Tag Archive for: Malaysia

Malaysia’s new government could bring stability—or chaos

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Malaysia’s sudden political evolution has dramatically shifted a decades-old steady government to the edge. The past few years of Malaysian politics have been messy and unpredictable, tarnished by corruption and a harsh economic climate. But, throughout this tension, the common thread of the Malay Agenda has remained.

Newly elected Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim’s Pakatan Harapan (Alliance of Hope) coalition is a collection of left-leaning parties hoping to reform Malaysian politics. But Anwar’s coalition lacks a solid ideology or plan to fulfil its vision of a ‘unity government’. Cutting the common thread of the Malay Agenda could lead to the revolutionised modern Malaysia of which Anwar dreams, or it could plunge the country into another period of political instability and increased violent extremism.

From independence in 1957 until 2018, the Barisan Nasional coalition led by the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO) ruled Malaysia uninterrupted. Their model focused on the Malay Agenda, which gave special privileges and preference to ethnic Malays, while still providing minority groups with a seat at the table.

A shock occurred during the 2018 election, when an opposition coalition took control of the government promising reform and a more unified Malaysia under a new prime minister, Mahathir Mohammad. However, the vision of a modern Malaysia built on equality was short lived. Tensions among the various parties in parliament in 2020 led to a power grab. A new coalition made up of the three political parties promoting Malay-Muslim nationalism took control and installed Muhyiddin Yassin as prime minister.

Instability grew during the Covid-19 pandemic. Muhyiddin refused to remove emergency orders that restricted movement across the country. In response, UMNO withdrew support from the coalition, resulting in a third prime minister within three years, Ismail Sabri Yaakob, who took office in August 2021.

UMNO took encouragement from recent wins in local elections this year, as well as an opposition failing to form a solid ideology and coalition. With hopes of a clear victory in a general election to re-establish its control of Malaysian politics, UMNO dissolved the parliament and a snap poll was held on 19 November.

UMNO’s president predicted the party would win 80 seats, but it fell dramatically short, winning only 26. Malaysia had its first hung parliament. This forced King Al-Sultan Abdullah to attempt to create a unified government between Muhyiddin’s Perikatan Nasional and Anwar’s Pakatan Harapan. Muhyiddin turned down the king’s proposal due to differences on key policy issues between the two coalitions. Initially, UMNO initially refused to support either coalition, but after discussions with the king, agreed to support Anwar, allowing him to become the next prime minister of Malaysia.

Anwar’s victory has raised hopes for some that Malaysia is moving away from far-right-wing politics, potentially bridging the ethnic divides through compromise. But will UMNO play along?

UMNO’s backing was the deciding factor in Anwar’s installation as prime minister. An optimistic view is that it acted to support a united and stable government. However, it’s possible that it sees itself as kingmaker and hopes to be the deciding factor in government decisions as a last gasp at retaining power in Malaysian politics. Or, like it has done in the past, UMNO could threaten to leave the alliance if things don’t go its way, joining the Perikatan Nasional coalition, led by the Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (PAS), to form a new government. UMNO’s general assembly next month and upcoming party elections will determine the stance it takes.

PAS was the most successful party in this year’s elections, winning 43 seats. PAS proved popular among the disgruntled voters who were tired of the corruption and infighting within UMNO and decided to vote instead for the party with the closest principles. The rise of PAS, though, is not solely due to the demise of UMNO. For years, PAS has slowly been building a constituency, playing a long game as a far-right movement built on capitalism, religion and nationalism.

PAS has been embroiled in controversy over concerns with its apparent support of the Taliban and extremist ideology. While Malaysia hasn’t officially recognised the Taliban-led government in Afghanistan, the previous government had begun informal engagement with stakeholders in Afghanistan. In March, PAS president Tan Sri Abdul Hadi Awang was sent as a special envoy to the Middle East and met with Taliban representatives in Qatar. Islamist fundamentalism has been on the rise in Malaysia for many years, and fundamentalist groups have looked to the Taliban as a success story to pursue stricter interpretations of Islam and Malay identity.

To PAS and other right-wing groups in Malaysia, Anwar’s victory threatens to erode Malay values and Islamic principles, which could lead to the demise of the Malay Agenda. Before, during and after the November election, social media platform TikTok experienced a surge in videos encouraging violence and hate. Some referenced the riots that followed the 13 May 1969 election, which resulted in 196 deaths. The heightened risk of violence led police to increase security across the country.

Terrorist activity in Malaysia has often sought to play on ethnic and religious divisions. The motive for the Movida Bar attack in 2016—the only Islamic State–linked terrorist attack to take place in Malaysia—was said to be the ‘un-Islamic’ behaviour. After protests at a Hindu temple resulted in the death of a Malay firefighter, Islamic State capitalised on the religious tension and inspired a plot, although unsuccessful, to avenge the firefighter’s death.

Extremist groups, within and outside Malaysia, will undoubtedly try to use the recent election and tension to inspire violence. Malaysia must effectively counter online extremism, which is perpetuating long-term grievances, and use suitable community engagement methods to dissuade radicalisation. Ultimately, the responsibility for ensuring internal peace and stability rests on the new government.

Anwar needs to balance a unity government and avoid the potential for violence and renewed instability that could come with a break in the coalition. And he must do all of that while strengthening Malaysia’s economy and position in a changing strategic landscape. Anwar’s personal experience of oppression makes him a relatable leader who could inspire political change.

While Malaysia is a multi-ethnic and multi-religious society, polarisation of these identities has greatly affected its politics. Malaysian politics will not stabilise unless Malaysians recognise the importance of diversity in the country and support a unified approach to move forward. An open question is how hardline Malays would respond to the replacing of the Malay Agenda. Anwar must show that he is the prime minister of all Malaysians and ensure the unity government is a success.

Malaysia’s new parties and old cronyism

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After the historic election in 2018 ended the six-decade-long rule of coalitions led by the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO) and the return of 92-year-old Mahathir Mohammad as prime minister, many hoped for a new dawn for Malaysia. The unexpected victory of the unlikely alliance between former archrivals Mahathir and Anwar Ibrahim was hailed as a return to sanity after the breathtaking corruption of Najib Razak’s prime ministership.

Three years later, little progress has been made with long-anticipated reforms, and Malaysian politics seems even more entrenched in scandals, instability and intrigues. Longstanding political feuds, and the recent changes in the prime ministership and ruling coalition, make Australia’s period of leadership instability seem almost boring.

In just a couple of months, Mahathir resigned—but then said he didn’t mean to—and a new PM, Muhyiddin Yassin, took office after some other head-spinning developments. Mahathir appealed to the king, saying he had the parliamentary majority, and accused his own coalition, Pakatan Harapan, of betrayal.

Why and where did things go wrong?

The Mahathir–Anwar rivalry quickly resurfaced after the 2018 election. Mahathir had been evasive about his 2018 promise to transfer the leadership position to Anwar, refusing to confirm when or if it would eventually take place.

These tensions came to a head in February this year when Anwar accused Mahathir of attempting to form a new government with Bersatu and UMNO in order to exclude Anwar from the leadership. Mahathir went on to unexpectedly resign from office. That led, in a nutshell, to a collapse in the ruling coalition when Muhyiddin and some of Bersatu partnered with several other parties, including UMNO, to assume power under a new ruling coalition, Perikatan Nasional (PN).

So here we are again: UMNO is back in the game and Malaysians once again find themselves disenchanted with their elected government’s lack of progress. The rising cost of living, stagnating wage growth, a lack of affordable housing and persistent corruption remain key concerns.

However, corruption in Malaysia was dealt a symbolic blow in the trial of one of the biggest scandals of our time—the 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB) scandal. Former PM Najib Razak wound up being sentenced to 12 years in prison on seven charges of abuse of power, breach of trust and money laundering. The verdict was received with jubilation by Najib’s critics, who described it as ‘a huge victory for Malaysians’.

The ruling against Najib delivers Muhyiddin some degree of credibility as a leader who’s taking corruption seriously. Still, it raises questions about his already very narrow parliamentary majority.

Prime Minister Muhyiddin was able to secure a crucial victory in the parliament in July, replacing the speaker with his party’s preferred candidate and confirming his slim parliamentary majority.

However, following defections from Muyhiddin’s party to Mahathir’s new party, Bersatu, the new PM had to join the Muafakat Nasional alliance composed of UMNO and another Muslim-Malay party, Parti Islam SeMalaysia. This will give UMNO, the biggest party in the parliament, the upper hand at the next election.

The 2018 election victory has now left many disillusioned, as the transfer of power alone has proved insufficient to address Malaysia’s endemic corruption and cronyism. Despite the emergence of new parties, the political class has remained the same and simply engaged in a game of musical chairs. In the end, it was nothing more than a reshuffling of the old guard. In fact, the end of UMNO’s rule has introduced even more political manoeuvring, instability and unpredictability.

It’s unsurprising, then, that the entrenched networks of patronage and corruption have limited the government’s ability to advance its reform agenda on ending that same corruption. The chances of the government’s delivering on economic growth and the structural issues surrounding Malaysia’s ‘Malay first’ (bumiputra) policies seem similarly remote.

Most recently, Mahathir has formed a new party, Parti Pejuang Tanah Air, or ‘Fighters of the Nation Party’, which will contest the next election—whenever that may be. The party is unaligned with any existing coalition. Mahathir has said it will be Malay-based and will be focused on fighting corruption and ensuring Malaysia ‘once against become[s] an Asian tiger’.

But with the mounting challenges to the global economy posed by Covid-19 and threats to regional security resulting from China’s raising of tensions in the South China Sea, Malaysia’s domestic preoccupations will limit its ability to respond to external challenges.

Even though Malaysia recently issued a rejection of China’s claim to ‘historic rights’ in the South China Sea, in a rare and important note verbale to the UN, that move highlights the consistency of Malaysia’s South China Sea policy rather than marking a change. With internal politics occupying the current government, foreign policy is unlikely to receive much sustained attention.

Infighting among the political elite puts Malaysia’s future at stake, especially in a time of crisis like this one. If politicking persists, Malaysia risks falling further from its previous position as one of Southeast Asia’s economic success stories and giving itself a less than optimal chance for recovery from the Covid-induced global crisis.

Attack on media freedom in Malaysia demands Australian response

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Malaysia’s attack on journalists employs old methods with nods to current fashion.

Clinging to power with a razor-thin majority, the government that snatched office in March brandishes a dictatorial bludgeon to batter the media.

The purpose is to cling to power and galvanise conservative voters. One tactic is to control and intimidate journalists.

The crackdown uses Malaysian instruments with elements of Trumpian ‘fake news’ and dollops of Duterte. Malaysia adopts the media repression and authoritarianism that are a new normal in the Philippines.

Malaysia’s elite needs all the distractions it can generate. Former Prime Minister Najib Razak is convicted of abuse of power, breach of trust and money-laundering and sentenced to 12 years’ jail. Najib remains a member of parliament and is one vote of that slim majority.

A king of kleptocracy falls while the old kleptocracy rises again, wielding power in ways both cynical and ruthless, stirring the ingredients of contempt, sedition and insult to Malaysia.

Rebirth describes a seminal moment in Malaysia’s democracy: the first time the voters changed the government. That’s history the old team reborn wants to erase, issuing a government gazette pronouncing the book ‘absolutely prohibited throughout Malaysia’ because it was deemed a publication ‘which is likely to be prejudicial to public order, which is likely to be prejudicial to security, which is likely to alarm public opinion, which is likely to be contrary to any law and which is likely to be prejudicial to national interest’.

Most of Rebirth’s material was initially published by New Mandala, at the Australian National University, in its coverage of the 2018 election. The New Mandala reporting and Rebirth were edited by an outstanding Australia-based journalist, Kean Wong. As New Mandala says, what’s at stake here is open and democratic discussion: ‘We urge Malaysian authorities to refrain from any activities that indicate a lack of respect for academic and journalistic freedom in Malaysia.’

When reviewing Rebirth in May, I commented that kleptocracy takes a lot of killing. It’s a cynical comment for a cynical moment, but cynical calculation has its uses. Perhaps calculation will mean the Al Jazeera six and the contributors to Rebirth won’t face court.

The political interest is to keep this simmering, not boiling over. The bludgeon is a blunt tool that delivers political benefits just by being brandished: excite and enrage the voters, deter and direct the media.

The attack on journalism—and Australian journalists—has a faint echo of the 1980s and 1990s, when Mahathir Mohamad, Lee Kuan Yew and Suharto deployed ‘Asian values’. The leaders told Asian reporters to bow to authority and hierarchy while Western journos should respect distinctive Asian systems.

Back then, it made sense for Southeast Asian governments to berate Oz hacks. It was far safer than attacking US media, which could bring down righteous First Amendment anger from Washington and inflict real pain. Today, unfortunately, bashing journalists is a Trump trademark.

There are no distinctive Asian values involved this time. Just the strident authoritarian and nationalist script being used at full volume in multiple capitals around the world.

What Malaysia is doing to Malaysian and Australian reporters tests the relationship between Canberra and Kuala Lumpur.

Australia is an old friend, and an ally through the one-way security guarantee to Malaysia and Singapore, which marks its 50th birthday next year. More than anywhere else in Southeast Asia, the Old Mates Act applies: Canberra can speak truth in Kuala Lumpur (and Singapore) based on history and habit. That tough, continuing conversation might happen in private, but habit and history say it should be happening.

Publicly, Australian support for journalism must be part of our international engagement. We face an era of disinformation, coercion and grey-zone activities in a ‘more competitive and contested region’.

Journalism is a great antidote to lousy information. Good reporting is where facts and open argument attack the grey nasties. If you want transparency and accountability, let loose a bunch of hacks. Dictators detest headlines they can’t control. Authoritarians hate hard questions when microphones mass. Media are the loud, messy bit of democracy at work.

Beyond giving proper support to journos under attack, standing up for journalism advances Australian interests and influence as well as values.

The script Canberra could use has been rehearsed in a letter to Malaysia’s Star newspaper by Australia’s high commissioner to Kuala Lumpur, Andrew Goledzinowski. He attacked a Star article that used lots of shrill quotes from China’s state-run Global Times paper to argue Australia’s icy relationship with China is because of Canberra’s ‘hostile attitude’. Goledzinowski’s letter concluded:

At the end of the day, Australia cannot control what other countries do. We will continue to uphold our values and principles, and continue to do what we believe is right for Australia and the world. If a side effect of that is coercion and disinformation, then that is unfortunate. But we are not the first country, nor probably the last, to experience it. Perhaps it is actually Australia who has stopped ‘turning the other cheek’.

The argument Australia offers to Malaysia about journalism will be about values and principles. But it’s also a practical discussion of what works to strengthen a democracy and a nation. A troubled and desperate government needs to hear that from a concerned friend.

Cold War legacies bolster Australia’s security

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Between 1950 and 1972, the Malay Peninsula was a lynchpin of Australia’s defence policy. Then, as today, the international order was in a state of flux, a function of the complex interaction between post-colonial nationalism and the communist bloc’s challenge to the US-sponsored post-war order. In response, Canberra adopted a policy of ‘forward defence’, permanently deploying troops alongside the British to defend the nascent Federation of Malaysia.

By 1972, the British had departed, Malaysia and Singapore were independent, Sukarno had long since been ousted in Jakarta, and a détente had been reached with Beijing. Forward defence had ended. But Australia never quite quit the peninsula. As the British retreated from east of Suez, they sponsored the creation of the Five Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA), binding Australia, New Zealand and Britain to the ongoing defence of Malaysia and Singapore—though Australia was and remains the leading extraterritorial partner.

The FPDA is a strange animal. In the black letter, it is a collection of status of forces agreements stemming from a foundational communiqué, rather than a treaty, and obliges the parties to do nothing more strenuous than mutual consultation. It is best conceived of as a mechanism for coordinating Australia’s bilateral relationships with Malaysia and Singapore, rather than as an independent multilateral entity, and manifests itself institutionally as a panoply of consultative bodies, a cycle of multilateral military exercises, and an Integrated Area Defence System (IADS) covering the entire Malay Peninsula and commanded by an Australian air vice-marshal.

IADS is housed at RMAF Butterworth. This modest airbase in Penang state was run by the RAAF from 1958 to 1988, when it was handed over to the Royal Malaysian Air Force. The RAAF continues to deploy flights there on rotation, both for FPDA exercises and for Operation Gateway, Australia’s ongoing maritime surveillance operation in the Indian Ocean and the South China Sea. The RAAF celebrated its 60th anniversary at Butterworth in June, and it remains the only military facility in maritime Southeast Asia to which Australia has ongoing peacetime operational access.

Both the FPDA and the RAAF presence at Butterworth are occasionally dismissed as anachronisms of the Cold War, artefacts of history that have persisted beyond their shelf lives because militaries are loath to abandon tradition. Indeed, the FPDA’s prima facie surprising longevity is generally attributed to its unobtrusive design rather than any notable strategic ballast. Similarly, when Gateway commenced in 1980 it was tasked with tracking Soviet submarines transiting the Malacca Strait, yet it persists three decades after the fall of the Berlin Wall.

Nevertheless, Australia has enduring strategic interests in the security of Malaysia and Singapore that are rarely articulated. The frankest statement of those interests can be found way back in the 2000 defence white paper, which spoke to the central importance of fostering a ‘resilient regional community that can cooperate to prevent the intrusion of potentially hostile external powers … especially in maritime Southeast Asia, whether that threat came from outside or inside the region’ while clarifying that ‘membership of the FPDA serves [these] enduring Australian interests’. In other words, Australia’s commitment to the FPDA and its attendant infrastructure is fundamentally part of a soft double hedge against the possibility that either Jakarta or Beijing might ever seek to dominate maritime Southeast Asia, a first step towards projecting power against the Australian continent itself.

This merits re-articulation, because, for the first time since the Cold War, conflict between great powers in Asia has become thinkable again. The reordering of the regional balance of power generated by China’s rise has already begun to exhibit a direct, if subtle, impact on Australia’s presence in maritime Southeast Asia. In 2015, Gateway made a brief, unexpected cameo in the public consciousness when a BBC journalist in a Cessna overheard and recorded an Australian AP-3C Orion surveillance aircraft unsuccessfully radioing the Chinese navy. The incident aroused speculation that the RAAF was engaged in clandestine freedom-of-navigation operations over terraforming in the South China Sea. The Department of Defence quickly clarified that these flights were in fact routine—and had been for 35 years. Beijing now regularly protests the presence of the RAAF (and it’s perhaps also noteworthy that Canberra recently invested $22 million to develop the facilities at Butterworth, reportedly to accommodate the F-35 joint strike fighter).

So, what role does Australia envisage for the FPDA as the strategic order in the Indo-Pacific is reconfigured? Both the 2016 defence white paper (page 129) and the 2017 foreign policy white paper (page 44) emphasised Canberra’s ongoing commitment to the FPDA, but the most recent FPDA defence ministers’ meeting focused on counterterrorism.

For Australia, this is a secondary issue. The importance of insulating the Malay Peninsula against external threats will only increase in proportion to the degree of strategic uncertainty manifest in the region at large, and the FPDA ought to be fostered so that it does precisely what it was designed to do during the Cold War: balance against potentially hostile powers and insulate regional partners against coercion.

There are at least three immediate ways this might be accomplished. The first and most straightforward is to continue adjusting the settings on the FPDA exercise program to promote enhanced interoperability among the rapidly modernising capabilities of member states.

The second is to explore avenues for expanding the FPDA membership. The most obvious starting point is Brunei Darussalam, a member of the British Commonwealth.

Third, IADS could be extended to incorporate East Malaysia, including Kuala Lumpur’s recently reasserted territorial claims in the South China Sea. The FPDA is generally treated as if it applied only to Peninsular Malaysia, but this circumscription is merely customary; it’s not written into either the 1971 communiqué or its supporting documentation.

Alliances persist because they are consistently reimagined. There’s both ample scope and ample cause for Australia to promote a more muscular FPDA.

Combating piracy in the Sulu-Celebes Sea

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Despite a surge in kidnapping of seamen from vessels in the Sulu-Celebes Sea, joint counter piracy patrols planned by the Philippines, Indonesia and Malaysia have been postponed indefinitely. A planned signing ceremony by the three nations’ defence ministers marking the trilateral security pact failed to go ahead at the Sandakan naval base last month with Philippines Secretary of Defence, Delfin Lorenzana, unable to attend.

In my paper recently published by the Perth USAsia Centre, I argued that many fundamental challenges have to be addressed before the situation in the Sulu-Celebes Sea can be dealt with. And as the neighbours continue to drag their feet, the threat of kidnapping and piracy will continue to threaten regional trade and prosperity.

The world’s witnessed more maritime kidnappings in 2016 than in any year of the previous decade, despite global piracy rates decreasing since the late 1990s. Last year around 50 sailors, mostly from Indonesia and Malaysia, were kidnapped. The revitalisation of regional anti-piracy diplomatic efforts began early last year following a string of kidnappings in the Sulu-Celebes Sea. Unsurprisingly, Indonesia’s Coordinating Minister for Maritime Affairs, Luhut Pandjaitan, warned that the area could become a ‘new Somalia’.

Maritime piracy and kidnapping in the Sulu-Celebes Sea threaten regional trade and stability. More than US$40 billion worth of freight sails through the area every year. In recent months, pirates there have targeted larger vessels such as the bulk carrier MV Giang Hai in February. Six crew were kidnapped and one was killed. The pirates’ increasingly brazen attempts to target bigger ships is a novel tactic. Traditionally they’ve hit smaller vessels. Development of a comprehensive regional approach is more important than ever.

The Philippines Abu Sayyaf group has been responsible for most maritime kidnappings since March 2016. In the past year, it’s generated roughly US$7.3 million in ransoms and there are no signs of it slowing down. It’s important to note that Abu Sayyaf originally evolved as an Islamist organisation founded by Abdurajak Janjalani to establish an independent Islamic state in the southern Philippines. The death of its leader, Janjalani, and the intensifying pressure of the US involvement in the southern Philippines after 9/11 splintered the Abu Sayyaf group. Since then it’s operated as a decentralised network of militant factions fluctuating between terrorism and criminality.

The southern islands of Mindanao, Basilan, Jolo and Tawi-Tawi have served as strategic platforms for attacks in the Sulu-Celebes Sea and the peace and prosperity of the southern Philippines depends on countering piracy and kidnapping.

The Duterte administration has continued to wage war on the Abu Sayyaf. In January, its troops severely injured Isnilon Hapilon, an Abu Sayyaf commander recognised by the Islamic State group (IS) as Southeast Asia’s ‘Emir’. The recent clash on 12 April between the military and the Abu Sayyaf in Bohol also resulted in the death of an Abu Sayyaf commander, Abu Rami, who was allegedly responsible for the beheading of two Canadians and a German hostage. Many Abu Sayyaf militants have also surrendered, and there are indications that a senior leader, Radulan Sahiron, intends to surrender due to his old age.

The military pressure of the Duterte administration has resulted in short-term gains but the security landscape in the south continues to deteriorate, largely due to the existing local terror groups pledging allegiance to IS and the potential return of foreign fighters spurred by the collapse of its caliphate in the Middle East. Although the Duterte administration’s engaged in parallel peace negotiations, the prospects for peace remain uncertain. This is exacerbated by the international condemnation of Duterte for his controversial war on drugs and the threat of potential impeachment before the end of his six-year term.

The situation in the southern Philippines continues to overshadow the nation’s future and a fundamental challenge is the limited capability of the navy and the coast guard to deal with these non-traditional security threats. The ambiguity surrounding the Philippines’ territorial claims to Sabah may also damage future Philippines-Malaysian relations and hamper efforts to cooperate on piracy and kidnapping.

The indefinite postponement of joint maritime patrols in the Sulu-Celebes Sea alongside other fundamental challenges that will require diplomatic finesse and political capital to resolve suggest piracy and kidnapping will continue to threaten the security of maritime trade in the region.

One Belt One Road in Malaysia: China’s strategic enabler?

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Image courtesy of Flickr user U.S. Pacific Fleet.

As the recipient of more than US$200 billion worth of Chinese infrastructure and real estate investment, Malaysia is fast becoming the principal ASEAN partner in China’s One Belt One Road (OBOR) initiative. Malaysia’s need to upgrade its infrastructure to attract larger foreign investors and boost its slowing economy dovetails with China’s OBOR ambitions. But some of those investments have provoked suspicion about their potential to enable a Chinese military presence. The Melaka Gateway is one such project, and provides a case study for a closer examination of the potential for OBOR investments in Malaysia to further Beijing’s strategic objectives.

Last October, the Malaysian government inked a US$6.8 billion deal with three Chinese state-owned companies to construct and manage a deep-sea port and Maritime Industrial Park on three reclaimed islands off Malacca city, as part of the larger US$9.7 billion Melaka Gateway mega-development. The facilities will include a container and bulk terminal, shipbuilding and repair services, and marine engineering and manufacturing services. Singapore’s Straits Times claims that China harbours military designs for the port, since an additional port on Malaysia’s west coast will be redundant once the planned upgrade to Port Klang—which handles 40% of the country’s cargo—alleviates existing overcapacity issues. Also, the reclaimed islands will also enjoy freehold status and the port a 99-year concession.

The Malaysian government denies claims that China would use the port as a naval base, asserting that it’s never allowed foreign powers to ‘set up’ on Malaysian soil. Nevertheless, Sino-Malaysian defence diplomacy has matured in recent years—a reflection of President Najib Razak’s desire to maintain transparency around China’s military capabilities. The latest example came in January this year, when a Chinese nuclear-powered submarine visited Malaysia for the first time, after the People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) was granted access to Sabah’s Kota Kinabalu port in 2015 by the Malaysian government.

Examining China’s other major investments in Malaysia brings the strategic picture into sharper focus. At Kuantan on Malaysia’s east coast, China jointly owns an industrial park and a 40% stake in the construction of a deep-sea port. Sand’s being rapidly dredged there to facilitate the US$12.4 billion East-Coast Rail Link, 85% of which is financed by China. The line will run from Port Klang on the west coast to Kuantan Port in the east, ending at Tumpat, near Malaysia’s northwest border with Thailand. Once complete, the railway will be a land bridge between Klang and Kuantan, enabling China-bound goods to bypass Singapore and the southern Malacca Strait. That’ll divert significant volumes of traffic away from Singapore and enhance China’s ability to control the flow of goods.

Ports like the Melaka Gateway that can accommodate container ships and have maritime engineering facilities can also accommodate the refuelling and replenishing of warships. Malaysia should be alert to the fact that China’s making a habit of deploying the PLAN to protect its commercial activities as it brings its OBOR ports into operation. Last November, Chinese and Pakistani navies conducted drills simulating the defence of Gwadar Port and the China–Pakistan Economic Corridor. And China’s recent decision to expand its Marine Corps personnel from 20,000 to 100,000 also came with the announcement that some would be stationed at Gwadar and its forthcoming naval base at Djibouti.

China has strong motivations to leverage its OBOR investments in Malaysia for strategic purposes, consistent with the PLAN’s revitalised focus. China’s 2015 defence white paper outlined a combination of ‘near seas defense’ and ‘distant seas protection’.

China wishes to exercise strategic dominance within the First Island Chain, which it considers its ‘near seas’. Having access to Malaysian ports facing the South China Sea, as do Kuantan, Kota Kinabalu and Samalaju, would increase the PLAN’s capacity to project power and deny access to adversaries, likely the US Navy, in that contested area. In particular, Kota Kinabalu’s close proximity to the Spratly Islands would allow the PLAN to better defend its outposts there.

China also wants to mitigate risk from its Malacca Dilemma, whereby 80% of its oil imports from Africa and the Gulf passing through that bottleneck could be obstructed by an adversary in a military blockade. The establishment of alternative energy routes throughout Central and Southeast Asia brings this objective closer. Beijing also wants to be in a position where it can militarily protect those lines of communication in the ‘distant seas’. Access to Melaka and Penang ports would support PLAN deployments further south through the Lombok–Makassar and Sunda Straits—the alternative routes via which China can access the Indian Ocean. Those straits hold strategic value for PLAN because, unlike the Malacca Strait, Indonesia allows warships to conduct unchecked innocent passage through its archipelagic sea lanes, and the Lombok–Makassar strait is deep enough for submarines to pass through fully submerged.

As China’s footprint along Malaysia’s port network enlarges, Australian defence planners should get used to seeing the PLAN in their northern maritime approaches more often. The PLAN’s recent 25-day flotilla tour through the South China Sea, eastern Indian Ocean and Western Pacific is just the latest manifestation of its growing far-sea capabilities and ambitions. The strategic value of OBOR investments in Malaysia will not only increase China’s economic clout, but would also provide a solid logistical foundation to enable Beijing’s military aspirations.

Asia does jaw-jaw

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Image courtesy of Pixabay user BreakingTheWalls

Asia long ago took to heart Churchill’s admonition that it’s better to jaw-jaw than war-war.

A lot of talking goes on around here. And the jaw-jaw intensity has risen as Asia confronts a long slope that descends in the direction of war-war.

The big strategic trend story of recent years is the fear that the system isn’t strong enough to handle mounting pressures, that the prospects for an Asian order are fading not growing.

As Ron Huisken argues in CSCAP’s 2016 Regional Security Outlook, Asia’s security order is eroding as military posturing and partnering intensifies:

‘The states of the region are still spending a lot of time in dialogue but along critical channels the degree of engagement, communication and understanding appears to have encountered sharply diminishing returns.’

The need is for smarter and better jaw-jaw. Yet in stating that aim, it’s worth looking back at what jaw-jaw has achieved for Asia. The talking has delivered much, if not enough.

I am writing this in Kuala Lumpur at the 30th annual Asia-Pacific Roundtable, where Southeast Asia’s strategic institutes do a distinctly ASEAN version of jaw-jaw.

Then it’s off to Singapore for the 15th annual Asia Security Summit, the Shangri-La Dialogue—a Brit think tank partners with Singapore to talk war and peace in a hotel named after Shangri-La, a mythical, permanently happy land imagined in ‘Lost Horizon.’

These are different jaw-jaw festivals that are deliberately twinned by calendar and geography; they chew through a lot of common territory.

The Roundtable is a classic Track Two strategic dialogue, while all those Defence Ministers at Shangri-La plough the hybrid called One-and-a-half Track.

Come look at what 30 years of Roundtable jaw-jaw has done. Malaysia’s Institute of Strategic and International Studies proudly proclaims it ‘the premier Track Two forum in the region’; a fair call.

This lightning trip through the Roundtable decades will alight on a key personality, the ASEAN essence, an economic idea, the experience of the pariahs, and the ever-pressing need to build the architecture.

Looking back at Roundtable history means seeing the figure of its originating dynamo, the late and much missed Noordin Sopiee.

It’s still a gap in the KL experience not to see Noordin looming up with that quiet grin, ready to explode on you the latest idea he’s been dissecting.

Noordin was the classic jaw-jaw black-belt—a passionate Malaysian equally committed to ASEAN, a nationalist who could be, at the same moment, both regionalist and internationalist. Noordin was ever nimble but his aim was constant.

The essence of the Roundtable is that it’s ASEAN’s take on what Asia means. You know the language. Everyone is invited for the journey, but ASEAN drives and ASEAN centrality is, well, central. This is Second Track done with ASEAN sauce: ‘to brainstorm and share ideas…to network and develop trust and confidence…building relations with each other.’

An Australian master, Ross Garnaut, thinks the Roundtable’s great contribution to economic thinking was to push and grow the concept of Open Regionalism. Asia could cut trade barriers without discrimination against outsiders—the original faith expressed in the creation of APEC, Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation.

Garnaut wrote that Open Regionalism reigned as the guiding idea of regional integration from the 1980s till the Asian Financial Crisis in 1997–98:

‘This was the most productive period ever in trade liberalisation, expansion and economic growth within Southeast Asia. We learned how valuable Open Regionalism had been when the Asian Financial Crisis knocked international cooperation off course, leading to a 21st Century era of preferential trade and eventually slower expansion of trade and economic activity.’

The Roundtable invites everyone—no pariahs or polecats in the big jaw-jaw tent. Looking back over the three decades, Bunn Nagara wrote:

‘In some years the Myanmar representation would serve up a classic lesson in polished diplomacy. Despite the atrocities committed by its then military junta, the country’s participant could weave arguments in perfect Queen’s English as to why the junta was the best and only hope for the country. Even stiffer presentations came from the North Koreans. They were scripted, vetted and pre-arranged affairs without taking up time by entertaining any questions or comments.’

Paul Evans recalls moderating a session where ‘the North Korean participants refused to conclude a presentation, which required us to turn off the sound system and flash the overhead lights.’

The final thought comes from another jaw-jaw grandmaster, Indonesia’s Jusuf Wanandi. He makes the key point that throbs through the decades—the ‘critically important’ need to build and strengthen the regional security architecture. The architecture language is as familiar as the aching need it describes.

Wanandi says China and the US cannot provide the answer: ‘The strategies of the two major powers are not inclusive of the other, and risk becoming confrontational.’

Step forward ASEAN, that association that always aims for the non-confrontational, inclusive middle way. The hope of the side is the East Asia Summit, which brings China and the US together in regional, ASEAN-driven architecture (ah, Asia’s architecture quest!).

With the hope comes the usual jaw-jaw caution as Wanandi observes: ‘Nonetheless, for the EAS to function properly, it needs a more capable and willing ASEAN as the organiser. It is not yet the case.’

That not-yet-the-case judgement is the classic jaw-jaw stance. More to do. More argument needed. Differences confronted. If consensus is out of reach, at least achieve an understanding of the conflicting views. Make that architecture stronger and strive to get it working. More jaw-jaw for sure-sure.

ASEAN’s destructive elites

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The Association of Southeast Asian Nations has long been envisioned as a foundation stone for stability, security, and increased prosperity in Asia. But with uncertainty plaguing the political systems of Burma, Malaysia, and Thailand, ASEAN may be entering a period of policy and diplomatic inertia. At a time when China’s economic downturn and unilateral territorial claims are posing serious challenges to the region, ASEAN’s weakness could prove highly dangerous.

The problems that are now bedeviling Burma, Malaysia, and Thailand may appear to have little in common. But they all spring from the same source: an entrenched elite’s stubborn refusal to craft a viable system of governance that recognizes new and rising segments of society and reflects their interests in government policy.

And yet, despite the shared roots of these countries’ political dysfunction, their prospects vary. Surprisingly, hope is strongest in Burma, where the military junta recognized the need for change, exemplified in the 2010 decision to free the long-imprisoned Nobel Peace laureate Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and embark on a transition to democracy.

Burma’s former military leaders, it seems, looked ahead dispassionately and saw a stark choice: either relinquish gradually their absolute power, allowing for a democratic transition, or permit China to tighten its grip on their country. China’s efforts to impose development plans that would deliver few, if any, benefits to Burma made the choice somewhat easier.

Today, Suu Kyi is Burma’s paramount leader. Though the constitution imposed by the junta prevents her from serving officially as president, she holds the real power in the current government led by her National League for Democracy, which secured a landslide victory in last year’s general election.

Of course, there is no guarantee that Burma’s democratic transition will succeed; after all, beyond barring Suu Kyi from the presidency, the junta’s constitution reserves all of the “power” cabinet posts for the military. But with Suu Kyi carefully establishing the NLD’s authority, and with friends in India, Japan, and the United States monitoring any potential backsliding, there is a legitimate hope that most of the members of Burma’s military elite will continue to reconcile themselves, if begrudgingly, to modern democracy, just as Eastern Europe’s former communist rulers once did.

The situations in Malaysia and Thailand are less promising. Extreme political polarization is almost as deeply entrenched in these countries today as it was in Burma before 2010. But whereas Burma’s generals recognized the need to escape their cul-de-sac, the Malay and Thai elites seem to be doubling down on political exclusion.

In Malaysia, the problem is rooted in ethnic and racial divisions. Since gaining independence, Malaysia’s leaders have pursued policies that favored the indigenous Malay majority, at the expense of the country’s minorities, most notably the sizable Chinese and Indian populations.

But throughout Malaysia’s first decades of independence, the United Malays National Organization, the country’s largest political party, did seek to incorporate minority interests, despite commanding the loyalty of the vast majority of the electorate. This inclusive approach began to break down with the 1997 Asian financial crisis, when a coalition of political parties was forged by former Deputy Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim – who was subsequently jailed on contrived sodomy charges – to challenge the UMNO’s authority. With Prime Minister Najib Razak and his government now enmeshed in a vast corruption scandal, the UNMO is relying more than ever on Malay chauvinism.

In Thailand, the source of deep political polarization is economic. Simply put, the “haves” want to keep the “have-nots” from having a voice.

For much of Thai history, the elite’s rule was untroubled. But the enactment in 1997 of what came to be known as the “People’s Constitution” enabled previously discounted political forces to rise. None rose faster or higher than the business tycoon Thaksin Shinawatra, who exploited the resentments of the long-disempowered rural poor to forge a mighty political machine that challenged the entrenched royalist political establishment, which includes the monarchy, the military, the judiciary, and the civil service.

The clash between the two factions led to two military coups, one in 2006 to push Shinawatra out of power and another in 2014 to drive out his younger sister, Yingluck Shinawatra. The conflict became increasingly violent, with both sides willing to go to great lengths to maintain their grip on power.

Today, the ruling military junta is systematically cracking down on dissent; it has banned Thaksin-aligned politicians from entering politics, and is trying to impose a new constitution. And Thailand’s troubles may be about to worsen: With King Bhumibol Adulyadej’s health failing, his seven-decade reign may be near its end. Should the royal succession be contested, Thailand could enter yet another period of chaos and violence.

Just as India, Japan, and the US have been helping to shepherd Burma through its transition, they should take a more proactive role in saving Malaysia and Thailand from their elites’ self-destructive behavior. Standing idly by while two of ASEAN’s core members consume themselves is simply not a viable option.

ASPI suggests

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U.S. Army 1st Lt. Audrey Griffith, points out an area of interest during a force protection drill to Spc. Heidi Gerke along the perimeter of Forward Operating Base Hadrian in Deh Rawud, Afghanistan, March 18, 2013.

The fallout from the Paris attacks and the shooting down of a Russian jet by Turkish forces earlier this week continue. British Prime Minister David Cameron has used this opportunity to outline the UK’s strategy for Syria for degrading ISIS, which includes airstrikes in the country’s north. Speaking to the House of Commons, he argued that destroying sanctuaries will ‘make [the British people] safer’ but must accompany diplomatic and humanitarian measures. In his speech, Cameron ruled out allying Syrian leader Bashar al Assad, advocating rather for ‘a political transition to a government the international community can work with’ against ISIS. Full text available here.

Meanwhile, for finer analysis of the UK strategy, read the latest by RUSI’s Shashank Joshi here. Also, Chatham House’s associate fellow in international law, Harriet Moynihan, concludes there is no specific UN Security Council authorisation for the use of force in David Cameron’s case for airstrikes. UNSC resolution 2249 (2015), adopted on 20 November, determines that ISIS ‘constitutes a global and unprecedented threat to international peace and security’ and ‘has the capability and intention to carry out further attacks’. The resolution helps but the case for individual self-defence for the UK (referring to Article 51 of the UN Charter) must also meet other criteria including whether the threatened attack is imminent. Keep reading here.

The University of Sydney’s United States Studies Centre has just published a new report on Indonesia’s relationships with the US and China. Authors Natasha Hamilton-Hart and Dave McRae reaffirm that Indonesia will continue to balance the US and China, cultivating ties with both but remaining committed to its ‘free and active’ foreign policy principles. The report provides a useful overview of the history of US–Indonesia and China–Indonesia relations, including in the socio-cultural sphere.

Sticking with Southeast Asia, Gregore Lopez chronicles the major developments in Malaysian politics and assesses the Prime Minister’s prospects of staying in power, amid this year’s corruption scandals. He concludes ultimately that although allies of the PM—the monarchy and Islamic religious bodies—will continue to suffer reputational costs through their associations with him, Nadjib Razak will likely stay in power until the next election. What remains unknown, Lopez notes, is the extents to which he’ll go to remain leader.

Le Hong Hiep also has a new RSIS commentary on the growing strategic partnership between Vietnam and Singapore, proposing that modest levels of defence cooperation be boosted by joint anti-piracy patrols near both countries to enhance regional maritime security as well as training exercises.

While our Department of Defence currently negotiates the ramifications of the First Principles Review, our American counterparts are similarly contemplating reform. James Carafano explores what acquisition reform for the Pentagon might look like.

Next is a special report by The Economist on climate change, published in anticipation of the COP21 talks in Paris commencing on 3o November. For Strategist readers, check out the section on China: it’s not the climate pariah you might think it is—much of its pollution, as the article notes, comes from making goods for other countries, for one. If you need a quick and dirty rundown on the main aims of COP21 and the achievements of past COPs, check out SBS’ ‘What you need to know about COP21’ and Forbes’ ‘The basics of COP21’.

For a quick and dirty summary of how NATO’s Article 5 (that an attack upon one is equal to an attack upon all) works, here’s Steve Saideman’s latest rundown of when NATO used it last and why France won’t invoke it. In short, NATO representatives need to meet and reach consensus to invoke the article which, interestingly, can be used against a non-state actor. In fact, after 9/11 it was used against al-Qaeda. But that doesn’t necessarily invoke a group military response, as Saideman explains; sometimes political solidarity is enough. Keep reading here.

How does the Islamic State’s favourite book on strategy explain recent terrorist attacks? Over on War On The Rocks, terrorism scholar Will McCants examines The Management of Savagery, a book celebrated by both al-Qaeda and ISIS followers. Written under a pseudonym, the author Abu Bakr Naji explains that, in order to establish a state, the jihadists can use whichever tactics they please and, contra to the teachings of Mohammed, even killing noncombatants if the situation is, as McCants puts it, ‘dire and the enemy is ruthless’. Naji advocates ‘vexation operations’ against enemies where they live to mitigate the risks of jihadists fighting in the open.

Podcast

Charles Lister joins Jihadology’s Aaron Zelin for a discussion on the history of Syrian jihad. It’s really useful overview of the main players prior to and after the 2011 uprising. Of particular interest is Lister’s explanation of Jabhat al Nusra’s entry into the Syrian war and the group’s evolving relationship with ISIS as well as his discussion of different groups of foreign fighters and their motivations (1hr).

In a new episode of Incoming, a series that allows American veterans to tell their story in their own words, US Army’s Major Mariah Smith reflects on her time in Kandahar as well as her 15 years of experience in the military, which includes an attempt as one of the first female candidates in the Army’s integrated Ranger school (30mins, transcript also available).

Australia’s quiet cyber diplomacy bears fruit

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Australia’s quiet cyber diplomacy bears fruit

Beyond the occasional doom-laden and shouting headline about the coming ‘cyber apocalypse’, few column inches are devoted to the cyber policy and international security space. This is a shame, because if you were to look a little closer at our neighbourhood, what you’d see is an undercurrent of effective, useful, middle-power cyber diplomacy quietly humming along.

If you were to look even closer, you would see Australia driving a hefty part of this work, stepping into a leadership role that largely defies its shoe-string budget.

On 6 August at the 22nd ASEAN Regional Forum Ministerial meeting in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, a deceptively small, but meaningful step forward was made to help ensure stability in cyberspace and our region.

Among the many agenda items that were reaffirmed, welcomed, underlined and adopted by the gaggle of foreign ministers and special representatives in the Malaysian capital was a joint Australian-Malaysian-Russian proposed ICT Work Plan.

The ‘ARF Work Plan on Security of and in the Use of Information and Communications Technologies’, often referred to by its pithier title ‘the Work Plan’, is the culmination of two years of quiet, Australian-led efforts by the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. This is a significant achievement, and it’s worth looking at how it was done before we turn to what was done. First, it builds on a relationship we’ve been developing for years—those sorts of things don’t happen overnight.

Second, the Work Plan was negotiated in partnership with Russia and Malaysia, who—to put it mildly—share different perspectives on how the internet should be managed compared to Australia. Australia’s liberal approach to internet freedom is distant from Russia’s government-controlled approach. But through trust and intelligent leadership, all parties came together to agree on a program of work that will boost regional stability. It turns out that making practical progress doesn’t require agreement on all aspects of internet governance.

In diplo-speak, the aim of the Work Plan is to ‘promote a peaceful, secure, open and cooperative ICT environment and to prevent conflict and crises by developing trust and confidence between states.’ Beyond the string of positive adjectives, the Work Plan is full of ideas to help prevent ICT-related squabbles from breaking out (either online or in the physical world), and if they do, it also contains plans to quell tensions and re-build trust amongst ARF member states.

Ideas outlined in the Work Plan include the cross-border information sharing of information on cyber threats, the types of policies that can be used to tackle these threats and the different national organisational set-ups that are in place to do so.

Included among its many goals is the intention to clear up confused terminology between countries—for instance, what the term ‘cyberspace’ means to different people—and support the establishment of rules, norms and principals of responsible state behaviour (what ‘goes’ and what doesn’t online).

Another key aim of the Plan is to develop a regional point of contact network to enable de-escalation talks when cyber issues balloon to the level of national security incidents. This list of ‘who to call when things get hairy’ is needed to help clarify from where attacks are originating and underpins wider confidence building measures.

As a Forum, the ARF is almost purpose built for negotiating cyber issues and through its practical workshops has emerged as the leading regional body that enables just that. While in the past the Australian government has voiced a general preference for working through forums such as the East Asia Summit, DFAT has seen the benefits of pursuing our cyber agenda through the larger, more hands-on regional body.

Given the melting pot of cyber perspectives and approaches in the Asia–Pacific, fewer voices rather than more may seem like an easier, more amenable route to achieve harmony. But this approach overlooks the rationale behind transparency and confidence building measures. It’s not those who we agree with that we need to build trust with.

International cyber policy will continue to be seen as a niche issue, but it’s a diplomatic area in which Australia does well, and one that the region has let us pick up the ball and run with.

Our friends in North Asia, Europe and North America have already identified the diplomatic leadership opportunity the cyber policy elements of international security presents, devoting hefty budgets and resources towards it; often targeted at our very neighbourhood.

The opportunity exists for the government to maintain Australia’s leadership role and build on the strong foundations we have laid though the ICT Work Plan and further the diplomatic work we’ve carried out in the past. It will be interesting to see if there’s recognition of this opportunity in Australia’s impending cyber security strategy and if there will be any new resourcing to bolster our emerging leadership role.