurehead after 1932) and some Malay ruling houses co-opted by the British Empire remained on the scene. The post-War strongmen were self-made men who did not hail from hereditary or ruling families. It is true that Chiang Kai-shek and Kim Il Sung were also both succeeded in office by their sons, that Corazon Aquino owed her pre-eminence to her husband, and Megawati Sukarnoputri to her father, so the hereditary transmission of leadership positions cannot be disregarded here either. But in this region it seems more of an aberration than a prevailing norm. Although their family surnames certainly gave these leaders a head start in the competition for power, none of these rulers claimed a natural right of succession, and other attributes were crucial. Recently, for example, General Park Chung Hee’s daughter, Park Geun-hye, has emerged as a leading figure in South Korea’s party politics. She was the victor in that country’s 2012 presidential race and is the first female president of the Republic of Korea. Following the Weberian schema would leave us with only rational–legal and charismatic sources of authority. The “charismatic” option has always been regarded as the most problematic of Weber’s triad – more of a residual category than a coherent structure. That said, there is probably an inherent discretionality in all forms of modern, large-scale political leadership (including the most democratic), which opens the way to a residual category of charismatic authority (which we might also refer to as justification by declared and asserted intentions and results). So, all really existing national leaders required a certain element of discretion, arbitrary power, charisma or personal strength. If our aim is to account for the way leadership is exercised (and not just how it may be justified in the larger society), it is particularly important to stress the point that those in positions of high political authority face real and imagined challenges, and successive policy choices and dilemmas that cannot be handled purely on the basis of either precedent (tradition) or rational administration. There are so many conflicting priorities, and is so much uncertainty and scope for redefining agendas, that leaders are often required to act on impulse, with inadequate information, and then to seek retrospective justification. Those who master this logic (or make retrospectively successful choices) are the most likely to be perceived as strong. Leaders may often be tempted – or even obliged by circumstances – to seek a reputation for strength as a substitute for an elusive legitimization through correct behavior. But therein lies a crucial vulnerability: a strong leader must provide constant displays of ascendancy. If authority rests on a capacity for victory, rather than the perceived justice of one’s conduct, then even a single defeat may be decisive. This is a lesson of which Machiavelli, keen to instruct his princely readers, wrote: “victories are never so clear that the winner does not have to have some respect, especially for justice” (Machiavelli 1985: 90), and “the prince can gain the people to himself in many modes, for which one cannot give certain rules because the modes vary according to circumstances . . . I will conclude only that for a prince it is necessary to have the people friendly; otherwise he has no remedy in adversity” (ibid.: 40–41).

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From a comparative perspective, charismatic leadership does seem to contain some potential explanatory power in particular cases (Fidel Castro and perhaps even Hugo Chávez come to mind as Latin American examples). But although Mao Zedong acquired a personality cult, and perhaps Thaksin Shinawatra also displays some degree of personal charisma, one would be hard pressed to explain either’s rise to power, or their sources of authority once in control of the state, in such terms. Mao had to achieve mastery of Marxist ideology, in order to rule through the Communist Party, while Thaksin’s business acumen underpinned his popularity far more reliably than his personality. In short, neither traditional nor charismatic legitimacy seems to have been central to the political success of our eight Asian strongmen. Does legal–rational authority fill the void? These national fathers were hardly constrained by any serious legal precedents. The Second World War swept away not just traditional authority, but all serious legal and constitutional inheritances. And the ability of these agents to make their own law as they went along was integral to their status as strongmen. As state-builders they might, perhaps, have been able to draw some authority from claims to be bringing order and rationality to societies traumatized by war and disorder – their charismatic authority arising from an almost magical ability to overcome such misfortunes. But there is a huge difference between winning followers by overcoming an emergency and the routinization of these personal powers in the course of state-building to generate rational–legal authority. In practice, of course, most of our strongmen were (among other things) military figures. Some were arguably even sultanistic rulers at times. Mao, Chiang, Park, Suharto – perhaps even Marcos, derived a substantial part of their strength from their command over the armed forces of their respective states. This was not true of those politically dominant leaders who inherited their power from the departing British colonists (Lee Kuan Yew in Singapore, and the leaders of the United Malays National Organization in Malaysia). Nor does it entirely fit the case of Thailand (where the army’s uncomfortable relationship with the throne remains a crucial variable). But where nation-building takes place in the aftermath of war – to repeat an oft-used phrase – power grows from the barrel of a gun. Yet, as Weber correctly assumed, authority requires legitimation. It cannot be purely coercive. And almost all of these strongmen operated through mass-based political parties: Chiang Ching-Kuo in Taiwan’s Kuomintang (KMT), Deng Xiaoping in the Chinese Community Party (CCP), Mahathir Mohamad in the United Malays National Organization (UMNO), Lee Kuan Yew in the People’s Action Party (PAP) in Singapore, and even the government party (Golkar) in Indonesia (Suharto), and Thai Rak Thai (TRT) (Thaksin Shinawatra). General Park’s party support was less important, as he was essentially the military’s candidate. Ironically, the weakest party structure was based in the Philippines – the country that modeled its politics on those of the United States. Marcos relied on “guns, goons, and gold,” rather than on an organized and programmatic system of party support.

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 23 In fact, even if he seems an outlier, President Marcos sought to achieve such legitimacy as he could by another means that also has a generic designation – “kleptocracy.” This is the opposite of rational–legal authority, but not necessarily traditional. The key requirement is suppression of the boundary between public office and private benefit. In a society where, for one reason or another, that basic distinction has been erased it is possible to accumulate almost unlimited personal power – at least for a time – by monopolizing public funds and distributing them in exchange for political support. In the kleptocracy stakes Marcos may have been an outlier, but all of our strongmen seem to have relied on this as a significant source of authority, with Thaksin coming closest to duplicating the Marcos approach.

“Large region” contextual considerations Since all large regions are politically heterogeneous, and since historical changes always differentially impact different parts of a region, it is tempting to disregard regional context when generalizing about such topics as regime change or leadership style. The post-Cold War social trend to downgrade area studies and to downplay historical explanation reinforces that tendency. Indeed, European patterns of political behavior are not identical to those of Latin America; the Arab world displays some distinctive traits of its own, as does sub-Saharan Africa; and theories of politics that may be viewed as universally applicable in North America can be received as quite alien in various non-Western civilizational traditions. So, even though all our eight case studies concern late twentieth-century state structures of a reasonably standardized type, it is worth considering whether there are some important underlying contextual traditions or constraints that may cause styles of personalist leadership in East and Southeast Asia to diverge in any systematic way from their counterparts in other large regions. Admittedly, the large region selected for consideration here is criss-crossed by political, religious, linguistic, and other historical cleavages. As we have seen, all these societies were subject at least briefly to Japanese conquest and temporary imperial rule, but it is open to question whether that, or geographically mandated interactions in trade and migration, among other factors, is sufficient to suggest that this constitutes a single large region. Should East Asia be differentiated from Southeast Asia, for example? In the next section, the range of variation in the leadership styles practiced within the region, and the possibility of region-wide commonalities, will be considered. Such commonalities within a region may be uncovered by contrast with characteristics on display elsewhere. For example, in this region there may be strongmen, but there is not – as in South Asia – much evidence of “strong women.” Perhaps this is just an accidental difference attributable to the small numbers in each category, and perhaps what we find in all of Asia are strong dynasties, rather than strongmen. This, at least, would point to some parallels between Asian and Middle-Eastern leadership styles – except that there are no cases of

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wives or daughters of ruling families in the Arab world rising to positions of command (such as those occupied by Sirimavo Bandaranaike of Sri Lanka, Indira Gandhi of India, Benazir Bhutto of Pakistan, or Hasina Wajed and Khaleda Zia of Bangladesh). Returning to our region, we find Corazon Aquino and Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo of the Philippines and Megawati Sukarnoputri of Indonesia, all of whom won competitive elections, served their constitutional terms, and ruled as party leaders expected to train up their successors, and to respect the rule of law and the separation of powers. These were relatively model democratic politicians, far removed from the leadership styles of Asian dynasties, despots, military strongmen, or kleptocrats. In contrast to, for example, Benazir Bhutto, Indira Gandhi, or Khaleda Zia, they did not attempt to rule imperiously. Despite the heterogeneity of the East- and Southeast-Asian region, its postwar political structures display some key features that arguably distinguish it from other large world regions. The legacies of Japanese occupation include much social trauma, but also some quite modern and effective state institutions, notably in South Korea and Taiwan (which were under Japan’s colonial rule for two generations). British colonial rule also bequeathed strong administrative structures in Hong Kong and Singapore, and even relatively speaking in Malaysia. The US legacy in the Philippines may be more equivocal, but here too can be found some basic governmental capacities that seem more durable than in much of sub-Saharan Africa, parts of the Middle East, or even South Asia (other than India). Although Thailand was not directly colonized by the Western powers, the long war in Indochina seems to have had the effect of molding Thai state capacity to a similar extent. If so, the two significant deviant cases from this perspective must be the People’s Republic of China (PRC) – operating on the other side of the Cold War divide until the 1980s – and Indonesia. Yet these two vast nations have also developed remarkably strong modern state characteristics. The different routes taken to this convergent outcome are important and will be considered more fully in the next section. But when analyzing contemporary leadership styles in this geographical area, it is essential to consider the powerful and well-elaborated state administrations that are available there. This seems to have enabled the political elites of the region to at least contain, if not overcome, threats to social order and development that can seem insuperable elsewhere (problems of ethnic conflict, extreme socio-economic inequality, or of administering far-flung regional divisions, for example). One further contrast in leadership styles concerns what is known in Latin America as “populism.” There, the competition for power between elite and middle-class backed technocrats on the one hand, and mass-supported, often personalist challengers who derive much of their appeal from their defiance of conventional Western-backed economic and ideological orthodoxies, on the other, is almost a trademark of regional politics. Although most recurrent in the Western hemisphere, this style of politics can also be found elsewhere (for example, in Southern Africa, and perhaps contemporary Iran), and it is certainly not unknown in the East- and Southeast-Asian region (President Sukarno, for

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 25 example, was ranked with Nasser and Perón in his day), and the current contest between Thaksin’s followers and the Bangkok establishment can perhaps be interpreted in a similar way. However, with occasional exceptions, this is not a propitious region for Latin American-style populism, nor its polar twin, Washington-deferent technocracy. After Sukarno’s fall, Indonesia was powerfully inoculated against any repetition of that experiment. Asia’s economic technocrats may well acquire large quotas of political power in recognition of their professional expertise, but they nearly always steer clear of overt deference to Western economic models and doctrines. Conservative leaders such as Lee Kuan Yew and Mahathir are insistent in proclaiming their independence from foreign liberal orthodoxies. Behind all this it may be possible to detect the operation of strongly articulated local business and managerial elites, unified around long-term national construction projects. The erratic and short-term course of much populist politics in Latin America and elsewhere can be seen as an expression of the weakness or absence of such stabilizing and unifying social formations. Of course these are only statements of tendencies. Chile, and now Brazil, may be becoming more “Asian” in this sense; and the Philippines and now perhaps Thailand could be veering in the opposite direction. Nevertheless, as a broad generalization, it does seem that leadership in the large region under consideration here may be better insulated from the ping-pong pressures of populism and neo-liberalism than is the case in most of the rest of the so-called developing world. That said, one must not underplay the diversity of leadership styles still in evidence in East and Southeast Asia. The remaining sections of this chapter are therefore concerned with differentiating between these eight cases, and attempting to group them in accordance with an interpretive typology that connects the recent experiences of forceful political leadership in this region with more general conceptions of political autocracy, succession, and indeed democratization.

Comparing the strongmen With the benefit of hindsight, the eight cases seem to fall into two polar categories, with four intermediate cases. Two of these leaders, Deng Xiaoping and Lee Kuan Yew, headed well-structured authoritarian party-based regimes that may have evolved and liberalized slightly, but which remained essentially intact, and over which they remained in control. Certainly this is what both their successors and their critics credit them with achieving. In neither case was the dominant party at risk from an electoral challenge, although Deng did face sources of dissent from within his own regime, and Lee Kuan Yew did rely on a well-controlled electoral process to keep his rivals in line. At the other extreme, Ferdinand Marcos and Suharto both failed to build encompassing political structures robust enough to contain their opponents or to regulate political life after their exits from office. Instead, they were ousted through mass protests and public displays of repressive violence that produced democratization by rupture.

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The elections organized after they were overthrown were far more genuine and competitive than those orchestrated while they remained in power. Between these two poles, we have four more cases that are not so easily categorized either in terms of their dynamics or their outcomes. The author has tentatively split the intermediate cases into two pairs, divided between short-term and long-term political horizons. Roh Tae Woo (South Korea) and Chiang Ching-Kuo were certainly both authoritarian and repressive while on the rise. And although both had to contend with electoral processes that had the potential to expose the illegitimacy of their regimes, they were not fundamentally constrained by their oppositions when they chose to ease repression. In fact, both possessed overwhelming military power and could have invoked genuine national security justifications for their dictatorial practices, as well as a considerable degree of legitimization by results (remarkable periods of accelerated economic growth). Nevertheless, without being compelled by being discredited (as were Marcos and Suharto) or constrained by legal opposition (like Mahathir Mohamad and Thaksin Shinawatra), they pre-emptively chose to liberalize from a position of strength. This was an anticipatory democratization (in both cases, the eventual outcome – even if not initially intended – was a more or less fully-fledged competitive party democracy). By doing right before being forced to, they averted the dangers of rupture that were on display in the Philippines in 1985, and again in Indonesia in 1998, and retained a high degree of influence over the course of the ensuing reform processes.5 Their critics may be less willing than their erstwhile supporters to credit them with virtuous conduct, but all their successors have tried to operate within the broad parameters set by these strongmen, who are generally viewed by neutral observers as constructive and relatively far-sighted in their use of other exceptionally concentrated powers. If some authoritarian rulers have acquired reputations for “correct behavior” despite the temptations of absolute power, some more democratically legitimated rulers have been found wanting in their probity despite receiving electoral mandates. Mahathir Mohamad and Thaksin Shinawatra both garnered very substantial popular support in at least relatively genuine contested elections. So in a sense, they were delegative democrats rather than fully repressive strongmen. Yet both deserve to be included in our roll call of strongmen, in that they paraded their discretionary authority and showed little compunction when trampling on the rights of their opponents. Both operated in a much more pluralist and competitive political environment than the rest of the strongmen considered here. They engaged in no-holds-barred political battles that affected the strength of the constitutional frameworks within which they were expected to operate, and in each case there was a genuine need to resort to rough tactics if they were to prevail against the forces pitted against them. So they were strong in their assertions of personal leadership, but their authority was at least semi-legitimate given their electoral support.6 Unlike the two successful opponents of democracy considered here, or the two successful initiators of democracy, their political projects had shorter time horizons. They were unable to control events after

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 27 losing personal access to the levers of power. And although not definitively ousted from power, like Marcos and Suharto, they were crippled and discredited by its loss. Lacking the foresight and long-term control evinced by the one South Korean and three Chinese heads of state,7 they failed to transmit guidelines that would direct the course of political development after their exit from office.

Eight cases, four trajectories This section reviews the alternative possible trajectories for the period after the term of a strong leader ends. Initially, this question is examined in fairly abstract terms, and then more specifically in the light of the eight cases under review in this volume. At the abstract level, there are obviously multiple possible outcomes. Given the loose and heterogeneous composition of the strongman category and the wide discretionary powers associated with this style of leadership in particular, it could hardly be otherwise. Nevertheless, there are some inferences that can be drawn from the way this chapter has characterized the strengths and weaknesses of strongman’s rule in general. There are some further possibilities that can be derived from studying different types of strong personalist (or autocratic) rule. In the abstract – if concentrated, personal power and the capacity to marshal national resources to address priority goals are the main advantages of autocracy, the principal disadvantages are the absence of checks and balances, and the risks of a succession crisis. When the leader ceases to rule, his personal capacity to mobilize resources to address a priority goal may not be fully transmitted to his successors. Many secondary objectives and alternative priorities could therefore gain traction, and the next cohort of incumbents may well be divided among themselves on how to proceed in choosing between these alternatives. It is possible that this could lead to a power struggle out of which emerges a new and equally strong successor, but that is not the case under consideration here. More frequently, those who rise to prominence around the strongman are likely to have been courtiers or cautious placemen. Had they been too forceful, they most likely would have been pushed aside as potential threats to the incumbent. (Obviously, this refers mainly to personalist leaders – not necessarily to generals, or theocrats, or party ideologues in a more institutionalized form of autocratic rule.) So a likely post-personalist outcome could be a period of collective leadership. With none of the ruling circle capable of substituting for the former ruler, they may attempt to compromise and maneuver among themselves in order to stabilize the regime and parcel out manageable fragments of power amongst themselves. This can easily lead to gridlock, and certainly militates against coherent long-term policy-making. The implications for political reform are ambiguous. It could mean that various elite groups seek support from wider sectors of society that had previously been shut out from decision-making. It could open the way to more impersonal procedures for arbitrating disputes (even including electoral procedures). But it could also lead to mutual recriminations and impasses, or even to the

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frustration of resorting to reckless options intended to break the deadlock (the occupation of the Falklands, or the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, provide outof-area examples). What all these cases have in common is the absence of the previous guiding intelligence, an absence that the successors are often ill equipped to fill. Different types of strongman rule can also be distinguished. Where the strongman was supported by a close-knit elite pact, many of the commitments that seemed to be his personal choice may turn out to have been collectively underwritten and sustained. This was the case in Paraguay after the Stroessner dictatorship, in Cuba after Fidel Castro and in Venezuela after the death of Chávez, and – in a distinctly different register – it has been well argued in the case of Lee Kuan Yew (Peng Er and Y.L. Tan 1999). Where the dominant leader overstays his welcome and stirs up hatred and resentment that his successor could not hope to contain, the outcome may well be confrontation and rupture (as was clearly the case with Marcos and Suharto). Where the dominant leader was believed to be performing a necessary and difficult task of national salvation, the need for which has not gone away, there can be a legacy of nostalgia and a desire to continue as he would have directed (this could be the case in Cuba after Fidel Castro and Venezuela after Hugo Chávez, although it is too soon to tell; for a considerable period of time it was the case in Pinochet’s Chile, at least among some elite circles). Finally, if the outgoing ruler left behind a blueprint pointing the way to political reform and the diffusion of power and responsibility, as his preferred legacy for the long term, then weaker successors may see it as their best option to try to fulfill that program. (This may apply to the KMT and Chiang in Taiwan, for example.) In the case of Singapore, Lee stood down as Prime Minister in 1990, after 35 years in power, but for 23 years thereafter he has continued to serve as a senior minister and an éminence grise of his party, having outlasted all his original team and most of their successors. Not much more can usefully be added at this level of abstraction. So what follows is a tentative classification of the trajectories so far observable in the eight cases under review. In any specific historical example one would expect to find more than one kind of logic at work, with room for conflicting interpretations of the relationship between the old regime and what follows it. The classification adopted below is based on considering how these eight strong leaders relate to the regimes that succeeded them. It distinguishes between four broad alternatives: continuity; orderly alternation; disorderly succession; and democratic rupture. In practice, of course, these are very approximate and partially overlapping categories. Their breadth is necessary, especially given that there are two cases to be fitted under each of the four headings. Continuity Starting with Deng Xiaoping and Lee Kuan Yew, it appears that these strong but non-democratic leaders were indeed succeeded by less forceful acolytes who have, for the most part, striven to maintain something like a collective leadership

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 29 style devoted to following through on the guidelines inherited from their progenitors. For a considerable period of time, the former leaders continued to supervise and guide from behind the scenes, and anyone who openly courted their displeasure (let alone their accusations of disloyalty) would have put his career in jeopardy. The steady application of the departed leaders’ philosophy was enabled and legitimized by the performance of these two regimes; the reinforcement of rising national pride as these successes increased the prestige and leverage of China and Singapore in the outside world; the “limited pluralism”8 that encouraged loyal successors to innovate and adapt within the broader parameters approved by the initiators of the project; and by the limitations and deficiencies of potential opposition forces (limited in the absence of democratic freedoms and competitive elections (China), or their restricted nature (Singapore); deficient because seen as disloyal to the aspirations and achievements of a rising regime). As Zhou Enlai is supposed to have said, it is still “too soon to know” how much longer these trajectories can be sustained, and whether they will eventually confirm the existence of a coherent alternative to a democratic model. So far, these two strong leaders are continuing to set the agenda for their successors, with consequent question marks over whether the eventual outcomes will permit democratic alternation. Orderly alternation The next pair of strong leaders, Chiang Ching-Kuo and Chun Doo Hwan, together with Chun’s successor, Roh Tae Woo (all of whom were generals), could also be said to have shaped the political agendas still being followed by their less forceful successors. Some of the same factors can be invoked to explain this: performance legitimacy; the increased prestige that their proposals have generated in the outside world; and the scope permitted their successors to innovate and adopt. However, in this pair of cases, the outcome so far is quite different from that of the first pair. South Korea and Taiwan have a couple of the best-institutionalized and most promising democratic regimes in Asia. Potential opposition forces have established themselves as powerful and authentic alternatives to the partiesthat trace some allegiance to Chun/Roh and Chiang. Indeed, in both cases, the opposition has taken office and the autocrats’ successor parties have spent significant periods in opposition. It could be regarded as the final culmination of the ambitions of these leaders that, after accepting defeat and going into opposition, the parties they inspired have returned to office with full democratic legitimacy. However, it is open to discussion how far these results would appeal to the old leaders, if they could revisit their handiwork. Further, while strong by the standards of the region, both these democratic regimes remain troubled (South Korea by the reunification issue; Taiwan by relations across the Taiwan Strait). One significant source of trouble could be the ambivalence arising from the fact that these democracies were in part designed by authoritarian rulers rather than emerging from the conquest of democratic opposition forces (the fifth section looks more closely into the question of historical memory and autocratic legacy).

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Disorderly succession The third pair of strong leaders, Mahathir Mohamad and Thaksin Shinawatra, contributed to the erratic trajectories of democratization in their countries not by farsighted measures of anticipatory democratization from a position of strength, but rather by battling for one partisan political interest against well-defined competitors who could also offer an alternative project that was at least partially democratic. In contrast to nearly all the other cases under review, these two leaders remain active players in the politics of their respective countries, and any assessment of their eventual historical legacies will need to await their final departure from the scene. At this point, what can be said is that, in contrast to the first pair, they were not coherent opponents of all forms of electoral democracy; and in contrast to the second pair, they were not leading architects either. In these countries, much of the crafting of democratic (or at least competitive electoral) institutions and practices was undertaken by others competing with them for support and legitimacy. Far from creating or guiding transitions in their countries, both sought to manipulate constitutional and electoral procedures to their advantage. If that distorted or destabilized the political institutions that lent them authority, they were willing to press their claims to the limits in pursuit of shortterm tactical benefits. They were exploiters of already-existing institutional resources, rather than democratic regime-builders. But they also operated within significant limits, which ultimately constrained their freedom of action. They were successful in pursuing the rules of the game to their advantage, rather than in overturning them and designing an alternative system. They operated in an arbitrary and anti-institutional manner, but only to the extent that large sectors of society (the bumiputera, or Thai peasantry) approved and benefited from their personalism. From a democratic standpoint, there may be little excuse for some of their excesses (ethnic polarization and gross corruption), but there is some substance to the defense that, in addition to their other concerns, they both campaigned on behalf of the people against powerful entrenched elite interests (the old business elite, the mandarins, the aristocracy and the monarchy, as outlined in the next section). In brief, they broadly fit the profile – both positive and negative – outlined by O’Donnell in his analysis of delegative democracies (O’Donnell 1994). At the same time, this is the broadest and least coherent of the four categories. Thailand is currently far more disorderly than Malaysia, and although the UMNO era may eventually be coming to an end, the character of the succession in Malaysia is still most uncertain. Democratic rupture The final pair, Marcos and Suharto, defined subsequent political trajectories in the Philippines and Indonesia by their failures and omissions, rather than by their intentions or achievements.9 Democratization through rupture is also a troubled and erratic process, but in these cases, what droves it was the negation of the practices of the former strongmen. They were humiliated and disempowered.

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 31 Their abusive practices were exposed to public view. Their closest associates were discredited by their complicities. The new regimes may have been torn apart by conflicting interests and ideals, but they also held together by their repudiations of the old, and determination to block any restoration. In practice, of course, the strongmen who had ruled these countries with great personal authority for 20 years or more could by no means be obliterated from the record: too many structures and interests would have been jeopardized. In terms of political discourse and collective consequences, however, the key is discontinuity. In order for constitutional government and electoral alternation to have any chance of taking hold, the polis needed to witness theatrical public displays of democratic renovation, together with tangible reassurances that the previous structures of autocratic control and repression would not return. Despite some demonstrative ruptures of this kind, these new democracies remained troubled by their unresolved authoritarian legacies (see in particular the chapter in this volume on the Philippines).

Legacies (and memories) of autocratic rule Starting at the most general level of analysis, all “really existing” democratic systems are shot through with legacies from their pre-democratic past. Even longstanding and consolidated democracies operate within broader social and discursive fields that contain many pre- and some anti-democratic elements. Only within a narrow and artificial view of the political can we describe democracy as the only game in town, when the collective imagination of a nation and the resulting distribution of social power remain so penetrated by such primordial alternative logics. In brief, even the most admirable and entrenched of democratic regimes remain hybrid, with some pre-democratic forces shaping those power configurations. The preceding survey of leadership styles in East and Southeast Asia may serve to narrow the gap between idealized democratic theory and the realities of strongman rule. The recent political history of this large region suggests that undemocratic leaders may sometimes be guided by socially embedded conceptions of “right conduct”; also that even democratic leaders may have to exercise a high degree of discretionary power; and that pre-democratic legacies and memories constrain political choice including in the most robust of really existing democracies. Despite these substantial correctives to theory in the light of comparative experience, there is still a major divide between the personalist authoritarian style of rule and a more institutionalized and procedurally accountable democratic alternative. Even if this divide is envisaged as a continuum, with several dimensions that may not all coincide, there is an important contrast of principle at stake, a point that is further developed in the conclusion to this chapter. Before that, this section looks more closely at the presence of pre-democratic legacies and memories of autocratic rule in the eight contemporary Asian countries under review. It begins with Indonesia and the Philippines, because

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democratic rupture suggests a wholesale repudiation of autocratic legacies. Indeed, as indicated above, the prevailing political discourses in these two new democracies are structured around rejecting the preceding corruption and abuse of power by Marcos and Suharto, respectively. According to the democratic script, these two rulers displayed all the ugly features of autocracy that can only be extirpated by a collective commitment to democratic values and procedures. The street protests and People Power revolutions that removed them from the scene are cast in images of liberation, and all legitimate political actors are required to demonstrate their agreement to the rules of the game that guarantee there will be no return to that past. Neither the families nor the cronies of former strongmen are supposed to have a place in the current political environment. The murky conditions that permitted their taking power, and the oppressive and exploitative practices that characterized their incumbencies, have been paraded in full public view in order to de-legitimate their legacies and nullify any remaining political influence. However, an objective comparative analysis suggests that such assertions should be treated with caution. Substantial currents of public opinion may not be reflected in the official discourse. Quite a few voters may harbor more mixed (or even positive) evaluations of the previous regime, and may yet reserve judgment on the durability of the current democratic course. Moreover, when strong leaders have exercised so much personal power for so long, many of their most influential and successful subjects are likely to have acquiesced or even colluded in some of the events that are retrospectively demonized. These new democracies cannot wholeheartedly cleanse the security forces, nor the public administration, of all those who profited during the autocratic era. Not all of the profiteers and land expropriators can be comprehensively stripped of their illegitimate gains; nor can those who were wrongly jailed, deprived of educational opportunities, or driven into exile be fully compensated for their sacrifices. As a result, the legacies of abusive regimes remain divisive and it is difficult to offer anything more than token remediation. Nor are the adverse legacies entirely attributable to the former autocrats: At least some of their opponents also have their own ugly legacies, and they may well try to conceal these by one-sided denunciations of their oppressors. So if these new democracies are to flourish and to achieve a permanent break with the past it can only be by focusing on the future, while limiting punishment and restitution to the most exceptional and high profile cases. Until change removes the sting, a considerable degree of necessary hypocrisy may be required; otherwise the interests threatened by retribution will be too broad and mobilized to ensure the security of new democracy. It is all very well, however, for a distant external observer to reach this summary conclusion. For many of those who suffered under the old autocracies, and who find that they are still beyond the pale even after a so-called democratic rupture, this pragmatic calculus may be of little comfort. In short, although these abrupt regime changes may have been justified, and may have been the only way to advance the cause of democratization, what they bring in their wake is a mixed legacy of artificial history, the selective use of sanctions, necessary

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 33 hypocrisy, and the partial suppression of legitimate grievances. Working through all that is slow and painful, and the right outcome is not guaranteed.10 The second pair of cases also contains ambivalences that are troubling for democratization. Neither Mahathir Mohamad nor Thaksin Shinawatra can be comprehensively demonized and repudiated, as was the case for Marcos and Suharto. They both retain a public presence, and, at least in Thaksin Shinawatra’s case, a strong electoral and political following. Part of the spectrum of public opinion may wish to expose their abuses and block their chances of return; but they also have influential supporters and active defenders of at least parts of their respective legacies. Official verdicts on their records remain open and strongly contested. External observers and participants who are more neutral continue to suspend judgment on how these conflicts will eventually turn out. While these uncertainties persist, democratic political processes will continue to be subject to intense pressures and uncertainties, since the rival forces in contention have so much at stake. In such conditions, it is all too clear that predemocratic styles of political leadership are not solely the preserve of the identified strongmen. Monarchical and hereditary privilege, for example, can provide an alternative source of authority that also projects influence into the more democratic present. Memories of its record can be equally mixed and divisive. Episodes such as the race riots in Malaysia in 1971 are not necessarily remembered in shades that are either consensual or mono-colored. Such historical traumas may be open to more honest interrogation than is the case of Indonesia in 1965, or Taiwan in 1947. Even so, they can be sites of contestation, not unifying foundations for a new democratic order. The military in Thailand and UMNO in Malaysia are both powerful corporations with their own selective historical narratives to propagate. As in Indonesia and the Philippines, so also in Malaysia and Thailand, there are significant localized pockets of deep disaffection, and groups and regions that still nurse unreconciled narratives of defeated or unattained alternative political projects. On balance, there is probably more scope for the emergence of credible and realistic discourses on compromise that could underpin democratic convivencia in these societies, provided that ongoing struggles for power end in compromise. One can broadly speculate, for instance, that this would be because there may be more openness and pluralism in Malaysia and Thailand, more overlapping convergences, and more scope for tolerating differences. This stands in contrast with Indonesia and the Philippines, where democratic rupture may favor a more unbridgeable caesura with the past. That leaves the first four cases, which encompass two types of continuismo. In all these cases, whether the autocrats intended to perpetuate their regimes or to transform them, there is a point of convergence. However much they may differ in viewpoint, these historical interpretations have to tackle the reality that strong rulers with considerable room for maneuvering made long-term strategic choices that continue to guide and constrain subsequent regime trajectories. There is scope for disagreement on a whole range of related issues, but not over this core reality, which should not be obscured by consideration of the obvious

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secondary questions of interpretation that naturally arise. Were these autocrats acting out of character, or were they perfecting projects that began gestation earlier? Were they pushed, either from below or from without? Did they truly understand the longer-term implications of the processes they initiated? At what point, if at all, did authorship of these crucial choices escape their control and become the responsibility of their successors, their rivals, or even their dissident opponents? There is much to investigate and debate about these four historical processes, but one obligatory focus of any serious exercise of temporal reconstruction must be the powers and choices of the relevant rulers. This is the crucial topic to examine when studying the strongmen who sought to shape their political legacies after their own departure from the scene (the classic alternative of après moi, le deluge was potentially available to them, but they discarded it). Perhaps emphasis on this topic may seem too much like the highly ridiculed Great Man Theory – a favorite target of more hard-nosed social scientists. Given what the case histories reveal about the scope for discretion in political leadership, and given the possibilities of strategic choices explicable in ideational terms (notions of “right conduct”), any serious analysis of these four cases can hardly proceed without paying close comparative attention to leadership structures and styles. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to disaggregate the four cases, but it is possible to conclude this section with a tentative suggestion that could have a bearing on them all. Leadership requires attention to both strategy and tactics, and a key skill is to know when to apply each, and how to balance the two. One style of leadership focuses on the long-term and foundational; quite another is concerned with the handling of emergencies. Both Marcos and Suharto took power in emergency conditions and, once installed, declined to stand down. Mahathir also rose to power in the wake of the riots of 1971; Lee Kuan Yew, in the course of his rise to power, had to cope with more than one emergency, including the events of 1965. Marcos and Suharto perpetuated the climate and practices of emergency rule throughout their incumbencies, although some efforts to establish more durable regime foundations were begun during their long tenures and highlighted by those who came to power after their demise. But for the most part, these were afterthoughts: half-hearted rationalizations rather than genuine strategies of impersonal institutionalization. The essence of their leadership was tactical improvisation. Thaksin Shinawatra similarly appears as someone interested in the short term, and careless of his historical legacy.11 By contrast, Deng Xiaoping, Chiang Ching-Kuo, Lee Kuan Yew, and even perhaps Chun Doo Hwan and/or Roh Tae Woo, were evidently guided by much longer-term perspectives, and by foundational ambitions. In this second case, the task of the leader is not so much to out-maneuver rivals and promote servile courtiers, for founding a new political order requires more than that. There must be an overall analytical structure, explaining why inherited arrangements are unfit for the purpose, and how they can be transformed. The leader must transmit this doctrine to a larger team, and must select and promote collaborators not just on the basis of loyalty but also in recognition of their capacity to develop and

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 35 implement the master plan. The founder also needs to make careful, objective appraisals of the wider forces in contention – how can they be won over, how can they be circumvented, which sources of opposition are implacable and will have to be crushed. Some of these skills are also useful for managing tactical emergencies, but the difference is that a foundational leader has to build more solid structures. Institutions that can outlast him will also constrain him while still in office. Such constraints can be acceptable for those with a master plan, whereas they will likely be mere irritants to those seeking to maximize control in the short run. The strongman’s exercise of discretionary power necessarily involves inflicting great penalties on some, while conferring huge rewards on others. The process can be satisfying – indeed intoxicating – without necessarily serving any larger purpose, but it can also be daunting. In addition to enjoying the pleasures of being on the “right” side, both Deng Xiaoping and Chiang Ching-Kuo had seen firsthand what it could be like to be on the wrong side of arbitrary power.12 In any case, they may have concluded that, if they were to guard against the temptations of arbitrary power, they should try to discipline their choices to correspond to some broader conception of “right action.” Where would such ideas come from? Possible sources are Confucianism, perhaps Marxism, or perhaps small-group or family-based ideas of morality. (It is hard to believe that the kleptocratic Marcos or Thaksin Shinawatra were, or have been, much troubled by such preoccupations, and Suharto seems to have pursued a narrowly conceived survival agenda.) To illustrate how doctrine might shape the strategic choices of at least some of these leaders it may be worth recalling a Taoist conception of kingship and strong rule written by Liu An around 140 BC. In Book 20 of the Huainan zi, he compares a kingdom to a tree: “A strong tree needs deep roots,” and if they are deeply implanted the tree will have a solid future. This model is in contrast to that of those who rely on short-term rewards and punishments, on confrontations with vulnerable neighbors, or on horizontal and vertical alliances that are opportunist in nature. “This is not the way to found a political order, one based on the eternal constraints of human activity that can be initiated by one ruler and then transmitted down the generations.”13 It may be that there is a deep-rooted ideational framework that helps explain why some of our strongmen pursued strategic and foundational objectives, whereas others limited themselves to tactical maneuvers of no lasting value.

Conclusion This very broad comparative survey chapter has combined some fairly abstract reflections on political leadership and its alternative styles with some more focused observations about the loose category of contemporary strongman rule (notably in East and Southeast Asia) and its various lines of linkage to regime continuity or change. At the descriptive level, it contains an inductive typology intended to encompass the eight cases under review, so that they can be situated

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comparatively on relevant dimensions. It also ventures a few rather risky and speculative suggestions on the alternative trajectories visible so far. This volume is concerned with the quality of, and prospects for, democracy in East and Southeast Asia, and with the almost unanswerable question of whether some alternative political system is more likely to prevail here, and if so what kind. If the four more-or-less functioning democracies (Indonesia, the Philippines, South Korea and Taiwan) all remain in place and become more secure; and if the two more finely balanced cases (Malaysia and Thailand) also take a democratic route, then the only real bearers of a potentially alternative model would be China and Singapore. But these do not represent a single alternative model – they are two contrasting cases. The survival of a non-democratic regime in Singapore, despite its great prosperity and its strong international insertion, would be an oddity challenging overly determinist models of social scientific explanation, but on its own it hardly constitutes the basis for any general assertions about alternative political systems. The only serious alternative is that being developed by the PRC, which is indeed a hugely significant project that could have profound consequences for the quality and stability of democracy, not only in East and Southeast Asia, but globally. This is not the place for a systematic exploration of the complex debate concerning the nature and direction of the Chinese Communist regime, except to note that there are many major political changes in progress, and that the eventual outcome remains uncertain. However we analyze the dynamics of political change in China, it will be necessary to go far beyond the topic of strongman rule, and its sequella, which is all that can be addressed here. The same is true of the prospects for democratic progress in the rest of the region. Our comparative exercise casts light on one significant component influencing those prospects, but it leaves out many others of equal or greater significance. A fuller comparative analysis would be needed to situate our eight cases in their broader geopolitical setting. The personalist leaders considered here rose to prominence in the wake of decolonization, and in the context of Cold War competition for clients. Although the West described itself as the free world, it was identified with highly repressive and militarist regimes in Indonesia, South Korea, the Philippines, Thailand, and Taiwan. The more recent switch to democracy-promotion following the collapse of the Soviet bloc undercut Western support for military-based autocrats, and probably belatedly assisted the processes of political liberalization that took place in these five countries. That said, it failed to dislodge the ruling elites of China and Singapore, and has played no more than a secondary role in whatever changes are underway in Malaysia. If anything, it was the Asian economic crises of 1997–1998 – an unintended consequence of intrusive Western influence – that was the most significant external factor triggering the fall of the strongmen in much of the region. As more democratic and accountable forms of political rule become increasingly widespread, there has been a mild tendency for new democracies of the region to support each other and occasionally to bring some pressure to bear on their neighbors to follow suit, but they have not been swept by any European or

Personalist leadership styles and legacies 37 Latin American-style drive toward a standard model of liberal democracy. On the contrary, their internal political reforms have tended to be locally inspired and quite hybrid, and their limited linkages and continuing rivalries have constrained the scope for region-wide democratic contagion or coordination. Above all, the effects of a rising, non-democratic China have limited their scope for political convergence. Nevertheless, these country-by-country incremental and incomplete steps toward democratic institutionalization do have substantial consequences in terms of reducing the scope for unfettered strongman rule in the future. For one thing, civilian control over the military has nearly become the norm. For another, periodic competitive elections and a more routinized system of constitutional restraints are advancing rotation in office, and even increasing the chances that periodic rulers will find themselves subject to more or less serious mechanisms of vertical – and perhaps even horizontal – accountability in the discharge of their public responsibilities. With their useable states and disciplined business elites, these regimes appear capable of thriving in a globalized market economy, and it seems they are more likely than most to succeed in pursuing long-range strategies of national development and modernization. A number of policy domains that used to be subject to the arbitrary decisions of the chief executive (such as monetary policy, or the allocation of foreign exchange reserves) are now parceled out to relatively well insulated and technically managed institutions and agencies. Attempts to violate the autonomy of the Central Bank or the investment strategy of pension funds, for instance, would now generally be met with far more resistance, in legislatures, the press, and ultimately through the courts. Although these changes are patchy, gradual and incomplete, they do somewhat curb the scope for arbitrary action that fuels strongman rule. For all that, there are still viable candidates offering delegative solutions to the problems facing the democracies in this region. It should also be noted that most of these mechanisms for restraining the arbitrary use of power could be developed by non-democratic regimes as well as by democracies. So there is scope for convergence from both sides in the eight regimes considered here.

Notes 1 In the words of Lee Kuan Yew, speaking to the Legislative Assembly in 1957: “Ultimately it is the men who run the system who make it come to life.” Barr (2000: 212) uses this phrase to argue that the founder of modern Singapore was always, at heart, a Confucian thinker. 2 For the concept of delegative democracy, see O’Donnell (1994). 3 Myanmar and North Korea constitute the best Asian tests of the terror and repression route to political durability – with the final verdict still to come in both cases. 4 R. Bendix (1959: 481) comments that the German term Herrschaft is untranslatable into English. It includes both authority and domination in an inter-related package. Bendix prefers to translate it as “domination,” but authority (including the power to compel) is used here. 5 This ability to see “inconveniences from afar” is a capacity that Machiavelli praises in the Romans: “For the Romans did in these cases what all wise princes should do: they

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Laurence Whitehead do not only have to have regard for present troubles but also future ones, and they have to avoid these with all their industry because, when one foresees from affair, one can easily find a remedy for them but when you wait until they come close to you, the medicine is not in time because the disease has become incurable” (ibid., 1985: 12). For Machiavelli, a deluded leader could not be “strong” in his sense, however much power he controlled. Thaksin Shinawatra might also be regarded as a “Chinese” leader even though he was a leader of the Thais. The author hesitates to generalize from a sample of eight concerning the possible role of Confucianism or other cultural traditions in generating the contrasts noted here. Juan Linz’s phrase, derived from his analysis of the late Franco period in Spain (Linz, 1975). This may seem an unduly harsh and retrospective assessment, but there was evidence for it from the beginning. For example, when Marcos proclaimed martial law in 1972, the State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research formulated the view “that martial law was not necessary to deal with the country’s problems, which have in fact been considerably aggravated by Marcos’ corrupt political style; that based on his record of ruthless self-aggrandizement he cannot necessarily be counted on to implement significant reforms,” and a year later added: “We believe that Marcos is an extremely skilled, opportunistic political operator with a strong determination to retain control in his own hands; that as a result nothing he says is to be taken at face value, that his protestations of friendship for the United States are often just political expediency, and that our policies with respect to him should be subjected to the most coldeyed and sceptical review on a continuing basis.” Notwithstanding that appraisal, Washington persisted with a close embrace until the very last moment. The two confidential evaluations are quoted in Bonner (1987: 129–131). See Barahona de Brito et al. (2001), particularly the concluding chapter, for an analysis of the difficulties of ensuring “full” justice or a clear break with the past. Thaksin Shinawatra is not an ideas man. He is a brilliantly successful opportunist. . . . His core project is the replacement of the old power group – a network based around the palace, PREM, elements of the Democrat Party, members of prominent establishment families, and senior bureaucrats – with his own network of intimates and associates. This enterprise involves defusing political reform and neutralizing the competing players and institutions embodied in the 1997 constitution. (McCargo and Pathmanand 2005: 252–253)

12 Could this also help to explain the leadership styles of Lee Kuan Yew and Roh Tae Woo? To answer such questions seriously requires a depth of scholarship in the field of political biography that is not yet in evidence in this region. However, there are a few positive signs. For Lee Kuan Yew, in addition to the voluminous publications issued to promote his own point of view, there is the work by Barr (2000). Barr takes seriously Lee’s identity as a “Chinese autocrat, ruling imperiously for the benefit of his subjects, and providing ‘good government’ – stability, prosperity and good example – in the Confucian/Legalist tradition” (2000: 250). At the same time, he considers that Lee’s strongest talent was his capacity both to lead and to build support with the public, and he also suggests that by the late 1970s, when Lee had won all the obvious victories, he became restless, and began to squander his rapport with the people, since his fiefdom was too small to absorb all his energies or to satisfy his ideological ambitions. 13 Taken from Philosophes Taoistes (Le Blanc and Mathieu 2003: 988–989).

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Bibliography Barahona De Brito, Alexandra, Carmen González Enríquez, and Paloma Aguilar (eds) (2001) The Politics of Memory: Transitional Justice in Democratizing Societies, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Barr, Michael D. (2000) Lee Kuan Yew: The Beliefs Behind the Man, London: Curzon Press. Bendix, Reinhard (1959) Max Weber: An Intellectual Portrait, London: Methuen. Bonner, Raymond (1987) Waltzing with a Dictator: The Marcoses and the Making of American Policy, New York: Times Books. Kane, John and Haig Patapan (2012) The Democratic Leader: How Democracy Defines, Empowers, and Limits its Leaders, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Le Blanc, Charles and Remi Mathieu (2003) Philosophes Taoistes Volume II: Huainan zi, Paris: Gallimard. Linz, Juan J. (1975) “Totalitarian and authoritarian regimes,” in: Fred Greenstein and Nelson Polsby (eds), Handbook of Political Science, Reading, MA: Addison Wesley, 175–411. Machiavelli, Niccolo (1985) The Prince, Chicago, IL: Chicago University Press. McCargo, Duncan and Ukrist Pathmanand (2005) The Thaksinization of Thailand, Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Mees, Ludger and Xosé M. Núñez Seixas (2012) Nacidos Para Mandar: Liderazgo, Politica y Poder: Perspectivas Comparadas, Tecnos, Madrid. Nye, Joseph S. (2008) The Powers to Lead, Oxford: Oxford University Press. O’Donnell, Guillermo (1994) “Delegative Democracy,” Journal of Democracy, 5 (January), 55–69. Peng Er, Lam and Kevin Y.L. Tan (eds) (1999) Lee’s Lieutenants: Singapore’s Old Guard. London: Allen & Unwin. Rueschesmeyer, Dietrich (2009) Usable Theory: Analytic Tools for Social and Political Research, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press. Whitehead, Laurence (2006) “Some states of Asia compared from afar,” in Richard Boyd and Tak-Wing Ngo, State Making in Asia. London: Routledge, 162–181.

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Part II

Northeast Asia

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Taiwan’s democratization after the strongmen Leadership matters Chih-Cheng Lo

Introduction During the third wave of democratization, Taiwan’s democratic progress continued in such a way that, after the first peaceful handover of power in 2000, and another in 2008, it became a role model for newly democratized nations. This was acknowledged in US President George W. Bush’s congratulatory message to Taipei in the wake of the March 2008 presidential election: “Once again, Taiwan has demonstrated the strength and vitality of its democracy. . . . Taiwan is a beacon of democracy to Asia and the world.” Some scholars have even characterized Taiwan’s political development as “best-case democratization” (Rigger 2004: 285–92). Apparently, Taiwan has come a long way. Many scholars describe the Kuomintang (KMT) regime in Taiwan between 1950 and the mid-1980s as authoritarian, but the Chiang Ching-Kuo era was a time of transition, from “hard” to “soft” authoritarianism; and under Lee Tenghui, there was another transition, from soft authoritarianism to new democracy. Despite this success, however, a number of worrying signs emerged during the democratization process: an ongoing confrontation between the government and the opposition, poor governance, and social divisions, giving rise to disappointment and skepticism with respect to the future of the island’s democratic politics. This has led some scholars to conclude that the consolidation of Taiwan’s democracy is as yet incomplete (Yu 2004: 193–200). The difficulties and challenges facing Taiwan’s democracy – especially acute in the wake of the 2000 handover of power from the long-ruling KMT to the opposition Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) – contributed to ineffective governance; they appear to be consequences of dysfunctional party politics rather than a still-emerging democratic system. If democratic consolidation is a process through which citizens come to believe strongly in the legitimacy of the democratic system, the worry that Taiwan’s democratic system is at breaking point is overly pessimistic and unwarranted. Although the consolidation of Taiwan’s democracy is far from complete, and a number of challenges and imperfections remain, with regular presidential elections, legislative elections, and local elections for city and county magistrates, it does seem that the democratic process is the only game in town.

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Nonetheless, it should be acknowledged that, in the process of moving from democratic transition to democratic consolidation, Taiwan faces a daunting challenge of governance (Chu 2004: 143–62). As a matter of fact, many believe that the crisis of democratic governance intensified, rather than eased, following the 2004 presidential election, and that social divisions along the lines of identity and ethnicity have been exploited for partisan advantage. In the face of these challenges, the question of whether or not Taiwan’s democratic system deepens and matures, or even regresses and gives rise to a counter-current, deserves serious discussion and analysis by those concerned with democratic theory in general, and with democratic practice in Taiwan in particular. This study focuses on the role of leadership in Taiwan’s democratization process. As former president Lee Teng-hui’s role in Taiwan’s democratization has been widely addressed, this chapter focuses instead on the period from 2000 to 2008, when the DPP and KMT reversed their traditional roles . . . at least with respect to the presidential office (Dickson and Chao 2002). It is argued that the difficulties and challenges in Taiwan’s politics following 2000 were due to partisan dysfunction and contested election results; it is further argued that the ultimate cause of these troubles was the mutual distrust and personal animosity that existed between party leaders. The animosity and lack of trust among party leaders makes inter-party cooperation difficult, while the unique decisionmaking structures of the major political parties render them extremely vulnerable to the influence of the personalities and idiosyncratic styles of their leaders. In other words, the lack of democratization within the parties, and bickering among leaders, effectively held inter-party rapprochement and cooperation hostage. This inter-personal antagonism largely shaped Taiwan’s political scene for the eight-year interregnum during which the DPP supplanted the KMT from the presidential office. It follows, with new leadership within the parties and a return to unified government, that there was reason to hope for a healthier turn in partisan politics after the 2008 elections. Unfortunately, in addition to the personal animosity responsible for so much of the political deadlock during this eight-year period, Taiwan was beset by structural problems that threatened its democratic consolidation; these included the continuing influence of money politics, questions regarding civilian control over the military, and the external threat from China.

Party politics after the first transfer of power Aldrich noted that political parties are the foundation of representative democracy (Aldrich 1995). Thus, properly functioning party politics are critical to the development and maturation of democratic politics. Without political parties, democratic politics are not possible (Schattschneider 1942: 1). Judged against that criterion, the actual practices of Taiwan’s party politics over the period in question are replete with examples of confusing roles played by, and never-ending confrontation among, the key political parties. More importantly, the deadlock between the parties had a serious negative impact on the implementation of

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government policies and adverse effects on the country’s economic development. Moreover, it exacerbated divisions and led to confrontations among Taiwan’s political, social and ethnic groups, undermining the very foundations of Taiwan’s democratic politics. The political situation during Chen Shui-bian’s first presidential term might be best described as “chaotic.” Some hoped that the situation would change for the better after the 2004 elections, as whoever won would claim a majority of the votes in the two-way race (unlike the three-way election in 2000, which saw Chen emerge victorious with a mere plurality) and there was a chance of an end to divided government. As it turns out, the DPP held on to the presidency, the KMT continued to control the legislature, and opposition continued to contest the presidential mandate. As such, Chen Shui-bian’s eight years in office were characterized by bitter political division, open antagonism, and divided government that contributed to a decline in public trust and confidence in the political parties and process (Cheng 2004: 27–40). The 2000 presidential election was a three-way race between Lien Chan, James Soong, and Chen Shui-bian. Four years later, Lien and Soong appeared on a joint cross-party ticket against Chen, in a quasi-rematch of the previous election. After the 2004 elections, these three men continued to be key, if not paramount, leaders of their respective parties. Given that, and the outcome of the elections, the final years of Chen’s term in office saw the balance of power among the key political parties remain constant, and little or no action was taken to address Taiwan’s constitutional structure and governance needs. Whether one adopts a perspective focusing on political structure, power, or actors, the difficulties and challenges facing Taiwan in the second decade of the twenty-first century can be understood as stemming from the 2000 election and its aftermath. In brief, after the peaceful transfer of political power in 2000, Taiwan entered a period of political deadlock largely as a result of each party’s difficulties with self-definition and in adjusting to their evolving roles, and of the lack of mutual trust and abundant friction in the interactions of their leaders. In a nutshell, the DPP was not used to wielding power, and the KMT was not used to being the opposition, while the People First Party (PFP) and Taiwan Solidarity Union (TSU) could not rid themselves of the impression that they were merely vehicles for their particular leaders. The lack of a basis for honest competition and mutual trust worsened the partisan divide, while existing defects in the constitutional and governmental systems contributed to the problems stemming from interparty antagonism. Most importantly, due to insufficient democratization in each party’s policymaking processes, policy orientations rested in the hands of each party’s top leadership. Therefore, particular leadership styles and personal preferences significantly affected how the parties interacted. Given the personal animosity between the leaders, rational and productive policy debate became increasingly difficult. In short, in many cases, dysfunctional inter-party relations over the years 2004–8 appear, to a great extent, to have been the product of poor interpersonal relationships and outright antagonism among the major parties’ leaders.

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DPP and Chen Was the result of the 2000 presidential election a victory for Chen Shui-bian, or for the DPP? Even within the DPP itself, opinions differ on this point. For Chen’s part, while many members of the DPP had no faith in his chances of victory in the 2000 campaign, he fought with determination to become the first president of the Republic of China (ROC, or Taiwan) from an opposition party. A charismatic public speaker and politician who styled himself a true “son of Taiwan,” Chen was seen as a steely fighter; a workaholic with a populist touch, and he rose to power in a short period of time. Much of his appeal with voters lay in his personal dynamism and down-to-earth background – many voters felt comfortable referring to him by his nickname, A-bian. But he also won respect for his dedication to the job. For instance, during his first month in office, President Chen received more than 140 foreign delegations and met with more than 1,300 foreign guests, flew a total of 3,757 nautical miles on 27 flights during 13 trips, and worked long hours almost every day of the week. Chen had a reputation as a comeback kid who demonstrated a forceful will in surmounting major difficulties. In 1985, he returned to his hometown, Tainan, to run for county magistrate, losing by a small margin. Four years later, he was elected as legislator. When Taipei’s voters declined to reelect him to the mayoral office in 1998, he turned his defeat into an opportunity to run for the presidency in 2000. When he announced his presidential candidacy in 1999, not many DPP members believed he had a chance. However, he surprised everyone by winning the election. Many have said that it was Chen who made the DPP the ruling party, rather than the DPP that made him the president. This seemed to be what Chen believed after the 2000 victory. At the beginning of his administration, Chen invited many KMT and non-partisan figures to serve in his cabinet, and tapped Tang Fei, a member of the KMT, as his first premier. This resulted in a great many complaints among the DPP rank and file, who asserted that this made the DPP a ruling party in name only, not in practice. This was why, in the early stages after the handover of power, the DPP was completely unwilling to defend the policies of the Chen–Tang administration, even to the point that the DPP secretary general, Wu Nai-ren, publicly criticized Premier Tang. Although the premiers who followed Tang Fei were all from the DPP, there were still party legislators who went against the party line, even firing at targets within the DPP itself. In most democratic countries, the ruling party is equipped to make the transition from campaigning to administrating; from opposition to governing and being held accountable for its policies. However, even now, ten years later, the DPP seems not to have fully understood its position in government, and this helps explain the difficulties encountered in the operations and lack of coordination between the president, the premier, and the Party. Chen Shui-bian’s decision to hold the positions of president and party chair concurrently was calculated to get around the problem of conflicting and competing roles in the presidential office, the Executive Yuan, and the Party.

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Immediately following the 2000 presidential election, Chen thought to create an all-people and all-partisan government. He decided not to take the DPP chair position and announced he would withdraw from any Party activities. The ruling party, however, showed no interest in contributing to policy formulation; the incentives and persuasive abilities of DPP members, especially legislators, to defend government policy proved significantly problematic. Without sufficient support from his own party, Chen faced many difficulties in implementing policies and enacting reforms. Such concerns resulted in Chen’s decision, in November 2000, to set up a regular coordination meeting between the presidential office, the Executive Yuan, the DPP, and the DPP legislative caucus. This mechanism was designed to bring together and lubricate the workings of the government and the ruling party. The mechanism failed due to limited participation and an inability to coordinate policies and strategies smoothly. Therefore, Chen broke his own promise and, starting from July 2002, began serving concurrently as both president and DPP Party chair. In addition, the head of the Executive Yuan also sat on DPP’s central standing committee. Apparently, by enlarging the decision-making circle, Chen intended to widen the participation of key political forces in the policymaking process, hoping that integration and coordination between the government and DPP would function better. This mechanism, though imperfect, did smooth the process of formulating and implementing policies, and the DPP appeared to function more like a ruling party. In practice, Chen’s style of decision-making remained consistent, with important decisions being made by himself and a small circle of loyalists. This kind of decision-making by Chen and very few insiders was criticized by both the opposition parties and Chen’s own Party leaders, with some senior Party leaders publicly castigating the president. At times, decisions were made without consulting or notifying the ministers nominally in charge. In short, despite the introduction of various mechanisms to integrate and coordinate decision- and policy-making between the government and the DPP, President Chen’s will and leadership were the most important factors in determining policy outcomes. At the end of 2004, this imperfect but functional policy coordination mechanism was abolished. The results of the 2004 legislative election was a major disappointment for the DPP, as the pan green camp had hoped to take full control of both the Executive and Legislative yuans. President Chen Shui-bian, who went into the election holding the position of DPP chair, resigned from that position three days after the election. The decision to resign, to accept political responsibility for the disappointing election results, again raised questions of the relationships between the presidency, the government and the DPP, returning it to the confusion that reigned in the early days following Chen’s victory in the 2000 election. The problems of policy-making and coordination could not be avoided. President Chen faced a choice of completely bypassing the Party and the legislative caucus, or coming up with a new mechanism by which the decisions of the DPP (the central standing committee) and the will of the electorate (the legislative

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caucus) could be effectively incorporated into the policy-making process. However, the DPP – accustomed to acting as an opposition party – frequently acted as a check on Chen’s policy prescriptions, as evidenced by the differing views offered by DPP politicians in response to the announcement of the 2005 Chen–Soong ten-point agreement. Some senior DPP members refused to endorse the Chen–Soong agreement, while others left the DPP entirely. The nature of the relationship between the DPP chair, the premier, and the president was more cooperative than competitive during Chen’s second term, as the DPP leadership united in an effort to leave an impressive legacy for Chen, and establish the credentials of Premier Frank Hsieh and DPP Chairman Chenchang Su, who sought historic accomplishments to bolster their presidential bid. Thus, the three found themselves in the same boat, for better or for worse. How would these three coordinate amongst themselves? How would this affect interparty interaction? Would Chen continue to dominate DPP, or fade as others came to the forefront? These were important political considerations on the DPP side in the run-up to the 2008 election. KMT and Lien While the DPP had difficulties defining its positions and functioning in government, the KMT – finding itself in opposition for the first time in its history – likewise had problems adjusting to its new role and reforming itself. Since its defeat in the 2000 presidential election, an embittered KMT had struggled to adapt to its new role in opposition. In the immediate wake of the 2000 election, there was much chaos and confusion within the KMT, and debates raged over whether the KMT should speed up its process for renewing the leadership and changing its direction. Despite losing power and its dominant position on Taiwan’s political scene, the KMT machine was slow to tackle party reform. Whether the issue was democratization in policy-making, streamlining personnel, directing local elections for party leader, or handling Party assets, the KMT leadership seemed unable to meet the expectations of Party members. In a nutshell, the problem was how the KMT could, in opposition, quickly and efficiently unburden itself of the trappings of power in order to recover. In the 2004 legislative elections, the KMT showed some slight progress, and its internal reforms seemed to receive fresh impetus. Under Lien Chan’s leadership, the KMT had met with several electoral defeats, but the 2004 legislative elections allowed Party Chairman Lien to gloss over previous defeats and, in the light of that victory, to claim his share of the KMT’s glory. If he were to have decided not to continue as Party chair, Wang Jyn-ping and Ma Ying-jiu would surely have contested the position, but the process, result, and aftermath would not only bring to the fore the question of generational change within the KMT leadership, but unleash debates over the direction and process for enacting party reform. Put succinctly, could the KMT transform itself into a loyal opposition? Its hopes of realizing a second transfer of power would depend very much on reforms to its role, policies, organization, and personnel. Changes in the political

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situation in 2005 gave the KMT an important opportunity it had not had since the first handover of power in 2000; Lien did step down, and there was intense scrutiny of the contest for the KMT chairmanship, as much was at stake. It was not only a contest between Wang and Ma: not only a question of whether or not it would lead to a split in the KMT, but also whether it would smoothly transform itself into a democratic party, or revert to an older, more authoritarian style of leadership. In the past, within the KMT leadership, ultimate power was exercised by its Party chairman, and the Leninist principle of democratic centralism appears to have remained well entrenched. Lien’s determination to return KMT to power dictated its actions after he lost the presidency. For Lien, this was not only a goal for his Party, but a personal issue. Following the KMT defeat in 2000, Lien was able to oust Lee Teng-hui and assume uncontested leadership of the KMT. The KMT launched a Party-wide housecleaning effort to purge Lee supporters, and then it launched a membership drive. As chairman of the KMT, Lien vowed to learn from his loss and remake the Party, and over the next five years, Lien was the final authority in the KMT. His attitude and style of leadership had a strong impact on the KMT and its attitudes towards the DPP and President Chen. In contrast to his political opponents, Lien Chan is generally considered elitist, aloof, and out of touch with the public. Although he had a long career in public office and of Party service, Lien has never been elected to political office. As a matter of fact, his ill-fated presidential bid in 2000 was his first actual campaign. He lost, placing a distant third with just 23 percent of the vote. Moreover, the KMT suffered an embarrassing setback in the Legislative Yuan elections under Lien Chan’s chairmanship in 2000. For Lien, the series of defeats proved to an embarrassment in his otherwise smooth political career. Before the 2004 legislative elections, although many suggested that it was time for him to bow out, Lien seemed convinced that he could emerge victorious and secure a legacy for himself. The KMT and Lien ran on the slogan of “a second transfer of power” during the 2004 presidential campaign, but he lost again, albeit by a razor-thin margin. And yet Lien remained in the post of KMT chairman, vowing to win the 2004 legislative elections. Fortunately, this time the KMT showing at the polls provided Lien with an opportunity for a graceful exit. PFP/Soong and TSU/Lee Another important political party, the People First Party, also faced serious problems in structuring and defining itself. It has been suggested that the PFP had no money, no candidates, and no policies – that it was simply a convenient vehicle for James Soong’s ambitions. Soong, a charismatic KMT politician, was the first and only directly elected governor of the Province of Taiwan, in 1993. His excellent performance in the governorship created a so-called Yeltsin effect, and a challenge to the power of the national government. After losing the KMT presidential nomination to then-Vice President Lien Chan, Soong ran as an independent in the 2000 presidential elections. The KMT responded by expelling

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Soong and his supporters. In the end, James Soong came in second place with around 4.6 million votes – more than 1.5 million votes ahead of the KMT’s Lien Chan. The PFP was established after the 2000 presidential election, but it was unable to extricate itself from the impression that it was a one-man party before the next presidential election, and the decision-making model and organizational structure appeared to be very authoritarian. The decision to field a joint ticket with the KMT’s Lien in the 2004 presidential elections, and to enter into talks with Chen in 2005, were all finalized by Soong. As the decision-making process is neither democratic, nor transparent, when Chairman James Soong happened to be out of the country, there was no one to lead the PFP, and no one was seen as responsible for policy making. This is not how political parties in democratic countries normally operate. But the more serious problem – be it in regards to the operation of political power within PFP, its policy-making mechanisms, or cooperation and competition with other political parties – is that all decisions need to be made by the PFP chair, James Soong. This is less than helpful to the PFP, which wants to try to present a democratic, reformist image. In the 2004 legislative elections, the PFP went from 46 seats down to 34, reflecting the fading influence of Soong, the former provincial governor, and the bottlenecks and difficulties within its machinery. After the Chen–Soong meeting in 2005 dissent and discontent from within the PFP and its supporters were indicative of the differences and frictions between Soong’s vision, the “will of the Party,” and the will of its supporters. Therefore, the PFP’s challenge of overcoming its authoritarian leadership structure to become a democratic party has tested the PFP and its interactions with other political parties. As for the Taiwan Solidarity Union, although it has been on the political stage since 2001, its democratic nature is by no means clear, and with considerable deference extended to its spiritual leader, former ROC President Lee Teng-hui, the degree to which it exercises democratic decision-making may be limited. For the past few years, the TSU and the DPP have maintained close cooperative relations, but this has made the party somewhat indecisive. Looking at the overall political situation, although the TSU, as a vehicle for a critical minority, has few prospects of becoming the ruling party, it has been critical in aiding the DPP. Still, in the 2004 legislative elections, there was a struggle for leadership in the pan green camp, as illustrated by the two parties’ competing nomination and campaign tactics. Conflicts between the TSU and the DPP gradually surfaced, with the ten-point agreement between Chen and Soong making the gulf between the two even wider. In the face of changes in the political landscape, the TSU had to decide whether to go its own way and further distinguish itself from the DPP administration. This problem vexed the TSU leadership in the nomination of candidates for the county and city mayoral elections at the end of 2005. What role should the TSU play in relation to the DPP? Apparently, many of these questions were decided by former President Lee, whose attitudes appear to have dictated TSU orientation, down to the decision to choose Su Ching-chiang as the new TSU

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chairman and the party’s attack on the ten-point agreement between Soong and Chen. To summarize, since the first transfer of power in 2000, the major political parties in Taiwan have all faced problems of self-definition and adjustment to new roles. During this period, the unique character of each party’s decisionmaking processes, leadership style, and even the attitudes and personal histories of their leaders, appears to have influenced party direction. As such, the relations between the DPP, KMT, PFP, and TSU almost mirrored those between Chen, Lien, Soong, and Lee. Party politics in Taiwan were effectively hijacked by these interpersonal relationships.

Matual distrust among political leaders The 2000 presidential election produced a president lacking a majority in both the popular vote and parliament. This resulted in divided government and introduced gridlock into Taiwan’s politics (Copper 2002). Such gridlock stalled policy initiatives and the economy when Chen began his second term in May 2004. There are serious problems both within, and between, Taiwan’s key political parties. The DPP has a great number of factions, sometimes in open competition with each other; the KMT is unable to extricate itself from the political burdens of its past; the PFP and TSU are one-man bands. The DPP administration faced the difficulties associated with having a minority in the legislature at every turn, making the implementation and passage of every policy, law, or budget a chore. Support and cooperation had to be sought from other parties in the legislature; thus, at the beginning of his administration, President Chen espoused the idea of an “all-partisan government.” The president appointed the KMT’s Tang Fei, a former Air Force general and the incumbent defense minister, as his first Premier. Refusing to endorse Tang’s cabinet policies, the KMT only allowed Tang and other KMT members to join the cabinet in their individual capacities, and constantly blocked his policies in the legislature. President Chen also undertook talks with leaders of the opposition to try to arrive at a common understanding. A meeting between Chen and Lien took place on October 27, 2001. At that meeting, Lien had asked Chen to leave the matter of the fourth nuclear power plant for the Legislative Yuan to decide, and Chen seemed receptive to the suggestion. However, less than an hour after the meeting, the new premier, Chang Chun-hsiung, announced a halt to construction of the nuclear power plant – a slap in the face for Lien Chan – and so the spirit of cooperation was instantly lost and any basis for mutual trust disappeared. The row over the nuclear plant had struck deep political chords on both sides. It would have been difficult indeed to reconcile their differences, but the timing of the government’s decision to halt construction on the plant ended any chance of cooperation. When Premier Chang’s announcement came out, a furious Lien used the KMT majority in the Legislative Yuan to block the cancellation of the Fourth Nuclear Power Plant, then, along with PFP legislators, he pushed for a

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recall of Chen, Vice President Annette Lu, and the new premier. Thus ended Chen’s attempts to engage with the pan-blue (pro-KMT) camp. Politics took a very antagonistic, and personal, turn for both Chen and Lien. Chen’s efforts to divide the opposition camp also angered and alienated the pan-blue leaders. During his first term, Chen pinned his hopes on a “National Stability Alliance” to lure lawmakers away from the KMT and the PFP. This plan never actually materialized, but created suspicion among the opposition leadership. In response, Lien Chan announced in November 2001 that the KMT would persuade all other political parties to form an “All People’s Alliance in Safeguarding the Constitution” if President Chen continued to refuse to form a new Cabinet “in accordance with the Constitution,” after the December elections. Lien again questioned Chen’s commitment and adherence to the Constitution, and joined PFP Chairman James Soong in challenging the constitutionality of Chen’s idea of forming a non-partisan National Stability Alliance. In short, President Chen’s proposed alliance had the opposite of its intended effect, and contributed to intensifying political conflict and deepening the divide between the opposition and government. Political tensions were further aggravated by the 2004 presidential elections. In late 2003, President Chen signed a referendum bill, which he had supported, but which was subsequently heavily watered down by the pan-blue majority in the legislature. In the legislature, there is a provision for an emergency defensive referendum, and during the legislative debates it was widely believed that this clause would only be invoked if Taiwan were under threat of an imminent attack from China. Within a day of the passage of the referendum bill, Chen announced his intention to invoke this provision, citing the People’s Republic of China’s (PRC’s) 450-plus missiles targeting Taiwan. The pan-blue opposition viewed this action not only as illegal, and a betrayal of the spirit of the bill, but as a campaign tactic to mobilize pan-green (pro-DPP) supporters. In other words, Chen’s decision to launch the defensive referendum was challenged by the pan-blue camp on both legal and political grounds. On the eve of Election Day in 2004, there was a shooting incident while Chen and Lu were campaigning in Tainan. Slightly wounded, Chen is believed to have benefited from a wave of sympathy votes, which may have been decisive in the fiercely contested election. The event was viewed with great suspicion by the pan-blue camp and contributed to still greater mutual distrust. Even now, the assassination attempt continues to be a source of controversy with all kinds of rumors, conspiracy theories, claims and counterclaims being generated and propagated by different political actors and the media. The pan-blue candidate, Lien Chan, refused to concede defeat and filed lawsuits demanding a recount and a nullification of the outcome, while his supporters held a week-long protest in front of the presidential office in Taipei. Many in the pan-blue camp continue to assert that the assassination attempt was staged by the DPP to win sympathy votes and swing the election. The pan-blue camp also asserted that the activation of the so-called “national security mechanism” in the immediate wake of the shooting had kept thousands

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of police and military personnel, who are believed to traditionally support the pan-blue camp, from voting. Also, the pan-blue camp claimed that there were all kinds of electoral irregularities that substantially affected the election result. Taken together, this led Lien and his supporters to assert that Chen stole the election by rigging the process. The pan-blue’s efforts to launch an independent investigation into events surrounding the shooting received only lukewarm support from the Chen administration, and some accused the Chen government of blocking their investigation. Again, this only worsened relations between the parties. Thus, Lien would later refer to Chen publically not as president, but only as “that man,” or at best, “Mr Chen.” In February 2000, during the first-ever televised presidential debate in Taiwan’s history, Lien Chan attacked the president’s character, calling him “capricious,” “irresponsible,” and “unreliable.” Lien’s perception of Chen certainly did not improve; he continued to use the same rhetoric from time to time, underscoring the personal difficulties between the party leaders. In short, the 2000 presidential election awarded Chen the presidency with a mere plurality of the vote, while the legislative election gave the pan-blues control of the Legislative Yuan. Thus, during the first term of his administration, Chen’s political mandate was constantly being called into question by the panblue camp. The shooting incident on the eve of the 2004 presidential election and Chen’s decision to push for a referendum caused the pan-blues to take to the streets in protest, and raised questions about not only Chen’s mandate, but also the legitimacy of his presidency. In response, Chen was still more reluctant to concede ground to the opposition, fearing further erosion of his already-shaky power base. This vicious dynamic resulted in a never-ending cycle of antagonism and political deadlock between the government and the opposition parties.

Challenges for democratic consolidation It is evident that Taiwan has made great strides in transforming and consolidating its democracy since the late 1980s. However, Taiwan’s political and economic development has been marred and threatened by gridlock in the relationship between the two major parties in Taiwan. With the KMT controlling a two-thirds majority in the Legislative Yuan following the 2008 election, some scholars began to worry about a lack of effective checks and balances in Taiwan’s party politics. Whether that will lead to more cooperation or confrontation between the two main parties remains to be seen. The more important question is how one-party dominance of electoral politics will affect further democratic consolidation in Taiwan; it is a question that deserves more careful examination. A few of the issues that might be affected by the current imbalance of political power in Taiwan are listed below.

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The return of black-gold politics Corruption involving government and business, pernicious practices such as bid rigging, vote buying, the diversion of public funds, bribery and influence peddling, and the intrusion of organized crime into politics, are all practices that are widely known as black gold politics in Taiwan. Increasing public concern about the ill effects of corruption is a clear trend across the Asia-Pacific region, and Taiwan is no exception. The people of Taiwan have long felt frustrated and annoyed with systemic unfairness in society: close connections between officials and businessmen and profiteering behind closed doors appear to be almost accepted norms. Polls have regularly shown that the public has an intense hatred of corruption. Without doubt, black-gold politics remains a key problem undermining Taiwan’s democracy, and one that stands in the way of its consolidation. If elections in Taiwan continue to be plagued by flagrant vote buying and unscrupulous politicians, people will be robbed of their right to elect the wise and able: an outcome that will definitely taint Taiwan’s electoral democracy and economic development. With the downsizing of the Legislative Yuan from 225 to 113 seats and the introduction of the new legislative electoral system, i.e., the single-member district and two votes per voter, some observers began to worry that vote buying and pork-barrel legislation would become still more rampant. Hence, in the fight to rid the country of endemic corruption, there is a question that deserves careful consideration: can the KMT government, with its disparate baggage of electoral and political interests, find the will to forge a comprehensive strategy and appropriate legal framework to take on the challenge? After the 2008 elections, Taiwan again had a unified KMT-led government, ending the bipartisan fracas that had marred the previous eight years. It was expected that it would be much easier for the KMT to implement reform policies, if it wished to do so. However, the possibility of a return to the black-gold politics of the KMT administrations of the 1990s cannot be ruled out. The China factor It is regrettable that Taiwan’s experience also illustrates how a growing, nondemocratic power like China will try to manipulate and undermine democratic systems elsewhere. For instance, since they are concerned with safeguarding their economic interests, not to mention their personal safety, Taiwanese businesspeople living in, and traveling to, the Chinese mainland have learned to be circumspect when expressing their views on sensitive political issues. This self-censorship appears to be maintained even when they return to Taiwan. In some cases, Chinese authorities, employing both sticks and carrots, have enticed Taiwanese businesspeople to advocate political positions favored by Beijing. In short, non-democratic China has sufficient influence to create negative spillover effects in Taiwan that may erode the very foundation of this island country’s democracy. In short, due to its proximity to a powerful, authoritarian China, Taiwan has already begun to surrender its freedom of expression: a fundamental aspect of democracy.

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Taiwan’s leaders should commit to ensuring that Taiwan’s democratic and economic vitality will survive and thrive, but that is contingent on there being peace and security in the Taiwan Strait. Taiwan can play an invaluable role, serving as a model, helping China along the road to democracy. The consolidation and maturity of Taiwan’s democracy will fuel the people’s desire for democracy and freedom on the Chinese mainland, and result in a lasting peace in the Taiwan Strait. But influence can flow in either direction; indeed, the democracy and transparency of Taiwan’s society has made the island more vulnerable to external influences and intervention, especially from the opposite side of the Taiwan Strait. Simply put, a democratic Taiwan is vulnerable to an authoritarian China; so long as there is democracy on only one side of the Strait, it will not be secure. The eventual consolidation of Taiwan’s democracy should not be taken for granted. Identity and ethnic division Due to unique historical and structural conditions, a sense of national identity separate from that of China has existed on Taiwan for more than a century. As a result of the KMT’s authoritarian rule, ethnic tensions and national identity, although long present, were not serious political and social problems. The identity issue began to surface when political liberalization and democratization began in the late 1980s. As democracy evolved, Taiwanese identity became a part of mainstream Taiwanese society. Although little discussed until recently, the controversy over assuming a Taiwanese versus a Chinese identity has long divided the island’s society, and the issue is now receiving greater political and academic attention (Huang 2005: 51–70; N.T. Wu 1993: 27–51; N.T. Wu 2002: 75–118; Ho and Liu 2002: 29–74; Liu and Ho 1999: 1–34; Wang 1998a: 1–45; Wang 1998b: 30–40; Shyu 2002: 83–134; Y.S. Wu 2001: 71–89). As noted by Chi Huang, “national identity implies a political agenda of statehood that reaches well beyond the idea of ethnic community. It involves the identification with, and choice of, sovereignty, territorial jurisdiction, and citizenship.” According to many survey results, the correlation between ethnic identity (“I am Taiwanese/Chinese”) and national identity (support for unification/independence) is statistically significant and relatively constant over time. It should be noted, however, that identity is not an inborn quality, but rather an acquired one. Many studies have revealed historical constructs, cultural explanations, and ideological accounts for the development of Taiwan’s autonomous identity; that identity exploited for political leverage in the past few national electoral campaigns in Taiwan, exacerbating social divisions, and thereby undermining the functioning of party politics and democracy. Looking back, Taiwan’s mutually reinforcing processes of nation-building and democratization have taken precedence, presenting new challenges for Taiwan (Cook 2005: 83–92). Identity politics may continue to be one of the most important, if not the most important, issues in deciding Taiwan’s political development. Politicians know too well that national identity is a powerful tool for

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political and electoral mobilization, and the partisan divide on the issue further divides society. The identity issue also comes into play when discussing constitutional reform, as the issue of better governance is always intertwined with national identity. This makes it very difficult to address constitutional reform in a rational and balanced manner. More importantly, the negative impact of competing national identities in Taiwan can be seen in national security debates. Democracy, in the eyes of some, has become a “disintegrating” factor for Taiwan’s society (Lin and Lin 2005: 69–87). Challenges to Taiwan’s democratic consolidation include political polarization, governance and institutional structures, reform of the judiciary and strengthening the rule of law, and public support for democracy (Diamond 2001). There are other worrisome trends “eroding the political elite’s commitment to due process and fundamental democratic values as well as its faith in the openness and fairness of the political game” (Chu 2005: 901–24). It should be noted, as emphasized by the new institutionalism, that institutional design will influence the behavior of political actors – how they operate on the political stage and their ability to deal with conflict. The unhealthy interaction between political parties in Taiwan in recent years reflects the influence of the current constitutional and institutional structure in Taiwan. How basic democratic principles – such as the separation of power, majority rule, and accountability in accordance with responsibility – can be specifically and practically implemented under the current constitutional structure has been the subject of numerous debates among academics and politicians in Taiwan. However, when it comes to constitutional reform, things again grow very partisan and polarized. Democratization in Taiwan is still an “unfinished business” (Rigger 2005: 16–43).

Conclusion The dysfunction of Taiwan’s democracy and party politics in the years following the first peaceful transfer of power, from the KMT to the DPP, cannot be explained by institutional factors alone. The internal politics, personalities, and leadership dynamics are also significant factors, and without understanding these, one cannot fully understand the shape of Taiwan’s politics. There is reason to hope, therefore, that changes in party leadership can create new opportunities for reconciliation and dialogue, which are critical to the healthy functioning of party politics and further consolidation of Taiwan’s democracy. The role of leadership in implementing democratic reform should not be neglected; Hence, in addition to analyzing the power shifts and institutional changes in Taiwanese politics since 2008, one should also carefully study the leadership of both the KMT and DPP to better understand party politics and the exercise of democracy on the island.

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Bibliography Aldrich, J. (1995) Why Parties? The Origin and Transformation of Political Parties in America, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Cheng, T.J. (2004) “Political parties in democratic Taiwan: a comparative perspective,” Taiwan Democracy Quarterly, 1(1): 27–40 (in Chinese). Chu, Y.H. (2004) “The predicament and challenges of Taiwan’s democratic development,” Taiwan Democracy Quarterly, 1(1): 143–62 (in Chinese). Chu, Y.H. (2005) “Taiwan’s democracy at a turning point,” American Journal of Chinese Studies, 11: 901–24. Cook, M. (2005) “Taiwan’s identity challenge,” SAIS Review, 25(2): 83–92. Copper, J.F. (ed.) (2002) Taiwan in Troubled Times: essays on the Chen Shui-bian presidency, New Jersey: World Scientific Publishing Co. Diamond, L. (2001) “How democratic is Taiwan? five key challenges for democratic development and consolidation,” paper presented at The Symposium on “The Transition from One-Party Rule: Taiwan’s New Government and Cross-Straits Relations,” Columbia University, April 6–7. Dickson, B.J. and Chao, C.M. (eds) (2002) Assessing the Lee Teng-Hui Legacy in Taiwan’s Politics: democratic consolidation and external relations, Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe. Ho, S.Y. and Liu, I.C. (2002) “The Taiwanese/Chinese identity of the Taiwan people in the 1990s,” American Asian Review, 20(2): 29–74. Huang, C. (2005) “Dimensions of Taiwanese/Chinese identity and national identity in Taiwan: a latent class analysis,” Journal of Asian and African Studies, 40(1/2): 51–70. Lin, C.Y. and Lin, W.C. (2005) “Democracy, divided national identity, and Taiwan’s national security,” Taiwan Journal of Democracy, 1(2): 69–87. Liu, I.C. and Ho, S.Y. (1999) “The Taiwanese/Chinese identity of the Taiwan people,” Issues & Studies, 35(3): 1–34. Rigger, S. (2004) “Taiwan’s best-case democratization,” Orbis, Spring: 285–92. Rigger, S. (2005) “The unfinished business of Taiwan’s democratic democratization,” in N.B. Tucker (ed.) Dangerous Strait: the US–Taiwan–China crisis, New York: Columbia University Press. Schattschneider, E.E. (1942) Party Government, New York: Rinehart. Shyu, H.Y. (2002) “Partisan territorial lines redrawn in Taiwan: a comparison of the electoral bases of the DPP, KMT and PFP,” Soochow Journal of Political Science, 14: 83–134 (in Chinese). Wang, F.C. (1998a) “Ethnic consciousness, nationalism, and party support,” Taiwanese Sociological Review, 2: 1–45 (in Chinese). Wang, F.C. (1998b) “The formation of ethnic consciousness in Taiwan after 1945,” Historical Monthly, December: 30–40 (in Chinese). Wu, N.T. (1993) “Sheng-Chi consciousness, political support, and national identity: an exploration of ethnic politics in Taiwan,” in M.K. Chang (ed.) Ethnic Relations and National Identity, Taipei: Yeh-Chian (in Chinese). Wu, N.T. (2002) “Identity conflicts and political trust,” Taiwanese Sociology. 4: 75–118 (in Chinese). Wu, Y.S. (2001) “The Chinese/Taiwanese identity in cross-straits relations,” China Affairs Quarterly, 4: 71–89 (in Chinese). Yu, C.H. (2004) “Taiwan’s 2004 presidential election: the lack of political trust and an unconsolidated democracy,” Taiwan Democracy Quarterly, 1 (2): 193–200 (in Chinese).

4

After Chun Doo-Hwan The progress of democratization and the residue of authoritarianism in South Korea Jong-Yil Ra

Introduction On June 10, 2008, hundreds of thousands of South Koreans took to the streets to protest the resumption of American beef imports. The timing marked the twenty­first­anniversary­of­the­historic­pro-­democracy­movement­–­an­impressive­demonstration­of­“people­power”­in­1987­–­which­forced­Chun­Doo-­hwan­to­back­ down from a plan to prolong his authoritarian regime and to accept constitutional arrangements for direct presidential elections.1­ However,­ in­ 2008,­ people­ from­ all­walks­of­life,­from­students­and­workers­to­former­activists­who­had­fought­ for democracy, hit the streets again, this time protesting against a democratically elected­government.­The­message­from­the­mass­rallies­was­clear:­the­president­ must desist from emulating the authoritarian style of his predecessors in policy making. In theory, this could be taken as a case of the people inserting their voices­directly­into­the­political­process,­enabling­them­to­exercise­a­degree­of­ control­over­the­decision-­making­process­of­the­government­(Linz­1978:­16–23).­ In­fact,­the­problem­had­been­in­place­since­the­very­beginning­of­the­Republic­ of­Korea­(ROK).­Syngman­Rhee,­the­ROK’s­first­president,­made­good­use­of­ government-­organized­ mass­ demonstrations­ to­ force­ parliament­ to­ revise­ the­ constitution­so­that­he­could­remain­in­power,­pleading­the­primacy­of­the­voice­ of­the­people­over­the­constitution.­Thus,­the­candlelit­protests­of­2008­could­be­ interpreted­as­another­case­of­conflict­between­people­power­and­constitutional­ process;­they­might­have­also­been­taken­to­illustrate­some­lingering­problems­in­ the transition to democratic consolidation. ­ According­to­Larry­Diamond,­there­is­a­need­for­behavioral­and­institutional­ changes to minimize, if not eliminate, destabilizing factors in the consolidation phase­of­the­process­of­democratization­(Diamond­1994:­4–17).­Like­Diamond,­ Juan­Linz­likewise­suggests­that­democracy­cannot­be­institutionalized­until,­and­ unless, all major socio-political groups sincerely comply with the rules of the game­(Linz­1990:­158).­One­of­these­rules­is­that­political­institutions,­or­groups,­ accept in principle the legitimacy of the actions of democratically elected decision makers. In contrast, Samuel Huntington argues that democracy is consolidated when all major groups act to accept and defend democratic rules and procedure­(Huntington­1991:­266),­while­Richard­Sandbrook­defines­democratic­

South Korea after Chun Doo-Hwan­ ­ 59 consolidation as the process of accepting the accountability and responsibility of democratic­ governance­ (Sandbrook­ 1996:­ 69–87).­ According­ to­ Sandbrook,­ limiting­the­personal­power­of­elected­officials­is­vital­to­the­agenda­of­consolidating democracy, but there are still those suspicious of the lingering presence of authoritarianism in South Korean politics. What residue of authoritarian remains in South Korea? Are there, for instance, still elements of authoritarianism based on personal power? Since independence, South Korea has been pursuing, at least nominally, a practice­of­democracy­modeled­after­those­in­the­West.­During­most­of­its­early­ decades,­however,­the­state­was­severely­handicapped­by­a­range­of­weaknesses,­ i.e.­ economic­ underdevelopment,­ weak­ democratic­ practices,­ and­ a­ lack­ of­ education.­ It­ was­ also­ vulnerable­ in­ terms­ of­ security,­ both­ domestically,­ and­ with­ reference­ to­ external­ powers­ (Kim­ 2007:­ 11).­ In­ addition,­ the­ state­ was­ saddled­ with­ a­ legitimacy­ problem­ due­ to­ the­ artificial­ division­ of­ the­ country­ and­the­establishment­of­separate­and­distinct­governments­in­the­northern­and­ southern­halves­of­the­peninsula.­Leftists,­as­well­as­a­wing­of­the­nationalists,­ have­long­taken­issue­with­the­legitimacy­of­the­Republic­itself.­Under­these­circumstances,­successive­governments­have­had­to­deal­with­the­problem­of­competing­–­and­sometimes­conflicting­–­priorities­among­the­three­foremost­national­ goals:­national­security­and­stability,­economic­growth,­and­the­implementation­ of­democratic­practices.­The­first­victim,­particularly­in­times­of­security­crisis,­ is democratic practice. In the name of national security, democracy tended to be compromised­or­seriously­eroded.­Thus,­security-­oriented­governments­will­frequently­call­upon­their­citizens­to­sacrifice­their­individual­rights­for­the­sake­of­ the­ security,­ sovereignty,­ and­ stability­ of­ the­ state.­ The­ security­ situation­ was­ one of the main raisons d’être­of­the­authoritarian­regime­from­Syngman­Rhee­ (1948–1960)­ through­ to­ Park­ Chung-­hee­ (1961–1979),­ and­ Chun­ Doo-­hwan­ (1980–1988). ­ Faced­with­increasingly­strong­democratic­movements­the­late­1980s,­successive­authoritarian­regimes­tried­at­least­to­appear­to­be­pursuing­democratizing­ reforms,­listening­to­voices­from­a­wide­range­of­societal­forces,­in­ways­more­ liberal­than­ in­ the­ past.­ Roh­ Tae-­woo­ (1988–1993),­ for­ instance,­the­ last­ ROK­ president with a military background, sought to appeal to the nation by projecting­an­image­of­gentleness­–­so­much­so­that­he­was­nicknamed­“Water”­by­the­ more­conservative­wing­of­society­for­being­too­soft­and­indecisive,­at­least­in­ contrast­ with­ his­ predecessor,­ Chun­ Doo-­hwan.­ Roh­ may­ have­ tried,­ with­ genuine intent, to introduce democratic elements into the regime he inherited, or at least to appear more liberal than his predecessors. His efforts to rid the regime of authoritarian elements, symbolized by the introduction of a round table into his­office­for­meetings,­rapidly­became­a­joke­in­political­circles. ­ Critics­ also­ charged­ the­ two­ Kims,­ Kim­ Young-­sam­ (1993–1998)­ and­ Kim­ Dae-­jung­(1998–2003)­–­both­of­whom­had­fought­for­democracy­–­with­being­ not­entirely­free­of­authoritarian­elements­once­in­office,­and­even­before­that,­ while they were opposition leaders. There is an oft-told story of a well-known civic-­group­and­democratic­leader­who­told­Roh­Moo-­hyun­(2003–2008)­at­the­

60­ ­ Jong-Yil Ra beginning­of­his­term­in­office­that­Roh­was­really­the­first­president­of­Korea­–­ the implication being that all those who had come before were authoritarian, rather­than­democratic,­leaders­(Kim­2007:­368). ­ Without­expanding­the­scope­of­this­chapter­to­the­point­at­which­it­becomes­ too­broad­and­unwieldy,­it­is­important­to­consider­first­the­definitions­of­authoritarianism­and­authoritarian­regime.­An­exploration­of­this­issue­will­provide­a­ better understanding of the nature of authoritarianism, the elements and means that made authoritarian rule possible, and the residual elements of authoritarianism­in­the­process­of­South­Korea’s­democratic­consolidation. ­ According­to­a­lexicographical­definition,­authoritarianism­is­the­advocacy­of­ government­based­on­an­established­system­of­authority­rather­than­the­explicit­ or­tacit­consent­of­the­population.­In­popular­usage,­however,­there­can­be­elements­ of­ authoritarianism­ in­ every­ human­ relationship,­ and­ in­ all­ human­ communities­(Brooker­2000:­1).­The­phenomenon­is­not­limited­to­the­political­field. ­ An­authoritarian­regime­is,­first­of­all,­a­government­without­moral­authority,­ and thus possessing only limited legitimacy in the eyes of its people. The authoritarian­regime­in­South­Korea­had­to­be­rather­ingenious­to­make­up­for­the­deficiency of legitimacy, as it was supposed to be a democracy, if only in theory. The regime attempted to justify its raison d’être­ by­ resorting­ to­ a­ variety­ of­ appeals,­ but­ these­ never­ departed­ significantly­ from­ “democracy”­ itself,­ aside­ from brief dalliances with attempts to modify liberal aspects of democracy by referencing­ such­ expedient­ notions­ as­ “nationalistic­ democracy”­ or­ the­ “indigenization­ of­ democracy.”­ With­ no­ real­ alternative­ vision,­ the­ regime­ justified­ the­lack­of­democracy­by­resorting­mostly­to­excuses­–­the­imposition­of­a­moratorium­in­view­of­dire­necessities­stemming­from­the­threat­of­internal­subversion, threats emanating from North Korea, the unpreparedness of the masses, or the­necessities­of­economic­development.­More­banal­excuses­included­the­need­ to­ strive­ for­ greater­ “efficiency”­ or­ “eradication­ of­ corruption”­ (Linz­ 1978:­ 16–23).­ One­ readily­ apparent­ change­ in­ the­ transition­ to­ democracy­ from­ an­ authoritarian­ regime­ is­ the­ dropping­ of­ any­ qualifying­ prefix­ to­ modify­ “democracy.” ­ The­means­employed­to­sustain­and­bolster­the­authoritarian­regime­also­varied­ with­time,­ranging­from­the­use­of­troops­under­the­Garrison­Act,­outright­violence, torture, and imprisonment, to direct and indirect control of the media, bribery, appeasement, co-option, and so forth. One of the most important means employed by the authoritarian regime was the mobilization of state apparatus and agencies­for­political­purposes.­This­is­what­political­scientists­call­“the­use­(or­ abuse)­ of­ output­ function­ structures­ for­ input­ functions.”­ Unlike­ its­ totalitarian­ cousin,­the­authoritarian­regime­was­limited­in­the­extent­of­its­social­control­and­ contained­ within­ itself­ more­ active­ seeds­ for­ change.­ There­ were,­ for­ instance,­ increasingly large autonomous areas outside the realm of the state. As we shall see later, both the raison d’être and the means employed by the authoritarian regime­changed­over­time­as­the­democratization­movement­progressed.­Some­of­ these­rationalizations­are­still­being­deployed­by­democratic­governments,­inviting attention to what may be called “creeping authoritarian elements.”

South Korea after Chun Doo-Hwan­ ­ 61 Finally the question of genuine support for authoritarianism from at least a minority­of­the­citizenry­remains­vexing­and­largely­untouched­in­the­academic­ and­ political­ worlds.­ No­ regime­ could­ survive­ for­ a­ prolonged­ period­ without­ substantial­ support­ from­ the­ population.­ There­ may­ have­ been­ some­ objective­ conditions in the cultural or political realms that were congenial to the continuation­ of­ the­ authoritarian­ regime:­ the­ so-­called­ Confucian­ legacy­ in­ hierarchical­ values­ and­ personal­ relations;­ the­ obsession­ of­ political­ actors­ with­ security­ in­ the­ face­ of­ a­ menacing­ adversary;­ and­ the­ urgent­ need­ for­ rapid­ economic­ development. At its most basic, an authoritarian regime is little more than a bunch of nasty people­enforcing­their­will­on­an­unwilling,­or­even­rebellious,­populace,­essentially­ to­ advance­ their­ own­ sinister­ interests,­ either­ economic­ gain­ or­ political­ power.­ As­ we­ have­ more­ or­ less­ left­ the­ nastiest­ elements­ of­ such­ a­ regime­ behind­us,­however,­it­is­possible,­with­the­advantage­of­hindsight,­to­examine­ more­ objectively­ the­ nature­ of­ such­ regimes:­ Was­ it­ a­ necessary­ phase­ in­ the­ process­of­democratic­progress?­What­made­it­possible?­Did­it­serve­any­good­ purpose?­These­questions­should­be­taken­seriously,­as­Park­Chung-­hee,­in­any­ case, still enjoys high popularity ratings.

A change in the Caesarism politics of presidential prerogative One of the most important indicators in tracking the progress of democratization is­the­extent­to­which­the­exercise­of­power­is­concentrated­in­the­Office­of­the­ President.­ The­ president­ is­ constitutionally­ endowed­ with­ many­ powers,­ but­ under­an­authoritarian­regime,­the­already-­powerful­prerogatives­of­the­president­ assume­a­still­greater­influence­and­extend­into­almost­every­field­of­politics­and­ society.­ In­ South­ Korea,­ the­ president­ controlled­ his­ own­ party,­ and­ exercised­ influence­ in­ the­ legislature­ and­ the­ judiciary,­ as­ well­ as­ over­ the­ media­ and­ private­ sector.­ In­ addition­ to­ constitutionally­ guaranteed­ prerogatives,­ authoritarian presidents make use of their powers to appoint or to dismiss people from important­ posts,­ and­ to­ direct­ the­ power­ of­ administrative­ organization­ –­ law-­ enforcement­ agencies­ and­ revenue­ services,­ for­ example­ –­ against­ specific­ persons.­In­Korea,­the­concentration­of­power­in­the­person,­or­the­office­of­the­ president,­is­often­called­Caesarism.­One­may­observe­changes­in­this­phenomenon­ to­ determine­ the­ extent­ to­ which­ elements­ of­ authoritarianism­ remain­ in­ place.­The­problem­of­the­so-­called­positive­achievements­is­still­a­controversial­ topic.­Caesarism­resulted­in­an­interesting­byproduct:­prototypical­personalities­ that­thrive­on­the­concentration­of­power­in­the­palace.2 ­ The­ main­ driving­ force­ for­ democratization­ came­ from­ the­ vastly­ expanded­ realms­of­civil­society­–­ironically­made­possible­by­the­rapid­modernization­of­ society, particularly in economics, which the authoritarian regime claimed as one of­its­greatest­achievements.­In­any­case,­it­is­undeniable­that­non-­state­realms­ expanded­ thanks­ to­ economic­ development,­ and­ that­ this­ in­ turn­ played­ a­ key­ role­ in­ curbing­ military­ influence­ over­ politics,­ and­ in­ promoting­ democratic­

62­ ­ Jong-Yil Ra culture­(Diamond­et al.­1988:­231).­For­instance,­if­we­look­at­the­sheer­numbers­ of troops mobilized to stage a coup d’état or implement the Garrison Act, it is quite clear that in the late 1980s it had become impossible to physically control civil­society­and­subjugate­democratic­movements,­even­if­most­of­the­available­ troops in the country were mobilized. In an earlier period, much pressure in support of democratization built up over­time,­from­both­domestic­and­international­sources.­There­was­widespread­ disaffection­ and­ cynicism­ among­ the­ Korean­ population,­ and­ during­ Chun’s­ regime,­ indigenous­ radicalism­ including­ pro-­North­ Korean­ or­ Marxist­ movements­ took­ root,­ particularly­ among­ student­ activists.­ Some­ of­ these­ openly­ pursued­a­revolution­in­the­South.­The­government,­in­turn,­targeted­democratic­ movements­and­resorted­to­authoritarian­measures:­curtailing­political­activities,­ restricting­ human­ rights­ and­ civic­ liberties,­ enforcing­ press­ censorship­ through­ direct­and­indirect­means,­and­suppressing­labor­movements.­It­was­not­possible,­ however,­ for­ the­ government­ to­ seal­ off­ the­ country­ from­ contact­ with­ the­ outside­world,­as­doing­so­would­have­ruined­the­prospects­for­economic­development.­ The­ outside­ world­ had­ considerable­ leverage­ over­ the­ authoritarian­ regime, as Korea had to rely on its international relations not only for economic but­also­for­diplomatic–security­reasons.­The­United­States,­in­particular,­exercised­considerable­influence­in­pushing­the­authoritarian­regime­to­liberalize­its­ policies,­ and­ the­ administration­ of­ US­ President­ Ronald­ Reagan­ (1980–1988)­ employed­ various­ means­ of­ persuasion­ to­ pressure­ Chun’s­ regime­ to­ relax­ its­ authoritarian­grip:­diplomatic­pressure,­suggestions­that­support­might­be­withdrawn,­and­so­on.­It­is­said­that­Washington­believed­authoritarian­regimes­could­ not­sustain­themselves­indefinitely,­and­that­democratization­was­inevitable­over­ the­long­term­(Gills­and­Rocamora­1992:­505). ­ A­slight­easing­in­the­tensions­between­the­North­and­South­might­have­been­ a­ factor,­ too.­ The­ authoritarian­ regime­ had­ overplayed­ the­ security­ card­ for­ so­ long, and so often, that the security threat emanating from North Korea had largely­ lost­ its­ impact­ by­ the­ 1980s.­ By­ the­ end­ of­ the­ 1980s,­ it­ had­ become­ obvious­that­the­conflict­between­the­two­parts­of­Korea­was­meaningless­in­the­ context­of­the­domestic­politics­of­the­South,­and­the­people­were­no­longer­so­ easily frightened into submission by the “threat from the North” or by charges of being­ “implicated­ in­ communist­ subversion.”­ In­ slow­ but­ steady­ steps,­ democracy emerged from the shadow of authoritarianism, and bloomed. The process of democratization was supposed to go hand in hand with the demise­of­Caesarism­in­politics.­However,­one-­man­rule­by­the­president­largely­ remained­in­place­until­Roh­Moo-­hyun’s­presidency,­which­coincided­with­the­ end­of­the­political­era­of­the­“three­Kims.”­The­three­Kims­–­Kim­Young-­sam,­ Kim­ De-­jung,­ and­ Kim­ Jong-­pil­ –­ dominated­ the­ political­ scene­ from­ the­ late­ 1980s­ through­ their­ personal­ power­ bases.­ Particularly­ in­ their­ respective­ regional constituencies, each enjoyed a near-absolute grip on the party, to the extent­that­the­party­could­be­characterized­as­a­“personalization”­of­the­leader.­ The­ first­ two­ Kims,­ after­ successively­ winning­ the­ presidency,­ maintained­ the­ basic characteristics of an authoritarian president, although, in all fairness, there

South Korea after Chun Doo-Hwan­ ­ 63 is no real comparison between their leadership styles and those of their predecessors:­generals-­turned-politicians. ­ Kim­Young-­sam­was­well­known­for­having­no­respect­for­bureaucracy,­hierarchy,­or­formal­organizational­structure­(Kim­2007:­304).­Thus­his­management­ style­is­said­to­have­lacked­systematization­and­structure.­Kim­Young-­sam­was­a­ leader in his party for a long time and enjoyed a secure position among his followers,­which­helped­carry­him­into­the­presidential­office.­It­is­true­that­as­the­ first­civilian­president,­Kim­Young-­sam­introduced­important­reforms.­However,­ due­to­the­concentration­of­all­power­in­his­person­and­office,­he­and­his­government came under criticism in the media as embodying another type of authoritarianism:­a­“civilian­dictatorship.” ­ Kim­Dae-­jung­spent­much­of­his­life­fighting­authoritarian­regimes.­However,­ thanks to his personal history and charisma, he enjoyed, perhaps to a greater degree than his predecessor, near absolute personal authority among his followers. As­president,­he­was­not­free­of­the­accusations­of­Caesarian­rule­either.­The­all-­ powerful­“imperial”­president­often­compromised­on­democratic­principles­(Kim­ 2007:­ 356),­ and­ as­ a­ result,­ his­ leadership­ fell­ short­ of­ the­ expectations­ of­ those­ who had hoped to see the introduction of a completely different style of politics. ­ Roh­Moo-­hyun’s­presidency­did­away­with­the­authoritarian­exercise­of­presidential­prerogative­to­a­considerable­extent­(Kim­2007:­370).­Roh,­who­entered­ politics­as­a­civic­movement­leader,­relinquished­his­control­over­the­party­and­ government­organizations­when­he­became­president.­He­tried­even­to­transfer­ control­of­the­Board­of­Audit­and­Inspection,­an­important­lever­of­presidential­ power,­to­the­National­Assembly.­However,­there­are,­in­his­leadership,­aspects­ that require careful consideration. ­ A­ well-­known­ anecdote­ concerning­ Roh’s­ views­ of­ politics­ and­ leadership­ has­it­that­a­couple­of­public-­opinion­leaders­once­advised­President­Roh,­in­a­ meeting­ at­ the­ Blue­ House,­ not­ to­ pay­ too­ much­ attention­ to­ public­ opinion.­ There were also journalistic criticisms directed against politicians deemed “overly­sensitive”­to­the­movements­of­public­opinion­and­too­willing­to­blindly­ follow polls. It is also true that there is a certain nostalgia lingering for a strong leader,­like­the­late­dictator­Park­Chung-­hee,­who­carried­out­his­policies­on­the­ basis­ on­ his­ personal­ convictions­ regardless­ of­ public­ opinion.­ This­ was­ epitomized­ in­ a­ famous­ remark,­ attributed­ to­ Park,­ that­ “people­ could­ spit­ on­ his­ grave­later.”­Roh­Moo-­hyun,­in­his­turn,­often­stated­in­public­that­he­was­interested not in following trending opinions, but rather in long-term historical trends –­a­difference­that­he­compared­to­that­between­a­wave­and­a­sea­current.­The­ president, if he is to be a leader, should concern himself with the present, but only­while­taking­a­long-­term­perspective;­he­should­not­be­tossed­about­by­the­ wind­ and­ waves­ of­ the­ moment.­ Of­ course,­ the­ problem­ remains:­ who­ can­ tell­ the­wave­from­the­current?­Is­this­simply­a­subtler­version­of­“you­can­spit­on­ my­grave­later?”­Did­this­characteristic­contribute­to­his­unpopularity,­and­that­ of­his­party,­toward­the­end­of­his­term­in­office? ­ According­to­the­Constitution,­the­legislature­was­endowed­with­many­powers­ with­ which­ to­ check­ and­ balance­ the­ executive.­ Nevertheless,­ as­ the­ chief­

64­ ­ Jong-Yil Ra ­executive­of­the­state,­past­presidents­wielded­ enormous­influence,­even­in­the­ policymaking processes of the legislature, and although there might be a prime minister­who,­in­theory,­was­the­leader­of­the­administrative­branch­of­the­government and enjoyed a certain degree of power ex officio, his relationship with the­ president­ was­ very­ much­ that­ of­ a­ subordinate,­ though­ varying­ in­ degree­ depending­on­the­leadership­styles­of­the­personalities­of­those­involved.­In­most­ cases,­ however,­ the­ office­ of­ the­ president­ had­ direct­ control­ over­ the­ civil­ service,­in­terms­of­both­of­policy­matters­and­appointments,­and­no­need­to­go­ through­ the­ PM’s­ office.­ It­ is,­ after­ all,­ the­ president­ who­ appoints­ the­ prime­ minister­ (PM),­ as­ well­ as­ the­ other­ ministerial­ heads.­ The­ PM­ is­ supposed­ to­ control­and­coordinate­the­various­works­of­the­ministries,­but­he­tended­to­play­ only a limited role, doing little more than appearing at ceremonial functions, rather­than­exercising­constitutional,­delimitated­powers. ­ Roh­Moo-­hyun­changed­that­by­reinstating­the­prime­minister’s­role­in­government­and­granting­greater­power­to­the­office­of­the­PM.­Under­this­arrangement the president was to focus mainly on issues of national security and foreign affairs,­while­the­prime­minister­had­a­direct­say­over­economic­and­social­policy­ matters.­ This­ was­ described­ as­ “a­ system­ of­ PM­ with­ real­ responsibility,”­ yet­ even­under­this­arrangement,­the­president­and­the­prime­minister­did­not­truly­ share power. It was certainly not anything approaching “cohabitation,” in which the­ two­ paramount­ government­ leaders­ shared­ power­ according­ to­ their­ own­ respective­mandates,­and­the­cabinet­was­subject­to­the­confidence­of­the­majority in the National Assembly. ­ The­ministerial­heads,­rather­than­the­PM,­play­the­major­role­in­consultations­ between­ the­ party­ in­ power­ and­ the­ administration,­ and­ the­ ministries­ provide­ the­party­with­professional­advice­regarding­legislative­projects.­But­the­prime­ minister­ does­ not­ have­ substantial­ control­ over­ the­ ministers,­ or­ their­ appointment.­They­are­recruited­from­various­spheres,­and­might­be­professional­politicians,­ civil­ servants,­ business­ leaders,­ or­ from­ elsewhere­ outside­ the­ political­ realm.­ Due­ to­ their­ diverse­ backgrounds,­ leadership­ styles­ and­ the­ degree­ of­ control­ each­ expected­ to­ wield­ varied­ widely­ across­ the­ ministries.­ Moreover,­ the­ diverse­ backgrounds­ of­ the­ ministers,­ together­ with­ their­ relatively­ short­ terms,­ means­ that­ one­ cannot­ expect­ cohesive­ teamwork­ in­ the­ cabinet.­ For­ example,­ during­ the­ five­ years­ of­ Kim­ Dae-­jung’s­ presidency,­ there­ were­ five­ foreign­ ministers.­ Thus­ one­ could­ not­ expect­ a­ minister­ to­ develop­ a­ strong­ leadership­base­within­his­or­her­ministry,­nor­vis-­à-vis­the­president.­Ministers­ were,­ and­ remain,­ more­ likely­ to­ implement­ the­ president’s­ program­ than­ to­ develop­policies­of­their­own.­Under­Roh­Moo-­hyun,­the­concentration­of­power­ and­ influence­ in­ the­ office­ of­ the­ chief­ executive­ was­ relaxed­ somewhat.­ The­ president­ no­ longer­ held­ a­ controlling­ influence­ over­ the­ ruling­ party,­ and­ the­ legislative­grew­more­autonomous.­Still,­in­the­end,­the­president­held­the­power­ to­appoint­ministers­–­albeit­nominally­in­consultation­with­the­prime­minister. ­ On­the­other­hand,­although­Roh­had­promised­to­operate­with­a­smaller­presidential­office,­it­grew­larger­than­those­of­previous­governments.­In­addition­to­ regular staff and other central agencies directly under presidential control and

South Korea after Chun Doo-Hwan­ ­ 65 supervision,­ such­ as­ the­ National­ Intelligence­ Service­ and­ the­ Board­ of­ Audit­ and­Inspection,­Roh­created­11­presidential­advisory­committees­headed­by­their­ own chairpersons of ministerial rank. The committees, initially proposed as part of­ Roh’s­ election­ platform,­ were­ to­ be­ free­ of­ bureaucratic­ politics­ and­ advise­ the­president­on­such­critical­issues­as:­government­innovation­and­decentralization;­regionally­balanced­national­development;­Northeast­Asian­affairs;­sustainable­ development;­ income­ disparity;­ and­ population­ and­ demographic­ issues.­ The­ office­ of­ the­ president­ also­ acquired­ three­ ministerial-­level­ staff­ members­ (the­ Chief­ of­ Staff,­ Chief­ Policy­ Secretary,­ and­ Senior­ National­ Security­ Advisor)­who­not­only­oversaw­the­cabinet­and­bureaucracy,­but­also­played­an­ important­role­in­formulating­public­and­foreign­policy.­These­special­advisory­ commissions­came­in­for­criticism­for­intervening­directly­in­the­ministries,­and­ on­that­account,­Roh’s­administration,­too,­was­not­entirely­free­of­Caesarism.

Change in state–society relations Democratization­ has­ transformed­ the­ governing­ structure.­ Under­ the­ authoritarian­regime,­society­was­largely­under­the­hierarchical­control­of­a­state­exercising­ overwhelming­ power.­ As­ a­ result­ of­ democratization,­ state–society­ relations­have­undergone­changes­such­that­civil­society­actively­contributes­to­ governmental­ processes­ and­ participates­ in­ formulating­ public­ goals­ and­ policies.­ The­ power­ of­ the­ state­ over­ society­ has­ gradually­ weakened,­ while­ civil­ society­has­grown­more­robust­and­active.­The­state­must,­at­least,­give­serious­ consideration­to­possible­reactions­from­civil­society­when­deciding­on­substantial policy matters and implementation processes. It has become necessary, on occasion,­ for­ the­ government­ to­ enlist­ the­ support­ of­ certain­ sections­ of­ civil­ society.­This­has­often­proved­easier­said­than­done,­given­that­there­are­so­many­ conflicting­ interests­ and­ differing­ views­ competing­ with­ one­ another­ in­ an­ increasingly­active­civil­society. ­ As­for­what­has­contributed­to­South­Korea’s­democratization­since­1987,­the­ lion’s­ share­ of­ the­ credit­ should­ go­ to­ the­ mobilization­ the­ masses­ by­ civil­ society groups. According to this interpretation, the formation of a prodemocracy­ coalition­ and­ an­ unprecedented­ level­ of­ mass­ mobilization­ were­ crucial to the success of democratization, as only then did the authoritarian regime­see­that­eventually­it­would­have­to­accommodate­popular­demands­for­ reform­ (Kim­ 1996:­ 81–97).­ In­ late­ 1983,­ Chun­ Doo-­hwan­ decided­ to­ adopt­ a­ slate­of­liberalizing­policies­that­would­relax­authoritarian­control­in­an­attempt­ to­make­the­ruling­Democratic­Justice­Party­more­acceptable­to­the­population­ and­ more­ competitive­ electorally.­ The­ consequence­ of­ that­ liberalization,­ however,­was­quite­different­from­what­the­regime­had­expected.­It­resulted­in­ the­resurrection­of­civil­society­and­civil­movement­groups­that­had­been­forced­ underground­by­severe­repression.­Various­pro-­democracy­movement­groups­re-­ emerged,­and­a­genuine­opposition­emerged­in­the­political­world­(Stepan­1988:­ 4).­Contrary­to­the­regime’s­expectations,­liberalization­resulted­in­the­dramatic­ resuscitation­ and­ activation­ of­ opposition­ parties.­ The­ New­ Korea­ Democratic­

66­ ­ Jong-Yil Ra Party­was­created­in­January­1985,­just­in­time­for­the­next­month’s­general­election.­Many­civil­society­groups­openly­supported­and­vigorously­campaigned­for­ the­New­Korea­Democratic­Party,­rather­than­rewarding­Chun’s­party­for­relaxing control. The emergence of a genuine opposition party, in an electoral alignment­ with­ civic­ groups,­ marked­ the­ beginning­ of­ the­ end­ of­ the­ authoritarian­ regime,­ and­ the­ first­ step­ in­ the­ transition­ to­ democracy.­ Even­ some­ elements­ within­the­government­camp­joined­the­movement­toward­democratization. ­ The­victory­of­Kim­Young-­sam­in­1992,­the­first­bona fide­civilian­president­ in more than three decades, was somewhat problematic due to his relations with civic­activists.­Kim’s­government­wanted­to­enter­into,­and­maintain,­good­relations­with­civic­groups­of­wide-­ranging­ideological­persuasions­and­policy­interests­ (Kim­ 2007:­ 59).­ Ironically,­ civic­ groups­ were­ no­ longer­ able­ to­ find­ a­ common­cause­and­form­a­common­front­in­dealing­with­the­democratic­government.­ Over­ the­ long­ term,­ civic­ groups­ have­ played­ an­ important­ role­ in­ the­ process­of­democratic­consolidation­by­confronting­and­pressuring­governments­ –­ even­ democratically­ elected­ civilian­ governments­ –­ on­ issues­ of­ particular­ concern­to­their­respective­constituencies:­human­rights,­judicial­justice,­welfare,­ the­remnants­of­authoritarianism,­the­environment,­and­so­on.­They­also­wielded­ considerable­influence­in­pressuring­the­government­to­investigate­the­past­misdeeds of authoritarian regimes, and establishing new social and political norms and­values. ­ Civic­ groups­ continued­ to­ play­ an­ important­ role­ under­ the­ Kim­ Dae-­jung­ government.­After­the­inauguration­of­the­new­government,­the­president­faced­ bitter­attacks­and­criticism­from­the­Grand­National­Party,­which­hoped­to­use­ its­ legislative­ majority­ to­ check­ and­ undermine­ the­ new­ administration.­ Thus,­ while­ the­ National­ Assembly­ declined­ to­ play­ a­ constructive­ role­ in­ managing­ issues­of­national­concern,­resulting­in­stagnation­or­gridlock,­civic­groups­filled­ the­gap­by­defining­and­setting­the­national­agenda­at­times,­and­pressuring­the­ government­to­carry­out­specific­social­reforms­(Kim­2007:­62).­By­contributing­ to­ the­ implementation­ of­ further­ political,­ social,­ and­ economic­ reforms,­ civic­ groups­were­carving­out­an­entirely­new,­more­constructive­role­for­themselves:­ offering­policy­alternatives­to­the­government. ­ During­ the­ “participatory­ government”­ of­ Roh­ Moo-­hyun,­ civic­ groups­ expanded­their­activities­to­include­foreign­and­international­politics.­This­was­ touched­off­by­the­decision­of­the­government­to­dispatch­troops­to­Iraq­on­the­ side­of­the­US-­allied­forces­in­2003.­A­broad-­based­alliance­of­groups­opposed­ to­the­war­emerged­and­began­deploying­new­methods­of­expressing­their­views:­ one-­person­ demonstrations,­ candlelight­ vigils,­ lawsuits,­ and­ online­ protests.­ Their­activities­were­indicative­of­the­deepening­impact­of­globalization­in­the­ daily­lives­of­ordinary­citizens,­but­also­a­predictable­outcome­of­further­democratization. While a number of anti-war groups acted in protest of the deployment­ of­ troops­ to­ Iraq,­ many­ civic­ activities­ were­ encouraged­ and­ even­ subsidized­ by­ the­ progressive­ government,­ which­ thereby­ effectively­ redefined­ how Korean citizens participated in the political process.

South Korea after Chun Doo-Hwan­ ­ 67

Institutionalizing democracy The most important change introduced through the process of democratization may­be­the­establishment­of­a­system­of­free­and­fair­elections.­President­Kim­ Young-­sam­signed­three­laws­on­political­reform­in­1994:­a­law­on­preventing­ election­ malpractice,­ a­ revised­ bill­ on­ political­ funding,­ and­ a­ revised­ bill­ on­ local­self-­government.­Electoral­reform­was­further­reinforced­by­laws­enacted­ in­ 1997­ and­ 2004­ to­ limit­ electoral­ campaign­ funding,­ and­ the­ introduction­ of­ more­ stringent­ punishments­ for­ electoral­ irregularities­ (Park­ 2006:­ 150).­ As­ a­ result,­ corruption,­ government­ interference,­ and­ other­ irregularities­ have­ decreased­ considerably.­ Despite­ the­ meting­ out­ of­ severe­ punishments,­ certain­ illicit­funding­schemes­and­negative­campaigns­remain­in­place,­albeit­on­a­far­ more­limited­scale­than­in­the­past.­The­Roh­Moo-­hyun­period­should­be­particularly noted for the degree to which election campaigns were purged of the taint of­ illicit­ funding,­ thanks­ to­ Draconian­ legislation­ and­ the­ imposition­ of­ heavy­ fines. ­ Many­assumed­that­democratization,­or­rather­the­easing­of­the­authoritarian­ nature­of­the­government,­would­naturally­promote­closer­relations­between­the­ ruling­party­and­the­government.­Yet­Roh­Tae-­woo’s­government­did­not­make­ any­visible­overtures­to­the­party.­Having­suffered­a­heavy­electoral­defeat,­the­ ruling­Democratic­Justice­Party­could­not­hope­to­manage­without­some­kind­of­ power-­sharing­ arrangement­ with­ the­ opposition­ –­ a­ circumstance­ described­ as­ “ruling minority and opposition majority.” This compelled the ruling party to find­a­novel­way­out­of­the­difficult­situation­in­which­it­found­itself;­its­solution­ was to merge with other parties. The merger in this case was completely different from the usual practice of creating a coalition when a ruling party cannot secure­ a­ comfortable­ majority­ in­ the­ legislature.­ In­ this­ case,­ the­ Democratic­ Justice­ Party­ merged­ with­ the­ center-­right­ Reunification­ Democratic­ Party­ and­ the­conservative­New­Democratic­Republican­Party,­such­that,­overnight,­a­new­ ruling­party­was­born,­with­a­majority,­under­a­new­name.­However,­the­main­ opposition­party,­the­Party­for­Peace­and­Democracy,­stayed­out­of­the­merger­ and­ severely­ criticized­ it­ as­ nothing­ less­ than­ unprincipled­ collusion­ –­ a­ common-­law­ marriage­ of­ convenience­ and­ a­ betrayal­ of­ public­ trust.­ On­ the­ whole, the merger did not go down well with the public either, and as a result, the­ruling­party­again­failed­to­win­a­majority­in­the­next­general­election,­losing­ 69­seats­and­securing­only­149­seats. ­ In­the­midst­of­conflict­within­the­ruling­party­over­the­process­of­nominating­ a­presidential­candidate,­and­in­the­face­of­increasing­public­pressure,­President­ Roh­ Tae-­woo­ was­ compelled­ to­ leave­ his­ party­ and­ to­ form­ a­ non-­partisan­ cabinet.­ Given­ the­ “ruling­ minority­ and­ opposition­ majority”­ (yeoso yadae)­ arrangement­ at­ the­ time,­ the­ existing­ party–government­ coordination­ meeting­ was­ rendered­ virtually­ meaningless.­ Based­ on­ their­ dominant­ position­ in­ the­ National­Assembly,­opposition­parties­could­easily­frustrate­any­legislative­initiatives­put­forward­by­the­government­party.­To­resolve­the­difficulties­stemming­ from the yeoso yadae­ impasse,­ the­ Roh­ government­ initiated­ a­ new­ type­ of­

68­ ­ Jong-Yil Ra party–government­cooperative­arrangement­called­a­“legislative­policy­meeting”­ under­ Prime­ Minister’s­ Order­ No.­ 237­ of­ February­ 28,­ 1990.­ This­ increased­ coordination­ in­ party–government­ relations­ at­ the­ highest­ level­ of­ decision-­ making.­While­the­Chun­government­rarely­held­ruling­party–government­joint­ meetings­at­the­Blue­House,­the­Roh­government­did­so­at­least­once­a­year.­Furthermore,­President­Roh­requested­that­Supreme­Council­Chairman­Kim­Young-­ sam­report­to­him­on­a­weekly­basis­to­discuss­pending­party­affairs.­The­Roh­ Tae-­woo­presidency­also­saw­a­slight­increase­in­the­chances­of­party­officials­ entering­the­Cabinet:­from­31­people­(26.0­percent)­in­the­Fifth­Republic,­to­42­ people­(35.3­percent).­However,­the­increase­may­simply­have­reflected­changes­ in the power distribution among forces within the party as a consequence of the merger. ­ In­the­first­half­of­the­Roh­Tae-­Woo­presidency,­the­opposition­in­the­legislature­compelled­the­government­to­rely­heavily­on­unofficial­party–government­ coordination­meetings.­High-­level­officials­from­both­the­administration­and­the­ ruling­party­met­an­average­of­six­times­per­year­to­coordinate­their­activities.­ However,­there­were­still­far­fewer­such­meetings­than­during­the­Fifth­Republic.­In­the­course­of­the­seven­years­of­the­Fifth­Republic,­a­total­of­50­meetings­ were­held,­while­in­the­five­years­of­the­Sixth­Republic,­there­were­only­22­such­ meetings. ­ As­the­country’s­first­civilian­leader,­Kim­Young-­sam­enjoyed­greater­authority­in­his­relations­with­the­party,­and­was­to­a­large­extent­beyond­the­influence­ of­ the­ ruling­ party.­ Kim’s­ reformist­ policies­ targeted­ the­ power­ elite­ of­ the­ authoritarian regime, and resulted in the ousting a large number of their members from important posts. He introduced legislation aimed at the eradication of corruption, particularly of the type that results from collusion between political and business leaders. For instance, he introduced a law requiring all high-ranking officials­to­disclose­their­property­holdings,­and­legislation,­nearly­revolutionary­ in­ nature,­ requiring­ that­ all­ bank­ accounts­ and­ financial­ transactions­ be­ conducted­under­the­agents’­real­names:­the­so-­called­Real­Name­Financial­Transaction­System.­He­retired­all­high-­ranking­military­officers­belonging­to­a­private­ organization­ (Hanahoe),­ which­ had­ been,­ for­ sometime,­ a­ powerful­ lobby­ and­ potentially­a­political­pressure­group­(Song­2007:­86–88).­Taken­together,­Kim­ Young-­sam’s­reform­policies­helped­to­establish­an­institutional­basis­for­liberal­ democracy. ­ However,­the­outcomes­of­these­reform­policies­were­not­uniformly­positive.­ The­ruling­party­met­a­setback­in­the­1995­local­elections,­winning­only­five­out­ of­15­positions­in­the­mayoral­and­provincial­governors’­elections,­and­capturing­ only­ 33.8­ percent­ of­ the­ national­ vote.­ The­ party­ became­ less­ cohesive­ as­ a­ result,­and­the­conditions­for­party–government­collaboration­were­undermined,­ impairing­relations­between­the­ruling­Democratic­Labor­Party,­the­New­Korea­ Party,­and­the­administration.­Also,­the­Democratic­Labor­Party’s­policy-­related­ activities­ sharply­ declined.­ For­ instance,­ between­ January­ and­ April­ 1996,­ the­ ruling­ Democratic­ Labor­ Party­ hosted­ public­ meetings­ related­ to­ the­ policy­ agenda­ or­ formulating­ policy­ only­ ten­ times,­ and­ policy-­related­ activities­

South Korea after Chun Doo-Hwan­ ­ 69 c­ onsumed­ only­ 2.1­ percent­ of­ total­ revenue.­ Furthermore,­ the­ number­ of­ high-­ level­party–government­coordination­meetings­declined­slightly­while­ministry-­ level­meetings­increased. ­ At­the­beginning­of­Kim­Dae-­jung’s­presidency,­party–government­relations­ benefited­from­the­government’s­need­to­cooperate­with­the­two­ruling­parties:­ the­ National­ Congress­ for­ New­ Politics,­ and­ the­ United­ Liberal­ Democrats­ (ULD).­ Kim­ Dae-­jung­ tried­ to­ maintain­ the­ same­ framework­ for­ the­ party–­ government­ cooperation­ installed­ and­ developed­ by­ his­ predecessors,­ while­ launching­his­own­reforms­in­various­areas.­Under­Kim,­Prime­Minister’s­Order­ No.­ 360­ made­ several­ changes­ in­ party–government­ relations­ to­ reinforce­ the­ government’s­control­over­the­ruling­parties.­First,­the­order­defined­the­ULD­as­ a­ partner­ in­ party–government­ collaboration,­ together­ with­ the­ National­ Congress­ for­ New­ Politics.­ The­ latter­ was­ the­ president’s­ own­ party,­ but­ it­ later­ became­ the­ New­ Millennium­ Democratic­ Party­ (NMDP).­ Further,­ the­ order­ required­the­prime­minister­to­take­responsibility­for­coordinating­party–government­ cooperation­ efforts,­ thus­ transferring­ the­ file­ from­ the­ Minister­ without­ Portfolio­ in­ charge­ of­ political­ affairs­ to­ the­ PM.­ Finally,­ the­ order­ put­ Prime­ Minister­Kim­Jong-­pil­in­charge­of­party–government­cooperation­by­requiring­ government­ ministries­ and­ committees­ to­ report­ policy­ details­ to­ him­ prior­ to­ policy-­briefing­sessions. ­ These­ changes­ in­ party–government­ relations­ seemed­ sensible­ given­ the­ minority­position­of­the­governing­party.­It­was­also­necessary­because­the­ruling­ party,­even­in­coalition­with­the­ULD,­found­itself­in­the­minority­in­the­legislature.­Under­those­circumstances,­close­coordination­between­government­and­ party­was­a­necessity.­Nevertheless,­things­did­not­go­smoothly,­as­was­evident­ in such cases as the national medical insurance fund crisis. After the break-up of the­coalition,­Kim­Dae-­jung­was­afflicted­by­the­so-­called­lame­duck­syndrome;­ ultimately,­the­president­was­compelled­to­leave­his­party.­The­NMDP­adopted­ an open primary system for its presidential nomination process, further weakening­government­control­over­the­ruling­party.­As­a­result,­during­the­final­period­ of­Kim­Dae-­jung’s­presidency,­the­government­could­maintain­only­a­minimal­ level­of­collaboration­with­the­parties. ­ From­the­beginning,­the­Roh­Moo-­hyun­government­showed­signs­of­significant­change­in­the­fundamentals­of­party–government­relations.­Roh­Moo-­hyun­ confirmed­ his­ resolve­ to­ separate­ the­ presidency­ from­ the­ party­ by­ renouncing­ his­ position­ as­ the­ Chairman­ of­ the­ ruling­ party,­ and­ repeatedly­ abjuring­ any­ interest­in­internal­party­politics­or­even­in­the­process­of­nominating­electoral­ candidates.­ During­ the­ primaries,­ he­ also­ declared­ his­ neutrality­ in­ the­ contest­ for­the­leadership­of­the­ruling­NMDP.­Roh­maintained­his­distance­until­he­was­ compelled­to­follow­again­in­the­footsteps­of­his­predecessors­and­leave­the­party­ entirely toward the end of his term. Although his opponents insinuated that those actions­ were­ part­ of­ a­ scheme­ to­ ensure­ his­ own­ political­ survival,­ Roh’s­ approach­–­which­went­so­far­as­to­exclude­party­officials­from­the­Blue­House­ –­inevitably­strained­party–government­relations.­Also,­under­Roh,­the­position­ of­Chief­Presidential­Secretary­for­Political­Affairs,­which­previously­served­as­

70

Jong-Yil Ra

a­ critical­ bridge­ between­ the­ government,­ the­ ruling­ party,­ and­ opposition­ parties,­was­given­only­a­limited­role;­when­the­last­Chief­Secretary,­Ryu­In-­tae,­ stepped­down­to­run­in­the­general­election,­Roh­abolished­the­office­altogether.­ Roh­had­few­members­of­the­party­in­his­Cabinet­and­did­not­intervene­in­the­ process­of­nominating­party­candidates.­Yet­he­appointed­quite­a­number­of­his­ own­ followers­ to­ head­ various­ government-­controlled­ organizations­ and­ presidential­advisory­organizations. ­ Roh­did­not­follow­the­traditional­carrot-­and-stick­strategy,­which­could­have­ won­him­critical­leverage­in­managing­party–government­relations.­Members­of­ the ruling party, and of all the opposition parties, had little to gain by cooperating­ with­ the­ government,­ or­ the­ Blue­ House.­ On­ top­ of­ this,­ the­ government­ would­ not,­ and­ by­ this­ point­ could­ not,­ avail­ itself­ of­ the­ authoritarians’­ traditional­ means­ of­ controlling­ the­ parties­ by­ pressing­ the­ administrative­ agencies­ into­its­service. ­ Similarly,­ progress­ in­ internal­ democratization­ of­ political­ parties­ significantly­ influenced­ party–government­ relations­ during­ the­ Roh­ presidency.­ As­ a­ result of institutionalization, party members were much less dependent on the leadership.­By­adopting­a­primary­system­in­the­selection­of­electoral­candidates,­ the fundamentals of politics were changed. As scholars of political parties say, the­way­parties­choose­their­candidates­for­office­may­reflect­the­distribution­of­ power­within­the­parties,­with­significant­consequences­for­the­democratization­ within­ parties.­ In­ any­ case,­ individual­ legislators­ acquired­ a­ greater­ extent­ of­ autonomy­from­the­leadership.­At­the­same­time,­cross-­voting­is­being­practiced­ by­ all­ parties,­ although­ it­ remains­ infrequent.­ Compared­ to­ the­ honeymoon­ period­ of­ the­ Kim­ Dae-­jung­ presidency,­ in­ which­ the­ ruling­ parties­ and­ the­ opposition­parties­had­hostile­relations­with­one­another,­Roh­Moo-­Hyun’s­government­sometimes­had­positive­relations­with­the­opposition­parties­on­certain­ issues­–­sometimes­better­than­those­with­its­own­party.­In­dispatching­Korean­ troops­ to­ Iraq,­ for­ instance,­ the­ government­ could­ sail­ smoothly­ thanks­ to­ the­ cooperation­of­the­opposition­Grand­National­Party­(GNP).­Initiated­mostly­for­ its­own­reasons,­Roh­also­accepted­the­GNP-­sponsored­legislation­calling­for­a­ special­prosecutor­to­investigate­the­case­of­secret­money­passed­to­North­Korea­ by­ the­ previous­ government­ in­ order­ to­ facilitate­ the­ summit­ meeting­ between­ Kim­Dae-­jung­and­Kim­Jong-­il. ­ However,­ in­ an­ unprecedented­ action­ in­ the­ constitutional­ history­ of­ Korea,­ the­National­Assembly­went­on­to­impeach­Roh­Moo-­hyun,­which­incapacitated­ the­presidency­for­a­period­until­Roh­was­able­to­resume­his­office­after­the­constitutional­court­nullified­the­act­of­impeachment.­The­subsequent­general­election­gave­him,­and­the­governing­party­–­which­later­became­the­Open­Uri­Party,­ and­then­the­United­New­Democratic­Party­–­a­majority­in­the­National­Assembly. The ruling party wished to see a change in the leadership style of the president,­but­Roh­stuck­to­his­position­and­did­not­comply­with­the­demands­of­the­ new­ majority­ party.­ In­ the­ 2012­ presidential­ election,­ the­ UNDP­ failed­ rather­ badly­ and­ the­ GNP­ candidate­ was­ elected­ president.­ It­ is­ not­ known­ whether­ Roh’s­ commitment­ to­ the­ doctrine­ of­ party–government­ separation­ contributed­

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71

to­the­failure­of­his­presidency­and­his­party.­However,­Roh­set­a­good­example­ by­freeing­even­his­own­party­from­presidential­control­and­influence. It is impossible to consider the progress in democracy as separate from the development­ of­ party­ politics,­ since­ parties­ play­ a­ critical­ role­ in­ such­ democratic practices as electoral and parliamentary politics, and act as a medium linking­the­ people­and­ their­government.­Sometimes,­however,­ intra-­party­ politics­can­be­a­significant­obstacle­to­the­development­of­democracy.­One­of­the­ major­problems­with­Korean­parties­is­the­lack­of­national­constituencies.­Most­ of­the­major­parties­primarily­serve­regional­constituencies,­and­neither­ideology­ nor policy counts for much at election time. In a recent academic seminar on the subject of political parties, scholars were poignant in their criticism of the backwardness of the party structure in Korea. One scholar pointed out that the Korean parties stopped short of being responsible to the electorate, setting their roots among the masses and carrying their own identities, ideologies, and policies into each­ election­ (Jeong­ 2008:­ 89–93).­ Another­ went­ so­ far­ as­ to­ say­ that­ Korean­ parties are regressing instead of making progress towards further democratization. Scholars were also harshly critical of the so-called “migratory birds phenomenon,”­which­sees­politicians­frequently­change­party­affiliation,­or­simply­ start­new­parties­when­their­own­party­falls­out­of­favor­with­the­electorate. ­ When­ elections­ approach,­ Korean­ political­ parties­ frequently­ dissolve­ or­ merge­ for­ the­ convenience­ of­ their­ leaders.­ Parties­ are­ usually­ the­ work­ of­ a­ handful­of­leaders­who­tend­to­view­the­parties­primarily­as­channels­or­instruments­for­furthering­their­careers.­Long­overdue­are­the­checks­on­this­kind­of­ practice­that­would­come­with­institutionalization­or­active­participation­on­the­ part­of­the­grass­roots.­In­the­worst­cases,­political­parties­are­still­bedeviled­by­ personalism­ –­ that­ is,­ dominated­ by­ personal­ cliques­ and­ cronies.­ It­ was­ not­ a­ very­ long­ time­ ago­ that­ the­ country’s­ political­ terminology­ included­ the­ widespread­use­of­such­feudal­terms­as­“vassal,”­and­while­the­related­practices,­or­ malpractices,­ seem­ happily­ to­ be­ fading­ now,­ they­ have­ not­ entirely­ passed­ away.­ In­ any­ event,­ it­ still­ seems­ to­ be­ the­ case­ that­ it­ is­ neither­ ideology­ nor­ policy­platform,­but­the­individual­leaders,­who­matter­in­Korean­party­politics.­ Personalization­and­deficient­institutionalization­mar­important­aspects­of­party­ politics in Korea. ­ The­low­level­of­institutionalization­in­the­party­system­may­be­due,­in­part,­ to­the­relatively­brief­Korean­experience­in­running­political­parties.­In­any­case,­ the­life­expectancy­of­a­Korean­political­party­averages­less­than­three­years,­due­ to­the­ever-­changing­alignments­of­political­parties­around­prominent­characters.­ As­ a­ matter­ of­ fact,­ party­ structures­ have­ undergone­ dramatic­ alterations­ with­ each­regime­change.­They­frequently­dissolve­to­form­new­ones,­often­little­different­from­their­predecessors,­mainly­for­the­convenience­of­the­new­president.­ They­ are­ more­ concerned­ with­ improving­ their­ potential­ for­ winning­ elections­ than­articulating­distinctive­party­platforms.­For­instance,­opposition­leader­Kim­ Young-­sam­made­a­deal­with­President­Roh­Tae-­woo­and­Kim­Jong-­pil,­both­of­ whom were rather different in their political dispositions from himself. This deal resulted in the merger of three parties in order to better contest the presidency in

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the­next­election.­Similarly,­the­liberal­Kim­Dae-­jung­made­an­election­pact­with­ the­ conservative­ Kim­ Jong-­pil.­ Parallel­ to­ these­ changing­ regional­ coalitions­ are­the­parties’­continual­mergers­and­splits­–­every­major­party­has­experienced­ at­least­one­merger­or­split.­President­Roh­Moo-­hyun­created­the­Uri­Party­after­ withdrawing­from­the­Millennium­Democratic­Party­–­the­party­that­nominated­ him­ for­ president.­ Faced­ with­ very­ low­ levels­ of­ public­ support,­ the­ Uri­ Party­ disbanded in August 2007, a few months before the presidential election, becoming­the­United­New­Democratic­Party,­which­consisted­almost­entirely­of­former­ Uri­ members­ (Kwon­ 2004).­ Political­ parties­ are­ repeatedly­ formed,­ merge,­ divide,­and­dissolve­for­the­sake­of­their­leaders’­transient­interests. ­ In­this­context,­party­cohesion­may­be­thought­of­as­a­function­of­a­particular­ personality.­One­can­find­extremely­oligarchic­power­structures­within­political­ parties­ packed­ with­ the­ leader’s­ loyal­ followers.­ Considering­ the­ extensive­ changes­ that­ have­ occurred­ in­ the­ socio-­economic­ structure­ of­ the­ country,­ the­ level­ of­ education,­ and­ the­ political­ awareness­ of­ the­ Korean­ electorate,­ a­ personality-dominated party system based on regional interests is clearly not sufficient.­Public­dissatisfaction­with­party­politics­is­widespread,­and­has­resulted­ in­ calls­ for­ long-­overdue­ party­ reform.­ Attempts­ at­ reform­ in­ the­ parties­ are­ aimed­ at­ reflecting­ and­ better­ representing­ changes­ in­ the­ socio-­economic­ environment­so­that­parties­can­compete­on­the­basis­of­offering­concrete­policy­ alternatives­in­such­areas­as­job­security,­education,­affordable­housing,­health­ care,­and­environmental­protection.­Faced­with­heightened­public­demand­for­a­ more­open­and­democratic­party­structure,­as­well­as­for­more­constructive­and­ cooperative­ president–legislative­ relations,­ a­ series­ of­ party­ reform­ proposals­ were­put­forward­in­2002,­some­of­which­have­been­adopted­and­implemented­ by­ major­ political­ parties.­ These­ reforms­ included­ attempts­ to­ improve­ intra-­ party­democracy,­introduce­greater­transparency­and­more­efficient­management,­ and­a­produce­a­legislature­that­is­policy-­oriented­and­responsive­to­the­public. ­ On­December­19,­1995,­the­Kim­Young-­sam­government­initiated­a­retroactive­application­of­the­law­on­two­former­presidents,­Chun­Doo-­hwan­and­Roh­ Tae-­woo.­ In­ the­ name­ of­ rectifying­ history,­ the­ government­ charged­ the­ two­ men,­along­with­16­former­generals,­with­corruption­and­insubordination­(Kim­ 2007:­290).­The­charges­against­Chun­and­Roh­not­only­undermined­the­status­ of­each­as­ex-­chief­executive,­but­also­damaged­the­authority­of­the­presidency­ itself.­As­a­result­of­the­trials,­Chun­and­Roh­were­found­guilty­of­mutiny­and­ treason with respect to the Kwangju incident. This step was regarded as morally incumbent­ upon­ the­ first­ civilian­ government­ –­ an­ attempt­ to­ right­ the­ past­ wrongs of military leaders who had come to power through unconstitutional behavior.­As­a­daily­newspaper­put­it:­“Korea­learned­a­lesson­that­even­former­ presidents­are­not­exempt­from­judicial­justice”­(Chosun I1bo­1996). This went down well with the people, most of whom welcomed the action as a­ sign­ of­ further­ democratization.­ The­ government­ enjoyed­ popularity­ for­ the­ campaign­ against­ corruption­ until­ it­ came­ under­ attack­ for­ the­ misbehavior­ of­ some­of­its­own­high-­ranking­officials­and­some­of­those­close­to­the­president­ himself. This came as an embarrassment for the Kim administration, particularly

South Korea after Chun Doo-Hwan­ ­ 73 as­ it­ prided­ itself­ on­ being­ morally­ upright.­ People­ grew­ more­ cynical­ about­ claims­of­morality­by­the­Kim­administration.­There­was­even­a­suspicion­that­ the­ trials­ of­ the­ ex-­presidents­ were­ designed­ to­ win­ popularity,­ rather­ than­ a­ genuine attempt at righting the past.3­ Suspicion­ grew­ when­ it­ became­ evident­ that­Kim­had­received­a­huge­sum­of­money­from­Roh­to­be­applied­to­his­campaign funds. As the Kim administration was nearing the end of its term, it was entangled in more scandals related to illicit money, which seriously undermined the­ moral­ basis­ of­ the­ civilian­ government.­ This­ added­ to­ popular­ cynicism­ regarding­politics­in­general.­However,­it­is­undeniable­that­Kim­Young-­sam­set­ a­good­example­in­underlining­fundamental­principles­of­democracy­and­the­rule­ of­law,­and­demonstrating­that­nobody,­even­the­chief­executive,­is­above­judicial justice.

Invigorating non-governmental organization After­Chun,­civic­groups­became­increasingly­active­by­leaps­and­bounds.­The­ presidencies­of­the­two­Kims­witnessed­nongovernmental­organizations­(NGOs)­ playing­a­role­on­a­scale­never­before­experienced­in­Korea.­They­offered­input­ on important policies and their implementation; their members entered administrative­offices­or­the­National­Assembly,­and­campaigned­to­make­their­voices­ heard­ and­ to­ influence­ the­ outcome­ of­ elections­ (Lumsdaine­ and­ Schopf­ 2007:­238). ­ As­ democratization­ progressed,­ the­ civic­ movements­ expanded­ and­ became­ more­ vigorous.­ Their­ issue­ areas­ enlarged,­ expanding­ into­ such­ fields­ as­ the­ environment,­economic­justice,­political­participation,­feminism,­gender­equality,­ and­consumer­protection.­These­movements­reached­a­new­stage­of­development­ in­2000­when­they­formed­the­Citizen’s­Coalition­for­the­General­Election,­comprising­ 412­ civil­ society­ groups.­ Controversial­ in­ some­ sections,­ this­ campaign­ enjoyed­limited­success­in­excluding­“undesirable­politicians”­during­the­process­ of party nominations and in the actual elections. On the other hand, it was criticized­for­the­illegality­of­its­activities­and,­in­some­cases,­the­particularly­negative­ nature­of­their­black­campaigns­(Park­2006:­312–315).­There­was­also­a­nagging­ suspicion of possible collusion with people in power behind the scenes. ­ Clearly,­ some­ of­ the­ major­ policy­ objectives­ of­ the­ government­ do­ not­ go­ down­ well­ with­ the­ relevant­ social­ groups.­ This­ was­ most­ clearly­ exposed­ in­ labor­relations.­Demands­to­organize­independent­unions­free­of­state­and­business­control­were­finally­met­by­the­formation­of­the­Korean­Confederation­of­ Trade­ Unions­ in­ 1995.­ Compared­ to­ the­ existing­ Federation­ of­ Korean­ Trade­ Unions,­ the­ new­ organization­ was­ better­ organized­ and­ more­ militant­ in­ the­ struggle­ to­ revise­ labor­ laws,­ and­ in­ negotiations­ over­ wages­ and­ workplace­ democracy.­ Kim­ Dae-­jung’s­ government­ created­ the­ Tripartite­ Commission­ of­ Labor,­ Management­ and­ the­ Government­ in­ 1998­ –­ a­ project­ to­ forge­ better­ industrial relations through dialogue and coordination among the related groups. This­ initiative­ did­ not,­ however,­ make­ much­ headway,­ and­ the­ recourse­ to­ rational­dialogue­proved­to­be­more­easily­said­than­done.

74­ ­ Jong-Yil Ra ­ NGOs­have­been­a­major­factor­contributing­to­democratization.­Some­have­ been­so­active­politically­that­it­is­sometimes­difficult­to­tell­them­apart­from­a­ political­organization.­The­Korean­Citizens’­Alliance­for­the­2000­General­Elections­(Chongson­Yondae),­for­instance,­was­created­as­a­league­consisting­of­a­ number of NGOs, and its members campaigned to defeat those candidates whom they­regarded­as­“undesirable.”­Although­successful­to­a­certain­extent­in­achieving­their­objectives,­the­public­had­reservations­about­their­actions.­In­particular,­ the­negative­campaigns­they­waged­did­not­go­down­well­with­the­public.­Some­ civic­groups­have­also­become­active­in­the­legislative­process,­becoming­quasi-­ legislative­organizations.­They­are,­in­a­way,­undertaking­public­functions­as­a­ private­initiative.­Between­1995­and­2003,­for­instance,­the­People’s­Solidarity­ for­Participatory­Democracy­(PSPD)­submitted­106­reform­bills­to­the­National­ Assembly.­PSPD­is­one­example­of­an­umbrella­civil­organization,­addressing­a­ wide­range­of­issues.­In­fact,­many­of­the­policy­ideas­adopted­by­the­government­were­supplied­by­reform-­minded­civic­organizations,­such­as­the­PSPD­and­ the­ Citizens’­ Coalition­ for­ Economic­ Justice­ (Lee­ 2005:­ 296).­ Reflecting­ their­ experiences­ in­ the­ struggle­ for­ democratization,­ some­ civic­ groups­ continue­ to­ define­themselves­against­the­state­and­perform,­in­many­ways,­the­functions­of­ political­ parties­ without­ an­ official­ mandate­ from­ the­ people.­ Key­ issues­ of­ society are thus addressed through direct confrontation between the state and civic­groups,­and­dominate­political­discourse,­while­political­parties­are­marginalized. This has not always contributed to the progress of democratic consolidation.­Critics­point­out­that­some­civic­groups­have­authoritarian­elements­within­ their culture and organization, just like the political parties. A lack of internal democracy­has­been­noted­in­some­NGOs,­which­have­few­channels­of­communication between their members and leadership. Some NGO groups operate under­the­influence­of­a­dominant­leader,­with­the­ordinary­members­excluded­ from the major decision-making process. This seems to be particularly true in cases­in­which­the­leaders­are­well-­known­persons,­and­it­reflects­the­personalism­ evident­ in­ political­ parties.­ Activists­ from­ the­ days­ of­ the­ pro-­democracy­ struggle­tend­to­keep­away­from­direct­involvement­in­politics­and­the­political­ parties,­as­they­have­little­trust­in­such­characters­in­the­political­establishment.­ Instead,­they­tend­to­either­join­or­form­civic­groups.­Critics­again­point­out­that­ participants­in­civic­movements­are­often­inspired­by­ideals,­rather­than­by­any­ idea of the public good. They are interested only in their particular issues and reckon­themselves­above­the­daily­practices­of­politics­and­the­give-­and-take­of­ policy-­making.­ The­ level­ of­ associational­ membership­ is­ rather­ low­ in­ many­ NGOs,­ with­ less­ than­ 500­ members,­ no­ national­ organization,­ few­ local­ branches,­and­only­a­token­staffing­level.­Often,­NGOs­have­more­generals­than­ foot­soldiers,­and­rely­on­a­handful­of­activists­rather­than­mass­support.

Conclusion Since the late 1980s, the process of democratization has gone hand-in-hand with unprecedented changes in Korean society and politics in the history of Korea.

South Korea after Chun Doo-Hwan­ ­ 75 The process has progressed to the stage of democratic consolidation and institutionalization, meaning that Korea has been successful in transitioning from authoritarianism to liberal democracy, and consolidating a constitutional democracy­ through­ a­ series­ of­ electoral­ and­ other­ reforms.­ There­ have­ been­ corresponding­transformations­of­the­institutions­and­governmental­processes­as­the­ authoritarian­regime­morphed­into­a­representative­democracy,­accompanied­by­ behavioral­and­attitudinal­shifts.­However,­it­is­too­early­to­conclude­that­Korea­ has completed its transformation from authoritarianism to democracy. Korea still has to deal with many problems to become a mature democracy. ­ At­the­beginning­of­this­chapter,­five­points­were­identified­as­being­useful­in­ analyzing the process of democratization and the residues of authoritarianism. The­various­findings­given­in­this­chapter­can­be­summarized­as­follows. ­ First,­under­Chun’s­authoritarian­regime,­people­looked­up­to­the­two­Kims­–­ Kim­ Young-­sam­ and­ Kim­ Dae-­jung­ –­ as­ revered­ leaders­ in­ the­ struggle­ for­ human­rights­and­democracy.­However,­when­the­two­Kims­took­office,­people­ were­ not­ entirely­ satisfied­ with­ their­ governments,­ as­ they­ did­ not­ appear­ free­ from­the­legacy­of­authoritarianism­and­corruption.­In­particular,­Caesarian­politics seemed to remain an aspect of the presidential system, and critics pointed to a­ lingering­ concentration­ of­ power­ in­ the­ person­ of­ the­ president­ or­ his­ office,­ even­after­democratization­and­a­series­of­scandals­involving­people­close­to­the­ president.­ This­ situation­ was­ aggravated­ by­ disarray­ within­ the­ insufficiently­ democratic political parties. ­ Second,­ successive­ presidents­ (the­ two­ Kims­ followed­ by­ Roh­ Moo-­Hyun)­ came­under­fire­from­certain­sections­of­society­for­failing­to­be­as­efficient­as­ their­ authoritarian­ predecessors,­ particularly­ in­ developing­ the­ economy,­ while­ enjoying­all­the­prerogatives­of­a­Caesarian­presidency.­Koreans­who­had­witnessed­ rapid­ economic­ development­ and­ apparent­ efficiency­ in­ dealing­ with­ social problems complained about all the arguments, noise, and delays of the democratic­process.­During­the­struggle­for­democratization,­some­people­held­ idealistic­illusions­regarding­democracy;­they­have­since­discovered­that­democracy­may­be­the­least­bad,­as­opposed­to­the­best,­system­of­governance.­It­is­ divisive­and­far­from­able­to­solve­everything.­It­can­also­be­unjust. ­ Third,­Kim­Young-­sam’s­drive­to­right­historical­failures­flailed­and­rapidly­ lost momentum due to his failure to maintain his high moral standing, and the early onset of the so-called lame duck phenomenon toward the end of his presidency.­This­may­have­been­due­to­the­time­factor,­as­a­five-­year­presidency­provided­perhaps­too­little­time­to­enact­a­set­of­comprehensive­social,­political,­and­ economic­reforms.­Most­of­those­who­ascend­to­the­presidency­seem­to­have­difficulty­ realizing­ the­ limited­ scope­ of­ changes­ they­ might­ implement­ in­ a­ relatively­short­period­of­time. ­ Finally,­ democratization­ has­ brought­ about­ major­ changes­ in­ society:­ more­ active­civic­groups,­a­wider­civil­participation­in­political­processes,­changes­in­ the presidency, greater local autonomy, enhanced basic rights, gender equality, and­greater­autonomy­for­civil­society.­It­is­generally­accepted­that­civic­organizations, as the third sector, should play a part as watchdogs and whistle-blowers,

76­ ­ Jong-Yil Ra and­aid­in­correcting­unfair­practices­in­the­market.­However,­some­civic­groups­ and­NGOs­accept­and­even­solicit­sponsorship­from­big­businesses­and­governments.­To­come­into­its­own,­a­civic­group­must­grow­out­of­the­need­for­business­ or­ government­ sponsors,­ except­ in­ cases­ when­ it­ is­ absolutely­ necessary,­ such­as­projects­involving­humanitarian­assistance. ­ In­short,­a­closer­examination­of­the­record­of­the­past­20­years­reveals­that­ the­residue­(in­the­Paretoan­sense)­of­authoritarianism­persists­in­Korean­society­ and politics. For all the accomplishments in the process of democratization, many areas of Korean society and politics are still not free of the legacies of its authoritarian­ past.­ Even­ NGOs,­ as­ major­ factors­ in­ democratization,­ are­ sometimes not free from the authoritarian legacy. This is not to say that Korea lags behind­any­other­so-­called­developed­democracies­in­the­world­today.­Given­the­ ideals­ generally­ accepted­ for­ a­ fully­ developed­ or­ developing­ democracy,­ however,­ Korea­ should­ be­ able­ to­ address­ a­ number­ of­ critical­ points­ and­ develop­into­a­vibrant,­mature­democracy.­It­should­be­a­country­where­justice­ prevails­and­the­public­spirit­thrives;­where­there­is­a­tolerance­for­differences,­ including ethnic and cultural ones; where the rule of law is respected; and where political­participation­and­socio-­economic­equality­can­expand­further.

Notes 1 Korea Times, June 11, 2008, p. 1. 2 Once, the author named four major categories of important personalities residing in the palace­of­Caesar­according­to­their­respective­status­and­roles:­Prince,­Vassal,­Eunuch,­ and Joker. 3­ Washington Post,­August­27,­1996,­A10.

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Kim,­ Sunhyuk­ (2007)­ “Civil­ society­ and­ democratization­ in­ South­ Korea,”­ in­ Charles­ Armstrong­(ed.)­Korean Society: Civil Society, Democracy and the State,­New­York:­ Routledge. Kim,­Young­Myong­(2007)­Political Changes in South Korea,­Seoul:­Eulyoo. Korea Times­(2008)­June­11:­1. Kwon,­Keedon­(2004)­“Regionalism­in­South­Korea:­its­origins­and­role­in­her­democratization,” Politics & Society,­545,­http://pas.sagepub.com/cgi/content/abstract/32/4/545. Lee,­Yeonho­(2005)­“Participatory­democracy­and­Chaebol­regulation­in­Korea,”­Asian Survey,­Vol.­XLV,­No.­2,­March/April­2005:­296. Linz,­ Juan­ (1978)­ The Breakdown of Democratic Regimes: Crisis, Breakdown, and Reequilibration,­Baltimore:­Johns­Hopkins­University­Press. Linz,­Juan­(1990)­“Transition­to­Democracy,”­The Washington Quarterly,­13(3):­158. Lumsdaine,­David­and­Schopf,­James­C.­(2007)­“Changing­values­and­the­recent­rise­in­ Korean­development­assistance,”­Pacific Review,­20(2):­238. Park,­Kie-­Duck­(2006)­Theory and Practice of Korean Democracy: Transition, Consolidation, and Stabilization,­Paju:­Hanwool. Sandbrook,­ Richard­ (1996)­ “Transitions­ without­ consolidation:­ democratization­ in­ six­ African cases,” Third World Quarterly,­17(1):­69–87. Song,­Hyoik­(2007)­The Reality of YS, DJ, Roh’s Regime,­Seoul:­Kwanghwamoon. Stepan,­ Alfred­ (1988)­ Rethinking Military Politics: Brazil and the Southern Cone, Princeton,­NJ:­Princeton­University­Press. Washington Post­(1996)­August­27:­A10.

5

China after Deng Xiaoping The search for a non-democratic development model Steve Tsang

Historical and political context While the death of Deng Xiaoping in 1997 marked the end of strongman rule in Beijing, it did not represent a paradigm shift in the politics of the People’s Republic of China (PRC). Deng’s death merely signalled an end to an era during which the paramount leader could exert power disproportionate to the office or position he held in the state or party apparatus to exert a decisive, or nearly decisive, influence on politics in general and government policies in particular. The political situation in China after Deng was laid down well in advance. Indeed, Deng even arranged the succession of his own replacement as leader of the country. Although he was Deng’s successor, “third-generation” leader Jiang Zemin had neither the scope nor the personal clout to assert himself as a new strongman. Deng had not intended to give Jiang the scope to do so – an intention reflected in naming Hu Jintao as Jiang’s successor. Nor were Jiang’s colleagues willing to see him emerge as a new strongman. Jiang’s emergence out of Deng’s shadow after the latter’s death in 1997 as the real leader of China, in a sense, marked a return of the Communist Party system to what it was supposed to be after it seized power in 1949. The system was meant to be one of collective leadership among the top party leaders, with a core leader being first among equals. In the history of the PRC, such an arrangement was formally maintained in the early 1950s, even though Mao Zedong was a dominant figure from the founding of the PRC. The principle of collective leadership came to an end when Mao forced his comrades to choose between accepting his leadership above the collective wisdom of the party, and allowing him to wage war against the party leadership at the Lushan Conference of 1959 (Li 1993: 226–36). Mao’s comrades backed down and allowed the Great Leap Forward to take place at a time when there could be few illusions that this would bring anything but catastrophic consequences to the country (Chan 2001: 107–8). This marked the rise of a particularly vicious brand of strongman politics within the Communist system, which allowed Mao to launch the disastrous Cultural Revolution less than a decade later. It is true that the post-Mao Communist Party leadership was determined to make the Maoist period an aberration, and that other veteran party leaders, like

China after Deng Xiaoping 79 Chen Yun, tried to check Deng’s power and ensure that collective leadership would take the place of the Maoist dictatorship (Yang 2004: 15–18). Ironically, even Deng rejected the Maoist approach in building a personality cult, and the Maoist brand of strongman politics, when he launched the reform process. Indeed, in the early years of the Deng period, he pushed for a programme to strengthen the political institutions of the PRC. However, Deng found it necessary to gradually assert his role as the paramount leader (Zong 2007a: 153–4). Deng used his relatively dominant position in Chinese politics to push forward his economic reform programme in the 1980s, to play a pivotal role in the Tiananmen Square Massacre of June 1989, directing the military crackdown and restoring order and the dominance of the Communist Party, and to relaunch his policy of reform in 1992. Thus, until his death, Deng exercised a different and a less vicious brand of strongman politics than that which prevailed under Mao. He took on the mantle of a strongman because the political system and his personal history within the Communist Party allowed him to do so, and he believed he was doing so for a good cause (Zong 2007b: 153–4). With Deng’s passing, the top rank of Communist leaders had an understanding among themselves that they needed to change how the country was governed. With nearly all of the original revolutionary leaders having passed from the scene, a return to strongman politics was generally seen as undesirable. Moreover, there was no outstanding candidate with a sufficient degree of personal authority to shape the political scene as Deng had; no one able to command the loyalty of the other leaders. The critical questions for post-Deng leaders were the direction and nature of the changes to be introduced. The basic premises were that they must ensure, first and foremost, the continuation of Communist Party rule and, in order to achieve this, emphasize stability, order, steadily improving living conditions, and improved governance. Jiang’s rise to the pinnacle of political power coincided with an upsurge in the attractiveness of democracy in the global context, as the decade also saw the collapse of Communism in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe. Although Francis Fukuyama erred in proclaiming it to be the “end of history” as the Soviet camp lost the Cold War, his bold statement captured the spirit of the time (Fukuyama 1992). In the 1990s, as strongman politics came to an end, it was not unreasonable to ask whether China might also move towards democratization. But the Chinese leadership saw this prospect as a threat to themselves and all that they represented, rather than as a solution to the predicaments the country faced, and viewed the idea that China might evolve in the direction advocated by the West, under the “hegemonic” leadership of the United States of America (USA), in terms of a “peaceful evolution” conspiracy (Nelan 1991). The idea was one that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) leadership was determined to resist. Nevertheless, China under Jiang, and his successor Hu Jintao, sought an alternative to strongman politics in governing the nation. Jiang was the first paramount leader of the PRC to refer to the Communist Party as a governing party (Tan and Xiao 2006: 48), implying recognition of the need for the Party to

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justify its continuing rule. However, this does not mean Jiang accepted that the Party’s vanguard status had come to an end. Instead of viewing democratization as an alternative way forward, he and Hu, his successor, preferred to look to China’s own past – both the Communist period and before – for a solution. This chapter examines the search the Communist Party leadership undertook for a non-democratic development model after 1997, and its implications.

Good governance as an alternative to democracy? China’s post-Deng leaders have sought a twenty-first century development model that differs from Western liberal democracy (Pan 2008). It reflects, on the one hand, a sense of national pride that China should have its own model of development. On the other hand, and much more importantly, this approach is predicated on the nature and the history of the Leninist regime in China. The idea of “learning to lose,” as the dominant political party in an authoritarian state transforming into a liberal democracy must do, is anathema to the Communist Party. China’s sense of national pride is deeply rooted in the nation’s history, and has been greatly reinforced since 1989 by the Communist Party, which adopted nationalism as an ideological force to unite the country and buttress its own rule after communism all but collapsed as the state ideology. China was, until around the sixteenth century, the world leader in scientific development, communication, production technologies and administrative organization. It also accounted for a large percentage of world economic output prior to the twentieth century. It is estimated to have produced 26.2 per cent of world GDP 2,000 years ago, 22.7 per cent in the year 1000, 25 per cent in 1500, and 32.9 per cent in 1820, shortly before being humbled by Queen Victoria’s rising British Empire (Maddison 2001: 263). While Hu Jintao may not know this history well, he feels that “[i]n a history that spans more than five millennia, the Chinese nation has contributed significantly to the progress of human civilization” and it must therefore adopt “a new concept of development in line with its national conditions and the requirement of the times” (Hu 2006). Looking back, Chinese leaders and intellectuals are justified in thinking that as China’s own approaches have sustained it as a “superpower” in the pre-modern age, there is no logical reason why a newly resurgent China cannot, or should not, do so again in the twenty-first century. This history-based intellectual justification, whether or not it is convincing, has been greatly reinforced by the Party’s tight control over the historical narrative in China’s school textbooks and the promotion of nationalism since 1989. Few citizens of the PRC, in fact, know the history of their country well, but all have been indoctrinated in the greatness of China’s long civilization, and the iniquity of the “century of humiliation” when China suffered at the hands of Western imperialism after 1838 (Yuan 2006). The nationalism promoted since 1989 is essentially xenophobic in nature, and encourages the Chinese people to identify with a rising China under the leadership of the Communist Party in juxtaposition against the West, which is portrayed as uncomfortable with China’s

China after Deng Xiaoping 81 resurgence. The idea that China should find its own development model, rather than import a variant of the dominant democratic model from the West, is one that has wide appeal in China for this reason.2 An even more powerful factor is the fact that although communism is no longer routinely upheld as the state ideology, and communism is no longer the ultimate goal of development, the Communist Party remains essentially Leninist in character. This means it is fundamentally anti-democratic in terms of the Western liberal tradition. The leading role and position of the Communist Party is enshrined in the Constitution of the PRC, and remains the basic principle that underpins the political system in China (People’s Republic of China 1982). The replacement of strongman politics with a liberal democratic one will require that the Communist Party give up its constitutionally enshrined leadership position and take part in free and fair elections to win a popular mandate to govern. This goes against a basic belief of the Communist Party concerning democracy, however, which holds that the Party fully supports “democracy” as long as electoral outcomes are predictable and guaranteed to generate the correct results, as determined by the Party leadership. The mechanism that guarantees this is the principle of democratic centralism; its Maoist variant is known as “from the masses and to the masses.” In essence, this means the Party must go to the masses to collect and collate ideas, then organize and otherwise modify these to produce a coherent and constructive set of policies before returning them to the masses to educate and otherwise guide the masses to embrace them as their own (Saich 2004: 44). When the Communist Party refers to “democracy” in China, it is this, in general terms, to which it refers. The search for an alternative to democratization in the post-strongman era is based on a need for the Communist Party – still the “vanguard party” or “guardian” of the people – to devise and implement a model that will deliver stability, order, prosperity, and good governance. The first post-Deng manifestation of this new model was described by Jiang Zemin in terms of “the Three Represents,” a concept articulated for the first time in July 2001. This required the Party to represent “the development trend of China’s advanced productive forces, the orientation of China’s advanced culture, and the fundamental interests of the overwhelming majority of the Chinese people” (see News of the Communist Party of China 2006). Jiang elaborated on this by saying: 1

The whole Party must always maintain the spirit of advancing with the times and constantly extend Marxist theory into new realms; it must give top priority to development in governing and invigorating the country and constantly break new ground and open up a new prospect in the modernization drive; it must fully mobilize all positive factors and constantly generate new strength for the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation; and it must improve its Party building in a spirit of reform and constantly inject new vitality into itself. (News of the Communist Party of China 2006)

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Jiang’s concept was not clearly spelled out, except with regards to upholding the leading role of the Party by introducing a new requirement. It was the need to broaden the basis of the Party from an alliance of workers and peasants to include the culturally advanced and economically vibrant elements of society, all the while maintaining the firm leadership of senior Party apparatchiks. After Hu Jintao succeeded Jiang as general secretary of the Communist Party in 2002, and as state president in 2003, he gradually modified Jiang’s approach. He downplayed the concept of “the Three Represents” and adopted a policy of promoting a “socialist harmonious society.” Hu’s formula stipulates that “a harmonious society should feature democracy, the rule of law, equity, justice, sincerity, amity and vitality,” in order to produce “lasting stability and unity” (Hu 2005). More specifically, Hu called for: • • • • • •

sustained, rapid, and coordinated economic growth both in the countryside and in the urban regions; allowing public opinion to be articulated so that “a democratic policymaking mechanism will help balance different social interests and avoid social conflicts”; rigorous implementation of the “rule of law” in all political, administrative and judicial sectors to check the abuse of power; balancing different interests and striving “to ensure equality for all in terms of personal rights, opportunities, game-playing rules and wealth distribution”; establishing a social management system to handle the people’s internal contradictions to prevent them from posing risks to the overall development of the country; and strengthening environmental protection in order to pre-empt serious social problems (Hu 2005).

Whether articulated in terms of Jiang’s “Three Represents” or Hu’s “socialist harmonious society” policy, the real thrust of reform in the political arena has been to improve governance, reach out to the general public, redress public grievances, and improve living conditions. The key instrument for delivering improvements in these areas remains the government, controlled by the Communist Party itself. This development model, adopted in the post-Deng leadership, is intended to pre-empt popular demands for liberal democracy; it is based on a strengthened, benevolent, one-party system that practises democratic centralism.

Consultative Leninism The traditional Chinese concept of “the ideal government . . . is one which is efficient, fair, honest and paternalistic, yet non-intrusive vis-à-vis the life of the ordinary people” (Tsang 1995: 5). This is not a template that the Chinese

China after Deng Xiaoping 83 Communist leadership intended to adopt after the end of strongman politics. Not least because the traditional Chinese concept goes fundamentally against the nature of the Communist Party in a key area: being a Leninist institution, the Communist Party intends to proactively lead and direct developments in the country and mobilize the general population. Such an approach inherently requires the Party to intrude into the lives of ordinary people. The other qualities cherished in traditional China are not objectionable to the Communist Party, so long as the Party remains the final arbiter of efficiency, fairness and honesty. As a vanguard party, paternalism – again, as interpreted and judged by the Party – is, in any event, integral to what it represents. The definition of “good governance with Chinese characteristics” must be treated with care. The “Chineseness” in this concept is not based on traditional Chinese culture. Instead, it is what the Communist Party, as the ruler and “guardian” of China, decides is appropriate for China. It should also be pointed out that this does not exclude the adoption of traditional Chinese concepts, and the idea of a socialist harmonious society represents the appropriation of a well-known Confucian concept by the Party.3 Indeed, in defining good governance with Chinese characteristics, the Communist Party looks back both to its own relatively short history, and to China’s long history, for ideas and inspiration. The Party also examines ideas and experiences from outside of China as it endeavors to construct a model of development as an alternative to democratization – one well suited to the “special conditions of China.” An important set of lessons the Chinese Communist Party has learned concern the causes of the collapse of Communism in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe (Fewsmith 2001: 52–3). Also of great interest to the Party are the experiences of the “Asian tiger economies” under authoritarian rule. In this context, the case of Singapore is deemed particularly relevant, as its dominant People’s Action Party (PAP) has been able to remain in power continuously by delivering what the local people want and co-opting potential or actual critics into its ranks (Chen 1993: 5–10). The final product, however, is what the Communist Party chooses to cobble together, regardless of origin, and label as a distinctly modern Chinese approach. In choosing an instrument to deliver good governance, the Party leadership rejected allowing either the rise of a new strongman, or a more democratic system. Instead, it chose the Communist Party itself (Xinhuanet 2006). As a governance instrument, it requires constant reform and updating. The Party seeks to meet new challenges, by attempting to broaden its membership base, promoting a new generation of leaders, reformulating its ideological content, appealing to nationalist impulses in society, strengthening its organizational apparatus throughout the country, and opening the channels of discourse within the party and between the party–state and society. (Shambaugh 2008: 9)

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Such an approach, which is reinforced by increasing institutionalization and merit-based promotion, as demonstrated in the peaceful generational transfer of power in the Sixteenth Party Congress of 2002, has helped to create what Andrew Nathan has called “resilient authoritarianism” (Nathan 2003: 6–17) – an increasingly stable kind of authoritarianism that is distinct from strongman politics. To this end, the Communist Party is prepared to introduce reforms in the political arena that aim at enhancing its own capacity, and that of the state, to govern effectively. It should be emphasized that such reforms are not political in nature, but rather concerned with governance. They are not meant to lead to democratization, but to better administration and other reforms to pre-empt the need for democratization (Tan and Xiao 2006: 215–16). The Party uses “a mix of measures to shore up popular support, resolve local protests, and incorporate the beneficiaries of economic reform into the political system” (Dickson 2005: 37). Reforms, including anti-corruption drives and efforts to enhance the Party’s awareness of public opinion, are deemed necessary to improve the Party’s capacity to govern. At the same time, however, the Party also “forcefully represses efforts to challenge its authority and monopoly on political power and organization” (Dickson 2005: 37). The biggest difference between Jiang Zemin’s approach and that of his successor, Hu Jintao, lies in the latter’s tendency to act by selectively revitalizing some Maoist ideas or practices in order to strengthen the capacity of the Communist Party. These practices include, for example, placing a new emphasis on reviving the principle of democratic centralism (Wang 2006: 354), as well as a public commitment to redressing the neglect and abuse faced by the rural population left behind in the rush to the fastest possible growth under Jiang. This represents a strong recognition that the Party must deliver social justice in order to pre-empt discontent in the countryside from developing into a source of instability (Shambaugh 2008: 114–15). Hu Jintao takes the view that “the biggest danger to the Party . . . has been losing touch with the masses” and the Party leadership must therefore “focus on the core issue of the inextricable link between the Party and the masses” (quoted in Nathan and Gilley 2002: 193–4). His approach also reflects an awareness of how effective some of the Maoist mobilization and propaganda methods were, before they acquired a strong negative connotation as instruments that made possible the disasters of the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. It was, in effect, Leninism modified to incorporate effective consultation of the general public by practising democratic centralism.

What does this imply? Specifically the development model devised by the post-Deng leadership seeks to support rapid and sustainable growth as the basis for ensuring public support for the continuation of Communist Party rule without resort to the ballot box. In return, the party devotes itself to deliver the following objectives:

China after Deng Xiaoping 85 • • • •

to build a framework for political and social stability, including institutionalizing the framework for periodic changes of leadership, the rule of law, and the reduction of corruption; to enhance the administrative capacity, including institutionalizing promotion on the basis of merit, so that the state (led by the Party) can deliver real improvements in the living conditions of the people; to strengthen the capacity of state and Party to reach out to the general population and win support; and to reinvigorate the ideological framework so as to secure the loyalty of the people.

The greater emphasis laid on institutionalization unquestionably helps to make Chinese politics less volatile. It has resulted in the peaceful and relatively uneventful transfer of power between Jiang’s third-generation and Hu’s fourthgeneration leadership. The significance of this development should not be overlooked: Jiang and Hu are the first two anointed successors to have successfully taken paramount office in the PRC in six decades; it marks a break from the past, when all anointed successors, from Liu Shaoqi to Zhao Ziyang, ended their careers in dramatic and, in most cases, tragic circumstances. If the pattern set by the succession of Jiang and Hu to the leadership is sustained (and there is, so far, no strong evidence to suggest it will not be) this will make the politics of succession nearly predictable, even if this involves considerable behind-the-scenes horse-trading. Jiang’s resistance to handing over all powers and positions to Hu in 2002–3 suggests that he was tempted to continue asserting himself as the paramount leader (Ru and Zhai 2002: 50–2), but the fact that he had to relinquish all such offices, including the Chairmanship of the Central Military Commission, by 2004, confirms that those who favor institutionalizing the succession process were eventually victorious. The new practice being institutionalized also provides for future top leaders to serve as apprentices or deputies to the top leader for five years before ascending to the paramount position in state and Party. The handing over of power may not be a democratic process, but it is becoming structured, stable, and largely predictable. Another important element of the institutionalization process is the increasing importance on law enforcement and containing corruption. In sharp contrast to the Maoist days, when the law was reduced to irrelevance, major steps have been taken by the Communist Party to bolster the rule of law (Chen 2006: 195–6). To be sure, the Communist Party and its top leadership remain above the law and there is no indication that they are willing, individually or collectively, to subject themselves to the law, though one of their own may face the force of the law in special circumstances. A notable and highly illustrative example is the case of party secretary for Shanghai and Politburo member Chen Liangyu, who was dismissed in 2006 and finally jailed in 2008 for 18 years for corruption and abuse of office (Barboza 2008). Chen’s case confirms that the Party will subject one of its own top leaders to the judicial system when it is politically convenient for the top leadership. On

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this occasion, it helped Hu to consolidate his power as Chen was a protégé of Jiang Zemin, and his sacking signalled the end of Jiang’s “Shanghai faction” as an effective political force. It also helps the Party to portray itself as prepared to punish corrupt officials – even those near the top. This case was essentially similar to the downfall of former Beijing party secretary and Politburo member Chen Xitong. Chen was removed from office in 1995, and sentenced in 1998 to 16 years’ imprisonment for corruption and dereliction of duty (Faison 1998). Chen Xitong was required to face the force of the law for some of his corrupt deeds because it was in the interests of Jiang and the Communist Party for him to do so. These two high-profile cases also reveal the limits of the law and the anticorruption drive in China. Lower-ranked officials guilty of corruption have been punished much more severely, with some executed for the same crimes. What is being put in place in post-Deng China is not the rule of law, which is essential for a democracy to function properly and flourish. Instead, it is something stronger than the current commitment to allow the law to be enforced in cases where politics is not involved. It other words, in cases with no wider political implications, the law is increasingly being upheld and the Communist Party is seeking to govern through law enforcement rather than in spite of the law (Lubman 2006: 6–7). The decision to add corruption to abuse of power or dereliction of duty as a basis for the prosecution of the two Chens reflects a recognition on the part of the Party that it must be seen to be tackling corruption, even as bureaucratic corruption remains entrenched. Systemic corruption, as distinct from corruption on the part of greedy individuals, cannot be eradicated as China lacks the necessary institutional checks and balances, the rule of law, and judicial review or similar processes. However, for a population used to corruption and abuse of power, a well presented, highprofile attempt to contain the ills of corruption goes a long way in rectifying the credibility deficit of the government and the Communist Party. The ascendance of the third- and fourth-generation leaders also marked a major change from the past in that the top positions were held almost exclusively by revolutionary cadres. This generational transfer of power saw technocrats replace revolutionaries in all the top government and party offices by the time Jiang became the undisputed centre of the third-generation leadership in 1997. The technocrats have a different outlook from that of the “old revolutionaries” (Zheng 2000: 12). They also recognize that none of them can really either assume Deng’s mantle as the paramount leader (Shirk 2007: 46), or justify their hold on power with reference to their revolutionary pedigree as founders of the PRC, or their status as veterans of the “revolutionary war” or the Long March. Instead, they must do so by demonstrating their competence and political skill in keeping others in line. This implies a greater acceptance of the idea of a meritocracy based on expert knowledge in government, or some other relevant field. Since the legitimacy of Communist Party rule after 1989 has been based, in part, on a de facto social contract that the people will acquiesce in the continuation of the Party’s monopoly of

China after Deng Xiaoping 87 power as long as the Party delivers continuous improvements in living conditions, improving the governing capacity of the Party is vital. The other element that sustains this de facto social contract – the Party’s political dominance, which should not be challenged as it has the will and the means to use force to suppress any such attempt – also requires a strengthening of the administrative capacity of the Party. As the technocrats lack the standing that Deng Xiaoping enjoyed among the armed forces – which empowered him to deploy the army in the brutal crackdown of 4 June 1989, despite early statements of reservations from within the military establishment – the technocratic leadership has strong incentives to pre-empt any crisis that might require a resort to military force. The Party leadership’s need to enhance its governance capacity demands a greater emphasis on merit in recruitment and promotion within the Party and government (Shambaugh 2008: 142–3). This does not spell the end of privilege, or make family background irrelevant. The so-called princelings faction – that is, those senior cadres who are the descendants of revolutionary leaders – has not visibly suffered from the adoption of a more meritocratic approach in selecting top-level leaders. On the contrary, many senior cadres of princeling backgrounds have enjoyed privileged upbringings, career backgrounds, and family connections enabling them to build up the necessary technical competence and political skills to operate effectively within the Party. This puts them in advantageous positions to gain promotion on the basis of merit. The elevation Xi Jinping at the 17th Party Congress (2007) to become the unofficial heir apparent to Hu Jintao shows the Party’s meritocracy in action. The promotion of Xi, a princeling, despite Hu’s personal preference for anointing non-princeling Li Keqiang, has been widely attributed to two things: “the economic success of two coastal provinces where he served as party secretary; and his appeal – or at least factional neutrality – within China’s Communist Party” (Liu and Ansfield 2007). By accepting a system that enables more able administrators and political operators to rise more quickly, the Party is able to ensure that its upper echelons are filled by those individuals best able to work effectively within the existing political system. Another factor that has strengthened the general governance capacity of the Party is Hu Jintao’s personal qualities and approach as the top leader. He is both politically astute and decisive, though highly cautious. As the paramount leader, he appears to have learned a key lesson from the political infighting in the run-up to the growth of the Tiananmen protests of 1989: by acting decisively and in unity, the Party can reduce the risk of popular challenges getting out of control. As it is, in the spring of 1989, internal divisions at the top became apparent to the public when the Party failed to act quickly and decisively at the start of the protests (Nathan and Link 2001: xxxvi). The swift and effectively choreographed response to the Sichuan earthquake of May 2008 reveals that the top leadership was working collectively in defining the framework for responding to, and reporting on, that horrendous natural disaster. When confronted with his first crisis since coming to power, Hu seized the opportunity to strengthen the

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capacity of state and Party to reach out to the general population and win their support, rather than dithering, which would have eroded the credibility of his government. By dispatching Premier Wen Jiabao to the scene of the disaster while he remained in supreme control in Beijing, Hu projected the image of a government that cared about the victims – government in which the top leadership worked closely together. The response focused public attention on central government efforts and directed media coverage to showcase the rescue efforts rather than the suffering of the victims (Spencer 2008). It also distracted even the international media from raising obvious questions about China’s less-than-perfect rescue operations. The Chinese government’s decision not to invite, nor permit, foreign rescue teams to Sichuan immediately after the scale of the earthquake became known meant irreplaceable time, in which victims might have been rescued from collapsed buildings, was lost. In the end, foreign rescue teams were allowed to reach the scene of the earthquake in any numbers only on day four, when relatively few survivors trapped in collapsed buildings or buried under rumble could be recovered alive. Whatever the government’s calculations were in making such a decision, adroit management of news images of the rescue operations ensured that the importance of this particular callous policy decision went largely unnoticed. By laying claim to the moral high ground and turning public reaction to the disaster into a collective nationalist response, Hu’s government generally won widespread praise and support from the country, and deflected the inevitable criticisms of the failings of the rescue and relief operations on the ground. Where such criticisms could not be silenced, they were directed against the inadequate performance of lower-level officials in Sichuan, and thus avoided having criticism directed against the overall performance of the central government. This helped to sustain the central government’s positive image and moral authority, which, in turn, reinforced its governance capacity and legitimacy. In addition, by beaming images of “Grandpa Wen” in the disaster zone, the Chinese government reached out to the general public nationwide in a paternalistic way. Through its well-oiled propaganda machine, it created a heroic image of the government striving to save the victims of a natural disaster. Some of these images are reminiscent of the early Maoist period, when top-level leaders were portrayed side-by-side with the ordinary people, cheerfully confronting the challenges nature posed to China’s development. More importantly, the effective operation of the propaganda machine enabled the government to claim, unobtrusively, credit for galvanizing the national response once the outpouring of sympathy gave way to self-organized and non-government organization (NGO) efforts to aid the victims. With its moral authority established, the government was able to lead, and require NGOs to co-operate, without appearing too heavyhanded. This reveals a good deal of improvement in governance capacity, as NGOs were allowed much greater scope to act in a time of crisis, and confirms that the government recognized, to a degree, the need to allow a greater scope for civil

China after Deng Xiaoping 89 society to operate during a natural disaster. It also reveals the existence of a strategy within the government to play a leadership role in directing the efforts of NGOs. The approach Hu adopted treats civil society like a caged bird: the Party is prepared to enlarge the cage if it deems that useful, but it remains a cage all the same. In this way, it ensures that civil society has sufficient scope to operate in non-critical realms, but the development of civil society does not thereby pose a threat to the continuation of Communist Party rule. The last thrust of the post-Deng leadership’s efforts to increase its governance capacity is to promote nationalism as the new ideological force that binds the country together under the leadership of the Communist Party. Since communism, in effect, ceased being the state ideology sometime between the Tiananmen protests of 1989 and the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, the Communist Party needed to put in place a new ideological framework. This was, in part, a reaction to events in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union as the Party establishment began to fear social disintegration following “the decline of the traditional ideology” (Zheng 1999: 51). It was also because the Party intended to pre-empt the possibility of Western values and beliefs captivating Chinese citizens living in an ideological void (Chen 1996: 74). In any event, the provision of an ideological binding force was needed to enable the Leninist system to function as effectively as before, as the existence of a state ideology is an integral aspect of that system. The choice of nationalism as the new state ideology was meant to enhance the Communist Party’s capacity to stay in power on two mutually reinforcing levels. It provides a new ideological basis for legitimacy on one hand, and serves as a new rallying force to develop national aspirations around the leadership of the Party on the other. After the cleavages created between the Party and the ordinary people by the Tiananmen Massacre, Party leaders found nationalism “the most reliable claim to the Chinese people’s loyalty and the only important value shared by the regime and its critics” (Zhao 2005–6: 134). They thus “moved quickly to position themselves as the defenders of China’s national pride” (Zhao 2005–6: 134). This involved reviving xenophobia, which manifested itself spectacularly in the Boxer Uprising of 1900 and “continued as a dominant posture in state ideology during much of the People’s Republic” (Brook 1998: 210). It has been reinforced by the efforts of the leadership to use it as a rallying point to pursue greater national power and prosperity since 1989. More specifically, the Party launched an extensive propaganda and educational campaign to indoctrinate the people in patriotism and instil in them a new sense of citizenship, one that requires citizens of the PRC to participate in affirming “the rightness and acceptability of the state, its values, policies and agencies” (Kelly 2006: 201). At the core of this campaign was a drive to emphasize “how China’s unique national conditions make it unprepared to adopt Western style liberal democracy,” and how China’s existing political system helped to “maintain political stability, a prerequisite for rapid economic development” (Zhao 2005–6: 135). By “[r]einforcing China’s national confidence and turning past humiliation and current weakness into a driving force for China’s modernization” the Party

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has turned nationalism into “an effective instrument for enhancing [its] legitimacy” (Zhao 2005–6: 135). The intention was to instil in the mind of the Chinese people a sense of pride in China and its development that is inseparable from the leadership of the Communist Party; a strong feeling of support for “my government, right or wrong.” The success of this nationalist indoctrination campaign manifested itself dramatically in 2008, the year the Communist Party intended to launch the rebranded modern China on the occasion of the Beijing Olympics. The force of nationalism, however, could not be contained until the opening ceremony of the Olympics, as originally planned. The rise of China in the early twenty-first century had generated so much pride that the nationalists could not wait. Chinese nationalists asserted themselves internationally when the Olympic torch relay outside of China generated unfavorable foreign comments and reactions in April. Much of this negative reaction was directed at how the Chinese authorities had organized the torch relay, which featured the inclusion of elite members of the People’s Armed Police dressed as torch attendants. Chinese nationalists reacted angrily against protestors demonstrating in foreign cities against various Chinese government policies, including those concerning Tibet (Ramzy 2008). What they readily ignored was that by sending elite police officers, who often instructed local police on how the torch should be guarded during the overseas relay, China was interfering in those countries’ domestic affairs. If the situation were reversed, with another country hosting the Olympics sending police officers to tell the Beijing police how to guard a torch relay in Beijing, there would have been a huge uproar and much resentment. The number of Chinese citizens responding nationalistically to protests during the torch relay showed that they chose to “side with the government when foreigners criticize it, believing that, no matter how corrupt [or misguided] the government is, foreigners have no right to make unwarranted remarks about China and its people” (Zhao 2005–6: 136). While the Party has successfully strengthened its governance capacity, it has not, as yet, produced a clear and well-thought-through development model. The underlying principle governing its “development model” is essentially the same as that which followed in the heyday of Deng’s reforms: Explore all options gingerly; test them, and adopt those that appear to work. This is best summed up in the phrase “crossing a stream by feeling for stones under the water.” The important difference between the 1980s and the 2000s lies in the greater capacity of the Party to judge which experimental policies work, and to take effective action to implement them. The technical competence of the cadres and their mental horizons under Hu were substantially greater than those of their predecessors of the previous generation. Another useful concept for understanding the Chinese approach is found in the birdcage analogy used earlier. In this analogy, the bird represents the various experiments required to establish a modern development model, while the cage is the scope and framework within which these experiments play out, and push the boundaries. The Communist Party is the master of both bird and cage, and

China after Deng Xiaoping 91 keen to see the bird put on a good show and make progress, but not to damage the cage or slip free. As the bird grows, its vigor makes the case for a larger cage, and so the cage is steadily enlarged; but power ultimately remains in the master’s hands, and he retains the right and capacity to reduce the size of the cage, if required to still a restless bird. This analogy was first employed by party veteran Chen Yun to explain how the Communist Party should handle economic policies, but it illustrates well the attitude the Party leadership has adopted since the death of Mao in balancing the need for the Party to retain ultimate control on the one hand, and to allow the reform process sufficient scope for the economy to develop on the other. With greater self-confidence and increased competence, the Communist Party under Hu was willing to allow greater scope for experimentation in finding ways to enable China to develop without moving towards a liberal democratic system. Corporatist ideas were taken on board where they appeared to work. A larger scope was allowed for civil society to operate so long as the Party felt confident that it could keep civil society in line when and where required. The reinvigoration of Maoist or of highly modified Confucian ideas had also been adopted where the Party believed these could enhance the ability of the Party to govern more effectively, or to improve its moral authority. But the bottom line remained unchanged – the Communist Party must remain dominant, even if intra-party reforms, such as greater “inner party democracy” appeared to portray the paramount leader as more responsive than his predecessors. Indeed, the increased scope for debate among party leaders was one of the means through which the Communist Party sought a Chinese development model. While the political and developmental approach adopted by the post-Deng leadership is to pre-empt democratization in the Western liberal sense, it does include elements that are commonly seen in democratization movements. These include expanding good governance practices, and allowing greater scope for the exercise of civil liberties and political participation. In terms of greater political participation, the most important general elections in China are not those for the National People’s Congress, but for the Communist Party’s National Congress. At the 17th Party Congress, held in October 2007, the party leadership allowed 15 per cent of nominees to fail to win election (Thornton 2008: 8–9). The Chinese government has also experimented with township-level elections since the turn of the century, on the basis of experiments with village-level elections introduced in the 1980s, however limited these might be as genuine democratic exercises (Shi 2000: 244–6). The greater emphasis on the rule of law, together with improvements in the criminal justice system, also mean that there has been a substantial reduction in human rights abuses, even though dissidents and political activists are treated no less harshly than under Deng. The substantial improvements have come about simply by reducing the number of gross abuses, which used to be endemic in the criminal justice system because of the poor training and standards of judicial personnel, rather than from political interference in the judicial system. Such changes should be recognized, as they do bring real improvements to the quality

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of political life for the general public, even if the primary intention is to strengthen the capacity of the Party to remain in power indefinitely.

Applicability elsewhere The apparent success of the approach of the post-Deng Communist Party needs to be put into context. The first factor to take into account is the reality that the Chinese government has not faced any real crises since 1992, when the aftershocks of the 1989 protests passed, worries due to the collapse of Communism in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union eased, and Deng re-launched the postMao reforms. With the economy growing at, or near, double-digit rates since then, the Party appears to have managed to deliver on its side of the bargain in the de facto social contract, and living conditions have clearly improved for most, though not all. The ability of the top leadership to act collectively despite internal differences and factional struggles also sustains the public belief that the Party has the means and the political will to suppress any challenge to its hold on power. The 2008 Sichuan earthquake challenged the Party’s governance capacity (a challenge that was largely met), but no one has challenged the Party’s dominance of the country’s politics. The first real test may come if China’s economy slows significantly over a sustained period, or enters a deep recession, which might then set off a groundswell of social movements and dramatically increased political tensions within the Party’s leadership. Another factor that needs to be borne in mind is the grip of “China fever” on the world at large. Although the rise of China is real and the progress it has made since the early 1980s has been dramatic, these achievements appear magnified when viewed from afar – particularly when interpreted through the prism of business leaders infatuated with the potential of the Chinese market, or factories. These distorted assessments of China’s successes (be they presented as real achievements or heightened threats) have two effects. First, foreign investors invest more readily in China and thus provide the capital, human resources, technical know-how, and other needed resources to fuel China’s rapid economic expansion. This ever-increasing injection of foreign capital and resources has so far enabled China to grow quickly without a proportionate increase in manufacturing productivity, though there has been a significant gain in general productivity as a result of reallocating resources from inefficient state-owned enterprises to more productive uses in the private sector (Morrison 2008: 5). This dynamic also has the effect of further distorting perceptions of China’s achievements as success begets apparent success and thus affects the judgement of almost everyone concerned. As a result, the Communist Party leadership acts with greater confidence and its policies are implemented with relatively little domestic resistance while the outside world increasingly talks of China as the next superpower. This seems to put China on a virtuous circle in terms of economic development, as well as increasing its governance capacity and generating a benign international environment. Will this benign environment hold when the Chinese economy eventually loses momentum and enters a recession? If this should put an end to China fever,

China after Deng Xiaoping 93 it may well lead to a strategic rethink among multinationals now heavily invested in China. An end to net inward capital flow or, worse still, a reversal of capital flows could occur with little warning if the psychology underpinning China fever should come up short. If so, the scale of the problems that China will face will be magnified, as the virtuous circle will spiral into a vicious circle. The capacity for the reinvigorated Communist Party leadership to deal with such a challenge remains untested. Thus, while post-Deng governance reforms in China have certainly enhanced the capacity of the Communist Party and the Chinese government to direct economic development and maintain order and stability, it is too early to say how effective and sustainable such changes will be beyond the immediate future. The development model that the post-Deng leadership has devised merely stresses increasing the governance capacity of the ruling Leninist party without changing the nature of the political system. It requires the Communist Party to get its policies on the economy, politics, and society right most of the time. The built-in safety valve to channel popular resentment towards a major policy or economic failure that exists in a democracy – a change of government via the ballot box – is absent from China. The only “safety valve” in operation is that of nationalism, but apart from diverting public frustration and anger away from the Communist Party and the central government – most often by channelling them against foreign powers or capitalists, and blaming them for turning a benign international environment into a hostile one – what other options are available should the Party should fail to sustain rapid economic growth? Being largely untested, the post-Deng approach is obviously not well suited to application elsewhere, particularly as most other countries emerging from an era of strongman politics will almost certainly not enjoy the exceptionally benign international environment and astonishing economic growth produced by China fever. It is also inherently risky and difficult to sustain a strategy with so little tolerance for getting economic, political, or social policies wrong. Aside from post-Deng China, the Singaporean government under the PAP appears to be the only notable exception to the law of probabilities, or of fallibility. This scepticism does not imply that the post-Deng brand of reinvigorated authoritarianism will collapse the first time it fails to pass a major test in the form of an economic crisis. On the contrary, the regime is likely to survive, as it is dominated by an effective, well-organized, and ruthless Leninist party that is prepared to use whatever means necessary to stay in power. It will only collapse if other forces converge with a major economic crisis to produce prolonged political paralysis at the top and a groundswell of challenges from below. Whether the rise of the new rich in China over the last two decades has produced a genuine middle class with the usual middle-class ambitions and proclivity to assert itself politically remains to be seen. Even if the reinvigorated consultative Leninist state can contain the bottom-up social demands in a crisis, a resilient authoritarianism battling to survive is hardly a model for development elsewhere. For China to offer a real model for development it needs to show it will pass the serious tests it will confront in the future. Be that as it may, political reality

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will of course not deter the leaders of authoritarian states elsewhere from citing China as a model for the foreseeable future, at least so long as it maintains a high growth rate and brings visible improvements to the living conditions of its people.

Notes 1 The significant public outburst of nationalism when the Olympic torch relay outside of China met with large-scale public protests in April 2008 confirms the xenophobic nature of China’s new nationalism. This is addressed later in this chapter. For a strong representation of some Chinese nationalists’ frustrations, see “My friends, what do you want from us?” in China Digital Times, 12 April 2008, http://chinadigitaltimes. net/2008/04/my-friends-what-do-you-want-from-us/ (accessed 16 May 2008). 2 The fact that communism itself was an import from Europe was glossed over in China’s textbooks while the “Sinification” of it under Mao was emphasized so that communism itself is not generally seen in China as China slavishly borrowing from Europe. 3 For a detailed and critical examination of how Confucianism has been appropriated by governments in different times and context, including in the PRC, see Cecelia Yin-fan Wong, Confucianism and Democratization (unpublished Oxford University DPhil thesis, 2007).

Bibliography Barboza, David (2008) “Former party boss in China gets 18 years”, New York Times, 12 April 2008, www.nytimes.com/2008/04/12/world/asia/12shanghai.html (accessed 28 May 2008). Brook, Timothy (1998) Quelling the People: The Military Suppression of the Beijing Democracy Movement, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 210. Chan, Alfred L. (2001) Mao’s Crusade: Politics and Policy Implementation in China’s Great Leap Forward, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Chen, Feng (1993) “Xinjiapo Remin Xindongdang minzhu shehuizhuyi mowu jichi jiejian yiyi”, Guoji Gongyun Shi Yanjiu, no. 1. Chen, Shaoming (1996) “Minzu zhuyi: Fuxing zhi dao?”, Dong Fang, 2: 74. Chen, Yonghong (2006) Lun Xianzheng yu Zhengzhi Wenming, Beijing: Renmin chubanshe. Dickson, Bruce (2005) “Populist authoritarianism: China’s domestic political scene”, conference paper dated 23 May, quoted in Shambaugh, China’s Communist Party: Atrophy and Adaptation, Washington DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press Faison, Seth (1998) “Jailing of ex-mayor shows a tougher China”, New York Times, 1 August, http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9F05E1DA1038F932A3575B C0A96E958260 (accessed 28 May 2008). Fewsmith, Joseph (2001) China Since Tiananmen: The Politics of Transition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fukuyama, Francis (1992) The End of History and the Last Man, New York: Free Press. Hu, Jintao (2005) “Building harmonious society crucial for China’s progress: Hu”, 27 June 2005, http://english.people.com.cn/200506/27/eng20050627_192495.html (accessed 16 May 2008). Hu, Jintao (2006) “Speech by Chinese President Hu Jintao at Yale University”, 21 April, www.fmprc.gov.cn/eng/zxxx/t259224.htm (accessed 3 June 2008).

China after Deng Xiaoping 95 Kelly, David (2006) “Citizen movements and China’s public intellectuals in the Hu-Wen era”, Pacific Affairs, 79(2): 201. Li, Rui (1993) Mao Zedong de Gongguo Shifei, Hong Kong: Tiandi tushu. Liu, Melinda and Ansfield, Jonathan (2007) “A princeling of the people”, Newsweek, 5 November, www.newsweek.com/id/62256 (accessed 28 May 2008). Lubman, Stanley (2006) “Looking for law in China”, Columbian Journal of Asian Law, 20(1): 6–7. Maddison, Angus (2001) The World Economy Volume 1: A Millennial Perspective, Paris: OECD. Magnier, Mark (2008) “China tightens media limits loosened after earthquake”, Los Angeles Times, 5 June, www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fgrollback5–2008jun05,0,4764776.story (accessed 6 June 2008). Mitchell, Tom and Dickie, Mure (2008) “ ‘Just Emperor’ in Beijing escapes blame”, Financial Times, 30 May, 5. Morrison, Wayne M. (2008) CSR Report for Congress: China’s Economic Conditions, Washington: Congressional Research Service, 13 May, 5. Nathan, Andrew J. (2003) “China’s resilient authoritarianism”, Journal of Democracy, 14(1): 6–17. Nathan, Andrew J. and Gilley, Bruce (eds) (2002) China’s New Rulers: The Secret Files, London: Granta Books. Nathan, Andrew and Link, Perry (eds) (2001) The Tiananmen Papers, London: Little, Brown and Company, xxxvi. Nelan, Bruce W. (1991) “China comes the evolution” in Time, 25 November, www.time. com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,974330–1,00.html (accessed 23 May 2008). News of the Communist Party of China (2006) “Three represents”, 26 June 2006, http:// english.cpc.people.com.cn/66739/4521344.html (accessed 16 May 2008). Pan, Wei (2008) “Genyu Xinfang fanzhan zhengzhi guannian jingzheng,” Huanqiu Shibao, 28 January, reproduced in www.chinaelections.org/NewsInfo. asp?NewsID=122158 (accessed 3 June 2008). People’s Republic of China (1982) Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, 4 December, http://english.people.com.cn/constitution/constitution.html (accessed 16 May 2008). Ramzy, Austin (2008) “China’s view of the Olympic Torch War”, Time, 9 April, www. time.com/time/printout/0,8816,1729169,00.html (accessed 10 Apr. 2008). Ru, Bing and Zhai, Yu (2002) Beijing Neibu Juece Touxi, Hong Kong: Xinghua Caiyin chubanshe. Saich, Tony (2004) Governance and Politics of China (2nd enlarged edition), Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Shambaugh, David (2008) China’s Communist Party: Atrophy and Adaptation, Washington DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press. Shi, Tianjian (2000) “Economic development and village elections in rural China”, in Suisheng Zhao (ed.) China and Democracy: Reconsidering the Prospects for a Democratic China, New York: Routledge. Shirk, Susan (2007) China: Fragile Superpower, New York: Oxford University Press, 46. Spencer, Richard (2008) “China orders journalists to end negative quake coverage”, Sunday Telegraph, 8 June 2008, www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/ china/2091084/China- earthquake-journalists- orderered–to- end-negative- quakecoverage.html (accessed 9 June 2008).

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Tan, Xianmin and Xiao, Guangrong (2006) Zhongguo Gongchandang zhizheng guilu tansuo, Changsha: Hunan renmin chubanshe. Thornton, John L. (2008) “Long time coming: the prospects for democracy in China”, Foreign Affairs, 87(1): 8–9. Tsang, Steve (ed.) (1995) A Documentary History of Hong Kong: Government and Politics, Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Wang, Yang (2006) Xin shiqi Dang de ganbu zhidu jianshe, Beijing: Zhonggong dangshi chubanshe. Wong, Cecelia Yin-fan (2007) Confucianism and Democratization, Oxford, unpublished Oxford University DPhil thesis. Xinhuanet (2006) “Zhonggong zhongyang guanyu goujian shehuizhuyi hexie shehui ruogan zhongda wenti de jueding”, Xinhuanet, 18 October, http://news.xinhuanet.com/ politics/2006–10/18/content_5218639.htm (accessed 7 August 2007). Yang, Jisheng (2004) Zhongguo Gaige Niandoi de Zhengchi Douzheng, Hong Kong: Excellent Culture Press. Yuan, Weishi (2006) “Xiandaihua yu lishi jiaokeshu”, 11 January 2006, http://edu.people. com.cn/GB/1055/4016350.html (accessed 16 May 2008). Zhao, Suisheng (2005–6) “China’s pragmatic nationalism: is it manageable?” Washington Quarterly, 29(1): 134. Zheng, Yongnian (1999) Discovering Chinese Nationalism in China: Modernization, Identity, and International Relations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 51. Zheng, Yongnian (2000) Jiang-Zhu zhixia de Zhongguo, Hong Kong: Taipingyang shiji chubanshe, 12. Zong, Fengming (2007a) Zhao Ziyang: Captive Conversations (in Chinese, original English title), Hong Kong: Open Publishers. Zong, Fengming (2007b) Zhao Ziyang ruanjinzhong de tanhua, Hong Kong: Kaifang chubanshe.

Part III

Southeast Asia

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6

The Philippines after Marcos Unchanged after changes Samuel C.Y. Ku

Introduction The Philippines initiated a series of political reforms after the fall of its former dictator, Ferdinand Marcos, in the People Power Revolution of February 1986. Mrs Corazon Aquino, the next President of the Philippines, organized a committee to draft a new Constitution, which was ratified by over three-quarters (78 percent) of the voters in a referendum in February 1987. Since then, the Philippines has conducted four presidential elections on the basis of this new Constitution, in 1992, 1998, 2004, and 2010, as well as legislative elections every three years. After more than twenty years of authoritarian rule under Ferdinand Marcos (from 1965 to 1986) the Philippines seems to have evolved into a democratic polity. And yet, those interested in the politics of the Philippines remain concerned: has the Philippines really changed since the fall of Ferdinand Marcos? A great many works have been written on changes and developments in the Philippine political economy since the mid-1980s. While some remain optimistic about the changes that have taken place in the Philippines since 1986, others are less enthusiastic (Ringuet and Estrada 2003: 233–250; Linantud 2005: 80–101). The Philippines has changed, to some extent, since Mrs Aquino assumed the presidency. Constitutionally, for example, the Philippines currently (2013) holds regularly scheduled elections at various levels: for the head of state, Congress, and councils at different levels. The Philippines seems to have become a democracy, or at least an electoral democracy. Certainly economically, Filipinos seem to be better off since the late 1980s, as the nation’s GNP per capita increased from US$515 in 1986 to US$1,351 in 2006. However, despite the changes since the People Power Revolution, it can be argued that the Philippines remains essentially unchanged. Politics in the Philippines are still overly determined by power games and struggles among a very few members of the elite – much as it was during the Marcos era. Economically, Filipinos continue to suffer, despite the progress made prior to the Asian financial crisis in 1997. Philippine society is still beset by persistent rebellions, including eight attempted military coups over the course of the last two decades.1 In light of these developments – or rather, this lack of development – this chapter

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also argues that the Philippines cannot be designated a liberal, consolidated democracy, contradictory to what Filipinos might have expected of twenty years of political reform.2 This chapter aims to examine the Philippines since February 1986 from three perspectives – politics, the economy, and society. It is divided into three sections, with each section focusing on one dimension. This chapter will make use of a theoretical framework of a consolidated democracy to examine the political developments in the Philippines over nearly three decades, and ultimately endorse the argument that the Philippines is little changed. Meaningful change in the politics of the country may not be impossible, but rather depends on the will of the leaders, legislators, and people.

Politics controlled by an elite few The Philippines was the showcase of democracy in Asia after the Second World War, when the archipelago claimed its independence thanks to the assistance of the United States, its former colonial ruler. During the first twenty years after independence, Filipinos were proud of the democratic operations governing the terms of office of their heads of state, legislators, and executives at various levels. Ferdinand Marcos was the first Philippine President to be successfully reelected, but in September 1972, before his second term (1969–1973) came to an end, martial law was declared. Thereafter, Marcos prolonged his presidency for another fourteen years until he was driven from office and forced to flee the country by the People Power Revolution of February 1986. During the twenty-one years of Marcos’ rule, Philippine politics were greatly altered, moving from a civil democracy to an authoritarian regime dominated by one man. The most significant criticism of the Marcos regime concerns the strong dominance of Marcos and his associates over Philippine politics, which limited power sharing to a few well-connected individuals. Marcos distributed political benefits and advantages to those loyal to him through a personalized network of patron–client relationships, while denying others an opportunity to become involved in decision-making processes. Marcos also suspended elections by maintaining the declaration of martial law, dissolved the Congress, and then appointed government officials and legislators to the various levels of government. Finally, while political parties were banned during the period of martial law, Marcos established his own political oligarchy through the New Society Movement (Stauffer 1977), a political vehicle designed to extend his political power throughout almost all social organizations, from Manila and in cities across the Philippines. After the first People Power Revolution overthrew Marcos in February 1986, the Philippines, under its new president, Corazon Aquino, began to implement political reforms and democratization across the once-democratic archipelago. As a result, the country has made a number of changes in its politics since the late 1980s. For instance, political parties may be freely established, and as a result the Philippines is a multi-party country with more than ten major political

The Philippines after Marcos 101 parties (Rivera 2002). Filipinos have also restored their legitimate right to directly elect the president, senators, House members, governors, city mayors, and councilmen at the different levels of government. The Philippines has, since democratization, successfully conducted four presidential elections in 1992, 1998, 2004, and 2010, and seven nationwide legislative elections in 1992, 1995, 1998, 2001, 2004, 2007, and 2010: manifestations of fuller political participation for the Filipino people. While it is true that the Philippines has made some political changes and has moved towards democracy since the end of Marcos’ long dominance, it has not yet made some of the more significant changes expected. Politically, the Philippines is still controlled by a elite core of politicians, mainly drawn from already wealthy or influential families. This class still dominates access to the political inner circles, making it difficult for new entrants to access the decision-making process. Prior to the People Power Revolution, Marcos and his associates dominated the Philippines, but now a few elite families continue to control the political arena, thus maintaining a similar political hierarchy and power structure, albeit one that includes new faces. Filipinos at the bottom of society are still excluded from the center of power, demonstrating that there is much that has not changed in the system of political patronage in the Philippines, despite the occasional popular eruption, such as the case of the impeachment of President Joseph Estrada in late 2000.3 The 1987 constitution contains other incentives to broaden the power base. For example, it establishes term limits for elected officials: a maximum of three consecutive terms for House members (of three years per term), and two consecutive terms for senators (of six years per term). The key reasons for this new regulation in the Constitution are to avoid a long period of political dominance by a few people on the one hand, and to expand the political participation of the Filipino masses on the other. As a result, the Philippine Congress does bring new members into its power centers. Thus, the number and percentage of the firstterm Congressmen in the Philippines has shown a tendency to increase: from 47 out of a total of 201 (or 23.3 percent) in the 10th Congress (from July 1995 to June 1998); to 124 (or 55 percent) in the 12th Congress (from July 2001 to June 2004); 82 out of 230 (or 36 percent) in the 13th Congress (from July 2004 to June 2007); and 116 out of 240 (or 48 percent) in the 14th Congress (from July 2007 to June 2010).4 Conversely, the number and percentage of third-term congressmen in the Philippines has been on the decline, from 82 (or 40.7 percent) in the 10th Congress, to 60 (or 26 percent) in the 13th Congress, and 67 (or 28 percent) in the 14th Congress.5 Analyzing the backgrounds of the members of Congress, it appears that power structures in the Philippines have changed little with time. The key reason is that most Philippine congressmen are from, or have connections with, the traditional grand families. When elected officials are term-limited – for example, when a House member is not allowed to serve a fourth term – he or she is likely to ask a relative or close friend to run for the seat in Congress. For instance, after Congressman Didagen Piang Dilangalen was elected to three consecutive terms

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– in the 10th, 11th, and 12th Congresses – his wife, Baisendig Dilangalen, took his position in the 13th Congress (from July 2004 to June 2007). After Baisendig Dilangalen served one term in the 13th Congress, her husband returned to the Congress, nominally as a first-term congressman. Such cases are more common than not in the Philippines. Accordingly, power sharing in the country continues to be dominated by the elite, leaving few substantial opportunities for new entrants to have a say in the decision-making process. After studying political parties and accountability in the Philippines, Gabriella Montinola came to a similar conclusion, contending that Filipino politicians, due to the persistence of patrimony, regard public office as personal property (Montinola 1999: 133). The Philippine Congress passed the Local Government Code (LGC) in 1991, authorizing a greater allocation of internal revenue collection to local governments. This arrangement gives Filipinos and civil organizations without political alliances with the elite more opportunities to participate in policy-making processes at the different levels of local government. As a result, some progressive and reform-minded local politicians, according to a study by a Japanese scholar, find opportunities to enter politics through direct elections, challenging old political factions (Kawanaka 2002). However, despite the changes implemented by the LGC, Philippine politics have remained little changed, mainly because the new entrants play only very minor roles in decision-making processes. As one Filipino scholar says: “The one who has the money or the votes will always prevail,” regardless of the law and party rules.6 The key reason the elite control politics is that decisions are made in back rooms, leaving few opportunities for substantial contributions by people outside of the power circle. Most candidates for public office (i.e., president, congressmen, governors, city mayors, and city councilmen) are decided upon in closeddoor caucuses, rather than by public, institutionalized mechanisms. For example, each party usually has an executive committee to decide on the candidates for public posts, but “there are no written records or materials that document the dynamics of decision-making within party organizations in our country.”7 Political parties in the Philippines are established by influential people who wish to run for public office; not the other way around, as in other democratic countries. Once a political party is established, its main function is to campaign for the founder and select associates. Thus Fidel Ramos founded the Lakas-Christian Muslim Democrats (Lakas-CMD) for his presidential campaign in 1992, and Joseph Estrada established the National Directorate Office (Partido ng Masang Pilipino, or PMP) for his campaign in 1998. Although Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo ran under the Lakas banner for her presidential campaign in 2004, she also created her own party, the Kampi.8 As power sharing is dominated by an insular elite, corruption naturally follows, as several studies have revealed (Speville 2001; Phongpaichit and Piriyarangsan 2001; Baley 1996). Indeed, corruption has long been a problem in Philippine politics; this was a key factor contributing to the collapse of the Marcos regime. Since then, Filipinos have repeatedly asked for clean government, and kept expecting the archipelago to implement changes under the

The Philippines after Marcos 103 governance of new leaders. However, the problem of corruption has remained almost unchanged since the downfall of Marcos. Transparency International has ranked the Philippines as one of the most corrupt countries in Southeast Asia for years, mainly because the Corruption Perception Index (CPI) of the archipelago has remained lower than 3.0 since 2000. (The lower the CPI, the greater the degree of corruption.) The CPI of the Philippines was 3.3 in 1998, but has fallen since 2000, reaching 2.8 in 2000, 2.4 in 2004, and 2.5 in 2007 (see Table 6.1). In Southeast Asia, Thailand, Indonesia, and Vietnam have shared similar problems with corruption. These three countries actually had worse CPI scores than the Philippines in 1998 and 1999 (Table 6.1), but have gradually improved their CPI scores since the turn of the century. While Singapore and Malaysia have always enjoyed better CPI scores than the above-mentioned countries, the Philippines has become the only country in Southeast Asia to have declined in recent years – this in spite of the newly established Presidential Anti-Graft Commission set up by President Arroyo in April 2001, and the archipelago’s endorsement of the Anti-Corruption Action Plan for Asia-Pacific, initiated by the Asian Development Bank and the OECD, in November 2001.9 In addition, the World Bank ranks the Philippines at, or near, the bottom of the ranks on the basis of several indicators of government performance in 1996–2007, including the rule of law, regulatory quality, control of corruption, government effectiveness, and accountability (World Bank 2008).

Slow economic growth The Philippines was proud of its economy during the period of American colonial rule, and its economy remained relatively attractive in the 1950s and 1960s during the first two decades after independence. The economy began to suffer in the early 1970s, and became still worse in the early 1980s. While Filipinos were opposed to political authoritarianism under Marcos’ dictatorship, they were perhaps more unhappy about the archipelago’s declining economy under Table 6.1 The CPI of Southeast Asian Nations, 1998–2007

Singapore Malaysia Thailand Philippines Indonesia Vietnam Laos Cambodia Burma

1998

1999

2000

2001

2002

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

9.1 5.3 3.0 3.3 2.0 2.5 – – –

9.1 5.1 3.2 3.6 1.7 2.6 – – –

9.1 4.8 3.2 2.8 1.7 2.5 – – –

9.2 5 3.2 2.9 1.9 2.6 – – –

9.3 4.9 3.2 2.6 1.9 2.4 – – –

9.4 5.2 3.3 2.5 1.9 2.4 – – 1.6

9.3 5 3.6 2.6 2 2.6 – – 1.7

9.4 5.1 3.8 2.5 2.2 2.6 3.3 2.3 1.8

9.4 5 3.6 2.5 2.4 2.6 2.6 2.1 1.9

9.3 5.1 3.3 2.5 2.3 2.6 1.9 2.0 1.4

Source: Transparency International, www.transparency.org/policy_research/surveys_indices/cpi (accessed June 25, 2008).

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Marcos. Table 6.2 shows the sluggish state of the Philippine economy during the period from 1983 to 1990, as compared to the economies of neighboring Indonesia and Thailand. This was the key element of the political economy behind the People Power Revolution in February 1986. Accordingly, Filipinos were enthusiastic about pressing President Corazon Aquino and her successors to take responsibility for improving the nation’s economy. This demand for economic results is particularly significant given that neighboring countries in Southeast Asia were busily improving their economies and regional economic integration since the early 1990s. The Philippines did make some progress on the economy during the Ramos presidency (from 1992 to 1998), but the country’s economy was hit badly by the Asian financial crisis in 1997, and since then the Philippine economy has remained sluggish. From a macro-economic perspective, the Philippine economy, therefore, seems unchanged, as compared with those of neighboring countries, which can be clearly seen by looking at several indicators, including the low per-capita GDP, high unemployment rates, increasing numbers of overseas Filipino workers, and low flows of foreign direct investment (FDI). The Philippines, because of the lack of economic growth in the 1980s, had a low GDP per capita in comparison to Indonesia and Thailand. Although Filipinos enjoyed a slightly higher GDP per capita in 1996 (US$1,184) and in 1997 (US$950) than did Indonesians (US$1,167 in 1996 and US$880 in 1997) before the outbreak of the Asian financial crisis (see Table 6.2), things have changed since 2002. Filipinos had lower GDP per capita in 2004 (US$1,042) and in 2007 (US$1,652) than did Indonesians in the same years (US$1,159 and US$1,919, respectively). The GDP per capita of the Thais has increased since the start of the new century, rising from US$2,519 in 2004 to US$3,740 in 2007. Ironically, while Filipinos enjoyed a GDP per capita slightly higher than that of Indonesians before 1997, the latter actually had higher economic growth rates. Indonesia’s economic growth rates averaged 7.6 percent (1990–1995) and 7.8 percent (1996), higher than those of the Philippines, which measured 2.3 percent and 5.8 percent respectively in roughly the same time periods. Indonesia’s economy was then hit very badly by the Asian financial storm, causing its economic growth rate to plunge to –13.2 percent in 1998, which was far worse than that of the Philippines (–0.6 percent in 1998). Yet, while Indonesia’s economy has gradually recovered since the start of the century, the Philippines’ has not: Indonesia experienced higher economic growth rates in 2000 (4.9 percent vs 4.4 percent) and in 2006 (5.6 percent vs 5.3 percent), regardless of the Philippines’ slightly better performance in 2004 and 2007 (Table 6.2). Nevertheless, Indonesia, with more than 220 million people, is credited with and proud of its superior growth in GDP per capita since 2002; the Philippines, a country of about 90 million, has performed less well. More troubling is that, for the last decade, the Philippines has had the highest unemployment rate in Southeast Asia for those aged fifteen years and older. Economic theory suggests that a high unemployment rate is reflective of a period of poor or unfavorable economic growth. A high unemployment rate also implies

1990–1995 8.4

1,604 (1993)

612 (1986)

638 (1993)

530 (1986)

1983–1990 8.5

1990–1995 7.6

752 (1993)

515 (1986)

1983–1990 5.6

1990–1995 2.3

1983–1990 1.0

3,134

1996 5.9

1,167

1996 7.8

1,184

1996 5.8

2,410

1997 –1.4

880

1997 4.7

950

1997 5.2

1,900

1998 –10.5

488

1998 –13.2

876

1998 –0.6

1,960

1999 5.0

580

1999 0.8

1,020

1999 3.4

2,026

2000 4.8

731

2000 4.9

980

2000 4.4

2,000

2002 5.3

969

2002 4.3

964

2002 4.4

2,519

2004 6.2

1,159

2004 5.1

1,042

2004 6.2

3,293

2006 5.0

1,640

2006 5.6

1,355

2006 5.3

3,740

2007 4.8

1,919

2007 6.5

1,652

2007 7.4

Source: Figures for 1983–1990 are from Asian Development Bank Annual Report. Manila: Asian Development Bank, various years; Figures for 1990–1995 are from Asia Yearbook 1998 and Hong Kong: Far Eastern Economic Review, 1998; Figures for 1996–2007 are from the website of ASEAN at www.aseansec.org/stat/Table7. pdf; www.aseansec.org/19192.pdf (accessed May 8, 2008).

Thailand Economic growth rates (%) GDP per capita (US$)

Indonesia Economic growth rates (%) GDP per capita (US$)

Philippines Economic growth rates (%) GDP per capita (US$)

Table 6.2 Economic performance in Southeast Asia, 1983–2007

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that human resources are not appropriately managed: the lower the unemployment rate, the better the management of human resources. When the labor force is not well employed in a country, it affects the input of gross domestic product (GDP) in that country, thus affecting economic growth. Unemployment rates in the Philippines have remained essentially static since 2000 when they hit 10.1 percent, creeping up to 10.2 percent in 2002, and 10.5 percent in 2005 (see Table 6.3); again, these rates were the highest in Southeast Asia. While Indonesia’s unemployment rates (6.1 percent in 2000, 9.1 percent in 2002, and 10.3 percent in 2005) are only a little better than those of the Philippines, Thailand’s are much better (see Table 6.3). Understandably, there are several factors (for example low FDI flows, poor economic performance, and so on) contributing to the high unemployment rate in the Philippines, but the leaders of the Philippines are responsible for their inability to improve the economy over the last two decades. With unemployment rates remaining high, Filipinos have been going abroad to seek work in increasing numbers. Filipinos have a long history of working overseas, starting during the period of American rule, but the practice gradually expanded during the Marcos regime. According to the Philippine government, there were already 449,371 Filipinos working overseas in 1987, when Aquino took office, but this figure increased to 686,461 in 1992, when Ramos was elected president, and to 831,643 in 1998, when Estrada assumed the presidency (Table 6.4). In 2006, the number of overseas Filipino workers (OFW), according to Table 6.4, exceeded 1.2 million, making the Philippines the largest provider of labor to other countries in Southeast Asia, and ranked second only to Mexico in the world. It should be noted that OFW include skilled workers (doctors, nurses, engineers, and so on) and unskilled workers (construction workers, manufacturing workers, and so on). The key reason for seeking these opportunities is that overseas jobs usually pay better than domestic employment. Table 6.3 Unemployment rates in Southeast Asia, 15 years and older (%) 2000 Philippines 10.1 Indonesia 6.1 Thailand 3.6

2001

2002

2003

2004

2005

9.8 8.1 2.4

10.2 9.1 1.8

10.2 9.6 1.8

10.9 9.9 1.5

10.5 10.3 1.5

Source: www.aseansec.org/19192.pdf (accessed May 8, 2008).

Table 6.4 Overseas Filipino workers, 1984–2006 1984 Numbers 350,982

1987

1992

1994

1998

2001

2004

2005

2006

449,271

686,461

718,407

831,643

867,599

933,588

1,204,862 1,221,417

Source: Figures from 1984 to 2004 are from www.poea.gov.ph/html/statistics.html (accessed March 15, 2007) and figures for 2005 and 2006 are from the same source on October 12, 2007.

The Philippines after Marcos 107 Although the Philippine economy benefits from the remittances of OFW, leaders of the Philippines have been responsible for a long period of economic stagnation. Finally, the Philippines has attracted the lowest amount of FDI in recent years, compared with neighboring Indonesia and Thailand. FDI in the Philippines was only US$687 million in 2004, US$1,854 million in 2005, and US$2,345 million in 2006 (Table 6.5), but FDI in Indonesia was US$1,894 million in 2004, US$8,336 million in 2005, and US$5,556 million in 2006; FDI in Thailand has been still more impressive in recent years (Table 6.5). The Philippines, like Indonesia and Thailand, is rich in natural resources and competitive in economic development, but the archipelago is falling behind these two countries in attracting foreign investment. Understandably, there are several reasons for the poor performance of the Philippines in receiving FDI, but the marginal amount of FDI has contributed to slow economic growth in the Philippines over the past decade. It is apparent that the Philippine economy has not been doing well over the last two decades, especially compared to neighboring countries in Southeast Asia, as demonstrated by the above four indicators (low GDP per capita, high unemployment rates, large numbers of overseas workers, and the lowest amount of FDI). As the Philippines has implemented political reforms since the ouster of the strongman Ferdinand Marcos, the nation has not sufficiently improved its economy. A survey conducted by Pulse Asia in March 2008 indicated that about 66 percent of Filipinos take the position that the Philippine economy had worsened in the previous three years, while 71 percent of Filipinos considered themselves either poor or very poor. Moreover, also 71 percent of them believed the national quality of life was worse than it had been the previous year.10

Persistent social instability When Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law in September 1972, one of the key reasons he pointed to as justification was social instability, including a growing communist guerrilla insurgency (waged by the New People’s Army, or NPA), expanding Muslim rebel bases in the south, and increasing “social crime.” The Philippines was persistently plagued by the above three problems for the two decades of Marcos’ rule – key reasons why he had to step down in February Table 6.5 Inflow of foreign direct investment in Southeast Asia (US$ million)

Philippines Indonesia Thailand ASEAN

2004

2005

2006

687.8 1,894 5,862 35,117

1,854 8,336 8,957 41,067

2,345 5,556 10,751 52,379

Source: www.aseansec.org/Stat/Table25.pdf (accessed May 8, 2008).

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1986. Following the downfall of Marcos, the Philippines somewhat restored social order, but in the second decade of the twenty-first century the archipelago continues to be troubled by social instability, despite a decline in the activities of the NPA and Muslim rebels in recent years. The most significant problem in the Philippines since 1986 has been frequent military coups, which have threatened not only the legitimacy of the ruling government but also the inflow of FDI to the Philippines. President Corazon Aquino, for example, experienced five military coups during her presidency between 1986 and 1992, while Arroyo faced similar events three times, including one on November 29, 2007 that lasted only a few hours. The Philippines was a showcase for democracy in Asia during its first two decades post-independence, but democracy was destroyed by the declaration of martial law in September 1972 by President Marcos. Democracy was restored under Aquino, who implemented political reforms in the Catholic state starting in 1986, but unfortunately the nation’s progress toward the consolidation of democracy remains under threat from frequent military coups. Juan J. Linz and Alfred Stepan defined three elements for a consolidated democracy, the first of which is constitutional, meaning that “political forces become subjected to and habituated to the resolution of conflict within the specific laws, procedures, and institutions sanctioned by the new democratic process” (Linz and Stepan 1996: 5–6). Apparently, political forces in the Philippines, particularly the military, have not yet reached a consensus on following constitutional rules, in spite of the implementation of political democratization measures over the course of more than twenty years. Although most coup leaders have made sound claims (such as the corruption of ruling leaders, bad economic performance, etc.) to support taking military action against the national government, the coups were, nonetheless, unconstitutional. The frequency of military coups in the Philippines threatens not only the legitimacy of the ruling government, but also the inflow of foreign investment. As Table 6.5 shows, in recent years, the Philippines has received the lowest amount of FDI among its neighbors. Although none of these abortive coups initiated a civil war or caused severe social chaos, such unconstitutional measures undermined the ongoing political reforms in the Philippines, thus adding to uncertainty and instability. Second, the social crime rate is high in the Philippines, which was one of the excuses for the declaration of martial law, but this problem has remained even since the Aquino presidency. Social crime, by definition, is related to unlawful actions involving either individuals or organized groups undertaken in resistance to lawful authority or as a survival strategy on the part of poor or disenfranchised communities. Social crime in the Philippines is different from that in most other countries because it involves a number of anti-state actors, including terrorist groups such as the Abu Sayyaf Group, Jemaah Islamiyah (JI), the New People’s Army (NPA), and separatist movements (the Moro-Islamic Liberation Front, or MILF ), which have made social crime an even more severe and complicated issue for the archipelago. Unlawful acts in the Philippines involve not only

The Philippines after Marcos 109 homicide, robbery, theft, and rape, but also political violence, kidnappings, bombings, and violent assault. While the first category of social crime (homicide, robbery, theft, and so on) is common in most countries, unlawful acts of the second category perpetrated by anti-state and terrorist groups are less common. Political violence has existed for a long time in the Philippines; it has become such a common phenomenon that political violence occurs before and during every election campaign. Its victims include journalists, lawyers, human-rights representatives, leftist activists, and political candidates. It was reported that about 180 people died in political violence in 2006, one year before the mid-term election in 2007; during the 2007 election, over 100 people were killed by election-related violence, including Congressman Wahab Akbar, who was killed on November 13, 2007 by an explosive device as he entered the Philippine House of Representatives. The Philippines is also troubled by bombings and violent attacks, which involve not only ordinary criminal groups but also terrorist groups such as the ASG, JI, and the NPA. For instance, the ASG was reportedly responsible for a bombing that killed one deployed US serviceman in Zamboanga City, Mindanao in 2002.11 In addition, the ASG claimed responsibility for the bombing of a SuperFerry in February 2004, which left over 100 civilians dead. In January 2008, a group of nearly forty communist guerillas (NPA members) attacked Xstrata (a Swiss-owned copper mine) in Tampakan, Mindanao, and the NPA later released a statement saying that it would carry out additional attacks against foreign mining companies in the Philippines.12 The NPA usually circulates a letter asking the targeted company to pay a “revolutionary tax,” and it will attack the facilities of the company if this extortion is not paid. In this case, however, Xstrata did not receive prior warning or threats, which could mean the NPA is looking to employ new tactics in dealing with foreign businesses in the Philippines. Finally, kidnappings are also a very serious headache in the Philippines. They have threatened business activities in the economically crippled country. Although terrorist groups (the ASG, the JI, and the NPA) and the MILF are believed to be responsible for most of the kidnappings in the Philippines, there have also been “kidnap for ransom” (KFR) crimes throughout the archipelago. It is reported that Chinese-Filipinos are major targets for KFR, and some foreigners have also become victims of KFR, including Westerners and Asians including Taiwanese, Hong Kong businessmen, and Singaporeans. For example, in August 2003, a Taiwanese businessman was kidnapped in northern Luzon by a group of nine people who demanded a ransom of 300,000 pesos (roughly US$6,000); one of the criminals responsible was, unbelievably, a high-ranking police officer at the local police station.13 Two years later, in September 2005, another Taiwanese businessman was kidnapped in southern Luzon, but freed after a huge ransom was paid.14 Also, two Filipino-American children were kidnapped by a KFR syndicate, only fifty meters from their home in Tagum City, Mindanao in late December 2006, to be released three weeks later in early January 2007, after a ransom was paid.15

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In short, social crime in the Philippines involves not only ordinary criminals but also terrorist groups, and the latter are much more dangerous than the former. The Philippine government has been working to either defeat or negotiate with these forces, but it has made little progress. This is the major cause for the persistence of social crime and the instability of the country. As long as these armed anti-state forces persist, Philippine society will face uncertainty and instability.

Conclusion Given the attempts at political reform over the last two decades, the Philippines seems to have made the transition from authoritarianism to electoral democracy; but given the existing political, economic and social deadlocks, the political situation seems in many ways unchanged since the downfall of Marcos. A significant issue then arises: has the Philippines become a consolidated democracy? This is a question many scholars are concerned with in looking at countries like the Philippines that are undertaking democratic reforms. Timothy J. Power and Mark J. Gasiorowski argue that a consolidated democracy requires the accomplishment of two nationwide elections for the highest executive position and the maintenance of stability for at least twelve years (Power and Gasiorowski 1997). Samuel P. Huntington also proposed a “two-turnover test” as a key indicator of a consolidated democracy (Huntington 1991: 266–267). Apparently, the Philippines has successfully passed these tests, so why is the Philippines not yet a consolidated liberal democracy? In defining three elements of a consolidated democracy, Linz and Stepan have provided a theoretical framework capable of explaining the case of the Philippines. According to the two respected political scientists, a consolidated democracy includes the following three elements: 1 2 3

Behaviorally, no significant political or institutional actors attempt to achieve the goal of creating a non-democratic regime or turning to violence to secede from the state. Attitudinally, a majority of public opinion holds the belief that democratic procedures and institutions are the most appropriate means of governing collective life in a society. Constitutionally, all political forces become subjected to and habituated to the resolution of conflict within the specific laws, procedures, and institutions sanctioned by the new democratic process. (Linz and Stepan 1996)

According to this definition of consolidated democracy, the Philippines seems to be experiencing difficulty in meeting the requirements of the three elements for a consolidated democracy. First of all, the behavioral element indicates that all parties involved remain lawful and orderly in playing the game of politics, but this is not the case in the Philippines. The violence and chaos of the 1986 presidential election was one example, showing the distrust of Filipinos toward

The Philippines after Marcos 111 the Marcos regime. The political transition from Joseph Estrada’s regime to that of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo in January 2001 is another example: Although Arroyo was constitutionally sworn in as the fourteenth President of the Philippines on January 20, 2001 by Chief Justice Hilario Davide Jr after the Supreme Court unanimously declared the position of president vacant, Estrada did not officially resign from the presidential post. The so-called People Power revolutions played key roles in the political transitions of both February 1986 and January 2001, and, strictly speaking, a People Power Revolution is neither peaceful nor constitutional. This implies that both Filipino politicians and the populace are as yet too immature to pursue politics in an orderly manner. Secondly, the constitutional element requires that major strategic groups and elites abide strictly by the procedures of the Constitution and related legislation in holding nationwide elections and handling the affairs of power transition. During the last two decades, since the implementation of the 1987 Constitution, the archipelago has successfully experienced three turnovers of ruling parties, but the legitimate government continues to be threatened by military coups, and has been troubled by other unconstitutional armed forces for years, including the NPA, the MILF, JI, and the ASG, as examined in this chapter. Although the government has undergone a series of negotiations with these armed groups, they still operate, continuing to battle with the Philippine government. Should the government continue to be challenged by such groups, the archipelago may not qualify as a consolidated democracy. Finally, the attitudinal element indicates that a consolidated democracy requires both institutional mechanisms and commonly acknowledged norms for civilians to follow; it takes time to nurture this kind of democratic culture. The Philippines has carried out four presidential elections and seven congressional elections since 1986, but it has suffered military coups and armed rebellions, damaging the legitimate government and ongoing political reforms. This means that the country has failed to maintain the institutionalized mechanisms that should have been followed by all major groups for a sustainable period of time; it also implies that holding nationwide elections only two or three times would not be enough to establish firmly a popularly acknowledged culture for democracy. Therefore, given the unchanged political ecology 25 years after the downfall of the authoritarian Marcos regime, the Philippines continues to face problems associated with establishing a consolidated democracy16 that have made many Filipinos apolitical,17 much as they were before the political changes in February 1986. While Filipinos continue to desire a democratic, stable, and prosperous polity, Philippine leaders and legislators are obligated to establish fairly institutionalized mechanisms to bring the masses into the decision-making process, rather than allowing them to be controlled by elites. The Filipinos at the bottom of the ladder, on the other hand, should stir themselves, politically, to establish a commonly acknowledged political culture, so that they, and in particular the rebel groups, can strive to achieve their ends via a set of democratic procedures. The People Power Revolutions, and active rebellions, only introduce the possibility of

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unlawful political turnovers; they do not help in the consolidation of democracy. Bringing about real change in the Philippines is not impossible; rather, it depends on the will of the ruling leaders, the legislators, and the people of the Philippines.

Notes 1 The most recent seven-hour coup took place in November 2007. 2 In his review on the Philippines in 2003, Michael J. Montesano also indicated four major problems in the Philippines: i.e., military coups, divisive politics, sluggish economic growth, and communist and separatist insurgencies (Montesano 2004). 3 Yuko Kasuya argues in a recent study that some legislators from the Organization of the Masses (Lapian ng Masang Filipino, or LAMP), President Estrada’s clients, endorsed the impeachment decision against President Estrada in 2000, mainly because they received insufficient campaign contributions from Estrada during the 1998 election campaign (Kasuya 2005). 4 In a total of 230 House Representatives in the 13th Congress, 207 were directly elected from districts and the remaining twenty-three are sectoral representation. In the 14th Congress (of a total of 240 House Representatives), 219 were directly elected from districts and the remaining nineteen Representatives were from different sectors. See www.congress.gov.ph/index.php (accessed April 20, 2008). 5 Ibid. 6 Email communication with a Filipino scholar on June 3, 2008. 7 Email communication with a Filipino political scientist on May 29, 2008. 8 One possible reason for the establishment of Kampi is that Arroyo did not fully trust the Lakas, which was dominated by Ramos and Jose de Venecia, former House Speaker. 9 The Philippines used to have the Presidential Commission against Graft and Corruption, which was abolished and replaced by the National Anti-Corruption Commission in July 2000. But, it was never activated. President Arroyo then issued Executive Order No. 12 on April 16, 2001 to create the Presidential Anti-Graft Commission, which was later strengthened with more powers, duties, and functions several times on July 3, 2004 (Executive Order No. 327), on May 31, 2006 (Executive Order No. 531), on August 23, 2006 (Executive Order No. 531-A), and on December 23, 2006 (Executive Order No. 531-B). 10 See www.pulseasia.com.ph/pulseasia/story.asp?ID=650 (accessed July 11, 2008). 11 Overseas Security Advisory Council, www.osac.gov/Reports/report.cfm?contentID= 69919 (accessed May 17, 2008). 12 Ibid. 13 See www.tvbs.com.tw/news/news_list.asp?no=jean20030806160530 (accessed May 20, 2008). 14 See http://gb.cri.cn/8606/2005/09/30/[email protected] (accessed May 20, 2008). 15 See www.osac.gov/Reports/report.cfm?contentID=69919 (accessed May 17, 2008). 16 Rivera (2002: 466–483) shares a similar point of view. However, another scholar argues that the Philippines can be termed an “illiberal democracy,” where “elections decide who governs, but fundamental rights and freedoms are either not fully delineated or protected” (Linantud 2005: 83). 17 Email communication with a Filipino scholar on February 25, 2008.

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The Philippines after Marcos 113 Huntington, Samuel P. (1991) The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century. Norman and London: University of Oklahoma Press. Kasuya, Yuko (2005) “Patronage of the past and future: Legislators’ decision to impeach President Estrada of the Philippines,” Pacific Review, 18(4): 521–540. Kawanaka, Takeshi (2002) Power in a Philippine City. Chiba: Institute of Developing Economies and Japan External Trade Organization. Linantud, John L. (2005) “The 2004 Philippine elections: political change in an illiberal democracy,” Contemporary Southeast Asia, 27(1): 80–101. Linz, Juan L. and Alfred Stepan (1996) Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America, and Post-Communist Europe. Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press. Montesano, Michael J. (2004) “The Philippines in 2003,” Asian Survey, XLIV(1): 93–101. Montinola, Gabriella R. (1999) “Parties and accountability in the Philippines,” Journal of Democracy 10(1): 126–140. Phongpaichit, Pasuk and Sungsidh Piriyarangsan (2001) Corruption and Democracy in Thailand. Bangkok: Silkworm Books. Power, Timothy J. and Mark J. Gasiorowski (1997) “Institutional design and democratic consolidation in the Third World,” Comparative Political Studies 30(2): 123–155. Ringuet, Daniel Joseph and Elsa Estrada (2003) “Understanding the Philippines’ economy and politics since the return of democracy in 1986,” Contemporary Southeast Asia, 25(2): 233–250. Rivera, Temario C. (2002) “Transition pathways and democratic consolidation in postMarcos Philippines,” Contemporary Southeast Asia, 24(3): 466–482. Speville, Bertrand de (2001) “Combating corruption: policy, strategy and lessons learned,” Van Zorge Report, March 19, pp. 14–32. Stauffer, Robert B. (1977) “Philippine corporatism: a note on the new society,” Asian Survey, XVII(4): 393–407. World Bank (2008) Governance Matters VII: 1996–2007, www-wds.worldbank.org/ external/default/WDSContentServer/WDSP/IB/2008/06/24/000158349_200806241134 58/Rendered/PDF/wps4654.pdf (June 25).

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Malaysia after Mahathir Late democratization amidst development, the strong developmental state, and developmentalism Francis Kok-Wah Loh

Introduction On November 1, 2003, after 22 years as prime minister, Malaysian strongman Dr. Mahathir bin Mohamad finally stepped down and handed power over to his deputy, Abdullah Badawi. Abdullah also inherited leadership of the United Malays National Organization (UMNO), the dominant party in the Barisan Nasional (BN, or National Front) ruling coalition, currently comprised of 14 component parties. For almost four-and-a-half years – between Mahathir’s stepping down and the twelfth general election of March 8, 2008 – it appeared that it was business as usual in Malaysia: that the government would continue to maintain the features of a “quasi democracy,” a “semi-democracy,” a “statist democracy,” and a “repressive-responsive regime” embodying “rule by [coercive] laws” rather than rule of law, as various researchers have depicted the Malaysian political scene (Zakaria 1989; Case 1993; Rais Yatim 1995; and Crouch 1996). No doubt, these researchers are aware that the BN (previously the Alliance) has governed Malaysia without interruption since independence in 1957, and that by 2013 Mahathir had dominated over UMNO, the BN, and Malaysia at large for more than two decades. In fact, in the general election of March 2004, the BN, then led by Abdullah, scored a spectacular victory when it secured 64 percent (up from 56 percent in 1999) of the popular vote. In Malaysia’s first-past-the-post (or simple majority) electoral system, this translated into 198 of the 219 parliamentary seats, or 90.4 percent (up from 76.7 percent) of the total. It was the BN’s strongest ever showing in parliament (Loh 2009: 81–90). Moreover, the election was conducted smoothly with no major incidents of violence, despite Mahathir’s stepping down. On the basis of the BN’s excellent performance in the 2004 elections, one might have concluded that Malaysians were enamored with the existing political system and with the BN as well. Considering that Malaysia practices a variant of the Westminster system of democracy, and that parliamentary elections have been held, on schedule, under the same constitution since independence, one might further surmise that Malaysians are also satisfied with the practice of their country’s own variant of democracy, notwithstanding the fact that the executive

Malaysia after Mahathir 115 has increasingly concentrated power at the expense of the legislature, judiciary, mass media, and civil society more generally, via amendments to the Constitution and the promulgation of coercive laws by parliament (see Loh 2002). Alternatively, one might argue that Malaysians are imbued with a set of “Asian values” which, in turn, underscore an “Asian variant of democracy,” as Mahathir himself had been wont to instruct Westerners (Khoo 2002). Viewed thus, criticisms that Malaysia is an illiberal democracy, or that it is semiauthoritarian, have been summarily dismissed, time and time again, by Mahathir and other BN leaders. Such criticisms were again so dismissed following the 2004 general election. In fact, with strongman Mahathir departing the scene, there was even more credibility to that claim. However, in the wake of the March 2008 general election, such notions of Malaysia’s distinct political culture, and of its unique democracy, require revision. Indeed, the results of the twelfth general election appear to have exorcised the demons of Malaysia’s Asian values and its Asian variant of democracy. At last, the country took its first steps towards becoming a “normal” electoral democracy in which governments can change and be formed with simple majorities. For on this occasion, the BN polled only 48 percent of the popular vote, securing 140 of 222 federal parliamentary seats. Significantly, although the BN again won the right to form a new government, it failed to win enough seats to obtain a two-thirds parliamentary majority – the all-important margin of victory, which allows the government of the day to amend the Constitution at will. The only other occasion when the BN was denied a two-thirds majority was in 1969. Hence, the 2008 electoral results represented a major setback for the BN. The opposition parties succeeded in forming an opposition coalition, the Pakatan Rakyat (PR, or People’s Pact), which enabled it to project an unprecedented 82-strong voice in the federal parliament, breathing new life into that institution, as witnessed in the lively debates that ensued during the first session of the new parliament in May–June 2008, and in subsequent parliamentary sessions. This new excitement in parliament augurs well for the emergence of a two-coalition system in Malaysia’s burgeoning “normal” electoral democracy. Moreover, the formation of the PR coalition enabled opposition parties to come to power in five out of 13 states in Malaysia’s federal system. This was not the first time that the opposition had captured a state government. The opposition Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (PAS, or the Pan-Islamic Malaysian Party) has governed Kelantan, in the northeast part of the peninsula, for long periods. The Parti Bersatu Sabah (or Sabah United Party) ruled Sabah in Borneo from 1985 to 1994. However, these previous opposition victories occurred in poorer, peripheral states. In contrast, three of the five states captured by the PR coalition in 2008 are located in Malaysia’s industrial belt – which is tied into the global economy – and thus count among the richest states in the country. Hence these PR-led states and their people are more financially independent, and cannot be so easily bullied by the federal government as their poorer Kelantan and Sabah counterparts, which require massive infusions of development funds from the

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federal government. In fact, the PR-led states have begun to organize themselves as a formidable force vis-à-vis the central government. In turn, a rethinking of federal–state relations, hitherto dominated by the central authorities, is also underway. There is increased pressure from the PR-led states to redress the unequal distribution of power and financial resources between the states and central government. Although it is not anticipated that federal–state relations will be restructured until and unless the PR coalition assumes power at the federal level, it is significant that Malaysia’s centralized federal system is being compared to normal federal systems elsewhere, and that “decentralization” has become a buzzword in Malaysian political discourse (Loh 2009: 3–18). There is also the likelihood that local government elections will be reintroduced into Malaysia’s third tier of government, for the PR coalition made local government reform a central plank of their electoral manifestos. Such proposed reforms are consistent with the numerous complaints and increasing disquiet, especially among the urban electorate, concerning the mismanagement of local authorities by unelected councilors who are accountable only to the political leaders who appointed them, not to the ratepayers. The reintroduction of elected local councilors ought to make urban governance more transparent and accountable to the people (Goh 2005). Taken together, the 2008 election results and the knock-on effects vis-à-vis parliament, federal–state relations, and local governance, signal the emergence of a normal electoral democracy in Malaysia. Put another way, there appears to be democratic life in Malaysia following the resignation of Mahathir, albeit after a period of delay.

Going beyond consociationalism It needs mentioning that this ongoing democratization is taking place in multiethnic, multi-religious Malaysia in the midst of other South and Southeast Asian countries which are experiencing ethno-religious conflict and violence. How does one explain this aberration? Apart from reference to Asian values and an Asian variant of democracy, a second group of democratic theorists has tended to resort to various models of consociationalism and elite accommodation to explain Malaysia’s relative political stability. Consociationalism, as originally conceptualized by Arend Lijphart (1969), refers to a stable and democratic system that emerges as a result of elite accommodation in multi-ethnic societies. Lijphart suggests four mechanisms/ principles for achieving consociationalism: grand coalition governments (involving all major segments of society); proportionality (in the distribution of positions, goods, and services); mutual veto (so as to protect the rights of minority groups); and some measure of segmental autonomy, especially with regard to questions of language, religion, and culture. Although Lijphart discussed the experiences of several developing countries in his later works, his formulation of consociationalism was based on his earlier studies that focused on the experiences of the industrialized Western European states, particularly the Netherlands, where democratic institutions had been in place for some time.

Malaysia after Mahathir 117 In contrast, Donald Horowitz (1985) has highlighted the difficulties of achieving consociationalism in developing countries that are still in the throes of consolidating their democracies. He is critical of Lijphart’s notion of consociationalism, which he considers elite-centric, particularly in light of his underlying assumption that elites are more moderate, tolerant, and altruistic, while the masses are awash with parochial and extremist attitudes. Instead of building upon the assumption that elites (contra the masses) imbibed more universal and accommodative values, attitudes and principles, Horowitz suggests the need to introduce a variety of political institutions so as to promote accommodation in multi-ethnic societies. First, he stresses the need to initiate and institutionalize some measure of affirmative action. There can be no accommodation, and even less trust, if one segment of the population is economically deprived and without any hope of a resolution to its predicament. The introduction of the New Economic Policy in Malaysia (discussed below) is seen by Horowitz as being in line with this recommendation. But he also adds a caveat, for affirmative action policies, while difficult to launch, are even more difficult to end. Yet this must be done at some stage if the rights of those “others” who do not have access to these (positively) discriminatory policies are to be respected. Second, Horowitz proposes adjustments in favor of a federal system that allows minorities to assume a role in decision-making – at least in their region of concentration. Apart from facilitating political participation, federalism allows regional minorities to determine policies affecting their cultural identity and interests. Finally, Horowitz proposes adjustments towards an electoral system that is biased in favor of would-be leaders who mobilize and receive multi-ethnic support. Elections based on the principle of proportional representation, rather than simple-majority single-constituencies, generally work in favor of minority representation, too. But there are other possible designs that facilitate minority representation and active participation. Certain aspects of Lijphart’s mechanisms and principles, and of Horowitz’s recommendations on institutionalizing accommodation, are in place in Malaysia. Most evident are power-sharing arrangements reached by the political elites of the major ethnic groups. As stated earlier, Malaysia has been ruled by the BN, and its predecessor, the Alliance coalition, which (as of 2013) has comprised 14 component parties since independence in 1957. Although UMNO dominates the BN, the other major ethnic groups are represented in the coalition via the Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA), the Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC), the Parti Bansa Dayak Sarawak (PBDS), the Kadazandusun-dominated Parti Bersatu Sabah, and other smaller parties. In the early independence period, a compromise “package deal” was formulated wherein Alliance leaders agreed to acknowledge Islam as the official state religion, Malay as the national language, the traditional Malay rulers as heads of states, and to grant some special rights to Malays in view of their disadvantaged economic position and status as the indigenous people. In return, non-Malays were accorded citizenship on the basis of jus soli, but were not required to

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assume a Malay cultural identity. As Malaysian citizens, non-Malays had the right to use and promote their own languages, religions, and cultures, and to acquire wealth and property. Their extant economic interests were protected, as well. In other words, the compromise package deal contained various aspects of sharing power, of proportionality in the distribution of positions, goods, and services, of consensus decision-making, and of autonomy in religious and cultural affairs. Following Anthony Smith (1986: 125–129) who distinguishes between the genealogical “ethnic nation” (based upon specific myths of ancestry, historical memories, cultural symbols and emblems associated with the land in question), and the civic “territorial nation” (based on universal citizenship rights regardless of status, age, gender, ethnic origin, or religious affiliation), it can be argued that the compromise reached by the Alliance leaders lay somewhere in between the genealogical–ethnic and civic–territorial polarities. In fact, many Malaysians – Malay as well as non-Malays, members of the opposition as well as members of the Alliance component parties – challenged the terms of the Alliance bargain. At one extreme, there were some Malays who insisted on Ketuanan Melayu (or Malay sovereignty) as the defining feature of a political system that would assert more restricted citizenship rights for non-Malays, the adoption of a Malay cultural identity for all aspiring citizens, and for some, the creation of an Islamic nation-state. At the other extreme, certain non-Malays insisted on a “Malaysian Malaysia,” and demanded equal rights for their languages, cultures, and religions, refusing to acknowledge the political claims of Malay sovereignty. These claims and challenges characterized mainstream political discourse and practice in the immediate post-colonial era. The lack of consensus outside of the Alliance over the terms of governance, plus the subsequent manipulation of ethnic emblems during the 1960s, partly contributed to worsening ethnic relations and occasional outbreaks of ethnic violence in particular locales before culminating in the communal riots of May 13, 1969. Following the outbreak of violence, emergency rule was declared and parliamentary democracy suspended until 1971. By the time parliament was reconvened, certain important changes had been put in place. In a sense, a second compromise package deal was worked out among the political elites. First, the erstwhile opposition was incorporated into an enlarged ruling coalition renamed the Barisan Nasional (BN). Among others, the new coalition included the erstwhile opposition Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (PAS), which had captured the Kelantan state legislature, as well as several Chinese-based opposition parties that had performed well in the urban areas of Penang, Perak (especially in Ipoh), Selangor (Kuala Lumpur) and in Sarawak. Second, the parliamentary system, already a modified version of the Westminster system of democracy, was further delimited so that certain sensitive issues were declared to lie beyond the bounds of public discourse. These issues included the special rights of Malays, the position of the traditional Malay rulers as heads of state, Malay as the national language, and Islam as the official religion on the one hand, and the citizenship rights of the non-Malays on the other.

Malaysia after Mahathir 119 This delimitation was achieved by the Sedition Act of 1971, and in related amendments to the Constitution. The most significant change was the introduction of the New Economic Policy (NEP, 1971–1990), formulated to redress persistent Malay poverty and the ethnic socio-economic imbalance in the country identified by the authorities as a key factor contributing to the 1969 communal riots. It laid down affirmative action policies in favor of the bumiputera (ethnic Malays and other indigenous peoples). Through widespread intervention in the economy and society, the BN government sponsored bumiputera participation in the more modern sectors of the economy. It increased public expenditure in five-year plans to “eradicate poverty irrespective of race” and to “restructure the economy” so as to “abolish the identification of race with economic functions.” It also set up hundreds of public enterprises and trust agencies, with the latter engaged in purchasing and holding corporate equity on behalf of the bumiputera. It also enforced quotas in business licensing, ownership structure, employment and educational opportunities, the awarding of government tenders, low-interest loans, and so on. Finally, the post-1969 arrangements led towards greater Malay pre-eminence in the overall political system. These arrangements included the NEP, the National Cultural Policy 1971 (which emphasized Islam and Malay culture as the essential bases of national culture) and the concerted implementation of the National Language Act and National Educational Policy. In the case of the latter, Malay was progressively introduced from 1971 as the sole medium of instruction in secondary schools and universities. Indeed, the replacement of the Alliance by a more inclusive BN enhanced UMNO’s domination of its partners, since there were now several competing non-Malay parties in the coalition. According to an observer (Means 1991: 286–287), elite bargaining within the ruling coalition is no longer conducted in its previous form of intra-Alliance multilateral consultations, but as a “fragmented series of bilateral negotiations between the [UMNO] prime minister and the leaders of constituent parties.” When one further considers the Islamic resurgence movement and the government’s own Islamization policies, beginning from the late 1970s, Malay cultural pre-eminence has become even more evident. By the 1980s, UMNO leaders increasingly projected their party as an Islamic organization, and Malaysia as an Islamic state. Still later, Malaysia was officially proclaimed an “Islamic country” despite the presence of large groups of non-Muslims (Martinez 2004). The civic territorial nation was eclipsed as UMNO pushed the terms of governance towards the genealogical ethnic Malay nation. It is important to highlight that a young Mahathir had been the leader of a group of UMNO “Young Turks” who had campaigned for the removal of then-Prime Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman, who was considered to be too moderate and accommodating of non-Malay interests, and for this shift from a civic territorial nation to a more genealogical ethnic Malay nation. In other words, Mahathir projected himself as the defender of Malay interests, first and foremost, at an early period of his political career. Not surprisingly, non-bumiputeras outside, as well as inside, the BN perceived themselves as having been discriminated against, and responded to these

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developments in a variety of ways. For instance, a group of MCA young Turks was formed in the early 1970s, with the proclaimed intention of reforming the party in order to unite all Chinese; in fact, it also aimed to counter UMNO’s new posturing (Loh 2000). In response to the new educational developments, there was a resurgence of the Chinese education movement. This culminated in a struggle to establish a private university, the Merdeka University, which was denied a permit to operate by the government, whereupon the matter was taken to court. However, the Supreme Court upheld the government’s decision. There was also an attempt by Chinese and Indian cultural organizations to demand that their cultures be recognized as part and parcel of the national culture, and acrimony over the implementation of the NEP and related policies like the Industrial Co-ordination Act (ICA), which non-bumiputera – especially Chinese businessmen – found egregiously interventionist and unfair. Ultimately, to gain the confidence of the non-bumiputera business community, the Act was amended several times to exempt non-bumiputera small and medium-sized enterprises from falling under the purview of the ICA (Loh 2000). That said, no ethnic clashes on the scale of those in May 1969 have since troubled Malaysia. It appears as though these tensions began to subside by the late 1980s and 1990s. Beginning in the early 1990s, the BN began to consolidate its rule: it performed especially well in the 1995 general election. This is not to suggest that ethnicity was no longer salient in multi-ethnic Malaysia: it is. However, ethnicity has become less politicized than was previously the case. In part, this stems from growing non-Malay acquiescence to the post-1969 terms of governance predicated on improving Malay involvement in the economy and increasing Malay political and cultural pre-eminence. That acquiescence, in turn, was due to three factors: 1 2 3

rapid economic growth, which facilitated not only the realization of NEP goals but also improved the livelihoods of the non-bumiputera; the emergence of a new political culture of developmentalism especially evident among that middle-class, which deflected attention away from ethnicism, but also set limits on participatory democracy; and consolidation of the strong BN state which, apart from development and developmentalism, resorted to coercive laws to maintain rule.

These points will be developed in turn in the rest of the chapter. Taken together, they explain the institutional and structural basis for continued political stability in multi-ethnic Malaysia despite the stepping down of Mahathir, Malaysia’s strongman. More than that, the same set of explanations also underscored the emergence and consolidation of a multi-ethnic middle-class, and their cautious pursuit of democratization – which has not led to the outbreak of ethnic or ethnoreligious violence, as has occurred in neighboring countries. Following a brief discussion of economic development, the other two factors shall receive elaboration.

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The NEP, economic liberalization and rapid development The BN government’s successful management of the economy, including its adaptation to the global market economy, no doubt contributed to Malaysia’s emergence as a second-generation newly industrialized country. Through a series of five-year plans, economic development and the NEP goals were vigorously pursued. Malaysia’s average real GDP growth was 7.6 percent during 1970–1980, before slowing to 5 to 6 percent between 1981 and 1985. Due to recession, economic growth fell during 1986–1987, before averaging 8 to 9 percent again from 1988–1995. This growth was facilitated by the fortuitous discovery of oil (as well as liquefied natural gas) and high rates of foreign direct investment (FDI), especially following the Plaza Accords, in 1985. Among other factors, FDI contributed to Malaysia’s emergence as a regional hub for the global electronics and electrical industries. The manufacturing sector in particular has grown: expanding from 13.4 percent of GDP in 1970 to 33 percent in 1995. Manufacturing employment as a percentage of total employment has also increased, from 11.1 percent in 1970 to 25 percent in 1995. The unemployment rate declined from 7.8 percent in 1970 to between three and four percent in the early 1990s (Jomo 1990: 38–43 and 70; and Jomo et al. 1996: 75 and 82). An estimated one million foreign workers (both legal and illegal), mostly unskilled and semi-skilled, were employed in the country by the late 1990s. On the eve of the 1997 financial crisis, Malaysia had reduced the index of (absolute) poverty to about 4 percent, down from 49 percent in 1970, and increasing numbers of Malays had moved from low-paying occupations into higher-paying ones. In part, this was facilitated by greater access to higher education through the provision of government scholarships and a system of quotas for entrance into tertiary-level institutions, a greater concentration of Malays in urban areas, and the expansion of the public sector, especially during the first 15 years of the NEP. Consequently, there also occurred an increase in the bumiputera share of corporate equity: according to official estimates, from 1.5 percent in 1969 to 20.6 percent in 1995 (Gomez and Jomo 1997). In fact, following the 1986–1987 recession, Malaysia introduced economic liberalization and privatization policies to adjust its economic policies in line with the dictates of the global market economy. During the late 1980s, the NEP was virtually held in abeyance. Significantly, in July 1985, the guidelines for foreign equity ownership in manufacturing were liberalized. Another aspect of deregulation was privatization, which the government hoped would further contribute to growth. Privatization began with new projects like the construction of the north–south toll highway and highway interchanges, and the first commercial television station, TV3. Older, relatively successful public enterprises like MAS (the Malaysian Airlines System) and MISC (the Malaysian International Shipping Corporation) were the next to be privatized. The National Development Policy (NDP, 1990–2000), which replaced the NEP, continued with the twin objectives of poverty eradication and restructuring

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within the context of economic growth. The goal of achieving at least 30 percent bumiputera ownership and control of corporate equity associated with the earlier NEP remained, but no specific time frame for its realization was set. Instead, attention was focused on the qualitative aspects of bumiputera participation, and non-bumiputera corporations and entrepreneurs were encouraged to co-operate with their bumiputera counterparts. Continuing the strategy adopted for economic recovery and growth since the mid-1980s, the private sector was identified as the engine of economic growth for the duration of the NDP. Thus, privatization was undertaken with even greater urgency in the 1990s. Fed up with the waste, inefficiency, and corruption associated with the public sector, a large section of the Malaysian public – especially the middle classes – welcomed the policy shift. Anticipating opportunities for themselves, businessmen – bumiputera and local Chinese, as well as foreigners – welcomed privatization. Given the opportunities being made available to the private sector, and the rapid growth occurring due to an upturn in the market, the business and middle classes became enamored with both the market and the BN government. It was this ability to switch from the public sector as the engine of growth from 1971 to 1985, to the private sector beginning in the late 1980s, that sustained Malaysia’s economic growth over three decades. No doubt it facilitated the successful implementation of the NEP; however the switch to neo-liberal policies also catered to the economic interests of non-Malay business interests. More than that, rapid economic growth and industrialization resulted in the expansion of Malaysia’s middle classes, which, due to the workings of the NEP, included the various ethnic groups (Abdul Rahman 1995 and 2001). Consequently, a dramatic restructuring of the ethnic division of labor inherited from colonialism has occurred. No longer was a majority of the bumiputera characterized by persistent poverty. Nor was the ethnic socio-economic imbalance, considered a key factor contributing to the 1969 communal riots, as significant as it had been.

From participatory democracy to consolidation of the BN developmental state Initially, it appeared as though the consolidation of the middle class would usher in greater democratization, and in the process promote multi-ethnic political consciousness. Beginning in the 1980s, a small but articulate group from the middle class began to establish non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that promoted the discourses and practices of participatory democracy. In general, these NGOs eschewed the electoral process and were not particularly concerned with taking over from the BN government. Instead, they were cause-specific and focused on influencing specific government policies, often in the realm of what they considered to be the public interest, and sometimes in support of marginalized groups who were powerless and without voice. Since they focused largely on non-electoral politics, their impact upon the political process was relatively limited and evident only over the long term. In the face of their limited impact,

Malaysia after Mahathir 123 like-minded NGOs often networked with one another to enhance their influence. Yet even then, their power remained limited. Women’s groups like All Women’s Action Society, Sisters-in-Islam, the Women’s Aid Organization, and the Women’s Centre for Change are important components of this non-formal realm of politics and have struggled against the patriarchal structures that characterize the formal realm of politics to insist that women be conferred equal rights. In the mid-1990s, they were particularly successful in working with women’s groups associated with the ruling parties to introduce the Domestic Violence Act and to amend various other laws that discriminate against women. Human rights groups like Suaram, Hakam and Aliran have also struggled against the Internal Security Act (ISA), which allows for detention without trial, and other coercive laws. They did so by conducting seminars, petitions, offering legal aid, and sometimes organizing street demonstrations. Environmental groups like the Environmental Protection Society Malaysia, Sahabat Alam Malaysia, Malayan Nature Society and the anti-Bakun Dam coalition have lobbied with some success to protect the environment. On several occasions, environmentalists have also gone to court and even won decisions in their favor. The Estate Workers Support Committees have been prominent in the struggle for the introduction of a monthly wage scheme, while other groups have protested alongside the so-called Peneroka Bandar (urban pioneers) threatened by developers and demanded due compensation or low-cost housing when evicted. There are the consumer groups, particularly the Federation of Malaysian Consumers Associations (FOMCA), the Consumers Association of Penang, and the Education and Research Association for Consumers, which have educated the people about their rights as consumers through signature campaigns, workshops, and publications. Finally, there are groups like the Third World Network and JUST International that focus on issues of globalization and injustices in the international system. Taken together, these social groups encouraged the development of a participatory democracy, by which is meant more than the institutional checks and balances associated with a multi-party system, regular elections, and procedural democracy. In the context of Malaysia, it also meant the creation of an autonomous public sphere that allows for alternative views of development to be aired, and for popular consultation and involvement in decision-making. Moreover, these NGOs, which are usually multi-ethnic in orientation, consciously avoid race-baiting, which is often the raison d’être of the mono-ethnic parties and circumscribes the formal electoral process. During the 1980s, this impulse towards participatory democracy, led by some of these NGOs, gained ground and facilitated the emergence of critical groups within the Bar and Bench, as well as within political parties. In Sabah, a new ethno-regional party led by the minority Kadazandusun peoples emerged and defeated the ruling party in the polls, while in Sarawak another ethno-regional party representing the minority Dayaks challenged, in this case unsuccessfully, the ruling BN party in the Sarawak polls. The critical mood even caused a major split within UMNO, the dominant party in the ruling coalition. This led to the

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formation of the opposition Malay party, Semangat 46, which was led by Tengku Razaleigh, who challenged Mahathir for the UMNO presidency in 1986. This momentum was nipped in the bud when the BN government conducted a mass crackdown on dissent in October 1987, codenamed Operation Lalang. In one fell swoop, 106 Malaysians – representatives of NGOs, unions, opposition parties, educational groups, churches, and even ordinary villages – were detained under the Internal Security Act (ISA). Many were incarcerated in the infamous Kamunting Detention Camp without trial for two or three years (Loh 2000). Consequently, the momentum towards participatory democracy, alternative development, the rule of law, public accountability, and justice for all was stopped in its tracks. The democratic space, which had been patiently claimed by the burgeoning popular movement led by the NGOs in the 1980s, was usurped by the state. Indeed, the consolidation of the strong developmental state is another reason for the successful maintenance of ethnic tensions in Malaysia, and should not be forgotten. Notwithstanding the regular holding of elections and parliamentary rule (except between 1969 and 1971) under the same Constitution, BN rule is also maintained by the use of coercive parliamentary legislation. The most important consideration in this regard is how the British expanded and quickly consolidated the Malaysian (then-colonial) state as a result of the communist uprising, euphemistically termed The Emergency (1948–1960). It was only with the advent of independence that a set of democratic institutions was introduced from above. The state’s coercive powers, granted under the Emergency Regulations, were amended and incorporated into the Independence Constitution and/or other laws for use in ordinary times in post-independence Malaysia. Ironically, the leaders of Malaysia’s independence movement worked hand-in-glove with the British to expand and consolidate the national state, ensuring the defeat of the communists. It was upon such strong foundations that the post-colonial state was reformed further by the post-independence Alliance executive to serve its own political ends. Through the promulgation of new laws, amendments to these laws, as well as the Constitution, the state has penetrated deeply into the sinews of civil society. As mentioned earlier, the ISA allows for detention without trial. Other laws actually curb civil liberties and political rights enshrined in the Constitution. These restrictive Acts include the Official Secrets Act, the Printing Presses and Publications Act, the Universities and University Colleges Act, Trade Unions Act, Societies Act, and so on.1 There is also perennial gerrymandering of electoral constituencies with the cooperation of the pliant Elections Commission, and abuse – especially during elections – of the mass media, which is owned either by the government or the ruling parties.2 Consequently, the BN has remained in power without interruption, and there are very few independent organizations capable of advocating for the rights and interests of civil society in a sustained fashion. Instead, power became increasingly concentrated in the hands of the executive branch. It is for this reason that Malaysia, as mentioned earlier, has been variously described a quasi democracy, a semi-democracy, a

Malaysia after Mahathir 125 repressive–responsive regime, a statist democracy, and a system of rule by [coercive] laws rather than the rule of law (Zakaria 1989; Jesudason 1989; Case 1993; Rais Yatim 1995; and Crouch 1996). That said, such descriptions should not be misinterpreted as suggesting that democratic features are entirely absent. Indeed, procedural democracy persists. The realm of formal electoral politics is clearly dominated by the strong BN developmental state, however. It was largely in the realm of non-formal politics that independent democratic momentum is found, at least, it was found there during Mahathir’s long rule. Even so, it appears that the political ferment of the 1980s was probably due to the recession of the mid-1980s. The short but severe recession brought to light many of the financial scandals and incidences of financial mismanagement involving politicians and public enterprises. Moreover, it caused anxiety because of retrenchment, wage and job freezes, unemployment, and conflict among the elite, and even within UMNO itself. At any rate, consolidation of the BN rule occurred in the 1990s as the economy, as discussed earlier, perked up. It also appears that the middle class, or at least the majority that was not involved in the critical NGOs, rallied behind the BN. The BN’s spectacular victory in the 1995 election, when it polled 66 percent of the votes and won more than four-fifths of the total seats in parliament, is testimony to this reorientation. The BN’s performance in 1995 reversed the trend of the previous decade, when its share of votes had declined in three consecutive general elections: in 1982 it polled 60.5 per cent of the votes; in 1986 it was reduced to 57.6 per cent, and in 1990 it fell to 53.4 percent. However, a second round of democratic ferment occurred in 1998–1997, spurred by the so-called dual crisis – the regional financial crisis of 1997, and the sacking of Anwar Ibrahim, then deputy prime minister, in 1998. On that occasion, the Islamic party (PAS), the largely Chinese-based Democratic Action Party (DAP), the small multi-ethnic and socialist Parti Rakyat, and the newly formed Parti Keadilan Rakyat (made up of Anwar Ibrahim’s supporters) successfully forged a new multi-ethnic opposition coalition called the Barisan Alternatif (BA, or United Front). Many NGO leaders joined one or another of the BA parties, and although the opposition performed extremely well in the 1999 general election, it failed to defeat the BN in the polls. The BN certainly had greater access to money, the media, and the machinery of government, including the Elections Commission and the police, among others. There was also fear that the BN government would resort to employing the ISA and other coercive laws against BA supporters. However, many voters also positively identified with the BN because they believed that only the BN could maintain political stability in multi-ethnic Malaysia and, along with it, the capacity to provide development goods and services to Malaysians. Whereas a minority of the middle classes were inclined to risk working with the BA to usher in democracy, the majority were still imbued with the new political culture of developmentalism. It is this developmentalism, together with the rapid economic growth since 1980 as well as the consolidation of a strong BN developmental state, that explain the absence of ethnic violence in Malaysia over the previous 35 years. It further explains the

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consolidation of BN rule and the new constraints on democratization in Malaysia, at least during Mahathir’s term in office.

Developmentalism Emerging in the early 1970s, when the Malaysian state launched plans to promote economic growth so as to achieve NEP objectives, the discourse of developmentalism came into its own in the midst of rapid economic growth and new opportunities during the 1990s, associated with the neo-liberal policies of deregulation and privatization. This new political culture valorized rapid economic growth, the resultant consumerist habits, and the political stability offered by the BN’s rule even when resorting to authoritarian measures. Since no other party has ever ruled Malaysia, many ordinary Malaysians (including members of the middle class) are unable to imagine that political stability could be maintained in multi-ethnic Malaysia without BN rule. A “self-policing” system in support of BN rule – believed essential for maintaining political stability, which attracts foreign investment and allows economic growth to occur, ultimately contributing to the enjoyment of higher standards of living and consumption – has kicked in. Developmentalism, therefore, is the cultural corollary to the dirigiste developmental state when citizens, especially the middle classes, begin to enjoy improved living conditions as a result of economic growth that the state has brought about. The higher standard of living and consumerism spawned by the economic growth during the 1990s has been elaborated on elsewhere by the author (Loh 2000). Two other related occurrences, namely a turn towards cultural liberalization and utilitarian goals, and the consolidation of a politics of public works and services by the political parties, further facilitated the embedding of developmentalism into the political culture of Malaysians. Largely for utilitarian reasons, various measures of “cultural liberalization” were introduced to enhance economic growth in the early 1990s, especially when viewed from the perspective of non-Malays. Specifically, UMNO leaders began to de-emphasize or redefine the political significance of the most important emblems of Malay identity – the Malay rulers, Malay language and culture, and Islam – hitherto also considered central attributes in the definition of the modern Malaysian nation-state. Yet the symbolic and actual powers of the Malay rulers were curtailed as a result of UMNO’s challenges to the rulers initially in 1983–1984, and again in 1994. These challenges received widespread support from middle-class Malays. While reaffirming the status of Malay as the national language, then Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad and other UMNO leaders also promoted the use of the English language on utilitarian grounds, especially with the onslaught of globalization. For instance, English became the medium of instruction for certain subjects in the local universities, a move that partially reversed the policy introduced in 1971 of using Malay as the sole medium of instruction. Additionally, the new Education Act of 1996 formally empowered the education minister to exempt

Malaysia after Mahathir 127 the use of Malay as the medium of instruction for certain purposes deemed necessary even in secondary schools (Subsequently, beginning in 2003, the English language was used progressively in primary and secondary schools to teach science and mathematics). By introducing other Acts and amending certain existing Acts pertaining to higher education, the government facilitated the corporatization of state universities, the setting up of private universities, and the opening of branch campuses of foreign universities in Malaysia. Together with the expansion of the public universities, more opportunities were made available to more Malaysians seeking to pursue higher education, thereby alleviating previously intense ethnic competition for limited places. The changes further allowed students enrolled in private “twinning colleges” attached to foreign universities to complete their entire university education locally, making it more affordable. Since the private universities, branch campuses, and twinning colleges began to recruit foreign lecturers and were encouraged to recruit foreign students, English became the medium of instruction. Other notable aspects of cultural liberalization were the promotion of non-Malay cultures by the Ministry of Culture, Arts and Tourism as a means of attracting tourist dollars, and the increasing use of English, and to a lesser extent Chinese, in the mass media, especially by privatized radio and television stations. With the introduction of cable and satellite television, pluralization of the mass media occurred, and more choices became available to Malaysian audiences (Loh 2002). In response to the resurgence of Islam (a worldwide phenomenon, but one which was initially spearheaded locally in the late 1970s by the opposition party PAS and other non-state Islamic NGOs), the UMNO-led BN government introduced various Islamization policies of its own, beginning from the early 1980s. But the BN also distinguished itself by advocating a more liberal interpretation of Islam that emphasized the promotion of Islamic values in administration and in society writ large, rather than the establishment of an Islamic state, which PAS and other Muslim radicals advocated. Significantly, Muslims were also reminded that pursuing development was compatible with being a good Muslim (see later). Taken together, the new policies appeared to stress a more inclusive notion of Malaysian nationhood. They also offered choices in the cultural realm, as a result of globalization and deregulation. Middle-class Malaysians, and especially non-Malays, welcomed this cultural liberalization. In a sense, these developments shifted the terms of governance again, from the emphasis given to the ethnic Malay genealogical nation in the post-1969 era, to one that lay between the ethnic genealogical nation and the civic territorial nation, as in the immediate post-independence period. Coincidentally, during this period of economic growth, Chinese and Indian BN leaders disengaged themselves from sensitive ethnic and cultural issues. For instance, most non-Malay ministers did not participate in the 1993–1994 debate on constitutional amendments proposing to remove the exemption of Malay rulers from legal prosecution. They also shied away from public discussion of

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the position and role of Islam, although they were prepared to criticize the radical Islamization policies of PAS, and to condemn the Chinese-based opposition DAP for cooperating with the former in the run-up to the 1995, 1999, and 2004 elections. When language, culture and educational matters were discussed, it was often in utilitarian terms, with the relationship of these matters to development being highlighted. They further de-emphasized political education and mobilization. Instead, the BN parties recast themselves as purveyors of development and providers of social services. The end result was a redefinition of the meaning of politics itself. Put simply, the non-Malay BN parties, in particular, transformed themselves into extensions and instruments of the state, so as to assist in maintaining the status quo and supplementing the delivery of public works and services. The major Chinese-based BN party, the Malaysian Chinese Association, even established its own college, the Kolej Tunku Abdul Rahman, whose five campuses provided post-secondary education for some 20,000 students annually. (The MCA now owns and runs a degree-granting university as well, having been issued a permit to do so in 2000.) Its Langkawi Project catered to the educational needs of primary school children by organizing tuition classes and supplying books and other resources, including computers, especially in new Chinese villages. Fundraising was also conducted on behalf of independent Chinese secondary schools during the 1990s while Kojadi, the MCA’s savings cooperative, provided low-interest student loans to the children of cooperative members, allowing them to attend universities and colleges (Loh 2001). The BN parties further established “service centers” and complaints bureaus throughout the country. These were partially financed by the constituency development funds allocated by the government to all elected politicians belonging to the BN (but not to those belonging to the opposition parties). Lower-class Malaysians in particular turned to these centers, rather than going to the relevant government agencies, to resolve their everyday problems and needs. The latter included applying for official documents such as identity cards, passports, and citizenship papers; enrolling children in the school of their parents’ choice; acquiring business and hawking licenses; and repairing roads and sewerage. In contrast to the perceived discrimination and neglect during the NEP years, there emerged via these efforts of the non-Malay parties a way in which ordinary nonMalays could receive benefits and identify positively, in many instances for the first time, with the BN government. The BN parties and politicians also ventured into business activities in a major way. The principal BN parties – UMNO, MCA, MIC – all own media empires of various sizes (Zaharom 2002). Several important studies have discussed in detail how leading politicians have set up holding companies linking financial institutions to industrial and trading corporations, to media empires, to plantation concerns (Gomez and Jomo 1997).3 In summary, the BN political parties assumed new roles related to developmentalism. In the process, a new meaning of politics related to the pursuit of development and the necessity of political stability to achieve that development, was rapidly embedded in the

Malaysia after Mahathir 129 minds of ordinary Malaysians, especially those benefiting from the largesse of the BN parties. The embedding of this new political culture was further facilitated by the mass media, which discouraged involvement in politics, whether of the ethnically sensitive variety, or that which encouraged participatory democracy. It highlighted, instead, the politics of delivering goods and services (Loh 2001). This was a period when the idea of Malaysia Boleh (literally, “Malaysia Can”) and a certain measure of jingoism began to emerge in the Malaysian imagination. It was also a time when Mahathir and other BN political elites promoted the notion of Asian values and an Asian variant of democracy to justify the lag in political liberalization (Khoo 2002). Hence, although a discourse of ethnicism continues to circumscribe politics to some extent, it is no longer as dominant as it was before. Instead, the new discourse of developmentalism has been displacing ethnicism. It is the rapid economic growth, the strong developmental state armed with coercive laws, and this discourse of developmentalism, which a majority of the middle classes have imbibed, that explain why ethnic relations have been managed so well in Malaysia. That said, it is also important to emphasize that it is this developmentalism, no longer ethnicism, which sets the limits of democratization in Malaysia (Loh 2002). Put another way, it is not consociationalism per se that explains the political stability that characterized multi-ethnic Malaysia these past decades. Superimposed over apparent consociationalism was rapid economic growth that, in turn, facilitated the considerable achievements of the NEP, including the restructuring of ethnic socio-economic interests. However, the economic growth enjoyed by a large proportion of Malaysians of different ethnic groups spawn a new political culture of developmentalism. Not only did Malaysians valorize the economic growth and political stability engendered by the BN government, they also accepted the necessity of the undemocratic means employed by the BN’s strong developmental state to preserve ethnic peace and political stability. In this regard, the notions of Malaysia Boleh, “Asian values,” and “Asian democracy” were actually justifications for the illiberal political practices adopted by Mahathir’s government.

The “Pak Lah factor” and the 2008 election It is within the context of the three major factors discussed above that one should understand the role of Mahathir. Malaysia’s relative success as a politically stable and economically viable country was due not so much to Mahathir’s specific and particular interventions, nor to his personality and charisma per se, but to three trends that his government oversaw and encouraged. Accordingly, although Abdullah Badawi’s emergence as prime minister offered possibilities for change, they occurred only within the structural constraints of these three trends. In this regard, the BN’s spectacular victory in the 2004 polls was not simply due to the initiatives of Abdullah (affectionately referred to as “Pak Lah”). After all, he had only come to power some five

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months earlier. It was also due to his inheritance of Mahathir’s legacy. What was the scope of this legacy? Wittingly or unwittingly, Mahathir did Abdullah a big favor when he amended the Election Act and the Election Offences Act in April 2002, just 18 months prior to his departure. Mahathir’s government also added new seats and realigned the electoral boundaries in 2003. Ultimately, these amendments to the laws and changes to the electoral boundaries proved favorable to the BN in the 2004 election (Loh 2009: 94–97). An important amendment to the Election Act increased the deposit required of electoral candidates from RM5,000 to a maximum of RM20,000, which discriminated against the financially-strapped opposition. An important amendment to the Election Offences Act made it an offence “to act or to make any statement with a view or tendency to promote feelings of ill-will, discontent, or hostility between persons of the same race or different races or of the same class or different classes. . . .” This amendment was so loosely worded, and yet so allencompassing, that the opposition complained that it made it extremely difficult for them to focus attention on scandals and wrongdoing, or to identify cronies who had benefited from the BN government’s largesse. Finally, the gerrymandering of electoral boundaries conducted by the Elections Commission in 2003 added 26 new parliamentary seats and 63 state seats, with most of these appearing in those states where the BN had performed very well in 1999. In the end, the BN won 25 of the 26 new parliamentary seats (Loh 2009: 84–86). Another aspect of Mahathir’s legacy pertained to his use of the ISA and other coercive laws to curb opposition in the period between the 1999 and 2004 elections. For instance, some of the most charismatic leaders of the opposition parties and the reformasi movement were detained on trumped-up charges of threatening national security. Other leaders were taken to court on grounds of libel, for publishing allegedly false news, and even one on a charge of disclosing official secrets. The upshot was that these opposition leaders were all ruled ineligible to contest the 2004 election. Similarly, the continued detention of the would-be opposition leader, Anwar Ibrahim, further stymied challenges from the opposition. In addition to the so-called 3M Alliance of Mahathir, his son Mukhriz, and Deputy Prime Minister Muhyidin Yassin, there are another three Ms that have been put in place by Mahathir’s government that have always paid dividends in elections. These are money, the electoral machine, and the mass media. Compared to the opposition parties, the BN parties had more money due to their ownership and control of business corporations and access to government projects and tenders (Gomez and Jomo 1997). It was evident that the BN outspent the opposition parties in the 2004 polls. Due to that wealth, the BN parties also operated a more effective electoral machine, which linked party headquarters to its branches in the outlying areas. Moreover, as the incumbent, the BN coalition also unabashedly availed itself of government facilities and amenities, although as a caretaker government it was not allowed to do so. Finally, and crucially, there was the BN’s ownership and control of the electronic and print mass media

Malaysia after Mahathir 131 (Zaharom 2002), which allowed them to package and project the “correct image” of the BN government. There was also the Pak Lah factor, highlighted in the media almost immediately after Abdullah had taken office. This was his attempt to make his own mark and to distinguish himself from Mahathir, who had dominated the political scene for 22 long years. Among other images, Abdullah was proclaimed to be more concerned with the software, rather than the hardware, of development, and on developing a “first-class mentality” among Malaysians to accompany the “first-class infrastructure” Mahathir had left behind. In his own words, these changes pertained to “improving governance,” “fighting corruption,” promoting “safety and security,” “improving the delivery of services by the civil service,” and what might be termed a “work with me, not for me” style of politics. Just prior to the elections, Abdullah announced various initiatives, such as the formation of a Royal Commission of Enquiry to look into “enhancing the operation and management of the Royal Malaysian Police.” Although it was billed as an enquiry into how to instill greater professionalism and make the police force a “credible force in the twenty-first century,” the initiative was actually a response to increasing public indignation concerning the lack of public safety and security, and eroding confidence in the police force among Malaysians. In the preceding years, the incidence of violent crimes such as rape and murder had been on the rise. There had also been complaints and a greater number of allegations of police abuse in dealing with demonstrators and opposition groups, as well as the deaths of some criminal suspects while in police custody. Some complainants took their cases to Suhakam, Malaysia’s Human Rights Commission, to the Bar Council’s Human-Rights Committee, or to human rights NGOs as well. Significantly, within a week after Abdullah took office, he made the important move of replacing the police chief. This was followed by an announcement of a pay hike for police personnel. He then announced plans to launch the Royal Commission, which was warmly welcomed by the public, although there were criticisms relating to its composition (Loh 2009: 188–191). Then there was coverage of financial scandals in the mainstream media, normally undistinguished for investigative journalism. Several cases of alleged corruption and cronyism made the headlines – for instance, the head of a Melaka state government corporation was arrested on suspicion of bribery. This was followed by the arrest and charges filed against two bigwigs: the first was Eric Chia, the managing director of Perwaja Steel Sdn Bhd, Malaysia’s largest steel concern, which had lost billions of ringgit; the second was Kasitah Gaddam, then a federal minister, who was charged with corrupt practices in 1996 when he was chairman of the Sabah Land Development Board. Apparently, the cases against these two personalities had been built several years earlier, during Mahathir’s time, but had not been acted upon despite repeated calls by the opposition and NGOs for Mahathir’s government to do so. Abdullah’s newly appointed minister in charge of legal affairs also announced that there were 18 other prominent cases of corruption on the books, while Abdullah ordered his attorney-general to

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speed up investigations and deliberations on these cases. The impression was that, whereas Mahathir’s government had inveighed against corruption but had declined to act decisively, Pak Lah meant business. There was then his pronouncement of Islam Hadhari, or “Civilizational Islam:” a vision of “a progressive, tolerant and modern Islam” that hearkened back to the norms and values that prevailed during past Islamic civilizations. It was simultaneously a response to the opposition Islamic party’s program of an Islamic state and an assurance to non-Muslims that they would not be discriminated against under Abdullah’s Islamization policies (Loh 2009: 84). At any rate, it was a move to distance Abdullah from Mahathir’s proclamation of Malaysia as an Islamic country. In launching these initiatives, Abdullah seized the opportunity to address some of the concerns of the reformasi movement and the opposition parties, which were claiming that Abdullah was simply a “chip off the old block.” Hence, a combination of Mahathir’s legacy and the Pak Lah factor accounts for the BN’s success in the 2004 polls.

Conclusion: the return of democratic momentum Not long after the 2004 polls, the unraveling of Mahathir’s legacy began to pick up steam. No doubt, a contributing factor was Abdullah’s projection of himself as his own man, with his own vision for Malaysia, once he had proven his popularity in the polls. For instance, as the economy slowed in the beginning in 2005, largely due to regional factors, several of Mahathir’s megaprojects were reversed or revised. The billion-ringgit double-track railway project controversially awarded to a conglomerate without prior experience in railway building was deemed “not a priority project” and was postponed indefinitely. Abdullah also scaled down by half the size of the Bakun Hydroelectric Power project in Sarawak, which had been restarted (after it had been frozen due to the 1997–1998 financial crisis) by a joint venture involving Syed Mokhtar al-Bukhary, apparently Mahathir’s new favorite tycoon just prior to his departure, who had also been a beneficiary of other mega projects. Finally, Abdullah also scrapped the building of a new bridge linking Johore to Singapore, the so-called crooked bridge, which the Singapore government had opposed. Instead, Abdullah focused on revisiting the agricultural sector and upgrading that sector with the use of new technology. He also formulated plans to link the rural agricultural sector to the urban areas via his notion of regional corridor development, which underscored the Ninth Malaysia Plan 2006–2010.4 A major component of these plans comprised upgrading or complementing existing infrastructure. Apparently, Abdullah was also trying to signal that he wanted to reform not only Malaysia’s economy, but its political system too. This was underscored by his war against corruption, the Special Commission on the Police, and a new emphasis on improving the performance of the civil service via the introduction of more accountable and transparent practices. Even the media was allowed to become more critical without threat of closure. Taking a cue from these

Malaysia after Mahathir 133 initiatives and Abdullah’s rhetoric of political reform, many civil society groups began to make their voices heard. Some parts of the mainstream media also began to conduct investigative journalism and exposed various wrongdoings on the part of the politicians, the civil service and the police. Quite suddenly, during 2004–2008, a new momentum towards democratization picked up. Below is a short list of some of the new demands expressed (Loh 2009: 26–27). 1

2

3

4

5

Since the establishment of a Royal Commission to investigate the workings of the police, there were demands that the Commission make public its report, and when this was done, there developed a follow-up call that an Independent Police Complaints and Misconduct Commission (IPCMC), as recommended in the Report of the Royal Commission, be established. The call was initiated by numerous human rights NGOs and the Bar Council, among other public interest groups. In the event the IPCMC had not been set up. There was also the demand by a multi-ethnic group of Malaysian NGOs to set up an Inter-Faith Commission (IFC), which would make recommendations on how to enhance inter-faith relations in view of rising tensions among Malaysians – specifically between those demanding an Islamic state and those opposing it. When the prime minister ruled that the time was not appropriate for the establishment of such an IFC, some other NGOs calling themselves “Article 11” (so named in reference to the Article in the Constitution which guarantees freedom of religion to all) initiated a series of public discussions to highlight the emerging conflict between two legal jurisdictions (namely civil laws and the syariah), pointing out that this conflict was undermining constitutional safeguards and threatening ethnoreligious understanding. This effort in defense of the Federal Constitution was ironically deemed “sensitive” by the prime minister after an Article 11 function in Penang was aborted due to a protest by Muslim groups. The Bar Council next demanded that the government reinvestigate the circumstances under which the then Lord President and four other Supreme Court judges were dismissed in 1988 by Mahathir’s government. Thereafter, a crisis of confidence in the independence of the judiciary set in, which was a rationale for this new initiative by the Bar Council. Renewed calls for corruption cases involving 18 bigwigs who had been mentioned by the minister in charge of legal affairs in 2004 to be brought to a close. In the same vein, several groups of Malaysians called for further investigation of various cases of mismanagement of funds and projects following revelations by the auditor-general in his annual report in 2007. Several other submissions to government and protests by thousands of people against the privatization of water; the impending corporatization of the public health services; the worsening public transport system; the hikes in gas prices; increased postal costs; and other matters.

This selective and incomplete list highlights the clamor by various NGOs and civil society groups, opposition party leaders and sometimes BN leaders as well,

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the alternative media and some parts of the mainstream media too, for greater transparency by government and accountability by those in power – in other words, a more meaningful exercise of democracy beyond the holding of elections. They recall earlier occasions of greater democratic momentum, such as the mid-1980s, initiated by NGOs but gradually involving the Bar Council, opposition parties, and even members of the Judiciary; and of the 1998–1999 reformasi movement sparked by the dual crisis of Anwar Ibrahim’s arrest and the regional financial crisis. However, whereas these occasions of democratic ferment were quickly halted via mass arrests and subsequent defeats for these democratic forces in the polls, the clamor for democracy during 2004–2008 picked up steam over time, leading to the relative success of pro-democracy forces in the 2008 polls, as indicated in the early part of the chapter. There are three possible, albeit tentative, explanations for this reversal of fortune for the democratic momentum in Malaysia. First, the simplest explanation: perhaps it has to do with Pak Lah, who replaced Mahathir. Whereas Mahathir was prepared to deal harshly with dissidents and democratic forces via mass arrests and the use of force, Abdullah, to his credit, used the ISA more judiciously. He also avoided race baiting, to which Mahathir’s government was wont to resort when challenged. Second, perhaps the democratic forces have accumulated greater strength in terms of the numbers involved and their reach into civil society; after all, this was not the first time that they challenged the BN’s stranglehold on Malaysian politics. In this regard, democratization should be understood as a process that is cumulative in scope, not as something episodic. Third, there is perhaps a threshold in terms of the level of economic development achieved in a country when developmentalism and the strong developmental state are no longer considered sacrosanct and can be subjected to reversals as well. In this regard, is Malaysia taking after the examples of South Korea and Taiwan? After prolonged periods of authoritarian rule accompanied by rapid economic growth, suddenly, the democratization process accelerated in those two countries. In fact, democratization was also a prolonged process in Japan, and did not take off until the economic recovery and rapid growth of the 1960s and 1970s. Is there, perhaps, a “post-developmentalism” phase evident in the case of the late industrializing countries of East Asia? In this regard, it is significant that the democratization process in multi-ethnic Malaysia has occurred without the outbreak of widespread ethnic violence, unlike in most of the Southeast and South Asian countries. The usual explanation that consociationalism underscores Malaysia’s political stability, and now its democratization process, too, is inadequate. Rather, superimposed over that consociationalism was rapid economic growth, which allowed for the successful implementation of the NEP. This economic growth was enjoyed by a large proportion of Malaysians of different ethnic backgrounds, which in turn spawned a new political culture of developmentalism shared by a large proportion of Malaysians regardless of ethnic background. Consequently, a large proportion of Malaysians valorize economic growth and political stability and rallied behind

Malaysia after Mahathir 135 the BN government over which Mahathir presided for some 20 years, even when Mahathir’s government resorted to undemocratic means to preserve its power. It was not Mahathir’s departure from the scene that launched the democratic process. Rather, Mahathir’s departure coincided with the emergence of Malaysia’s post-developmentalism phase, wherein relatively well-off Malaysians were prepared to take new risks in politics to ensure that the government would be more competent, accountable, and transparent, and that they might be able to engage in politics not just every few years when the general elections are held, but between elections as well.

Notes 1 Elsewhere (Loh 2005 and 2009), the author has elaborated on these coercive laws and the critical role of the police force in maintaining BN rule in the country. 2 On the pliant Elections Commission, see Lim (2003); on the BN’s ownership and control of the mainstream media, see Mustafa (2002). 3 These studies have also indicated how certain politicians benefited from government projects, leading to many conflicts of interest. The end result was a deepening of patronage politics, nepotism, and corruption. 4 This report is available at www.parlimen.gov.my/news/eng-ucapan_rmk9.pdf (accessed September 1, 2013).

Bibliography Abdul Rahman, Embong (1995) ‘Malaysian middle classes: some preliminary observations’, Jurnal Antropologi dan Sosiologi, 22: 31–54. Abdul Rahman, Embong (2001) ‘Beyond crisis: the paradox of the Malaysian middle class’, in Abdul Rahman Embong (ed.) Southeast Asian Middle Classes, Bangi: Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia. Case, W. (1993) ‘Semi-democracy in Malaysia: withstanding the pressures for regime change’, Pacific Affairs, 66(2): 183–205. Crouch, H. (1996) Government and Society in Malaysia, St Leonard’s, New South Wales: Allen & Unwin. Goh, B.L. (2005) ‘The demise of local government elections and urban politics’, in M. Puthucheary and Norani Othman (eds) Elections and Democracy in Malaysia, Bangi: Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia. Gomez, T. and Jomo, K.S. (eds) (1997) Malaysia’s Political Economy: politics, patronage and profits, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Horowitz, D. (1985) Ethnic Groups in Conflict, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Jesudason, J. (1996) ‘The syncretic state and the structuring of oppositional politics in Malaysia’, in G. Rodan (ed.) Political Oppositions in Industrializing Asia, London: Routledge. Jomo, K.S. (1990) Growth and Structural Change in the Malaysian Economy, London: Macmillan. Jomo, K.S., Khoo, B.T. and Chang, Y.T. (1996) ‘Vision, policy and governance in Malaysia’, in L. Frischtak and I. Atiyas (eds) Governance, Leadership and Communication, Washington DC: World Bank.

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Khoo, B.T. (1995) Paradoxes of Mahathirism: an intellectual biography of Mahathir Mohamad, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press. Khoo, B.T. (2002) ‘Nationalism, capitalism and Asian values’, in F.K.W. Loh and B.T. Khoo (eds) Democracy in Malaysia: discourses and practices, Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press. Lijphart, A. (1969) Democracy in Plural Societies: a comparative exploration, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Lim, H.H. (2003) ‘The delineation of peninsular electoral constituencies: amplifying Malay and UMNO power’, in F.K.W. Loh and J. Saravanamuttu (eds) New Politics in Malaysia, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Loh, F.K.W. (1996) ‘A new Sabah and the spell of development’, Southeast Asian Research, 4(1): 63–83. Loh, F.K.W. (2000) ‘State–societal relations in a rapidly growing economy: the case of Malaysia, 1970–1997’, in J. Clark and R.B. Kleinberg (eds) Economic Liberalisation, Democratisation and Civil Society in the Developing World, Basingstoke, Hampshire and London: Macmillan Press. Loh, F.K.W. (2001) ‘Where has (ethnic) politics gone? The case of the BN non-Malay politicians and political parties’, in R. Hefner (ed.) The Politics of Multiculturalism: pluralism and citizenship in Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Loh, F.K.W. (2002) ‘Developmentalism and the limits of democratic discourse’, in F.K.W. Loh and B.T. Khoo (eds) Democracy in Malaysia: discourses and practices, Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press. Loh, F.K.W. (2003) ‘Towards a new politics of fragmentation and contestation’, in F.K.W. Loh and J. Saravanamuttu (eds) New Politics in Malaysia, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Loh, F.K.W. (2005) ‘National security, the police and the rule by law in Malaysia’, in J. Uyangoda (ed.) Militarising State, Society and Culture in Asia, Hong Kong: ARENA. Loh, F.K.W. (2009) Old vs New Politics in Malaysia: state and society in transition, Petaling Jaya: SIRD and Aliran. Martinez, P. (2004) ‘Islam, constitutional democracy and the Islamic state in Malaysia’, in H.G. Lee (ed.) Civil Society in Southeast Asia, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Means, G.P. (1991) Malaysian Politics: the second generation, Singapore: Oxford University Press. Mustafa K. Anuar (2002) ‘Defining democratic discourses: the mainstream press’, in F.K.W. Loh and B.T. Khoo (eds) Democracy in Malaysia: discourses and practices, Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press. Rais, Yatim (1995) Freedom under Executive Power in Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur: Endowment Publications. Smith, A. (1986) The Ethnic Origins of Nations, Oxford: Blackwell. Zaharom, Nain (2002) ‘The structure of the media industry: implications for democracy’, in F.K.W. Loh and B.T. Khoo (eds) Democracy in Malaysia: discourses and practices, Richmond, Surrey: Curzon. Zakaria, Ahmad (1989) ‘Malaysia: quasi democracy in a divided society’, in L. Diamond, J. Linz and S. Lipset (eds) Democracy in Developing Countries: Asia, vol. 3, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.

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Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture Pluralism, tolerance and the rule of law, 1998–20131 Suhardiyoto Harydi and Peter Carey

Introduction Although Indonesia has enjoyed full political independence for nearly seven decades, it is only now that it has regained the chance to look to a future in which it is truly master of its own destiny. For the past 200 years Indonesia’s fate has been largely determined by international events. In January 1808, the archipelago was thrust into the Napoleonic Wars (1803–15) when Napoleon sent his only non-French marshal, Herman Willem Daendels (1768–1818; in office 1808–11), to hold the island against the British. The British in turn invaded in August 1811 and completed the destruction of Java’s ‘Old Order’, which Daendels had begun.2 Then at the Congress of Vienna in 1815, the archipelago was handed back to the Dutch. They would govern their returned colony, which they renamed the Netherlands East Indies in January 1818, for the next 127 years. During this time they reaped substantial profits which eased Holland’s transition to a modern industrialised state.3 In March 1942, at the onset of the Pacific War, the Dutch were ousted by the Japanese: during their thirty-six month military occupation they would provide the opening for Indonesia’s declaration of independence on 17 August 1945. A bitter four-year guerrilla war – the so-called Indonesian ‘Revolution’ (1945–9) – then followed before the Dutch finally agreed to a formal transfer of power to the new Republic of Indonesia on 27 December 1949. Sukarno’s ‘Old Order’ (1950–66), comprising a period of parliamentary rule (1950–57) and nine years of Guided Democracy or Demokrasi Terpimpin (1957–66), followed. The term ‘Old Order’ was introduced by Sukarno’s successor, General Suharto (1921–2008), to contrast it with his own ‘New Order’ (Orde Baru) period (1966–98), which he established in the aftermath of the anticommunist bloodbath of 1965–6. The Indonesian founding fathers adopted the parliamentary system following the transfer of power in December 1949 to secure international support for the newly born republic. The Guided Democracy concept was proclaimed by Sukarno with the support of the army, notably the Army Chief-of-Staff, General Abdul Haris Nasution (1918–2000; in office 1950–2, 1955–9), in February 1957. Sukarno’s proposal was for a blend of nationalism (nasionalisme), religion

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(agama) and communism (komunisme), a trilogy known as ‘Nasakom’. This included the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) although they were never given real power. The Nasakom political ideology and form of mixed government was introduced after Sukarno made an official visit to China in 1956. It was intended to appease the three main forces in Indonesian politics, namely, the army, the Islamic parties and the communists. Two days prior to the proclamation of Guided Democracy on 17 August 1957, Sukarno declared, ‘mari kita kuburkan partai-partai’ (‘let us bury political parties’). In March 1957, Sukarno had accepted Nasution’s proposal for a declaration of martial law as a way of dealing with local army-led rebellions in Sulawesi and Sumatra. The rebel military commanders then launched a nationwide struggle against Sukarno’s anti-democratic agenda. They criticised his neglect of the regions outside Java, in particular his failure to ensure regional economic development. They also rejected Sukarno’s creation of an extra-constitutional body known as the Dewan Nasional (National Council), which they saw as an embryo Sovietstyle politburo. The rebel commanders nurtured further grievances against the central government, one of their key aims being Nasution’s removal as army chief of staff. A number of senior army officers, including the army’s deputy chief of staff Major-General Gatot Subroto (in office 1956–62), and the regional military commanders in Eastern Indonesia, Central and South Sumatra, and West and Central Java, along with a slew of their colleagues in army headquarters, threw in their lot with the regional movement. This military rebellion became part of a wider political movement known as the Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Indonesia (Pemerintah Revolusioner Republik Indonesia) based in West Sumatra. This had the aim of establishing a federal government with significant decentralisation of power from Java. It was soon joined by the Permesta movement in Sulawesi. The rebel leadership also included leading civilian politicians such as former Vice President Mohammad Hatta (in office 1945–56), erstwhile prime ministers Sutan Syahrir (in office 1945–7) and Muhammad Natsir (in office 1950–1), and two former Finance Ministers, Syafruddin Prawiranegara (in office 1950–1) and Sumitro Djojohadikusumo (in office 1952–3). These concerted rebellions were launched against what was termed the ‘antidemocratic inclinations’ of the central government and its seeming willingness ‘to embrace the communist camp’. But the rebellions were soon contained due to a lack of coordination among the regional commanders, each of whom had different territorial bases. Nasution also moved effectively to derail the movement by infiltrating its local networks.4 Sukarno’s Nasakom came to a bloody end in 1965–6 when the winds of the Cold War tore the newly independent Indonesian state apart. Gathering ethnic, religious and political discontents culminated in the great blood bath that followed the so-called ‘communist’ coup attempt of 30 September 1965. This murky event, subsequently dubbed the G-30-S (Gerakan 30 September/30 September Movement) or GESTAPU by the Suharto regime, was subsequently used as a pretext to destroy the Indonesian Communist Party or PKI. Within

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 139 eighteen months, the party and its mass affiliates had been destroyed, Sukarno’s regime replaced and nearly 800,000 Indonesians lay dead. With the onset of Suharto’s New Order period (1966–98) and the quadrupling of the oil price in December 1973, Indonesia experienced rapid economic growth. But the new regime was marred by ever deepening corruption. The dominance of the military in politics and the emergence of ubiquitous crony capitalism were its enduring hallmarks. Just a decade after Suharto’s fall, Indonesia witnessed the first ever election of a popularly mandated president when former general Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono or SBY (born 1949, in office since 2004) triumphed over his opponent, former President Megawati Sukarnoputri (in office 2001–4). In 2014, at the end of SBY’s second and last five-year term, Indonesia’s democratic maturity will be further tested in another round of parliamentary and president elections. Despite SBY’s weak leadership and the rampant corruption and ‘transactional politics’ over which he has presided, the country has had the chance to develop further as a successful multi-party democracy.

Post-election challenges Indonesia’s democratic roots reach back to the earliest dawn of the country’s ‘movement for national awakening’ (pergerakan kebangkitan nasional). This began with the founding of the Boedi Oetomo (‘Noble Endeavour’) cultural association on 20 May 1908, uncannily exactly ninety years almost to the day before the fall of Suharto. The country then acquired the concept of democracy from the anti-colonial struggle with most of Indonesia’s founding fathers accepting democracy as the political basis for the country they were trying to build. Indonesia’s first trial of democracy came in November 1945 when Vice President Muhammad Hatta (1902–80) decreed the formation of political parties. Attempts to implement a multi-party system, parliamentary and presidential governments and a federal constitution were all features of democratic politics during the parliamentary phase of Sukarno’s ‘Old Order’ in the early to mid1950s. But the democratic system was later manipulated by the ruling elites to suit their own interests. Both Indonesia’s former presidents – Sukarno (1945–66) and Suharto (1966–98) – took executive power in 1957 and 1966 respectively by curbing the functioning of existing democratic institutions. Suharto’s fall on 21 May 1998 came amidst the worst economic, social and political crisis Indonesia had faced since the mid-1960s. A drastic decrease in the value of the local currency, a collapse of the banking and corporate sectors and massive capital flight (US$82 billion in Sino–Indonesian capital sent offshore mainly to Singapore) led to rapidly increased unemployment and new hardships for the people. Within the space of ten months following the onset of the Asian Financial Crisis of July 1997, the Indonesian economy contracted by 13 per cent, the steepest collapse of any open economy since the Second World War. This in turn ignited a series of ethnic and religious clashes that emboldened separatist movements across the archipelago, most of which would only be

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resolved in the early reformasi period between 1999 and 2005. These six years witnessed the 30 August 1999 independence referendum in East Timor (post2000 the Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste) and the 15 August 2005 Helsinki Accords on Aceh in North Sumatra. To date, only West Papua (formerly Irian Jaya), which the Dutch prepared for self-rule between 1949 and 1962, has yet to see its separatist aspirations satisfactorily resolved.5 In late 1998, Suharto’s hand-picked successor, Indonesia’s very own Dr Strangelove, Engineer B.J. Habibie (in office 1998–9), a German-educated aeronautical engineer, bowed to popular aspirations for an early general election and a sweeping program of political reform, which included two decentralisation bills in April 1999. These launched the process of local self-government for the country’s more than 130 districts. Political developments in the early reformasi period marked a new era in Indonesia’s political history. Around 150 new political parties were established. But only forty-eight were deemed eligible to run in the 7 June 1999 general election. The number of political parties with representatives in parliament has continued to shrink over subsequent general elections. These show a clear pattern whereby stronger political groupings with local representation and grassroots support are continually being established. Over time, these developments have led to a deepening of Indonesia’s democratic political process. In the 2004 general election, twenty-four parties contested the national election and only sixteen secured enough seats to be represented in parliament. In 2009, thirty-eight parties contested the national election but only nine secured enough seats to be represented in parliament. In 2014, only twelve parties will contest the national election, and the number of parties without representation will continue to decrease. In Indonesia’s young democracy, there is now a chance for popular figures with sufficient financial resources and networking skills to establish new political parties and bring them to national prominence. A number of Indonesian politicians, including current President Yudhoyono, former Armed Forces Commander, General Wiranto (in post 1998–9), and former Special Forces and Army Strategic Reserve (or KOSTRAD) commander, General Prabowo Subianto (in post 1995–8 and March–May 1998), have brought their Democrat, Hanura and Gerindra parties respectively onto the country’s political stage. At the same time, former media mogul Surya Paloh has successfully launched his National Democrat (Nasdem) party as a credible contender in the upcoming general election. Another media tycoon, forty-seven-year-old Harry Tanoesoedibjo, is expected to establish his own political party, the Indonesian Unity Party (Persatuan Indonesia or Perindo), currently a non-political mass organization, in the aftermath of the 2014 general election. In the meantime, he has joined forces with Wiranto’s Hanura after a bitter split from Surya Paloh’s Nasdem party in January 2013. Such developments indicate that the country has embarked on a process of return to the multi-party system of government that existed before the inception of Sukarno’s ‘Guided Democracy’ in 1957 and the distortions created by Suharto’s one-party New Order regime (1966–98) based on the government Golongan Karya (Party of Functional Groups) or Golkar.

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 141 With so many parties competing at the June 1999 general election, it was understandable that no single entity would win an overall majority. The Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (Partai Demokrasi Indonesia-Perjuangan or PDI-P) of former President Sukarno’s daughter, Megawati Sukarnoputri, garnered the most support with 34 per cent of the popular vote. The nationwide count showed that almost 80 per cent of Indonesian voters had cast their ballots against the former government party. But this opposition was highly fragmented. There was also an invidious regional imbalance between population-rich Java and the outer islands – particularly Sulawesi and eastern Indonesia (Sumbawa, Flores, Timor and Maluku). In the former, Megawati’s PDI-P and Abdurrahman Wahid’s National Awakening Party (Partai Kebangkitan Bangsa or PKB) did particularly well. But Golkar made a stronger showing in the outer islands, winning a larger share of constituency seats (24 per cent) than its percentage of the popular vote (22 per cent) because of the way in which seats were distributed regionally. Once the People’s Consultative Assembly or Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat (MPR) had met in early October 1999 to begin the selection of the new president – former President B.J. Habibie’s (in office 1998–9) further incumbency having been rejected because of his handling of the East Timor referendum – Megawati found herself opposed by Wahid’s PKB and a host of Islamic-leaning parties. These latter were grouped in a loose alliance known as the ‘central caucus’ (poros tengah). It was this grouping that facilitated Wahid’s election on 20 October 1999 with Megawati as his deputy, the first democratically elected president and vice president respectively in more than four decades.6 This occurred only after a tough bargaining process between the major parties during the MPR sessions. Consensus among ruling coalition factions was now the determining factor in the political process. It would continue to be so during the fifteen-year political reform or reformasi (1998 to the present), which continues to this day (September 2013). The new president, popularly known as Gus Dur,7 was a charismatic Muslim leader and head of the thirty-five-million strong Nahdlatul Ulama or ‘Renaissance of the Religious Scholars’ mass organisation. Initially praised as a religious pluralist, political democrat, economic pragmatist and national unifier, he proved to be an incompetent president. He was incapable of effective administration and debilitated by ongoing health problems (he had suffered a stroke in the early 1990s, which had exacerbated his already poor eyesight). Indeed, the sheer magnitude of the problems facing Indonesia at this time would have daunted a much fitter man. The full scale of these problems was not recognised at the time. Instead, during this early democratic transition period, many Indonesians harboured unrealistic expectations about how quickly the country’s economy could be turned round and its democratic institutions restored. In many respects, the new president was his own worst enemy. Ignoring the precariousness of his governing coalition, Gus Dur exasperated his allies, in particular his vice president, Megawati, who replaced him in July 2001, demoralised his ministers, and frustrated

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his advisors. His public comments were erratic and at times downright irrational. He compromised when principled stands were called for and stubbornly dug in his heels where a more experienced politician might have given ground.8 After winning international acclaim in June 1999 for holding its first democratic elections in four decades, Indonesia dissipated its international capital by a rudderless economic policy. Byzantine political intrigues and a slew of scandals accelerated Wahid’s impeachment in July 2001. On the economic front, however, there were signs of hope: just two years after the 1997–8 economic collapse Indonesia was already beginning to spring back. Sales of consumer goods, especially cars and motorcycles, the latter a bellwether of lower-middle-class incomes, began to take off as early as January 2000. With rising commodity prices, sales of palm oil, rubber, and other export crops also forged ahead. Measured by economic output, exports and consumer demand, Indonesia was already pulling out of the Asian crisis by the end of fiscal year 2000/1. But the trouble for Indonesian policy makers was that this economic revival was obscured by political instability.9 There was a huge disconnect between the underlying economy and the confidence of investors, who were spooked by continuing ethnic and religious violence both in the nation’s capital and in the regions. This included a string of bombings in Jakarta – the Marriott Hotel blast in August 2003, the subsequent explosion outside the Australian Embassy, and the Bali night-club attacks of October 2002, which left over 200 foreigners (mainly Australians) dead. Both the Bali and Jakarta bombings were thought to be the work of the Al-Qaeda linked Jemaah Islamiyah Muslim group. At the same time, the grisly army-orchestrated sectarian violence in the Moluccas (Maluku) from January 1999, led some foreign investors to conclude that Indonesia was too dangerous a place to build factories. The breakdown in law and order was an unavoidable consequence of Gus Dur’s much-praised decision to remove the military from law enforcement. His Defence Minister, the London School of Economics-trained, Dr Juwono Sudarsono (in office 1999–2000), the first civilian holder of the ministerial portfolio since Sukarno’s Old Order, had already warned that it would be at least three to five years before the civilian police would be strong enough to fill the vacuum.10 And so it proved. The recent feuds between police generals and the attorney general’s office on the one hand, and the Corruption Eradication Commission (Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi, or KPK) on the other, are a case in point. The prosecution of KPK chairman Antasari Azhar in 2009 on disputed criminal charges and public allegations of the police’s use of excessive force against its rival law enforcement agency have soured relationships. Public discontent over the police’s arbitrary behaviour emerged again in December 2012 with the KPK arresting Inspector General Djoko Susilo, a former traffic police chief, on corruption charges after months of legal disputes with police headquarters. Both cases illustrate the invidious attitude towards the existence of the anti-graft body that was formed in December 2003 during the last year of Megawati’s presidency (2001–4).

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 143 Indonesia’s return to democracy initially raised many questions about its future as a unitary state. Although some of these concerns have receded following the successful resolution of the Aceh crisis in August 2005 just eight months after the 26 December 2004 tsunami, there was no guarantee that a multi-party format would be successful in defusing regional tensions. This was especially the case after the April 1999 decentralisation laws brought in by Habibie. These allowed for greater legislative powers for regional assemblies, especially in the field of taxation, education and law and order. Suharto’s abrupt fall created a chaotic situation, which fed on the temporary power vacuum at the top. After over three decades of repression, rising tensions posed a serious threat to the implementation of the democratic process. It was almost as if Pandora’s Box had opened and out of it had flown all the ethnic, religious and social furies that had been so ruthlessly repressed during the thirtytwo years of Suharto’s autocratic rule. Indonesia’s first free general elections since 1955 were initially seen as detrimental to the country’s future as a unitary state. But a constitutional law that required parties to have branches in at least half of Indonesia’s twenty-seven provinces meant that locally focused regional parties did not gain much traction. The only exception to this rule was Aceh, where the August 2005 Helsinki Accords specifically envisaged the possibility of the former separatist Gerakan Aceh Merdeka (GAM) guerrilla organisation contending local elections in the province. Indeed, they now control the provincial administration with both the Governor and Deputy Governor hailing from GAM and a GAM majority in the local parliament. The transition to democracy was complicated by rising secessionist movements in a number of regions. This situation was exacerbated by the deeply unfair distribution of financial and local resources between the centre and the regions that had pertained since the Dutch colonial period. In some regions, particularly West Papua and Aceh, the issue of the right to self-determination topped the agenda given local people’s mounting resentment towards central government. The years of brutal military repression, epitomised by the Daerah Operasi Militer (Zone of Military Operations) in Aceh between 1990 and 1998, fanned this resentment. In other provinces, such as Riau opposite Singapore, separatist sentiments seemed to pose a less serious threat to the country’s unity. But analysts suggested that similar movements might emerge in other resource-rich regions such as East Kalimantan or those with predominantly non-Muslim populations like Bali and parts of East Nusa Tenggara in eastern Indonesia, where the local populations are majority Hindu and Christian respectively. Such concerns will add to the complexities of Indonesia’s still maturing democracy. In the longer term, it may pose a threat to Indonesia’s very existence if subsequent events continue to neglect the country’s underlying pluralism. As calls for a fairer distribution of resources have grown apace in the reformasi period, it has proven impossible for the central government to retain the same power vis-à-vis the regional administrations. Many regions seem keen to

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obtain even greater autonomy than that allowed under the April 1999 decentralisation legislation. If this happens, it could lead to significant imbalances between Java and the outer regions in terms of infrastructure and human resources. This centre–region imbalance has a long history. It began with the administrative centralisation and skewed investment of the Dutch colonial state, when the lion’s share of infrastructural investment went to Java and very little to the resource-rich outer islands. Vested interest groups with strong links to the centre, including the military (which traditionally obtained 75 per cent of its running costs from its local business interests), political parties and Islamic groups, all resisted moves towards a federal state. Only Amien Rais, the head of the Modernist Muslim Muhammadiyah organisation’s National Mandate Party (Partai Amanat Nasional) came out in support of a federal solution during the June 1999 elections. The very modest showing for this party – it won just 7 per cent of the constituency vote – was indicative of the lack of popular support for such a solution, especially in Java. This had much to do with the widespread popular reaction to Dutch attempts to create a federal solution to the challenge of the Indonesian Unitary Republic (Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia or NKRI) during the Indonesian Revolution of 1945–9. In 1950, the idea of federalism was finally rejected as being a Dutch-inspired solution.11 Many of today’s leaders are worried that a federal system will increase the danger of national disintegration. This was the reason why the districts rather than the provinces were chosen as the focus for the April 1999 decentralisation legislation. But given the mounting pressure from the regions for a greater say over local economic and social planning it is clear that more will have to be done in the regions than at the centre. There is little prospect, however, that more power will be transferred to the local administrations in the near future. The effects of growing corruption among governors, bupati (district heads) and members of the local representative councils or Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah (DPRD) are a major issue here. In the period between 2004 and 2009, the KPK prosecuted five provincial governors, eighteen mayors and bupati, and numerous members of local representative councils.12 Given conflicts over land grants and over-lapping territorial claims in cases of forestry and plantation company concessions, the negative impact of regional autonomy during the last fifteen years is plain for all to see.

The role of Islam One of the significant issues highlighted by the 1999 and 2004 elections was the rivalry between the nation’s secular and Islamic factions. This issue looked set to influence the run-up to the presidential elections and as of the time of writing (September 2013) it will continue to have long-term resonance for the foreseeable future. Some Islamic groups have long sought a stronger voice in government for their religion. As many as eighteen out of forty-eight parties that contested the 1999 and 2004 elections are Muslim-oriented. Some want to establish an Indonesian state in which Islam is the official and dominant religion like

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 145 in parts of the Middle East. A much smaller number wants to go further and introduce syari’ah (Islamic) law as part of the national criminal and civil code, thus making Indonesia more like large Muslim nations like Iran. This has already happened in Aceh as part of the August 2005 Helsinki Accords. As the election campaign period wound to a close in October 1999, the battle lines became increasingly transparent, pitting Islamic against secularist forces. Some of the Muslim political parties, which relied heavily on Islamic symbols, have been competing against each other to convince voters that the real issue in the elections was Islam versus secularism. Even the Indonesian Council of Ulama (MUI) and Muhammadiyah have endorsed this line, calling on Muslims to vote for Islamic parties. Several Islamic organisations, including the Indonesian Mosque Youth Activists, the Communication Forum of Muslim Women’s Organisations and the Khadijah Muslimah Movement, supported the MUI calls. Some Islamic politicians welcomed such calls, saying that the MUI was only being loyal to its mandate as ‘the vanguard of the morality of Muslims’. Moderate Islamic leaders like Gus Dur, however, criticised the MUI directive and called for the clerics’ grouping to be disbanded. Some political analysts characterised the MUI’s move as inimical to democracy. The move, they argued, was an attempt to woo voters away from the Megawati-led PDI-P as well as affecting the fortunes of the other ‘secular’ parties. They even saw it as compromising the larger Muslim parties like Gus Dur’s National Awakening Party and Rais’ National Mandate Party, both of which had developed a secular and pluralist agenda. The polarisation of political principles among major parties reflects a persistent primordial trend in the country’s post-war political history. The pluralist and Islamist poles comprise two broad and overlapping agendas. The pluralist agenda has as its main target the overcoming of inequalities and inter-communal tensions through non-sectarian, market-oriented egalitarianism. The Islamist agenda aims to redress historical Muslim marginalisation through affirmative action in political, social and economic areas. Despite the fatwa against voting for non-Islamic parties, nationalist and pluralist parties dominated the votes with the United Development Party (Partai Persatuan Pembangunan) being the only Islamic party in the top five. Although militant Islam is on the rise in Indonesia, both the 1999 and 2004 elections – like that of 1955 – show that the Muslim vote is divided. In a nation of nearly 250 million, where some 90 per cent of the population declare themselves Muslims on their national identity cards, there is no such thing as a ‘unified’ Muslim vote. Instead, there is a continuing debate over the role of religion in society and a continued struggle for dominance between the more orthodox and the more secular views. There is also a growing divide between modernist and traditionalist organisations represented by Muhammadiyah and Nahdlatul Ulama respectively. This ongoing struggle suggests that what is at stake here is more old-style Islamic politics exemplified by the role of the poros tengah during the October 1999 MPR session, rather than rising Islamic fundamentalism. Controversies

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over the election of a woman head of state, such as Megawati – who served as a lacklustre president between 2001 and 2004 – and debates about the directive to avoid non-Islamic parties are both examples of the exploitation of religion for political ends. Although Islam is factionalised and poorly organised, it still has the potential to be a dangerous political tool that can be exploited by unscrupulous elements in order to disrupt or derail the democratisation process. The final result of the elections, dominated by the five major political parties, suggests that primordial loyalties are still persistent in Indonesian society. As with the 1955 elections, the 1999 ballot can best be understood as a referendum in which religious issues played a central role. Despite their embarrassing defeat, the Islamic factions will almost certainly continue to play a significant role in politics. To avoid unnecessary controversy, it is necessary for Indonesia to start a new and more explicit formulation of the role of religion in politics and the state. Having influenced, if not dominated, almost every political debate in postwar Indonesia, the struggle for a ‘fair’ role for the Islamic groups in Indonesian society continues to raise worries both nationally and internationally. This is especially the case amongst the country’s vulnerable ethnic Chinese, who constitute some 3.5 per cent of the total population but who control upwards of 75 per cent of the country’s private corporate assets. The presence of a more tolerant Islam in Indonesia has been challenged during SBY’s second term in office (2009–14) by the growing number of physical attacks on the minority Ahmadiyah sect. From Bogor and Kuningan in West Java, to Sampang and Lombok in Madura and eastern Indonesia, terrible reports have emerged of the wilful destruction of property, the burning of mosques and the torturing of Ahmadiyah practitioners. During these past five years many lives have been lost. The recent upsurge of persecution of the tiny religious sect by the Islamic mainstream groups has highlighted the need for greater tolerance and more widespread acceptance of pluralism among the majority Sunni Muslim community. Unless such pluralist principles are upheld the country’s fragile democracy will be at risk.

Reform agendas Although the watchword of the 1999 and 2004 elections was ‘reform’ – a term that has given its name to the whole transition decade in Indonesia – none of the leading contenders for the presidency was a reformer at heart. The drastic political events that culminated in Suharto’s May 1998 downfall and the country’s first free elections in forty-four years (June 1999) were anchored in a huge national movement born out of decades of frustration. No one leader could lay claim to this emotional charge. Habibie’s long-term relationship with Suharto made it difficult for him to create an image of being a supporter of reformasi. Although he tried to overturn much of the repressive legacy of his predecessor and brought Indonesia at a rapid pace towards free elections, it is hard to point to anything Habibie actually initiated apart from the independence referendum in East Timor and the

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 147 decentralisation legislation of April 1999, both of which turned into such a disaster for him. Basically all he did was to accept a whole raft of fait accompli. Given the intense popular pressure that had built up, he had no choice but to go along with a popularly endorsed set of reforms. Megawati’s opposition to the UN-sponsored referendum in East Timor (30 August 1999), and to federalism in general, and her commitment to a unitary state format for Indonesia (NKRI) based on a strong central government, marked her out as a conservative. Her silence during the demonstrations that brought down Suharto in May 1998 has been widely seen as one of her weaknesses in the eyes of the reformist camp. What few reform credentials she had came from her opposition to the Suharto regime – namely her victimisation in July 1996 when her PDI (i.e. post-1998, PDI-Perjuangan) headquarters were attacked by New Order thugs – rather than from any personal political philosophy. She was in many respects a political cypher. Gus Dur had much better credentials for his consistent support for pluralist agendas than for those of reform ideas. He knew about politics and religious matters, but his fatal ignorance of economics and lack of administrative capacity were his undoing during his presidency. Many analysts agreed that the only quality he brought to his political role was a strong dose of common sense and a powerful independent constituency in his thirty-five-million-strong Nahdlatul Ulama. However, one of Wahid’s most outstanding achievements during his truncated presidency (1999–2001) was his attempt to put the military under civilian control, a process that has been largely reversed under the subsequent presidencies of Megawati (2001–4) and former general, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono (since 2004). The process of eliminating military’s privileges in politics and business will take many years to complete. It is significant, for example, that the ‘territorial’ structure of military command, which enables the army to shadow the civilian administration from provincial governor down to the lowliest village head, has yet to be fully dismantled. Indeed, the number of territorial commands has actually been increased since Suharto’s fall to cope with continuing ethnic, religious and separatist violence on the periphery. But the army itself is said to be deeply implicated in some of these violent challenges to central state authority. Thus a string of violent uprisings and bombings in Jakarta and other regions – particularly in Maluku since January 1999 – were said to be the work of rogue elements in the military keen to extend their business and professional interests at the local level. Prior to the annual People’s Consultative Assembly (MPR) session in August 2000, former Defence Minister Juwono Sudarsono said groups linked to former President Suharto had sent men ‘everywhere’ to incite riots. He believed the campaign of destabilisation was intended to pressure the government over investigation into allegations of corruption by Suharto during his thirty-two years in power.13 Indonesia’s complicated electoral system hindered the emergence of a more transparent political process especially during the presidential election. The real action moved behind closed doors where hard-nosed deals are cut among parties,

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factions and interest groups, including political generals. Apart from the procedural shortcomings in the presidential elections, the 1945 constitution itself is so reticent that it is open to possible abuses. Moreover, the basic constitutional law formulated during the emergency period of revolution was not a democratic one. That is why a number of international political analysts proposed its fundamental amendment during a seminar held in Jakarta in August 1998. This amendment proposal eventually became law resulting in new democratic procedures for the election of the president, provincial governors and mayors. These were implemented for the first time in the October 2004 elections. The presidential term of office was also limited to a maximum of two five-year periods. There were three basic weaknesses in the previous 1945 Constitution. First, it gave too much power to the president and imposed no clear limitation on his or her term of service. Former President Suharto had exploited this situation to justify his authoritarian rule and repeated re-elections as head of state. Second, it did little to protect human rights. The Suharto regime had always claimed that Indonesia had its own concept of human rights, which in fact was never clearly defined. Third, many provisions of the Constitution made little sense in a modern context. The presence of unelected MPR members representing interest groups (golongan) is no longer necessary because all eligible citizens should be able to channel their aspirations through political parties. Suharto used this mechanism to select loyal supporters for MPR delegates and exploited it to serve his ambition to stay in power for as long as possible. It was also quite possible that the selection of the 200 members of interest groups in the MPR in the aftermath of the 1999 general elections would only cause unnecessary suspicion and disputes among the political parties. So it is a wholly positive development that the MPR has now been removed from the presidential selection process under the amended 2004 constitution. Similarly, the Supreme Advisory Council (Dewan Pertimbangan Agung), one of state institutions stipulated by the 1945 Constitution, no longer has any practical role. Its task to advise the president is obviously redundant as the president already has plenty of advisors. The Supreme Court required fundamental reforms to ensure its autonomy both structurally and functionally. It also needed to be equipped with the right to review laws and other lower-level regulations. The State Audit Agency (BPK) has also been empowered by expanding its network at the lower levels. During the Suharto period and in the first years of reformasi, the BPK existed only at the national level and had only nine members. This was too few for an agency that had supreme supervisory responsibility for the financial audit of such a vast country. One development, which is an excellent augury for the future, has been the willingness of some government departments in the current Yudhoyono (SBY) administration to tackle head-on the problem of systemic corruption. During the Suharto New Order (1966–98) Indonesia became a by-word as one of the most institutionally corrupt countries in Asia, with the World Bank estimating that at least a third of government development budgets derived from multilateral and bilateral aid were regularly peculated by government officials and contractors.

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 149 Contract manipulation – namely overcharging for goods and services – was one of the most ubiquitous methods of increasing exiguous civil servant salaries.14 Since coming to office in October 2004, President Yudhoyono has made it one of his tasks to stamp out corruption at all levels of Indonesian government. In 2010 he changed his tune somewhat when his own brother-in-law, former Bank Indonesia Deputy Governor, Aulia Tantowi Pohan, was involved in a corruption case. But under popular pressure, he outwardly continues to support the KPK or Corruption Eradication Commission (Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi), which Megawati established in the last year of her Presidency. One example of the way in which these reforms can make a difference can be seen in the case of SBY’s first Finance Minister, Sri Mulyani Indrawati (born 26 August 1962; in office 2005–10). A US-educated economist, she worked for many years as a senior IMF official during the Suharto era, a form of selfimposed exile that enabled her to distance herself from the more egregious aspects of New Order corruption. As Indonesian finance minister from 2005 to 2010, Mulyani was known as a tough reformist and was largely credited with strengthening Indonesia’s economy, increasing investments and steering Southeast Asia’s largest economy through the 2007–10 financial crisis. In 2011, she was ranked as the twenty-third most powerful woman in the world, and the most powerful woman in Indonesia, by Forbes magazine. Since her ministerial appointment Mulyani led a concerted campaign to clean up the Finance Ministry, sacking 1,400 staff and appointing 800 new officials at the same time as quadrupling their salaries. She tells her staff that they are ordinary civil servants holding down a properly salaried job on which both they and their families can survive. The least hint of peculation or misuse of office for personal gain is an immediate trigger for dismissal. Mulyani’s anti-corruption initiatives had some dramatic results, not least in the notoriously corrupt Indonesian Customs and Excise service where in the New Order period even the job of tea-boy commanded a princely sum to secure. The turn-around time for goods being unloaded at Jakarta’s main container facility, Tanjung Priok, and other key Indonesian ports, was dramatically cut and in 2008 both the head of the Customs and Excise service and the chief of the Indonesian tax office were voted men of the year in a nationwide poll. As for the feisty Mulyani, who was eventually ousted in May 2010 for demanding that elite actors pay their taxes, she herself was named the most effective Finance Minister in Southeast Asia two years running. She is a firm believer in the synergy between democratic norms and government transparency – the two, in her view, go hand in hand. This was precisely what was wrong, she says, with Suharto’s New Order regime, which was based on autocratic fiat, not democratic consensus. Never has the Indonesian Finance Ministry seen such a shake-up. One swallow does not make a summer, as the saying goes. There is still a long way to go before all Indonesian departments of state follow the Finance Ministry’s example. The Indonesian Supreme Court, for example, remained hostage for many years to a deeply corrupt chief justice. But such officials can ultimately be replaced. The observation of former Prosecutor-General and

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anti-corruption campaigner, Marzuki Darusman (in office 1999–2001) that he was ‘one man sitting atop an extortion racket’ need not be the norm now. The introduction of elections for city mayors (walikota) and bupati following the constitutional reforms of 1999–2002 has opened up important perspectives for the re-greening of the Indonesian political elite and the emergence of new national leaders. The present mayors of Surabaya, Pekalongan and Sawahlunto in West Sumatra, Ibu Tri Rismaharini (born 20 November 1961, in office 2010–15), Dr H. Mohamad Basyir Ahmad (born 24 July 1953, in office 2005–15) and Ir H. Amran Nur (born 13 October 1945, in office 2003–13), have all made names for themselves as successful reformers transforming their respective cities. But undoubtedly the most remarkable of these is the current Governor of Jakarta, Haji Joko Widodo, popularly known as Jokowi (born 21 June 1961; in office from 2012). Jokowi made his name as the reforming mayor of Surakarta (in office 2005–12). In 2012, the year he moved to his new Jakarta appointment, he was placed third in the World Mayor Prize for achieving the greatest success in ‘transforming a crime-ridden city into a regional centre for art and culture’. His modus operandi in Jakarta recalls the same ruthless urgency and skilful leadership epitomized by Sri Mulyani. In Jokowi’s case, it has involved a series of long-delayed initiatives to resurrect key infrastructural and social projects such as the Jakarta Mass Rapid Transport (MRT) system, the introduction of health cards (Kartu Jakarta Sehat) for all economically challenged Jakarta citizens, and the repair of long delapidated flood defences. He has also shown a willingness to tackle fundamental issues of the control of state land, bureaucratic corruption and under-performing local leadership, such as his 15 May 2013 replacement of the Mayor of South Jakarta, Anas Effendi. Given such remarkable achievements and the presence of abundant personal charisma, it is very likely that Jokowi will be a shoe-in as presidential candidate in 2019 if not earlier. The examples set by both Sri Mulyani and Jokowi are good auguries for the future. But there is still much dead wood in the system. Indeed, in many respects Indonesia resembles early eighteenth-century Britain where a mixture of medieval and modern institutions defied any general characterization of bureaucracy. As the historian of Britain’s eighteenth-century fiscal–military state, John Brewer, has described,15 offices were held under a variety of tenures – for life, at pleasure, through treasury warrants or royal patent – and offered a bewildering variety of rewards. Some placemen received exiguous stipends supplemented by handsome fees (the eighteenth-century equivalent of the current Indonesian per diem payments and travel allowances for civil servants – Pegawai Negeri Sipil or PNS); others were paid a comfortable salary (like the current Indonesian Ministry of Finance staff ), but were prohibited from taking any additional perquisite or reward. Officers in the departments of the Navy, Admiralty and the Excise worked what were by eighteenth-century standards very long hours, pursuing tasks that required both skill and application, and subject to rigorous disciplinary procedures. Others had sinecures. This same mixture of the efficient and the corrupt characterises Indonesia’s bureaucracy in the current reformasi period.

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 151 If Indonesia is to move forward effectively on the issue of corruption, the robust leadership evinced by Sri Mulyani and Jokowi, and the public–private partnerships that enabled the British Government make the shift from the laissezfaire attitudes of the early eighteenth-century to the mid-nineteenth-century reforms, are both essential. There is no guarantee of success, but there is an urgency to the problem that should concentrate minds. Certainly, the Republic does not have the luxury of the century-and-a-half that it took the British state to get a handle on institutionalized corruption. The international pressures are much greater today. Competition from Indonesia’s partners in the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), with the regional Free Trade Zone looming in 2015, and the economic muscle of the emerging Asian super-powers (China and India) give the Republic very little room for manoeuvre. There may no longer be a Dutch army hammering at the gate as there was in 1946–9 when the Republic was young, but the economic pressures are just as redoubtable. Unless the problem is solved within the next decade, Indonesia will be left at the margins. A future full of promise will be blighted. The big losers will be the Indonesian people. But its elite will also suffer. Who in their right minds would want such an outcome?

Conclusions The currency crisis that swept through Southeast Asia from mid-1997 turned into a catastrophe when the contagion hit Indonesia. With the rupiah trading at less than 25 per cent of its pre-July 1997 value, economic collapse led to mounting unemployment, poverty, and violent social and religious unrest. Despite the painful social consequences, some analysts have argued that the economic crisis was a blessing in disguise in that it opened the way for long-overdue political reforms. The social and political turmoil that led to Suharto’s downfall in May 1998 created a power vacuum, which in turn enabled Indonesia to embark on long-delayed democratic change. The most obvious force that sealed the Indonesian dictator’s fate was the International Monetary Fund (IMF ). Its antidote for Indonesia’s financial problems – namely the free float of the rupiah on the international currency markets – hugely exacerbated the crisis. This solution was adopted by the Suharto regime in the wake of Asian financial crisis on 14 August 1997. But, instead of stabilising the Indonesian currency, the IMF prescription pushed the rupiah into free fall against the US dollar causing it to decline from 2,700 per US dollar at the time of the mid-August 1997 float to a low of nearly 16,000 in January 1998. Waves of student demonstrations and mass rioting in the capital Jakarta in April and May 1998 and concerted desertion by key ministers such as National Development Planning Minister and chief of the Badan Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional (the National Economic Planning Board) Ginandjar Kartasasmita (in office 1993–8), gave Suharto the final push, forcing him to step down on 21 May 1998. On the occasion of his retirement Michel Camdessus, IMF managing director (in office 1987–2000), boasted: ‘We created the conditions that obliged President

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Suharto to leave his job.’16 Contrary to his public assertions that the collapse of the Indonesian currency was not his real intention, both Camdessus and the Fund were from the first opposed to Suharto’s plan to abandon the IMF recovery prescription and opt for a currency board plan. This latter had been recommended by Johns Hopkins University economist, Steve Hanke, in early 1999. He proposed that the rupiah be allowed to trade at a fixed exchange rate of 5,000 rupiah to the US dollar. Suharto’s interest in this currency board scheme and his resistance to the IMF monetary presciption sealed his fate. Just three months after Suharto’s departure, the IMF currency board deception was revealed, when Michel Camdessus announced that the IMF would give Russia the green light if it chose to adopt such a currency board solution to its ongoing financial crisis.17 Elite manoeuvring led to the installation of the mercurial Vice President B.J. Habibie as Suharto’s successor. The way Suharto removed himself underscores his dominance of the power structures established during his thirty-two years in office. Despite all the turmoil surrounding his downfall, Suharto was able to step down in a much more elegant way than other deposed Asian autocrats. Apart from installing his handpicked successor, Suharto obtained the Armed Forces chief ’s explicit guarantee of his safety and honour – much like former dictator Augusto Pinochet (in office 1971–88) in Chile. The guarantee gradually receded as the Wahid Administration started a trial of the former ruler and put him under house arrest. However, one can compare this with the ignominious flight of President Marcos and his shoe-besotted consort, Imelda Marcos, to Guam and Hawaii in February 1986. In his 1994 book, A Nation in Waiting,18 Adam Schwarz accurately predicted the turmoil and uncertainty surrounding Suharto’s departure. The dramatic way in which he left office forced the country to reinvent itself once again. Since independence in 1945 the young Republic has had to reinvent itself on at least four occasions: namely, after the struggle in 1945–9 to remove the Dutch following Indonesia’s war of independence; during the shift from parliamentary democracy to Sukarno’s Guided Democracy in 1957, following the transition to the army-dominated New Order regime in 1966; and finally after the fall of Suharto on 21 May 1998. In each case the future represented a sharp break with the past. All were draining and painful episodes for the young nation. Today Indonesia is no longer a young nation, as it celebrated its sixty-eighth birthday on 17 August 2013. However, the challenges it faces are more complex than ever. The process of reinvention will be far more difficult than on previous occasions because the country’s political system has become much more inflexible and undemocratic under its first two presidents (Sukarno 1945–66, and Suharto 1966–98). Returning to a multi-party system requires radical revision of the whole system, including the development of a more democratic culture amongst the ruling elite. Uncertainties surrounding the presidential and parliamentary elections of April and June 2014 and the politics of coalition formation among political parties indicate that some political leaders have an inadequate understanding of democracy. Even by polling the largest number of votes, Megawati Sukarnoputri, was still not able to gain the presidency. More than three

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 153 decades of authoritarian rule have seemingly desensitised the Indonesian people to democratic culture. As a leading political scientist Mochtar Pabottingi once put it: ‘they [are] only prepared to be governed by strong men, not by their colleagues’.19 During the difficult transition period to democracy the Indonesian military has faced a number of dilemmas. Accustomed as it has been to a pre-eminent political role and influence, it now finds itself in a situation where it is both losing influence – especially in local government and economy – and finding its past performance coming under ever-closer scrutiny. This situation has exacerbated existing law and order problems. The elimination of military’s dual function (dwi fungsi) from political and economic life has been a slow process due to persistent rivalry between the so-called reformist and conservative camps. One important reform item for the Indonesian armed forces is curbing irrelevant positions within its hierarchy and the revision of its system of promotion, which earlier resulted in over fifty ‘no-job generals’ being posted to army headquarters in 1999. The current situation may have improved with the decreasing appointment of military officers to civilian posts, but there are a number of military reforms still outstanding. The most pressing and problematic is the elimination of legal impunity. This has much to do with the fact that members of the Indonesian military are only allowed to be tried before military tribunals, even when they are being prosecuted for civilian crimes. The recent case of the cold-blooded execution of four prisoners held in a civilian jail by members of the Army’s Special Forces (Kopassus) has dramatically highlighted these problems.20 The question of what role Islam should play in Indonesian politics has also come to the fore especially during the latest parliamentary and presidential elections in October 1999 and October 2004 when a number of Islamic political parties and organisations demanded a greater say in state affairs. This is a question to which answers must rapidly be found, in that the rising influence of the Islamic movement in politics is causing serious worries to minorities such as the ethnic Chinese, not to speak of foreign investors. Some Islamic groups are also likely to become more vocal in the future. This was demonstrated in particular during the last MPR sessions, where Islamic groups strongly resisted Megawati’s candidacy for president on account of her gender. The need to strengthen tolerance and pluralism among Muslim communities is now more urgent than ever, and should be constantly fought for by Indonesian Islamic leaders so that democracy can flourish in this, the world’s largest Muslim country. Now that the East Timor and Aceh issues have been settled, the secessionist challenge in West Papua needs to be addressed. Other regions, such as Riau and East Kalimantan, are also demanding greater autonomy and a much bigger share of locally generated financial resources. The Habibie government’s regional autonomy and 23 April 1999 fiscal balance bills were designed to address the mounting discontent in resource-rich regions. Though the new bills were a useful beginning, much has to be done to ensure the implementation of genuine political devolution within the country. The whole problem of human and political

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skills capacity amongst district and kabupaten (district) level officials, as well as elected representatives in the local parliaments or DPRD, is now top of the agenda. At the same time, the treatment of the separatist movement in West Papua should be much more flexible and imaginative. In the short to medium term this movement can be suppressed through a mixture of political co-optation and brute force, but ultimately the costs will vastly outweigh any possible benefits. Keeping reluctant people in a union to which they feel no loyalty and in which they feel themselves to be the exploited partner will only damage Indonesia’s international image. In West Papua, Indonesia’s bloody rule has often been described as ‘Third World colonialism’. Under such circumstances it should be possible to obtain a civilised political and constitutional settlement in the resource rich province. Official apology for past mistakes – as General Wiranto vouchsafed to Aceh in August 1998 – and a strong commitment to avoid a similar disaster will test Indonesia’s maturity as a nation. But this is only possible if Indonesia effectively manages to re-imagine itself radically enough to encompass a new concept of nationalism. Benedict Anderson, a leading Western Indonesianist, suggests that Indonesia’s nationalism must be understood as a ‘joint project’ rather than a legacy.21 The former indicates that nationalism must be endlessly fought for by all members of a given society based on a series of mutual and horizontally reinforcing aspects of solidarity. To understand nationalism as a ‘legacy’, in Anderson’s view, is misplaced and is likely to have fatal consequences. In Indonesia’s case, the more onerous and expensive the legacy, the more effort has to be put into maintaining it. Sukarno’s Guided Democracy concept was enforced by sacrificing any chance of dialogue with democratic elements, including Mohammad Hatta and other civilian politicians, as well as a handful of thoughtful military officers. During Suharto’s New Order period this involved state terror. In both cases Indonesia witnessed the erosion of democracy and the rise of autocratic systems. Today, sixty-eight years after independence, the ongoing economic and political crisis has been largely overcome but the country is still beset by multiple identity crises. For many Indonesians in Aceh, West Papua, Maluku and other regions, being Indonesian is a questionable identity. It is the task of political leaders in Jakarta, especially the current president, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, and whoever may succeed him in 2014, to provide the answers to these questions. Only then can the increasing sense of emptiness that most Indonesians feel about their current identity be addressed. To what extent the new leader can fulfil his job depends very much on his ability to overcome the personal compromises he has struck with his political backers, including the still powerful Indonesian military. His commitment to the anti-corruption drive and improvements to the functioning of the country’s infant democracy will also play a role here. The physical annihilation of the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) and the dismantling of other political parties during the New Order period, along with proselytisation activities both by the Suharto regime and private organizations, so

Indonesia’s quest for a democratic culture 155 accelerated the process of deeper Islamisation that 1950s-style Aliran no longer has political or social significance.22 But Yudhoyono and whoever emerges as his successor must not repeat Sukarno’s mistake by neglecting the chance of reconciliation with rebellious civilian politicians and military commanders. He must also avoid Suharto’s error of confusing mounting demands for greater autonomy with a desire for outright independence. Indeed, it was the repeated failure of both Suharto and the armed forces to comprehend this distinction that led to so many human rights abuses being committed in places like Aceh and West Papua/Irian Jaya.23 Yudhoyono and the leaders who will take office in 2014 can count on the fact that after nearly seventy years of independence from Dutch colonialism, most inhabitants of this vast archipelago wish to be part of some entity called Indonesia. But the transition towards a democratic decentralised and accountable system of government will take much longer than most Indonesians realise. And if the issues of religious pluralism, corruption and the re-greening of the Indonesian political elite are not addressed it will be impossible to achieve.

Notes 1 First presented in absentia at the ‘After the Strongmen’ Conference, Center for AsiaPacific Studies (CAPAS), RCHSS, Academica Sinica, Taiwan, 2–4 July 2008. 2 See Peter Carey, The Power of Prophecy: Prince Dipanagara and the End of an Old Order in Java, 1785–1855 (Second revised edition, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2008). 3 During the period of the ‘Cultivation System’ (1830–70), which involved Javanese peasant farmers producing cash crops for the Netherlands Indies Government that were then sold on international markets for substantial profits, the Dutch made 832,000,000 guilders (equivalent to US$300 billion in present-day [2013] money) out of Java. This was used to defray the Dutch national debt, construct fortification systems in the Southern Netherlands and build national infrastructure such as canals and railways, see Cees Fasseur, The Politics of Colonial Exploitation; Java, the Dutch and the Cultivation System (Ithaca: Cornell University Southeast Asia Program, 1992). 4 Ventje H.N. Sumual, Memoar (Memoir) (Jakarta: Bina Insani, 2009), p. 217. 5 West Papua was the one part of the former Netherlands East Indies that the Dutch refused to hand over at the time of the transfer of power on 27 December 1949. It was later handed over to Indonesia under pressure from the United States via the United Nations in stages between 1962 and 1969; see John Saltford, The United Nations and the Indonesian Takeover of West Papua, 1962–1969. The Anatomy of Betrayal (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003). 6 Both Wahid and Megawati were elected by the People’s Consultative Assembly (MPR). It would not be until October 2004, with the election of the current president, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, that the Indonesian head of state would be chosen by popular mandate in a direct popular election. 7 ‘Gus’ derives from the Indonesian title ‘Bagus’, a man of distinguished and/or noble birth; Dur is a diminutive of ‘Abdurrahman’. 8 Adam Schwarz, ‘Wahid is in trouble, and he must make some basic changes’, International Herald Tribune, 5 August 2000, available at www.nytimes.com/2000/08/05/ opinion/05iht-edadam.t.html, accessed 8 September. 9 ‘Politics slow shaky revival in Indonesia’, New York Times, 10 June 2000, available at www.nytimes.com/2000/06/10/business/international-business-politics-slow-shakyrevival-in-indonesia.html, accessed 8 September 2013.

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10 Ibid. 11 J.D. Legge, Central Authority and Regional Autonomy in Indonesia: A Study in Local Administration 1950 and 1960 (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1962), p. 7. 12 Mochammad Jasin, ‘The Indonesian Corruption Eradication Commission’, available at www.article2.org/mainfile.php/0901/367/?print=yes, accessed 8 September 2013. 13 ‘Soeharto’s followers “destabilising country” ’, Sydney Morning Herald, 15 June 1999. 14 See Aristides Katoppo et al., Sumitro Djojohadikusumo; Jejak Perlawanan Begawan Pejuang (Sumitro Djojohadikusumo: In the Footsteps of the Wise Fighter’s Resistance) (Jakarta: Pustaka Sinar Harapan, 2000), pp. 362–71. 15 John Brewer, The Sinews of Power: War, Money and the English State, 1688–1783 (London: Routledge, 1989), p. 70. 16 David Sanger, ‘Longtime IMF director resigns in midterm’, New York Times, 10 November 1999. 17 Steve H. Hanke, ‘On the fall of the Rupiah and Suharto’, Globe Asia, 27 January 2007. Camdessus made his announcement on the Russian currency board proposal on 28 August 1998. 18 Adam Schwarz, A Nation in Waiting: Indonesia in the 1990s (St. Leonard’s: Allen & Unwin, 1994), p. 307. 19 ‘Wawancara dengan Mochtar Pabottingi’ (Interview with Mochtar Pabottingi), Kompas Cyber Media, 14 May 1999. 20 For a discussion of this case, which involved the shooting of four criminal suspects in Cebongan jail in Sleman district, Yogyakarta, on 22 March 2013 by members of the Army’s Special Forces (Kopassus), see ‘Sidang Sumpek Kasus Cebongan’ (‘The suffocating trial proceedings of the Cebongan case’), Tempo (Jakarta), 24–30 June 2013, pp. 110–11. 21 ‘Ben Anderson: Indonesia facing a serious situation’, Kompas Cyber Media, English version, 5 March 1999. 22 M.C. Ricklefs, Islamisation and its Opponents in Java, c. 1930 to the Present (Singapore: NUS Press, 2012), pp. 162–4. 23 Anne Booth, ‘Will Indonesia break up?’, Inside Indonesia No. 59 (July–September 1999), available at www.insideindonesia.org/feature-editions/will-indonesia-break-up

9

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra and the new politics in Thailand Hugh Pei-Hsiu Chen

Introduction Of all the illustrated figures in modern Thai politics, Thaksin Shinawatra stands out without parallel. His words and deeds are engraved upon Thai political history, his unique governance style has been labeled as “Thaksinology,” and his political legacy, which overwhelmingly dominated Thai politics in the first decade of the twenty-first century, is demonstrated as “Thaksinization.” Doubtlessly, Thaksin Shinawatra can be regarded as the ‘strongman’ in the electoral democracy of modern Thailand. The astonishing coup launched by the Thai army on September 19, 2006 that successfully overthrew the legitimate majority civilian government led by Thaksin marked a major setback for democratization in Thailand. The Thaksin regime, based on the ruling Thai Rak Thai (TRT) Party, had just won a landslide victory in the general election in 2005 and begun its second term. Opposed to the expectation of fulfilling democratic consolidation in Thailand, the military suddenly seized power, abolished the 1997 constitution, dismissed the congress, and canceled the coming elections. The people in “Non-Bangkok Thailand,” mostly from the wide rural North, the Northeast, and the deep South, had been politically enlightened by Thaksin and countered the new conservative alliance organized by the rich and urban middle class with strong demonstrations on the streets of central Bangkok. It is generally accepted that governance under Thaksin had achieved authentic reform of Thai politics, including “decentralization” and “localization,” and had obtained strong grossroots support that would safeguard his advantage in electoral campaigns. The first military coup in twenty-first century Thailand seemed to be just another episode in Thai political transitions in the new age. Even here, while serious and bloody social revolts followed the fall of Thaksin, the theme of Thai politics in the post-Thaksin era did not leave the path of electoral politics. Three out of four post-coup prime ministers have been Thaksin’s advocates: Samak Sundaravej was his political crony, Somchai Wongsawat his brother-in-law, and the incumbent premier Yingluck Shinawatra, his youngest sister. The ruling Pheu Thai Party and its predecessor People Power Party are both reproductions

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of Thaksin’s Thai Rak Thai Party. Thaksin consolidated the new politics of Thailand on the basis of electoral democracy and stood out as a strongman. Thai-style democracy does not fit well into a solid, well-defined typology. Since it abolished absolute monarchy in 1932, the Thai political system’s framework has remained fundamentally the same. Examining the practice of Thai constitutional monarchy, however, we see that the figurehead of state and the cabinet system were never fully realized, and the King of Thailand, especially King Bhumibol Adulyadej, has remained the ultimate arbiter of political struggles in the long run (Handley 2006). Prior to the year 2000 the Thai political framework was often far from reflective of the constitutional convention of the cabinet system, clearly illustrating that this is not a typical “Tudor” constitutional monarchy and cabinet system, such as that pioneered in the United Kingdom (Case 2002; Suwannathat-Pian 2004). Thai democracy began to sprout at the end of the 1920s, but was curtailed by the same crises of legitimacy that so many regimes faced during the Great Depression on the threshold between the 1920s and the 1930s. Following a halfcentury of military authoritarian rule, a semi-democratic system slowly came into being in Thai politics, coming to the fore in the 1980s. This was a phase of adjustment and compromise in civil–military relations during the transition from military authoritarianism to civilian governance. Frequent coups d’état influenced political power dynamics in Thai politics, such that political systems and party politics seemed comparatively weak. The legitimacy of the coups d’état in Thailand was based on two sources: first, the incompetence of the government and the chaos of parliamentary politics; second, their approval by the monarch. The king could convey de facto legitimacy on a coup d’état based on the favorability of the resulting changes in the political scene and public opinion. Thai politics was not typically defined by a military regime (Chen 2004). Based on the regime typology proposed by Juan Linz, the fundamental characteristics of a military regime include military leaders, or a group of military officers, controlling governmental decisions, ruling society via military power; high-ranking military officers occupying key positions in the government; a monopoly on political power by the military, and politics pursued on the basis of violence and compulsion. Most members of the Thai military did not seek to monopolize political power after a coup d’état, but instead monitored the government and pulled out of government soon after new elections were held and the constitution and constitutional reforms were established. It is apparent that the Thai coups d’état were not intended to constitute a military regime as defined by Linz (2000). It is common sense, almost a cliché, that Thai-style democracy is essentially a bureaucratic polity (Dhiravegin 1992). Guillermo O’Donnell, who pioneered the analysis of bureaucratic authoritarianism in Latin America, has compared Thai politics with contemporary Argentina and Brazil in terms of the characteristics of the political regime, and concluded that they were highly similar (O’Donnell 1988). The massive anti-military authoritarian demonstration launched by the

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 159 urban middle class in Bangkok in May 1992 finally frustrated the military junta’s attempt to restore military rule and safeguarded the semi-democracy in Thailand. However, political power continued to be monopolized by the elite class, government policies continued to be biased towards the wealthy, and the military cooperated with bureaucratic groups to continue to dominate the rule of Thailand. Having survived the ravages of the Asian financial crisis, and encouraged by the promulgation of a new constitution in 1997, Thai politics went through a crucial transition that marked the milestone of democratization. This overhaul of Thai politics was brought about by the political reform movement that emerged during the financial crisis. Splits in the elite class as well as social cleavage always occur during periods of national crisis. The accumulated wealth of Thailand was wiped out rapidly during the Asian financial crisis and the collapse of economic growth meant the elite could only seek support from the middle and lower classes to pursue state reconstruction and economic recovery. Unprecedentedly Thailand saw the formation and emergence of a grassroots political party based on mass public support, instead of the elite class – the Thai Rak Thai (TRT) Party – which rapidly and widely won support in rural areas, especially the north and northeast Thailand. Unlike the constitutional custom and experience of the West, in Thailand the palace and military took over the role of constitutional court to supervise operation of the judicial system and to referee the legal disputes in the political process. This extraordinary political scenario substantially authorized the king and military to be the arbitrators in Thailand’s national and everyday politics. The monarchy and the military in Thailand are always protecting their power bases and personal interests. However, Thaksin deconstructed the benefit structures of the upper class and acted to benefit the common people through a series of populist policies. By nurturing democratic faith in the public, he challenged the traditional authority of the king and the military, and in doing so touched a raw nerve in the political society of Thailand and sowed the seeds of his own destruction. Sondhi Limthongkul, a media mogul as well as Thaksin’s long-term political crony, led a mass demonstration formed by the urban middle class that recognized their interests were impaired by Thaksin. The bourgeois group rapidly organized themselves to form the People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD) when the confrontation between the rural poor and the urban rich became apparent; social cleavage in Thailand began to extend, and fierce revolts seemed to be out of control. Eventually, with the endorsement of the king, the military launched a coup that terminated the democratically elected Thaksin government. Royalists and senior bureaucratic elites attempted to return Thai democracy to its established track by once again encouraging a military coup, disbanding the ruling TRT Party, and abolishing and then rewriting the Constitution. However, the TRT Party once again won the subsequent general election in the guise of the newly organized People Power Party.

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This military coup and constitutional redrafting in 2006 did not serve their intended ends. The continuous victory of pro-Thaksin political parties in the elections after the coup indicated that Thaksin was still the leading figure in electoral politics in Thai electoral politics. The significant difference was that large-scale public demonstrations replaced the armed forces in forcibly struggling against democracy. The military coup in 2006 did not change Thai people’s idea of democratic development in Thailand, but instead resulted in social unrest in 2008. The state apparatus came to a near halt, and even the leaders of the street politics were demanding a shift to a new politics. Ironically, the contending connotation of “new politics” ended simultaneously when the Thaksin regime was toppled, and then the political legacies of Thaksin economics and Thaksinology demonstrated the forms and norms of the authentic “new politics” of Thailand, and “Thaksinization” was thus conceptualized and comprehended. This chapter will, first of all, review the background of Thaksin’s rise on the Thai political stage. It concentrates on the significance of the year 1997, which economically and politically facilitated Thaksin’s supreme ascendancy in Thailand’s new politics. It then explores the connotation of “Thaksinology” from the perspectives of social capitalism and of political populism, to explain what and how Thaksin has transformed Thailand from the traditional semi-democracy to an unprecedented new political formation. Next, the causes and effects of the 2006 military coup that toppled Thaksin regime and ended Thai new politics will be analysed based on the relations between armed forces and civil society, which is clearly important but easily obscured in discussing Thai politics. Finally, the legacy of Thaksin’s governance, recapitulated as “Thaksinization,” will be reviewed and re-evaluated to demonstrate why Thai politics after strongman has departed, is still bogged down in continuous debating and contending on Thaksin.

The rise of Thaksin: the significance of the year 1997 The Asian financial crisis in 1997 The year 1997 is both politically and economically significant in the rise of Thaksin. Understanding the dramatic political rise of Thaksin, it is important to look back at the economic development history in Thailand between 1968 and 2006 that implicated the scenario of Thaksin’s rise, and also his popularity, as economic growth in Thailand during that time shifted the government’s attention from local interests towards national and international economic opportunities. It is obvious that Thaksin and his TRT Party benefited from the persistently wide inequality in Thailand, as they were able to adapt populist measures that would appeal to the poor and mobilize their political participation from the grassroots (Jitsuchon 2006). Thailand’s modern economic development can be divided into four periods: the pre-boom period (1968 to 1986); the boom period (1987 to 1996); the crisis period (1997 to 1999); and the regeneration period (2000–2006).

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 161 During the pre-boom period, Thailand experienced a higher growth rate in gross national product than any other low- or middle-income country. Thailand had gross national product growth of 6.7 percent per year, while other low- and middle-income countries had an average gross national product growth of approximately 2.4 percent (Yoshihara 1995: 106). In addition, during the boom period, Thailand’s economy became one of the fastest growing economies in the world. Physical capital such as equipment and factories, both domestic and foreign, were the main contributor to this high growth rate (Pempel 1999). Suddenly hit by the Asian financial crisis in 1997, Thailand’s economic growth rate fell to –10 percent in 1998, the lowest it had been since before the pre-boom period. However, in 1999, the economy regained momentum and the country’s GDP per capita rose from $5,521 in 1999 to $7,378 million in 2006, an increase of 33 percent (Jitsuchon 2006: 73). Thailand’s economic policies from 1997 to 2006 focused more on upgrading rural living standards and reducing rural poverty than trying to boost the economy in urban areas (Doner 2009). What cannot be overlooked is that there still remained a significant proportion of the population (6.1 million people in 2006) living under the poverty line with an income less than 1,386 baht ($42) per person per month in 2006. It is also worth noting that those absolutely poor people were the farmers and workers in rural areas who were Thaksin’s main source of votes in both the 2001 and 2005 general elections in which the TRT Party won landslide victories (Phongpaichit and Baker 2010). Between 1997 and 2006, Thailand experienced an economic crisis, political turmoil, and social insurgencies in the Muslim-majority South. This post-crisis decade contributed to slow development in rural areas, especially in the North, Northeast, and the deep South. Between 1997 and 2006 the differences in household income between urban and rural areas and general income inequality were still wide. Due to this income gap between the rich and the poor, as a result of the growing economy and the financial crisis, Thaksin and the TRT picked up these perceived the widening income gap between the rich and the poor that resulted from the growing economy and the financial crisis, and focused their policies on inequality problems. The People’s Constitution of 1997 Since the abolition of absolute monarchy and the establishment of a constitutional monarchy in 1932, Thailand has declared no fewer than 18 constitutions, meaning that the average duration of a Thai constitution is approximately four years (Siwaraksa et al. 1997). Samuel E. Finer indicated that the most distinctive feature of constitutional practice in Thailand is that it is “constantly and continually torn up to make new one” (Finer et al. 1995: 2–3). It is evident in its constitutional history that such a high frequency of constitution replacement (considered alongside the infamous frequency of coups d’état) is due to the endless cycle of invalidating and rewriting in search of a permanent one. The situation is comparable to the cycle of communist revolutions and counter-revolutions in Communist

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Russia and the former Soviet Union, which is reflected in the myth of “permanent revolution” proposed by Leon Trotsky (Chen 2001). The constitution occupies a sublime position as the ultimate source of political authority in most countries’ political systems. But in Thailand, the constitution is basically an item of political transaction. And in most countries’ political operation, constitutional authority is beyond the reach of everyday political activities. It is usually only under extreme circumstances that constitutions are amended. But this is exactly the opposite of the situation in Thailand. In addition to the frequent abolition of the constitution of the day, amendments are also commonly introduced. Duncan McCargo (1998: 6) compared the Constitution to a “political football to be kicked around by the winning team.” Although the authority of the Thai constitution is almost non-existent, people from academic and political circles still widely regard the realization of constitutionalism as a cure for deep-rooted illnesses in Thai politics. After the launch of political reform in 1992, there was active participation in the rewriting of the constitution by every academic and political group, and various versions of the constitution were proposed. These would-be constitutional fathers all seemed to share a desire to author a real constitution for Thailand. What they had in mind was an permanent constitution – something that Thailand has never had. King Bhumibol Adulyadej, also known as Rama IX, provided perhaps the best annotation for the above argument: “If the constitution draft is reasonable, even if it’s inadequate, it should be passed and promulgated as soon as possible, because it could be amended later on” (Adulyadej 1992: 12). The 1997 constitution is recognized as the first “authentic” constitution in Thailand since 1932, and is also named the “People’s Charter.” The most important political mission implied in this People’s Charter is to build up an authentic political party system and party politics in Thailand; however, its notable outcome has been the rise of Thaksin based on a strong political party and a majority of seats in the parliament, which gave him legitimate authority to govern Thailand without approval from the King (Neher 1992). Pursuing the “new politics” based on competition between political parties and on parliamentary procedures, the 1997 Constitution was designed with a focus on consolidating the electoral system and reinforcing party politics, and thus completely freeing the nation from the shackles of semi-democracy (Chen 2004). Electoral system reform was comprised of institutional reforms and a relaxation of voting restrictions. The Election Committee was given a wide range of powers by the 1997 Constitution (Article 10 of the Constitution). The major difficulty facing the Election Committee was coordinating the actions of its members, whose independent powers to exercise its functions led to the disintegration and decomposition of the committee. The five members became, in practical terms, five organizations with five sets of rules. The five members of the Election Committee did not operate at the national level. Responsibility for realizing its functions devolved to the secretariat under its command. Regional organizations served as executive tools of the committee, monitoring regional electoral institutions at all levels. The Election Committee

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 163 set up a permanent provincial election committee in each province. Members of these provincial committees were carefully selected, and they played an important role in determining the regional subjects for debate and forwarding them to the Election Committee for consideration. The number of provincial committee members was based on the local population (King Prajadhipok’s Institute 2003: 15–16). Each provincial election committee contained three other ad hoc committees. The District Election Committee was the principle mechanism of electoral operations, and was in charge of monitoring the single-member district electoral system. There were enough District Election Committees under the new electoral system to meet the needs of all the constituencies, but the committees were never responsible for frontline electoral work. Instead, they worked closely with the Polling Station Committee to monitor the progress of voting. In terms of voting rights at referendums, the new Constitution stipulated that this was more of a duty than a right to Thai citizens (Articles 20–23 of the Constitution): eligible voters bore a political responsibility to vote. If they did not vote, they had to report the reason to the Election Committee. The Committee would look into each case. Should the reason be judged inappropriate or insufficient, the voters would have to fulfill their duty to vote, or their political rights would be terminated. The standard was set by the Constitutional Court, rather than the Election Committee, on the basis of law rather than politics. Political rights that might be deprived from people who failed to vote included: (1) losing the right to stand as a candidate at any constituency level, or as chief of any village or region; (2) losing the right to oppose elections at any level (including those of the village or regional head); (3) losing the right to propose any bills or regional stipulations; and (4) losing the right to impeach officials at any level (Narakorn 2001: 107). Such a loss of political rights would last until the next assembly or Senate election. But stripping the political rights of non-voters would not affect the political attitudes of voters. The stripping of such political rights was rather removed and abstract, and might intensify non-participatory attitudes. To avoid a division in parliament, the new Constitution and the Electoral Organization Law supported the consolidation of political parties (Articles 30, 35, and 38 of the Constitution). All candidates must compete to stand as a candidate in a constituency in a system of ratio representation, in addition to being connected to a political party, meaning that would-be candidates must be referred to the Election Committee by their party leaders, and the number of candidates in a constituency and the system of ratio representation must be equal between parties. The candidates on the party list were fairly distributed in each region, so as to protect the conventional quota system in Thai politics (Chen 2004). Additionally, as there was no natural party identification in conjunction with binding party discipline, there was a widespread lack of loyalty amongst Thai politicians, who frequently switched parties. Members of parliament became what scholars and the media called apolitical ideologists (Phongpaichit 2002: 9–11).

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Thaksinology: social capitalism and business politics Social capitalism vs self-sufficiency economics The military coup in September 2006 spelled the end for Thaksin. The official explanation that this was due to the sale of Thaksin’s Shin Cooperation to Singapore’s Temasek Holdings was just a cover story. Thaksin had become a threat to the supreme authority of King Bhumipol and the royal conservative bloc or the ‘network monarchy’ (McCargo and Pathmanand 2005), not only because he had benefited from the post-crisis recovery but also he represented, directly and indirectly, a new economic policy. Chuan Leekpai’s premiership from 1998 to 2001 was an interlude in modern Thai political development: Chuan took charge of the painful restructuring of the economy that was embraced by the IMF ’s austerity program, and then populist multi-billionaire Then Thaksin Shinawatra entered the scene as elected prime minister. The Thaksin administration adopted expansionary fiscal and economic policies in an attempt to enhance rapid and powerful growth in order to extricate Thailand from the economic morass. In Thaksin’s first term, which ran from 2001 to 2005, the government focused on boosting rural incomes and development, but infrastructure development was declared the priority for the second term from 2005. Whether the new policy orientation had any substance in reality is a controversial issue. Thaksin’s astronomical wealth was mainly based on communication enterprises. So many Thai TV stations faced the fate of bankruptcy after Thai currency devaluation and the economic crash that Thaksin could have launched his own cable-based station for a pittance. Instead, he paid Siam Commercial Bank $60 million for the insolvent ITV shares. As the richest man in Thailand, Thaksin could use his money to buy off the palace (Handley 2006: 424). In fact it can be argued that Thaksin directly threatened the hegemony of the network monarchy over Thai politics and deconstructed the traditional money–power framework that had prevailed in Thailand over the previous 35 years. The main characteristics of Thailand’s network monarchy from 1980 to 2001 could be illustrated as follows: (1) the monarch was the ultimate arbiter of political decisions in times of crisis; (2) the monarchy was the primary source of national legitimacy: the King acted as a didactive commentator on national issues, helping to set the national agenda, especially through annual royal birthday speeches; (3) the monarch intervened actively in political developments, largely by working through proxies such as privy councillors and trusted military figures, and the lead proxy, former army commander and prime minister Prem Tinsulanonda, helped determine the nature of coalition governments, and monitored the process of military and other promotions (McCargo 2006: 501). The effective operation of this network relied on placing the right people in the right jobs. The allocation of key posts was the primary role of the lead proxy, Prem. King Bhumipol’s instruction that Thailand (Siam) should return to a traditional self-sufficiency economy to save the country, as well as to save the people

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 165 from the abyss of the Asian financial crisis, was well known all over the world. When Thaksin was accused of mega corruption related to globalization the voice pushing for the reinstatenent of the King’s economic policy of self-sufficiency resurged, but Thaksin recognized such a policy was totally unrealistic and firmly carried out his new economic policies based on social capitalism. The King’s absolute authority was obviously challenged by Thaksin, and the military also deeply felt such threats as well. During the coup in September and its aftermath, the military junta echoed the royal economic policy to justify their coup: to rescue Thailand from the hell of Thaksin’s encompassing corruption and to show their loyalty to the King. CEO-style leadership and business politics Thaksin Shinawatra’s career started in the Royal Thai Police Department in 1973; he later obtained a doctorate in criminal justice. He resigned as a lieutenant colonel in 1987 after reaching the position of deputy superintendent of the policy and planning sub-division. A computer company he established with his wife began to pick up in 1982, and became one of the few well-known computer companies in Thailand; he resigned from his public position to become the president of Shinawatra Computer and Communications Group (Pathmanand 1998). Despite the relatively brief span of his political career, Thaksin moved between political parties and developed an in-depth understanding of their operations. Thaksin first joined the Palang Dharma Party led by Chamlong Srimuang, who led the anti-military uprising in the famous ‘Black May’ event in May 1992, and later became deputy party leader. When Chart Thai Party, led by Banharn Silpaarcha, formed a coalition government in July 1995, Thaksin was appointed minister of foreign affairs and later took up the position of deputy prime minister in the coalition government (McCargo 1997). The Palang Dharma Party and the Chart Thai Party stood at the two ends of Thai political spectrum: the former insisting on moral principles and traditional values, whereas the latter was the symbol of contemporary plutocracy in Thailand. Chamlong Srimuang and Banharn Silpa-archa came from different worlds: the former was called the “puritan of Thai political scene,” whereas the latter was nicknamed “Mr ATM.” The political career of Thaksin clearly reflected his practicality and flexibility, as well as his insights into the deficiencies of traditional political parties in Thailand. Political parties in Thailand are highly volatile because no one possesses both principle and actual strength. These qualities and insights were at play in the planning and organization of his new party (Chen 2003). He founded the TRT Party on 14 July, 1998, became its leader, and subsequently led the party to an unprecedented victory in the national election in January 2001. He became the thirty-fourth Prime Minister of Thailand on 9 February 2001. Thaksin adopted an enterprise merger strategy to absorb the loosely organized political parties. Thaksin had a thorough understanding of Thai political party operations and politics. After coming to power, he actively drove the strategy of

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party amalgamation. The TRT Party took over political parties (although not the main opposition Democrat Party), including the Liberal Justice Party, the New Aspiration Party, and the Chart Patana Party. The dominance of the TRT Party in the Thai political system increased on a daily basis, producing an unbalanced two-party system featuring a big party (the TRT Party) vs a small party (the Democrats). The competitiveness of the main opposition party, the Democrat Party, was weakened as a result. Such a development was a far cry from the competitive two-party system envisioned in the 1997 Constitution. Unlike the usual inefficient coalition government in Thailand, Thaksin’s government was active and determined in the introduction of new policies, and he demanded results. Soon he incurred ridicule for acting in an authoritarian manner; when he sought direct public support for his policies, he was criticized as a populist; in academic circles, the implementation of his government’s policies was termed “authoritarian populism.” It is evident that the reality was inconsistent with participatory democratic governance as anticipated by the 1997 Constitution (McCargo 2001: 97–99). Politics in Thailand in the twenty-first century has vacillated between authoritarian populism and participatory democratic governance. Thaksin’s first term of office (2001–2004) presented a golden opportunity for inspecting the results of political reform and constitutional democracy in Thailand. The influence of the Thaksin government’s political enterprise surpassed that of traditional “money politics” in the past (Phongpaichit and Baker 2004; Laird 2000). The continuous expansion of the TRT Party was leading to a virtual one-party state. The arbitrariness and determination of the Thaksin government in following through on its policies caused researchers to label political changes in late 2000 “Thaksinization.” In this regard, the Thaksin government perfectly exemplified the new concept of politics in Thailand (McCargo and Pathmanand 2005: 77–82). In terms of seats, the TRT Party won 337 seats out of 500 (400 members in single-constituency contests, plus 100 members on the party list) in the parliament in the 2005 election. This was an unprecedented victory, and a great increase over the 255 seats won in the 2001 election, and it resulted in a neverbefore-seen one-party dominance (Sawasdee 2006). Winning 337 seats meant the main opposition party might not be able to obtain the 125 seats required to launch a vote of no confidence against the Cabinet and ministers. The movement and debate of a no-confidence vote has been, since 1980, the principle tool used by opposition parties to restrain the ruling party (Sawasdee 2005: 64). In terms of political support in the regions, the emerging TRT Party swept all the seats in the greater Bangkok region, as well as the remotest and poorest northeastern region. It also led by wide margins in central and northern Thailand, though it performed less well in the south. The TRT Party had become a truly “national” party. The old-line Democrat Party managed to maintain a lead only in southern Thailand, while being completely annihilated in other regions, thus becoming reduced to the status of a regional party.

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 167 The Democrat Party successfully prevented TRT from sweeping the country by taking 52 of the 54 seats in the south, but it only garnered the odd seat here and there in other regions – a complete reversal of its performance in past elections. The Public Party (Mahachon), which broke away from the Democrat Party in 2004, only managed to win two seats, and was unable to clear the 5-percent threshold that would bring seats from the party list (Keyes 2006). The Chartthaipattana Party performed better than expected, gaining a seat in both Bangkok and southern Thailand, and managing to pass the 5-percent threshold to win seven seats based on the party list. Nonetheless, it was gradually being marginalized. From semi-democracy to new politics in Thailand, the primary effect of these changes was to hasten the emergence of better-developed party politics as a firmer basis for the democratic infrastructure. The simplification of the party system is best understood in this context (Satori 1984). Following the parliamentary elections of 2005, a new political landscape emerged in Thailand. The TRT Party possessed an absolutely dominant position, achieving Thaksin’s declared goal of one-party dominance. As illustrated by election results after 1998, the number of seats gained by the main party was on the rise, and the structure of parties was simplified. An unprecedented political situation was created in Thailand by the TRT Party after the parliamentary election of 2005. Never before had there been a party with an absolute majority and a prime minister with an absolute electoral advantage. The increasing monopolization of the electoral scene by Thaksin and his party resulted in the fundamental destruction of Thailand’s conventional system of negotiation and spoils, while his refusal to form an alliance with other parties and political powers contributed to the coalition of anti-Thaksin powers. Secondly, Thaksin gained national prestige thanks to the popular “coronation” that came with winning an absolute majority in a public poll. He was the first strongman in electoral politics in the 70-year-long constitutional history of the country. This most certainly threatened the absolute authority of the Thai king, and made Thaksin a target for attack by conservative forces. Finally, Thaksin tried to annex other parties to further monopolize the political scene and establish unassailable political power. The rise of Thaksin and the style of his rule gave a new populist authoritarianism connotation to the new politics of Thailand. But this conflicted with the conventional political structure of the nation, thus sowing the seeds of a backlash by conservatives. From semi-democracy to electoral democracy Semi-democratic regimes hold regular elections, and opposition parties and interest groups are given some freedom, but in order to prevent opposition parties from replacing existing powers through the ballot box, the freedom of political participation is substantially restricted. The link between opposition parties and interest groups is broken, communication and fundraising channels are limited, and citizens are stripped of many rights (Case 1996: 439).

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Thai politics in the 1980s are often referred to as semi-democratic by academics. Semi-democracy, with reference to constitutional principles, best describes the constitutional framework established by the 1978 Constitution (1978–1991) – the longest lasting in Thai constitutional history. But in reality, the term best describes Thai politics under the regime of Prem Tinsulanonda (1980–1988) (Dhiravegin 1992). The 1978 constitution was the result of a political compromise between the military–bureaucratic elite and extra-bureaucratic elite. It reconciled the old political elements (bureaucratic polity) and new social power (civilian society): the new social power allowed the social and economic elite to participate in politics on behalf of the public through fair and open elections, while the old bureaucratic elite maintained its leading position under the protection of the specifically designed constitutional system (Arghiros 2001: 16–19). Such a compromise in the design of the 1987 Constitution was a key element of the semidemocratic arrangements in Thailand (Siwaraksa et al. 1997: 20–21). Its non-democratic features included the following: 1

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The prime minister need not be a member of parliament under the cabinet system, and need not have to be the majority leader in parliament, provided that a parliamentary majority is obtained or the candidate is specifically supported by the military. Cabinet members do not have to be members of parliament under the cabinet system. Non-democratically elected members can be recruited to head the departments. Cabinet members and department heads are allowed to retain their military and/or literary positions (a later constitutional amendment abolished this rule). The parliament is bicameral.

Members of the Assembly are entirely democratically elected, whereas members of the Senate are appointed (Chen 2004). Its democratic features, on the other hand, included: 1

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Decentralized checks and balances with regards to the executive and legislative functions allow parliament to exercise the vote and debate nonconfidence propositions with respect to the cabinet. The cabinet minister can dissolve parliament and hold new elections. The encouragement of party politics: official party registration is allowed, and political events are permitted. Improvements in the electoral system: constituencies re-mapped to allow for better representation. A constitutional amendment stipulating that high-ranking military officers are not permitted to take positions in the assembly (Chen 2004).

The main reason for the instability of semi-democracy in Thailand was the departure from fundamental principles of constitutional monarchy and the

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 169 cabinet system. Typically, under a constitutional monarchy, the figurehead holds an important title yet exercises little actual power, and thus does not interfere with the operations of constitutional government. In Thailand, however, the king actually has the power to interfere in the Constitution and the political polity. The frequent abolition and rewriting of constitutions resulted in the absurd phenomenon of the nominal constitution. In terms of the cabinet system, the fundamental principle of constitutional government is that the majority party should form the cabinet and its leader assume the office of prime minister. This was not the reality in Thailand, where constitutional government and the results of elections were delinked. Prem Tinsulanonda, a three-time cabinet minister in the 1980s, was never a majority leader, nor did he belong to any political party that stood for elections.

The fall of Thaksin: kingship, armed forces and society Civil–military relations in Thailand “In Thailand, an unsuccessful coup d’état is like a re-election, a successful one is like a general election” (Sivaraksa 1998). Talking about a military coup in the context of the political scene in Thailand, Sulak Sivaraksa, a social leader from the country and a prominent political commentator, made a concise yet comprehensive comparison: Ratapraharn, a Thai word for coup d’état, has a different flavor than the more common word. Somsakdi Xuto writes that the goal of a coup d’état in Thailand is not to execute leadership of the country, but to adjust its political structure and modify its Constitution (Xuto 1987: 172). Coups d’état in Thailand were simple and easy to control: the coup leaders did not have to mobilize the public to create an image of popularity, and very often they were not met with mass resistance. Furthermore, the coups never caused social unrest. As a result, only governmental organizations and the ruling clan were directly impacted. Successful coup leaders have two ways of arranging the new regime: first, to set up a military government, where the coup leader becomes the prime minister (1951, 1958, 1971); second, after appointing an interim prime minister to organize the provisional government, the coup leader would announce his return to the military (1932, 1947, 1957, 1976, 1991, and 2006). Regardless of the method, coups d’état signify a means of replacing the prime minister and his government (Chen 2003). A comparison and analysis of the political and military organization illustrates the reason for the frequent military coups d’état in Thailand. In terms of political organization, a weak constitutional foundation, an inefficient party system, chaotic electoral politics, and the nature of parliamentary politics pave the way for coups. In terms of military organization, the traditional acceptance of military participation in politics has been a driving force behind the coups. Thai military’s image and influence in politics dramatically dropped after the ‘Black May’ bloody demonstration in May 1992. The Democrat Party won the

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general election and civilian politician Chuan Leekpai, chaiman of the Democrat Party, became the prime minister of the coalition government. A democratic period of civilian control in Thailand had started. Many scholars believed it was the beginning of Thai military’s fading out of the Thai political stage. Between the 1991 coup and the coup that took place on September 19, 2006 when the military overthrew the Thaksin Shinawatra administration, the 15-year interim could be referred to as a critical transitional phase in democracy in Thailand. Peculiarly, although the coup undoubtedly sabotaged Thai democracy, it was not challenged or criticized by leaders of the political parties, by bureaucrats, or even by intellectuals. The shaky foundations of political institutions are key to the political dominance of the military in Thailand. In regards to this issue, the deficiencies of the party system and hollowing out of such political vehicles were the two greatest challenges to political institutionalization in Thailand. Lucian W. Pye once mentioned, while discussing political systems in Southeast Asia, that the political parties of the region were unable to fully perform their function, as there was a pre-existing, fundamental problem: the parties were unable to integrate the ruling class and the general public. The political participation of parties was not enough to set in motion the institutionalization of politics, but just sufficient to cause a fissure within the ruling class (Pye 1967: 55–57). Thailand is a perfect example of this phenomenon. On the other hand, chronic military dominance also matches Huntington’s theory that the party system is weak or almost non-existent under the monarchy. In a society that lacks any history of colonialism, it is hard to provoke a mass movement, and this is unfavorable to the development of parties (Huntington 1968: 181). The political positions held by the military, and the social support given the military, has never waned in the wake of economic development and political reform. The military is the trusted power behind national development and stability. According to a nationwide statistical survey conducted by King Prajadhipok’s Institute (KPI) in 2003 on the good governance and development index of the Thai government, the top three social and political institutes in Thailand, as ranked by the public in terms of trustworthiness, were (1) the Constitutional Court, (2) the military, and (3) the Anti-Corruption Committee. The last three were (1) political parties, (2) parliament, and (3) newspapers. An interesting phenomenon, indeed. The three institutions (Constitutional Court, Anti-Corruption Committee, and Election the Committee) set up under the new Constitution in 1997 were well trusted by the public, whereas political parties and parliament that the new Constitution tried to strengthen were not so well regarded. Even more thought provoking was a newly apolitical Thai military, which was highly trusted by the public. This clearly demonstrates the contradiction in the political consciousness of the Thai polity between “political authoritarianism” and “participation in democracy.” It is noteworthy that the three constitutional institutions were newly established, hence the high degree of trust on the part of the Thai public was a reflection of subjective expectations of their future performance. The high degree of

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 171 trust accorded to the Thai military, which led the government, provides objective proof of the closeness between the country’s armed forces and civil society. The significance of the coup in 2006 On the Gregorian calendar, September 19, 2006 is the equivalent of September 19, 2549 on the Buddhist Calendar, which is widely used in Thailand. Superstitions about numbers are widespread in Thai society, and the number nine is the most significant of all. The reason being that nine (gao) in Thai sounds similar to “advancement” (gaao naa), which implies the achievement of both success and fame. Sonthi Boonyaratglin, commander in chief of the army and leader of the coup, met with the Thai King on September 20 and reported on the motivation behind the previous day’s takeover. He was granted the position of president of the Administrative Reform Council of Thailand. The King decreed that the executive institutions of the country ought to follow Sonthi Boonyaratglin, whose new position was the equivalent to that of a surrogate prime minister. The main reason for the stability of politics after Sonthi Boonyaratglin seized power was the support of the military coup expressed by the King. A provisional constitution was declared on October 1, 2006, and an interim military dictatorship was established. Public figures and intellectuals from all walks of life were called upon to become members of the legislature, and Surayud Chulanont became prime minister. A new constitution was passed in 2007, an election for the Lower House was held in December 2007, a new democratically elected government was formed, and the interim government ended its transitional role. This series of political arrangements simply followed the conventional process of Thai politics. The 919 military of 2006 revealed a salient fact about Thai politics: the military obeys the King, but the King will support military coups and give up on the established constitution and government – even a democratically elected one – to maintain social stability and safeguard the welfare of the public. Since the establishment of democracy in Thailand, it has had 16 constitutions, and the only constant has been the power and symbolic position of the King. A closer look reveals that the political system in Thailand is primarily that of a monarchy. Constitutional democracy is merely a tool to maintain the orderly operation of politics; the point of its establishment was to connect with the global trend towards democracy. The absoluteness of royal authority was demonstrated and highlighted in the overt approval of the King for the military coup in 2006. However, the King refused to openly execute Article 7 of the Constitution, as he did not want interference to become a constitutional practice. Instead, he relied on cultural influence, not law, which seemed to keep the royal family from politics (Connors 2008: 143–165). Following the ousting of Thaksin by the military coup on September 19, 2006, political tensions between pro- and anti-Thaksin groups began to escalate. Continuous political demonstrations by the People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD), an anti-Thaksin group, provoked the “Yellow Tide” (PAD members

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dressed in yellow, known as the Yellow Shirts in the international media) to take over the prime minister’s office. Almost every day at this time, there was a political incident in Thailand. When the Yellow Shirts took over Bangkok International Airport in November 2008, the political situation in Thailand had reached boiling point. People, primarily the bourgeoisie and intellectuals, began calling for a military coup to bring an end to the political chaos. Dozens of university professors even issued an open letter to the commander in chief of the Armed Forces, Anupong Paochinda, demanding that the military restore social order by means of a firm and effective operation (that is, a military coup). The bewildering aspect is: why would the public wish for the military to intervene in politics?

Thaksinization: the complex of new politics in Thailand Thaksin and the king: the paradigm of power shifted? The political evolution in Thailand during the post-Thaksin era presented a distinct situation, with “pro-traditional politics elites” vs “pro-electoral politics grassroots.” There was a division between rural and urban populations, which eventually led to political struggles in the streets, as a result of differences in living standards between the cities and the countryside, and an imbalance in the distribution of economic power that tore Thai society apart. The democratic progress of Thailand clearly proves that a country with an apparent caste system, while suffering from chronic imbalance in economic distribution, will be susceptible to boycotts by the upper-class elite during the transformation and consolidation of its democracy, which may result in divisions within the social structure (Chen 2004). A vivid illustration of Thai caste mobilization is apparent in the struggle between the anti-Thaksin Yellow Shirts and the pro-Thaksin Red Shirts. The former, the PAD, received funding and resources from big business and the media, and drew its members primarily from the middle class of the Bangkok metropolis. The latter, the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship, was made up of farmers and laborers from the provinces, and lacked business and media support. The worldwide shock that accompanied the occupation of Bangkok International Airport by the Yellow Shirts in 2008 was clearly the result of police inaction and tacit consent from the military. This was evidently a clash between castes (Keyes 2006). Although the absolute monarchy was abolished in Thailand and replaced with a constitutional monarchy in 1932, Thai politics has nevertheless remained under the control of the monarchy. The monarchy’s supremacy and its unique authority have resulted in the inability of Thai politics to rid itself of comprehensive control by the military, the royal family, and the bureaucracy. In terms of the authority of the royal family, despite a tradition of criticism within academic circles and the media in Thailand, the majority of scholars and media do not criticize the royal family, not even to risk making some seemingly neutral

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 173 comments. This phenomenon is likely derived from a fear of strictly enforced lèse majesté laws, but it likely also stems from the pervasive belief that the King can do no wrong (Streckfuss 1996: 13). Despite the fact that foreign scholars are not likely to be tried for lèse majesté, their comments with respect to the Thai King are often reserved. In this, a certain psychological constraint is evident. A prominent example is that of a professor of politics, Giles Ji Ungpakorn, who holds British–Thai dual citizenship, and who wrote a book A Coup for the Rich about the 2006 military coup. That work included criticisms of the royal family. He was prosecuted under the lèse majesté laws, and was subsequently exiled to the United Kingdom (Ungpakorn 2007). As much as the book emphasizes the role of the Thai royal family, there is never any intention to indiscriminately apply the Great Man Theory of historical studies, nor the strongman perspective of political studies. What the book highlights is that the role played by the Thai royal family is often easily overlooked, despite it being the key factor influencing and even determining the orientation of democracy in Thailand. This discourse from the observation on the perspectives of political culture is particularly distinct (Hewison 1997: 59). The PAD’s street movement and its offbeat proposal of a new politics, replacing elections with political selection, is typical of the counter-revolutionary impulses of the bourgeoisie. Only a middle class deep under the influence of East Asian authoritarian culture would propose such an anti-democratic measure (Pinkney 1993). Constitutional changes need not depend upon democratic transformation: they could be the result of collective institutional choice. There exist many moments in which choice can influence the direction of constitutional change in a nation undergoing democratic transformation. Not only does the constitution not occupy an elevated position in the political system of Thailand, its revision has become a phase in periods of political compromise. As Chai-Anan Samudavanija puts it, in Thailand, the constitution does not regulate participation and competition between political groups, it is merely a tool for the maintenance of power by the ruler (Samudavanija 2002: 15–17). Again, since the launch of constitutional government, Thailand has declared 18 constitutions and undergone 23 coups d’état, the result is a continuous undermining of the constitutional ethos, which, in turn, is the root cause of a vicious political cycle and frequent government change. Bangkok vs non-Bangkok: averaging the imbalanced Thailand Elites can be the creators of social creativity and wealth, advocates of liberty and equality, and guardians of democratic values; they can also be looters of public wealth, creators of castes, and representatives of corruption and decay. Researchers including Juan Linz, Philippe Schmitter, and Robert Dahl generally agree that elite behavior is a crucial variable in the transformation and consolidation of democracy. Such behavior is not constant, and elites make different choices in different contexts – that is, different stages of development, cultures and traditions (O’Donnell and Schmitter 1986; Dahl 1991).

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For instance, elites in semi-democratic Turkey behave completely differently from those in Thailand. During the political crisis in Turkey in 2008, the elite, made up primarily of the customary bourgeoisie and military, chose to protect a long-established democracy that has consistently protected the bourgeoisie since the country gained independence. The upper class and military of Thailand, on the other hand, insisted on the establishment of a parliamentary system based on a system of selection that suppressed the voting rights of the general public (Ungpakorn 2008: 16). Entrusting the political modernization and democratization of a country to the strengthening and elevation of the elite or bourgeoisie is equivalent to continually consolidating the existing interests of the upper class. To consolidate its collective interests, the upper class – a product of authoritarianism – will continue to form an alliance with political elites to suppress the political demands of the lower classes. Buddhism and the nation’s cultural heritage have been employed as ideological tools by Thai elites, supplemented by the popular respect for the King, to tightly control politics and monopolize the available economic benefits. Members of the bourgeoisie in Thai cities have not been firm believers in democracy, with some even supporting authoritarianism, as can be gathered from their support of the military coup in 2006 and in the social unrest of 2008. The 2006 military coup abolished the 1997 Constitution, and the military interim government held an unprecedented referendum in 2007 to approve a constitutional draft proposed by the military. The 2007 Constitution is a step backwards: Article 237, for example, states that the court has the right to dissolve political parties regarded as engaging in an “open conspiracy.” This measure was introduced by conservative elites to prevent Thaksin from staging a comeback through an election, and to turn the political situation around and pave the way for a return to negotiation politics. Both Samak Sundaravej and Somchai Wongsawat were key players in the Thaksin group. The former was trusted by Thaksin and became prime minister after the military coup, while the latter was his brother-in-law. Demonstrations by the Yellow Shirts could not force the two out of office, though eventually the courts did so. This action was criticized by academics in Thailand and the international media as a “judicial coup,” and was viewed as a judicial collaboration with the coup’s engineers (Ungpakorn 2008: 45–47; Noi 2009: 113–115). This chapter has systematically analyzed the origins, essence and consequence of “Thaksinization” by localizing Thai political changes in “NonBangkok” Thailand, and has discovered that strong social support for the Thaksin regime was based not only on his own charisma, but also on his effective governance in local politics. Besides, Thaksin successfully narrowed down the huge economic gap between “Bangkok Thailand” and “Non-Bangkok Thailand,” but widened social cleavage between them regarding “Thaksinization.”

The rise and fall of Thaksin Shinawatra 175

Conclusion There is a struggle going on for the soul of Thai democracy in the twenty-first century. On the one hand, there is a populist, authoritarian model of democracy, well known in Southeast Asia, in which personal power counts for more than institutions and where political and economic power are closely intertwined. This model is represented by Prime Minister – and erstwhile telecom tycoon – Thaksin Shinawatra. On the other, there is a traditional polity rooted in liberal ideas, focused on rights and institutional checks and balances against government corruption and abuse of power. In the Thai case, by far the most important balancing institution is the monarchy, unelected but revered. This struggle has been the backdrop for Thai politics ever since Thaksin began his premiership in 2001. The ebbs and flows in Thai politics following Thaksin Shinawatra’s time have been shrouded in Thaksin’s shadow, but this may be seen as both a paradigm shift in Thai politics and the averaging imbalanced Thailand. The political evolution of Thailand in the twenty-first century provides a most illustrative annotation to discourse on the weakness of an emerging democracy. The connotation of the new politics pursued in Thailand during its democratic evolution has always been ambiguous. Thaksin successfully broke through a tight encirclement imposed by the conservative alliance in the form of network monarchy strongly safeguarded by the military, he appealed directly to the public and politically enlightened the apolitical masses. The period of semi-democracy, which was practiced for decades in Thailand, has proved to be the most functional compromise when democratic forces meet with resistance. The authoritarian foundation contained in the political culture of Thailand has given absolute authority to a supposed figurehead, and civil– military relations in elite politics have long dominated the course of democratic development. Thaksin told the Thais to leave this semi-democracy in the twentieth century and initiated a new political work in the beginning of the twenty-first century. Despite his failure in continuing his governance and becoming an exiled Thai, he is still a consequential, “invisible” figure on the political stage of Thailand, and the legacies of his rule have continuously dominated political changes and development in Thailand. An examination of Thaksin economics, “Tkaksinology,” as well as “Thaksinization” from the perspectives of a paradigm shift of power and the averaging of imbalance, clearly exposes the significance of Thaksin’s rise and fall to the ebbs and flows of Thai political development, and the opportunities and challenges of the future of democracy in Thailand.

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Index

Page numbers in italics denote tables. Abu Sayyaf Group 108 Aliran (Human rights group), Malaysia 123, 155 All Women’s Action Society 123 Al-Qaeda 142 Anderson, Benedict 154 anti-Bakun Dam coalition (Malaysia) 123 Anti-Corruption Action Plan for AsiaPacific (ADB) 103 anti-democratic system 6 Aquino, Corazon 21, 24, 99–100, 104, 106, 108 Arab Spring 9, 10, 14 Asia: democratic wave in 5–7; economic development in 3; political evolution of 15; political liberalization in 3 Asian Development Bank 103 Asian economic crises (1997–8) 36, 104, 139, 151, 159, 160–1, 165 Asian tiger economies 83 “Asian values” 6, 115–16, 129 Asia’s strongmen: comparison of 25–7; eight cases and four trajectories 27–31; exercise of discretionary power 35; “large region” contextual considerations 23–5; leadership style see leadership styles, of Asian dynasties; legacies (and memories) of autocratic rule 31–5; as military figures 22; rise and fall of 3–5; transition process after fall of 7–10; and types of personalist rule 20–3; Western support for 36 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) 151 authoritarianism, phenomenon of 10–11, 13, 43, 59–63, 66, 75–6, 84, 93, 103, 110, 158, 167, 170, 174

authoritarian model 16, 175 authoritarian regimes 5–6, 11, 19, 58–68, 75, 100 autocratic rule: dissent against 5; institutionalized form of 27; legacies and memories of 31–5; Suharto’s 143 Badawi, Abdullah 114, 129–34 Bali and Jakarta bombings 142 bid rigging 54 black gold politics, in Taiwan 54 ‘Black May’ event (May 1992), Thailand 165, 169 Boonyaratglin, Sonthi 171 Bouazizi, Mohamed 14 Brewer, John 150 bribery 54, 60, 131 British Empire 21, 80 Bush, George W. 43 Castro, Fidel 19, 22, 28 censorship, state-sponsored 5 Chávez, Hugo 22, 28 Chen, Shui-bian 45–8, 53; Chen-Soong ten-point agreement (2005) 48; decision-making style 47; efforts to divide the opposition camp 52; National Stability Alliance 52; problems of policy-making and coordination 47 Chen, Xitong 86 Chen, Yun 79, 91 Chiang, Ching-Kuo 8, 10, 22, 26, 29, 34–5, 43 China 4, 24, 52; anti-corruption drives 84, 86; applicability of post-Deng developmental model 92–4; birdcage analogy 89–91; “century of humiliation”

Index 80; collective leadership, principle of 78–9; consultative Leninism 82–4; Cultural Revolution 78, 84; democratic policy-making mechanism 13; development model devised by the postDeng leadership 84–5; economic liberalization 13; economic reform programme 79; good governance as an alternative to democracy 80–2; Great Leap Forward 78, 84; Internet users in 14; Long March 86; Lushan Conference (1959) 78; Maoist mobilization and propaganda 84; mass incidents 13; nationalist indoctrination campaign 89–90; National People’s Congress 91; “peaceful evolution” conspiracy 79; political liberalization 13; political situation after death of Deng Xiaoping 78; princelings faction 87; revolutionary war 86; sense of national pride 80; Sichuan earthquake (2008) 87; Sixteenth Party Congress (2002) 84; “socialist harmonious society” policy 82; “the Three Represents”, concept of 81–2; Tiananmen Square Massacre (1989) 79, 87, 89 Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 9, 14, 22, 79, 83, 87 Chongson Yondae, South Korea 74 Chuan, Leekpai 164 Chun, Doo-hwan 6, 8, 29, 34, 58–9, 61, 63, 65, 72 Chung-hee, Park 59, 61, 63 Citizens’ Coalition for Economic Justice (South Korea) 74 Citizen’s Coalition for the General Election (South Korea) 73 civic “territorial nation” 118 civilian dictatorship 63 civil society 3, 6–7, 10–12, 14–16, 62, 65–6, 75, 89, 91, 115, 124, 133–4, 171 Cold War 23–4, 36, 79, 138 communication technology 9, 14 Communist Bloc: Soviet Union 4, 36, 79, 83, 89, 162; threat of expansion 3–4; US attitudes toward 4 Confucian legacy, in hierarchical values and personal relations 61 Consumers Association of Penang 123 corruption 7, 12, 14, 16, 30, 32, 54, 60, 67–8, 72, 75, 84–6, 102, 103, 108, 122, 131–3, 139, 142, 144, 147–51, 148, 154–5, 165, 170, 175 Corruption Perception Index (CPI) 103

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cross-voting 70 cultural liberalization 126–7 Cultural Revolution (China) 78, 84 Daendels, Herman Willem 137 dangwai (outside the party) movement, Taiwan 6 Darusman, Marzuki 150 decolonization of Western-ruled nations 18 delegative democracies 19, 26, 30 “Democracy’s Third Wave” 5 democratic centralism, principle of 13, 49, 81, 82, 84 democratic consolidation 11, 43–4, 74, 157; challenges for 53–6; definition of 58–9; and public trust in democratic institutions 8; in South Korea 60; transition process 10, 58, 66, 75 Democratic Progressive Party (DPP), Taiwan 6, 43, 45, 46–8 democratization in Asia 3, 6–8; and alternative political systems with sustained authoritarianism 13–15; “Asian values” and 115; good governance and 80–2; with limited political reform 11–13; with political reform and consolidation 10–11 Deng, Xiaoping 9, 13, 19, 22, 25, 28, 34–5, 78–93 Diamond, Larry 58 Dilangalen, Baisendig 102 Dilangalen, Didagen Piang 101 Domestic Violence Act, Malaysia 123 Dur, Gus 141–2, 145, 147 Eastern Europe 89, 92; collapse of Communism in 79, 83 East Timor referendum 140–1, 146–7, 153 economic development in Asia 3 Education Act (1996), Malaysia 126 Education and Research Association for Consumers (Malaysia) 123 election campaign system 8 Election Offences Act, Malaysia 130 electoral democracy 30, 54, 99, 110, 115–16, 157–8, 167–9 electoral reform 67 Environmental Protection Society, Malaysia 123 Estrada, Joseph 101–2, 106, 111 ethnic conflict 24 ethnic identity 55 ethno-religious conflict and violence 116, 142

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Index

fatwa 145 Federation of Korean Trade Unions 73 Federation of Malaysian Consumers Associations (FOMCA) 123 Finer, Samuel E. 161 foreign direct investment (FDI) 104, 108, 121; in Southeast Asia 107 Free Trade Zone 151 Fukuyama, Francis 79 Garrison Act (South Korea) 60, 62 Gerakan Aceh Merdeka (GAM) guerrilla organisation 143 good governance 91, 170; as an alternative to democracy 80–2; with Chinese characteristics 83; instrument to deliver 83 Great Leap Forward Theory 78, 84 Great Man Theory 34, 173 gross domestic product (GDP) 80, 104–7, 121, 161 Habibie, B.J. 11, 140–1, 143, 146, 152–3 Hakam (Human rights group), Malaysia 123 Hanke, Steve 152 Helsinki Accords (2005) 140, 143, 145 Horowitz, Donald 117 Huainan zi (Liu An) 35 Hu, Jintao 13, 78–80, 84, 87; personal qualities and approach as the top leader 87; “socialist harmonious society” policy 82 human rights abuses 4–5, 7, 16, 62, 66, 75, 91, 109, 131, 148 Huntington, Samuel 5, 58, 110, 170 Ibrahim, Anwar 125, 130, 134 Indonesia 24, 33; Aceh crisis (August 2005) 143; Bali and Jakarta bombings 142; Corruption Eradication Commission 142; declaration of independence 137; declaration of martial law 138; Dewan Nasional (National Council) 138; Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah (DPRD) 144; under Dutch and Japanese occupation 137; East Timor referendum 141, 147; electoral system 147; ethnic and religious violence 142; Guided Democracy, proclamation of 137, 138, 140, 154; Indonesian ‘Revolution’ (1945–9) 137, 144; Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat (MPR) 141;

Mass Rapid Transport (MRT) system 150; military rebellion 138; ‘movement for national awakening’ 139; Napoleonic Wars (1803–15) 137; ‘Nasakom’ trilogy 138; post-election challenges 139–44; reform agendas 146–51; regional economic development 138; right to self-determination, issue of 143; role of Islam in 144–6; role of religion in politics 146; rupiah trading 151–2; State Audit Agency (BPK) 148; Suharto New Order (1966–98) 148, 152; Sukarno’s ‘Old Order’ (1950–66) 137, 139, 142 Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) 138, 154 Indonesian Council of Ulama (MUI) 145 Industrial Co-ordination Act (ICA), Malaysia 120 information technology 9–10, 14 Internal Security Act (ISA), Malaysia 123, 124 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 151 Internet 9–10, 14 Japanese occupation, legacies of 24 Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) 108, 142 Jiang, Zemin 13, 78–82, 84–6 JUST International 123 “kidnap for ransom” (KFR) crimes, Philippines 109 Kim, Dae-jung 59, 63–4, 66, 69–70, 72–3, 75 Kim, Young-sam 59, 62–3, 66–8, 71–3, 75 King Prajadhipok’s Institute (KPI), Thailand 163, 170 “kleptocracy” 23 Korean Citizens’ Alliance 74 Korean Confederation of Trade Unions 73 Kwangju Uprising (1980), South Korea 6 laissez-faire 151 leadership styles, of Asian dynasties 23–4; classification of 28–31; continuity 28–9; democratic rupture and 30–1; disorderly succession 30; long-term and foundational 34; orderly alternation and 29 Lee, Kuan Yew 6, 9, 18, 22, 25, 28, 34 Leninist system, aspects of 89 Lien, Chan 45, 48–53 Lijphart, Arend 116–17 Limthongkul, Sondhi 159

Index Linz, Juan J. 58, 108, 110, 158, 173 Lushan Conference (1959), China 78 McCargo, Duncan 162 Malayan Nature Society 123 Malaysia: Alliance of Mahathir 130; Article 11 of Federal Constitution 133; Asian values and its Asian variant of democracy 115; Bakun Hydroelectric Power project 132; Barisan Nasional (BN) 114, 117–26, 128; bumiputera participation 119, 122; consociationalism, models of 116–20; cultural liberalization 126; developmentalism, discourse of 126; Domestic Violence Act 123; economic liberalization and privatization policies 121; Education Act (1996) 126; Election Offences Act 130; electoral system 117; The Emergency (1948–60) 124; Estate Workers Support Committees 123; ethnic tensions in 124; financial crisis (1997) 121; foreign direct investment (FDI) 121; GDP growth 121; Independent Police Complaints and Misconduct Commission (IPCMC) 133; Industrial Co-ordination Act (ICA) 120; Inter-Faith Commission (IFC) 133; Internal Security Act (ISA) 123, 124; Langkawi Project 128; limits of democratization in 129; Malaysia Boleh, idea of 129; Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA) 117; Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC) 117; manufacturing sector 121; Merdeka University 120; National Cultural Policy (1971) 119; National Development Policy (NDP) 121; National Educational Policy 119; National Language Act 119; NEP, economic liberalization and rapid development 121–2; New Economic Policy (NEP) 117, 119, 121–2; Ninth Malaysia Plan 2006–2010 132; Operation Lalang (October 1987) 124; Pakatan Rakyat (PR) 115; “Pak Lah factor” and the 2008 election 129–32; Parti Bansa Dayak Sarawak (PBDS) 117; Parti Bersatu Sabah (Sabah United Party) 115, 117; participatory democracy and consolidation 122–6; Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (PAS) 115, 118, 128; Peneroka Bandar (urban pioneers) 123; Plaza Accords (1985) 121; poverty eradication and

181

restructuring 121; power-sharing arrangements 117; and principle of proportional representation 117; promotion of Islamic values 127; race riots (1971) 33; reformasi movement 130, 132, 134; resurgence of Islam in 127; return of democratic momentum 132–5; Royal Commission of Enquiry 131, 133; Sedition Act (1971) 119; United Malays National Organization (UMNO) 22, 114, 117, 119, 123 Mao, Zedong 18–19, 22, 78 Marcos, Ferdinand Emmanuel Edralin 4, 6, 8, 12, 18, 22–3, 25, 27–8, 30, 32–5, 99–111, 152 Merdeka University, Malaysia 120 “migratory birds phenomenon” 71 military-based autocrats, Western support for 36 military coups 99, 108, 111, 157, 159–60, 164, 169, 171–4 Mohamad, Mahathir 6, 9, 22, 25–6, 30, 33–4, 114–16, 119–20, 124–6, 129–35 Moro-Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) 108 Nasution, Abdul Haris 137–8 Nathan, Andrew 84 New People’s Army (NPA), Philippines 107–8 Nixon, Richard 4 nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) 12, 73–4, 88, 122 O’Donnell, Guillermo, Malaysia 30, 158 Operation Lalang (October 1987) 124 overseas Filipino workers (OFW) 104, 106, 106–7 patron-client relationship 3, 12, 100 People Power Revolution (Philippines) 6, 32, 99–101, 104, 111 People’s Action Party (PAP), Singapore 22, 83 personalist rule, of Asia’s strongmen 20–3 Philippines 33; corruption, issue of 103; Corruption Perception Index (CPI) 103; declaration of martial law 100, 107–8; economic growth 103–7; foreign direct investment (FDI) 104, 107–8; GDP per capita 104, 106; “kidnap for ransom” (KFR) crimes 109; Lakas-Christian Muslim Democrats (Lakas-CMD) 102; Local Government Code (LGC, 1991)

182

Index

Philippines continued 102; management of human resources 106; military coups 108; New People’s Army (NPA) 107, 108; New Society Movement 100; overseas Filipino workers (OFW) 106, 106–7; patronclient relationships 100; People Power Revolution (1986) 6, 32, 99–101, 104, 111; political reforms 99–100; politics controlled by an elites 100–3; politics of power sharing 12; Presidential AntiGraft Commission 103; social crime rate 107–10; social instability, issue of 107–10; unemployment rate 104, 106 Plaza Accords (1985) 121 political liberalization in Asia 3, 8, 13–15, 36, 55, 129 political populism 160 political reform 37, 133, 140–1, 151, 159, 162, 166, 170; demands for 5–6; democratization with 10–11; implications for 27–8, 108; laws on 67; in Philippines 99–100, 107–8, 110 political repression 5 populism, concept of 24–5, 160, 166 pork-barrel legislation (China) 54 proportional representation, principle of 117 pro-Thaksin Red Shirts 172 public funds, diversion of 54 public-private partnerships 151 public’s involvement, in electoral process 11 Pye, Lucian W. 170 Ramos, Fidel 102, 104, 106 Reagan, Ronald 62 Real Name Financial Transaction System, south Korea 68 representative democracy 44, 75 resilient authoritarianism 84, 93 Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Indonesia 138 Rhee, Syngman 4, 58, 59 right conduct, notions of 31, 34 right to self-determination, issue of 143 Roh, Moo-hyun 63, 64 Roh, Tae Woo 26, 29, 34, 59, 67–8, 71–2 Sahabat Alam Malaysia 123 Sandbrook, Richard 58–9 Schwarz, Adam 152 Sedition Act (1971), Malaysia 119 Shinawatra, Thaksin 9, 22, 26, 30, 33–5, 157, 164–5, 170, 175 Shinawatra, Yingluck 157

Siam Commercial Bank 164 Silpaarcha, Banharn 165 Singapore 6, 9, 18, 24, 28–9, 36, 103, 132, 139, 143, 164; People’s Action Party (PAP) 83 Sisters-in-Islam 123 Sivaraksa, Sulak 169 Smith, Anthony 118 social capitalism 160, 165; vs selfsufficiency economics 164–5 social crimes 107–10 socialist harmonious society 82–3 Soong, James 45, 48–52 Southeast Asian Nations: CPI of 103; economic performance in 105; inflow of foreign direct investment in 107; unemployment rate 104, 106 South Korea: Caesarism politics of presidential prerogative 61–5; change in state-society relations 65–6; creeping authoritarian elements 60; cross-voting 70; Democratic Justice Party 65, 67; driving force for democratization 61, 74; electoral campaign funding 67; Federation of Korean Trade Unions 73; Garrison Act 62; Grand National Party (GNP) 66, 70; institutionalization of democracy in 67–73; Korean Confederation of Trade Unions 73; legislative policy meeting 68; Millennium Democratic Party 72; National Congress for New Politics 69; New Millennium Democratic Party (NMDP) 69; nongovernmental organization 73–4; People’s Solidarity for Participatory Democracy (PSPD) 74; pro-democracy movement 58; Real Name Financial Transaction System 68; Tripartite Commission of Labor, Management and the Government (1998) 73; United Liberal Democrats (ULD) 69; Westernmodel of democracy 59 Soviet Union 4, 36, 162; collapse of Communism in 79, 83, 89, 92 Stepan, Alfred 108 Suaram (Human rights group), Malaysia 123 Sudarsono, Juwono 142, 147 Suharto, General 4, 6, 9, 11, 18, 22, 25, 27–8, 30, 33–5, 137–40, 143, 146–9, 151–2, 154–5 Sukarnoputri, Megawati 21, 24, 139, 141–2, 145–7, 149, 152 syari’ah (Islamic) law 145

Index Taiwan 33; balance of power among political parties 45; Chen-Soong tenpoint agreement (2005) 48, 50; ChenTang administration, of 46; China factor 54–5; democratic consolidation, challenges for 53–6; democratic progress 43; Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) 43, 45, 46–8; difficulties and challenges facing democracy in 43; DPP and Chen 46–8; identity and ethnic division 55–6; imbalance of political power in 53; KMT and Lien 48–9; Kuomintang (KMT) regime in 22, 43, 45, 48–9, 54; Legislative Yuan 47, 49, 51, 53, 54; mutual distrust among political leaders 51–3; National Stability Alliance 52; Nuclear Power Plant 51; pan-blue camp 52–3; party politics after the first transfer of power 44–5; People First Party (PFP) 45, 49–51; PFP/Soong and TSU/Lee 49–51; political development 55; return of black-gold politics 54; role of leadership in democratization process in 44; Taiwan Solidarity Union (TSU) 45, 50 Taoist conception of kingship 35 Thailand 33; Adulyadej, King Bhumibol 162; anti-Thaksin Yellow Shirts 172; Asian financial crisis, impact of 159, 160–1; Bangkok vs non-Bangkok 173–4; ‘Black May’ event (May 1992) 165, 169; CEO-style leadership and business politics 165–7; civil-military relations in 169–71; constitutional government, fundamental principle of 169; coups d’état, influence on political power 158, 169; economic development 160; Election Committee 162–3; military coup 159; network monarchy 164; People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD) 159, 171; People’s Charter 162; People’s Constitution of 1997 161–3; political rights 163; Polling Station Committee 163; Ratapraharn 169; rise of Thaksin and significance of the year 1997 160–3; semi-democracy and

183

electoral democracy in 167–9; significance of the coup in 2006 171–2; social capitalism vs self-sufficiency economics 164–5; Thai Rak Thai (TRT) Party 157, 159; Thai-style democracy 12; Thaksin and the king 172–3; “Thaksinization” of the country 12, 160, 166; United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship 172; voting rights 163; “Yellow Tide” 171 Thai Rak Thai (TRT) 22, 157–9 Third World Network 123 “the Three Represents”, concept of 81–2 Tiananmen Square Massacre (1989), China 9, 79, 87, 89 transfer of power 11, 44–5, 49, 51, 56, 84–5, 137 Transparency International 103 United Malays National Organization (UMNO) 22, 30, 33, 114, 117, 119–20, 123–8 United States of America 3–4; attitudes toward the Communist Bloc 4; support for Asia’s democrats 5 vote buying 54 Wahid, Abdurrahman 141–2, 147, 152 Weber, Max 20–2 Wen, Jiabao 88 Western imperialism 80 Western-style democracy 6, 12 Westminster system of democracy 114, 118 Women’s Aid Organization 123 Women’s Centre for Change 123 Wongsawat, Somchai 157, 174 World Bank 103, 148 World War, Second 3–4, 22, 100, 139 Xi, Jinping 87 Yeltsin effect 49 Zhou, Enlai 29

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