The Diplomat March '24

04/03/2024, 22:27 Myanmar: The Many Foes of Min Aung Hlaing
Letter From the Editors

The more things change, the more they stay the
same.
By Shannon Tiezzi and Catherine Putz
Welcome to the March 2024 issue of The Diplomat Magazine.

Change makes headlines, but continuity often lurks behind what
seem to be notable shifts. In this issue, we look at the interplay
between continuity and change, whether on the battlefields of
Myanmar, in the political arena in Kazakhstan, or in the foreign
policy of Bhutan.
Three years after the coup, and over four months after a major
ethnic armed organization (EAO) military operation began,
https://magazine.thediplomat.com/#/issues/-NrGOM6WsFgKcen7npkw/read 1/222
Myanmar under Min Aung Hlaing seems locked into perpetual

conflict. As Thomas Kean, a journalist and researcher who has
worked on Myanmar since 2008, writes in this month’s cover story,
Min Aung Hlaing’s continued leadership may very well be a boon
for the military’s many opponents, including EAOs and the
National Unity Government. Min Aung Hlaing’s missteps have
paved the way for military gains by resistance groups. From
expected quarters of dissent to even pro-regime protesters urging
Min Aung Hlaing to step down, the junta leader has many foes.
In March 2019, Kazakhstan’s Nursultan Nazarbayev – Leader of the
Nation, Elbasy – resigned and passed power to his protege, Kassym-
Jomart Tokayev. Nazarbayev’s resignation was unprecedented,
Luca Anceschi, a professor in Eurasian Studies at the University of
Glasgow, writes. But leadership change did not necessitate regime
transformation. In 2024, five years after Nazarbayev stepped down
and two years after one of the most dramatic weeks experienced
by the country since independence – January 2022’s Qandy Qantar
– Kazakhstan is still led by an elderly man who heads an
authoritarian, kleptocratic regime and presides over a struggling
economy.
Bhutan has long sought to balance relations with its giant
neighbors, India and China, explains Passang Dorji, a scholar on
Bhutan and Nepal and their relations with China and India. While
Bhutan doesn’t have formal diplomatic relations with China –
largely due to India’s discomfort with the idea – the prospect of a
normalized relationship with Beijing is looming larger, provided
Bhutan can untangle the knot of the border dispute. As Dorji notes,
getting the balance right is a critical question for Bhutan:
“Thimphu’s efforts to ensure predictable ties with China and India
– and between them – are linked to its very survival.”
We hope you enjoy these stories, and the many more in the
following pages.
The Authors
Shannon Tiezzi is Editor-in-Chief of The Diplomat.
Catherine Putz is Managing Editor of The Diplomat.
Associated Press, File
Myanmar: The Many Foes of

Min Aung Hlaing
Three years after the coup, and several months after a
major ethnic armed organization operation began,
Myanmar under Min Aung Hlaing is locked into a
course of continued conflict.
By Thomas Kean
The small protest in the central Myanmar town of Pyin Oo Lwin on

January 16 was far less spectacular than the military’s recent
battlefield losses, but for dictator-in-chief Min Aung Hlaing it was
possibly just as damaging. Rather than call for the end of the junta
that seized power in a February 2021 coup – as millions across
Myanmar have done over the past three years – the pro-regime
protesters urged Min Aung Hlaing to step down as head of the
military, and hand over power to his deputy, Soe Win.
“Look at Soe Win’s face,” the nationalist monk Pauk Ko Taw told
the crowd of a few hundred people. “That's the face of a real
soldier. Min Aung Hlaing is not coping. He should move to a civilian
role.”
A former colonial hill station, Pyin Oo Lwin occupies a strategic
location on the edge of the Shan plateau astride the main highway
to China. It is also of great operational, symbolic, and emotional
importance to the military, hosting not only its elite Defense
Services Academy and other training institutes but also many
retired officers, who live in new suburbs colloquially referred to as
bogyoke ywar (“village of generals”).
Security is relatively tight; Pyin Oo Lwin is one of the few places in
Myanmar where pro-regime types can move around without
having to watch nervously for resistance hit squads. Although no
military personnel are known to have taken part in the protest, it is
unlikely to have been possible without at least some tacit support
from within the regime’s own ranks.
There was little dissent on display when the military-controlled
National Defense and Security Council met on January 31 – just
ahead of the third anniversary of the coup – and formally agreed to
Min Aung Hlaing’s proposal to extend military rule for a further six
months. But behind this pro forma show of unity lies real and
growing discontent with Min Aung Hlaing’s leadership.
The military is arguably in its weakest position since the 1950s,
when by some reports it controlled barely a quarter of the country.
Insiders say that senior officers openly curse Min Aung Hlaing
behind his back, mocking his detached-from-reality public
pronouncements, his micromanaging style, and his naked political
ambitions.
This growing anger may explain some of the leniency shown to the
organizer of the Pyin Oo Lwin protest, Pauk Ko Taw, who was
detained for questioning but later released. It contrasts with the
punishment meted out just months earlier to another prominent
Min Aung Hlaing critic within the military establishment. In
November, Ye Htut, a former military officer who served as
minister for information and presidential spokesman under Thein
Sein in the mid-2010s, was sentenced to 10 years in prison for
seditious posts on Facebook. Ye Htut was arrested on October 28, a
week after he hit publish on an allegorical post about an arrogant
buffalo at Inle Lake that was standing triumphantly on a pile of
trash, but didn’t realize it was surrounded by water.
At the time, Min Aung Hlaing had just been forced into sacking and
jailing some of his closest allies in the regime’s upper ranks for
their role in a colossal corruption scandal that had seen them
misuse the regime’s precious foreign currency reserves for
personal gain. It had seemed like a nadir for the regime, but far
worse was to come – this time on the perennial battlefield of
northern Shan State, which had been unusually quiet since the
coup.
Operation 1027: The Impossible Becomes Possible
Even as regime forces swooped in to arrest Ye Htut, Min Aung
Hlaing’s fortunes were already taking a further nosedive. On
October 27, a trio of ethnic armed groups, who call themselves the
Three Brotherhood Alliance, launched surprise attacks in northern
Shan State, quickly overrunning scores of regime positions and
killings dozens of soldiers, police and militia forces.
All three groups – the Myanmar National Democratic Alliance
Army (MNDAA), Ta’ang National Liberation Army (TNLA), and
Arakan Army (AA) – had been biding their time since the coup.
Although they had avoided confrontation with the regime and
refrained from publicly aligning with the post-coup resistance, the
three groups had dramatically built up their forces and expanded

their territorial control since February 2021, taking advantage of
the military’s weakness. They had also quietly been supporting
new anti-coup armed groups, ranging from ethnic Chin militias
and National Unity Government-aligned People’s Defense Forces to
the rebooted armed wing of the Communist Party of Burma.
In contrast to 2015, 2016, and 2019, when the regime was able to
beat back similar Brotherhood Alliance offensives in northern
Shan, it had few answers to Operation 1027, as the offensive was
codenamed. Within a month, the MNDAA, which represents the
Mandarin-speaking Kokang ethnic group, seized a string of towns
along the China-Myanmar border and surrounded the city of
Laukkai, the capital of the Kokang region.
After two failed rounds of China-brokered peace talks in December,
more than 2,000 soldiers in Laukkai surrendered to the MNDAA in
early January, handing the group control of the city. They were sent
back to a regime-controlled military base in Lashio, where the
junta promptly prosecuted six brigadier-generals for giving up
Laukkai without approval. Three were reportedly given the death
sentence, the others life in prison, while a score of colonels were
also jailed.
The capture of Laukkai was both a homecoming for the MNDAA
and a personal blow to Min Aung Hlaing. In 2009, when the group
controlled the Kokang enclave, he had personally led an operation
to expel the MNDAA after it refused to transform into a Border
Guard Force (BGF) under military control. MNDAA leader Peng
Jiasheng and many of his soldiers were forced to flee into China; a
faction that defected to the military was installed as the new
leaders of the Kokang region. For the Tatmadaw as an institution,
losing a Regional Operations Command to ethnic insurgents, as it
did in Laukkai, would have seemed all but impossible just a few
years ago.
Other members of the Brotherhood Alliance have also made
dramatic gains. The TNLA, which represents the small and long
marginalized Ta’ang community, spent much of the past decade
fighting a guerrilla war against the regime, slowly establishing its
political and military power. After the coup it opted for an informal
ceasefire, and used this lull to quietly secure control of a large area
of rural northern Shan.
Since late October, the TNLA has effectively completed the job by
evicting military troops from half a dozen towns north and west of
the main highway to China. The group’s location means it has the
capacity to interrupt Myanmar’s multi-billion-dollar land-based
trade with Yunnan province when it chooses to; for now, there are
still no trucks plying back and forth on the once-busy highway.
On January 11, China-brokered talks finally delivered a ceasefire in
northern Shan. The MNDAA and TNLA had already achieved most
of their immediate goals; the Kokang are back in charge of Laukkai,
while the Ta’ang now have an outlet to the Chinese border, at
Namkham. The deal gives them – in theory, at least – a reprieve
from the regime’s airstrikes and artillery barrages. But the Haigeng
agreement, as it is known, is a fragile truce; there is no
demarcation of territory and mistrust runs high on both sides.
Less than a day after talks concluded, the TNLA had already
accused the regime of violating the ceasefire, and numerous more
alleged violations have been reported since. The military has also
tried to make it as difficult as possible for the TNLA to govern its
newly won territories, cutting off supplies of essentials, such as
fuel, which sent prices soaring.
Cyberscams and the China Factor
The offensive and the subsequent ceasefire both reinforce China’s
position as the dominant international actor in Myanmar. Had it
wanted to, Beijing could have intervened either before or shortly
after October 27 to stop the fighting. But Chinese authorities
allowed the offensive to proceed because they were incensed at the
military regime’s failure to rein in cyberscam operators in the
Kokang region, where tens of thousands of people had been put to
work fleecing people around the world out of billions of dollars, in
what are known as “pig butchering” scams. Many were human
trafficking victims, effectively forced to work as slaves; the United
Nations estimated last year that in Myanmar at least 120,000
people were likely being “held in situations where they are forced
to carry out online scams,” along with another 100,000 in

Cambodia.
The scam operations have become an increasingly pressing social
issue in China in recent years, both because Chinese citizens made
up for a large portion of those being trafficked to serve the scam
centers, and because a lot of these scams targeted Chinese victims.
They were brought to even wider attention by a recent hit movie,
“No More Bets,” which tells the story of a Chinese couple lured into
working in the cyberscam industry in an unnamed Southeast Asian
country. Released last August, the movie (and other media coverage
of the issue) made such an impact that it deterred some Chinese
travelers from heading to Southeast Asia. Yet despite increasing
Chinese pressure, Min Aung Hlaing’s regime made only token
efforts to rein in the scams.
Why didn’t the military act, when the warning signs were clear?
The regime’s unwillingness or inability to recognize the importance
of the issue to China represents an intelligence failure almost on
par with launching the coup. Min Aung Hlaing’s personal enmity
toward Beijing, which he has accused numerous times of providing
weapons to ethnic armed groups, is likely to have been a factor. The
feeling is largely mutual: The Chinese were exasperated at Min
Aung Hlaing’s decision to seize power from Aung San Suu Kyi’s
National League for Democracy, with which Beijing had worked
hard to forge a close working relationship.
For its own survival, the regime has been forced into action. After
Operation 1027 commenced, it handed over tens of thousands of
trafficking victims and cyberscam suspects to Chinese authorities,
and in late January gave up 10 ringleaders, including Bai Suocheng,
whom Min Aung Hlaing had installed as head of the Kokang region
when he defected from the MNDAA in 2009. They were last seen on
January 30 being escorted from a charter plane in Kunming into
waiting police vans. Their fate is unknown, but the death penalty is
certainly not out of the question.
The regime’s change of tune along with Beijing’s growing alarm at
the rapid success of Operation 1027 prompted Chinese negotiators
to force a ceasefire on the TNLA and MNDAA. The groups
ultimately had to accept, but there are limits to Chinese influence

in Myanmar on all sides of the conflict. Reaching a deal on paper is
one thing; enforcing it on the ground is another.
Even if the ceasefire holds, the TNLA and MNDAA will work to
consolidate and potentially expand their gains, while maintaining
support to anti-military resistance groups that will fuel fighting
against the regime elsewhere. So too will the United Wa State Army
(UWSA), the country’s largest and most powerful ethnic armed
group, which has feigned neutrality – even traveling to Naypyidaw
for meetings with regime negotiators – while selling large
quantities of arms to resistance groups. Meanwhile, ethnic armed
groups not party to the ceasefire, such as the Kachin Independence
Army, have continued to fight on in northern Myanmar, and in late
January captured a strategic region on the border of Shan and
Kachin states.
Similar to their counterparts in Washington, Brussels, and Tokyo,
policymakers in Beijing have been grappling with how to respond
to the coup and ever-spiraling conflict in Myanmar. For China, the
goal is preserving its economic interests, ensuring stability in
border areas, and limiting any spillover into its own territory. From
its perspective, though, there is no clear path forward – the regime
is unlikely to consolidate control, but is also not facing imminent
collapse.
China’s most logical approach, therefore, is to hedge its bets, and
use its leverage with both ethnic armed groups and the military to
maintain an uneasy truce in the borderlands. By not backing the
regime unequivocally, it also creates possibilities for common
ground with Western countries that are more openly critical of the
junta and supportive of anti-military forces – enabling, for
example, the United Nations Security Council to pass an
unprecedented Myanmar resolution in December 2022.
Arakan Army Advances in Rakhine
While the guns have mostly fallen silent in northern Shan for now,
the January 11 ceasefire has had little impact in the rest of
Myanmar, particularly in Rakhine State in the west, where the
third member of the Brotherhood Alliance, the AA, operates. Since
late October, the group has cemented control over much of

northern Rakhine State, while also capturing remote but strategic
Paletwa Township in southern Chin State, which straddles both the
Bangladesh and India borders.
Like the TNLA, the AA has massed its forces against heavily
fortified but isolated regime command posts, either convincing the
soldiers within to surrender or overwhelming them through sheer
weight of numbers. Since late January, this approach has delivered
the AA a string of victories in the Rakhine heartland; the capture of
eight Light Infantry Battalion bases has effectively given the group
control over Kyauktaw, Mrauk-U, and Minbya townships. The
conquest of Mrauk-U, in particular, is loaded with symbolism; the
town was until the late 18th century home to a thriving,
independent Rakhine kingdom, snuffed out by invading Burmese
forces who enslaved much of the population.
But the AA hasn’t stopped there; it has also seized regime camps at
Taungpyo Letwe and Taungpyo Letyar on the Bangladesh border,
captured an important bridge on the road between Buthidaung
and Sittwe, the regional capital, and sunk, damaged, or captured
several naval vessels. Hundreds of soldiers have surrendered to the
AA, and a significant number have been killed; embarrassingly for
the regime, more than 300 soldiers and Border Guard Police fled
into Bangladesh. The military’s rapid losses have created a growing
sense of panic in the capital; the regime has put Sittwe under a
curfew, and introduced a rule that anyone wanting to fly out of the
state needs approval from local authorities.
Despite similar tactics, the AA faces different constraints to its allies
in northern Shan. China has less interest in bringing about a
ceasefire in Rakhine – provided the AA stays away from
Kyaukphyu port and nearby oil and gas infrastructure, in which
Beijing has stakes – but the state’s geography limits how long the
AA can fight.
Rakhine is a fertile strip of land between the Bay of Bengal and the
steep Rakhine Yoma mountain range, and the state’s residents are
heavily dependent on rivers for movement, with a very limited
road network. Accordingly, when fighting erupted in mid-
November, the military could immediately institute a movement

blockade, preventing goods from entering or moving around the
state; many businesses have been forced to close and food prices
have soared. As a result, the AA is likely to agree to a ceasefire at
some point, but is reluctant to pause the fighting while it has the
military on the back foot.
Beyond Operation 1027: The Military Under Pressure
The military setback for the regime in Rakhine is all the more
remarkable given the lull in northern Shan. The ceasefire has
afforded it little breathing space, however, because Operation 1027
is also reverberating around the rest of the country.
When fighting broke out in the north, the military pulled troops out
of Kayah (Karenni) State that had been advancing on resistance
positions, near the Thai border. It also pulled back remaining
troops in the state to its few remaining strongholds, mostly in the
major towns. Anti-military forces, led by the Karenni Nationalities
Defense Force (KNDF), sensed an opportunity, launching an assault
on the state capital, Loikaw.
After months of fighting this offensive seems to have stalled, yet
resistance forces now control much of the state and can move with
relative freedom; where the military maintains a presence, they
simply give it a wide berth. A new governing body, the Karenni
Interim Executive Council, is working to establish administrative
systems for newly liberated territories.
Just over the border from Kayah, in southern Shan State, regime
efforts to stem the flow of weapons to Karenni groups from ethnic
allies in the north have drawn new actors into the conflict. On
January 21, regime troops and members of a military-affiliated
ethnic People’s Militia Force, the Pa-O National Organization (PNO),
intercepted a Pa-O National Liberation Organization (PNLO)
weapons convoy, sparking a brief battle. The PNLO has avoided
fighting the regime since the coup, even sending its leaders to
Naypyidaw for meetings with Min Aung Hlaing. Like the UWSA,
though, the Pa-O group has been playing a double game, quietly
supporting anti-military forces.
Although the military initially downplayed the January 21 incident,

fighting erupted again the following day and shortly afterward the
PNLO and the KNDF joined forces to capture the town of Hsihseng
in southern Shan. The PNLO has also now disavowed the
Nationwide Ceasefire Agreement it signed in 2015, saying it would
instead “work alongside our allies to bring an end to military
dictatorship in accordance with the will of our people and to build
a federal democratic country.”
The example of the PNO and PNLO – two armed groups of the same
ethnicity on different sides of the larger conflict – is replicated in
many parts of Myanmar. This is largely by design. For decades, the
military has managed conflict in restive ethnic minority regions by
building an elaborate network of Border Guard Forces (BGFs) and
People’s Militia Forces (PMFs) – ethnic armed groups drawn to
supporting the military out of ethnic, personal, or ideological
rivalry. In exchange for their loyalty, these BGFs and PMFs were
often given the freedom to pursue both licit and illicit economic
interests in areas under their control. While the PNO remains on
the regime’s side for now, the military’s collapse in northern Shan
State has prompted some of its staunchest allies to waver.
The military’s Faustian pact with the Kokang BGF that enabled
Laukkai to become a hub for cyberscam operators – loyalty in
exchange for autonomy – has been replicated in the southeast of
Myanmar, where the Karen State BGF has leased land along the
border with Thailand to dubious overseas Chinese investors. This
began around a decade ago, when the first casinos began popping
up in Myawaddy, on the Thai border; gradually operators moved
into online gambling, and now into “pig butchering” scams on a
massive scale at places such as KK Park.
Since the coup, the Karen BGF had fulfilled its side of the bargain,
deploying its 13 battalions against the Karen National Union and
their resistance partners. But events in the north were causing new
calculations behind the scenes. As the military packed off the
Kokang BGF leaders to face Chinese justice, the Karen BGF
leadership announced they would no longer fight alongside the
military against their Karen brethren, and would instead stand
independently.
No doubt recent Chinese pressure on Thailand and Myanmar to

root out cyberscam operators – and the presence of Chinese police
in Tachileik, a border town to the north of the BGF enclave – forced
the Karen group into a rethink. The BGF is unlikely to switch sides
completely, but even its neutrality could be disastrous for the
regime, in particular leaving towns along the Asian Highway –
which carries most overland trade between Thailand and
Myanmar – extremely vulnerable to anti-military forces.
For a much-weakened military, maintaining relationships with its
ethnic allies will be an increasing challenge. Aside from economic
motives, these groups are drawn to the military for protection,
often from other ethnic armed groups. When the military can’t
provide that protection, the BGFs and PMFs have little incentive to
stand by its side; instead, an alliance with a much-weakened
military becomes a liability.
Many are also under pressure from their grassroots supporters and
rank-and-file troops because they are waging an unpopular war on
the military’s behalf, often against the will of their own ethnic
communities. This was already a growing headache for the regime
before Operation 1027: In June, a BGF in Kayah State switched sides
to the KNDF-led resistance, turning the tide in the fighting there.
Even if the military can preserve the rest of these alliances, it
seems clear that most territory in ethnic minority states has been
lost or is, at best, contested; there is also little prospect of it
recapturing ground from powerful groups such as the TNLA or AA.
Along with territory and soldiers, the junta has also lost huge
quantities of weapons and materiel to ethnic armies in recent
months. While larger acquisitions – ranging from tanks and
howitzers to multiple launch rocket systems – provided great
propaganda value and dealt a financial and psychological blow to
the regime, the small arms and ammunition will have a more
tangible effect.
Some analysts estimate the regime may have lost as much as $100
million in arms, and much of these stockpiles are likely to be sold
off or doled out to resistance forces, particularly those with close
ties to ethnic armed groups. Social media users now joke that Min
Aung Hlaing is the largest benefactor to the resistance, which until

now has been heavily reliant on crowdfunding and other forms of
donations to buy weapons.
Whither Myanmar?
Where does all this leave the National Unity Government (NUG),
the parallel administration set up after the coup to lead the fight
against the regime? Although it has benefited to some extent from
Operation 1027, Myanmar’s conflict is far from zero-sum: The
military’s losses are not always NUG gains. Recent developments
have in fact underscored some of the limits of NUG power and
influence, and the extent to which ethnic armed organizations –
both older groups and those founded since the coup – are in the
driving seat.
With a few notable exceptions, ethnic armed organizations are the
ones who have most benefited from the coup. The NUG can rightly
claim to be partnering with many of them, through different
modalities, but this cooperation is generally on the terms of the
ethnic armed organizations, which are harnessing anti-military
support to create auxiliary forces under their command and create
buffer zones around their territory. Efforts to forge a common
political understanding between the key players have also largely
stalled, in part due to concerns that the members of National
League for Democracy, who were influential in setting up the NUG,
are reluctant to share power with other political forces.
Fighting in the Burman-dominated lowlands is also a very different
equation to the upland ethnic states. Often far from international
borders and at the end of long weapons supply chains, and
operating in much flatter terrain closer to regime centers of
control, the various anti-military forces in Myanmar’s central areas
have their work cut out for them. Born post-coup, armed groups
here tend to be much smaller, less well trained, and forced to
operate with far fewer resources; in some cases, they are also
fighting each other.
This challenge was evident when, shortly after Operation 1027
began, NUG-aligned PDFs, in cooperation with ethnic armed
groups, launched their own offensive in northern Sagaing Region.
Although they captured several towns, most notably Kawlin, they

were also forced to abandon offensives in other areas under
intense bombardment. In early February, the military then
launched a large operation to recapture Kawlin, with up to 1,000
soldiers; after more than a week of fighting, the military took the
town back.
For the military, the fighting in the lowlands is the existential battle
that it cannot afford to lose. Since independence in 1948, the
Myanmar state has never controlled all of the territory within its
borders. The extent of its grip has ebbed and flowed based on a
range of internal and external dynamics, but such loss of control
always took place on the country’s periphery, dominated by ethnic
minorities. The military can grudgingly accept the loss of large
areas of ethnic minority states, both because it has been here
before and because it retains a confidence (possibly misplaced)
that it can eventually cut deals with ethnic armed groups to at least
neutralize the threat they pose.
What it cannot countenance is the idea of NUG-held enclaves in the
Dry Zone – or Anyar, the low-lying central plains that constitute the
Bamar heartland in upper Myanmar – from which anti-military
forces could springboard toward the major cities.
Desperation will only make the military more dangerous – a
chilling prospect given the barbarity and destruction it has already
been willing to inflict. But this desperation could manifest in other
ways, too. Struggling to replace the tens of thousands of soldiers it
has lost on the battlefield and through desertion and defection
since the coup, the military on February 11 announced it planned
to enforce a decade-old law that would enable it to draft in men
aged 18-35 and women aged 18-27. This is a risky strategy given the
strength of anti-military sentiment among the population, and
clearly reflects a regime that is stretched beyond its limits. But the
intention is likely to bring in a relatively small number of recruits
to bolster numbers, and possibly give legal cover to the forced
recruitment that is already taking place. While it’s tempting to see
such a sweeping measure as a sign of imminent collapse, the
difficulty in dislodging the military from lowland areas makes such
a scenario unlikely, particularly in the short term.
Which brings us back to Min Aung Hlaing’s political future.

Although the military can accept battlefield losses in Myanmar’s
borderlands, the losses associated with Operation 1027 have
significantly damaged his credibility – as the recent protests
reflected. But Min Aung Hlaing is also a liability in several other
respects. His management of the economy has been disastrous, and
it is only the recent rolling back of his more drastic policies – such
as pegging the local currency, the kyat, at an overvalued level, and
restricting access to foreign currency – that has brought some
recent economic stability.
He also limits the military’s options moving forward, both because
many anti-military groups are unlikely to consider negotiating with
the regime while he is in charge, and because its decisions are
heavily influenced by his own ambitions and insecurities. A change
in leadership would offer the chance for a reset and the
opportunity to negotiate a way out of the current mess.
But that does not mean we should necessarily expect any change at
the top. The Myanmar military is an institution that highly prizes
internal unity, something that it believes sets it apart from its
opponents and is essential for its future survival. If Min Aung
Hlaing does not choose to go, he would need to be forced out. But it
would take a brave clique of officers to make such a move; the few
who tried something similar in the mid-1970s ended up in the
hangman’s noose. The junta chief has also, to the extent possible,
surrounded himself with younger loyalists, who are unlikely to
challenge his decisions, let alone move against him.
Min Aung Hlaing’s continued leadership will likely be a boon for
the military’s many opponents, including ethnic armed groups and
the National Unity Government. But it also locks Myanmar onto a
course of continued conflict. That means we should expect things
to only get more dire in the immediate future, with Min Aung
Hlaing’s regime resorting to ever more desperate strategies in a bid
to stave off their many opponents.
The Author
Thomas Kean is a journalist and researcher who has worked on Myanmar since 2008,
for most of that time based in Yangon. He is a senior consultant on Myanmar and
Bangladesh for International Crisis Group and editor-at-large of Frontier Myanmar.
Associated Press, Alexei Filippov, File
The Old Politics of New

Kazakhstan
Despite two era-defining moments occurring in the
five years since Nazarbayev’s resignation, continuity is
the main feature of governance in Kazakhstan.
By Luca Anceschi
Some things, it seems, never change.

In late February 2019, as social unrest was sweeping across
Kazakhstan’s main urban centers, Nursultan Nazarbayev –
Kazakhstan’s first and, at the time, only president – proceeded to
sack the government led by Bakytzhan Sagintayev. In appointing a
new prime minister, Asqar Mamin, Nazarbayev promised the
population at large that the new cabinet would indeed address the
many socioeconomic inequalities affecting Kazakhstan.
Fast forward five years to early 2024 and we find eerily similarly
dynamics at play in Kazakhstan’s halls of power. On February 6,
2024, Kassym-Jomart Tokayev, Nazarbayev’s handpicked successor,
reshuffled the government, instructing incoming Prime Minister
Olzhas Bektenov to quickly develop a comprehensive agenda to
relaunch the Kazakhstani economy, which, well into the mid-2020s,
remains in a state of stagnation.
The regime’s regular recourse to normally ineffectual remedies
(governmental reshuffles) to address entrenched economic
problems (stuttering productivity and rampant inequality) suggests
that not much has changed in Kazakhstan between 2019 and 2024.
This quinquennium, however, has to be seen as one of the most
eventful periods in this country’s recent history. During this time,
two era-defining moments – Nazarbayev’s resignation on March 19,
2019, and Qandy Qantar, Kazakh for “Bloody January,” in early
January 2022 – had the potential to drastically change Kazakhstan’s
political scene, altering in decisive fashion the inner workings of
Kazakhstani politics.
By revisiting the landmark events that have so far defined the post-
Nazarbayev era, I argue we should consider continuity, rather than
change, as the most appropriate lens to trace the trajectory
followed by Kazakhstani politics after Nazarbayev’s momentous
withdrawal from the presidency. How do we explain, in other
words, the minimal degree of political transformation experienced
by Kazakhstan across the last five years?
The very event that opened the post-Nazarbayev era needs some
reassessment to begin with. Nazarbayev’s voluntary
relinquishment of the presidency constituted an unprecedented
decision for a leader who enjoyed unencumbered power all the
way up to the end of his long tenure (1991-2019). Even more
extraordinary was the appointment of a handpicked successor with
no family links to Nazarbayev himself. The Kazakhstani transition
was in this sense different from those completed in other Caspian
states, namely Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan, where dynastic
succession within the Aliyev (2003) and the Berdimuhamedov
(2022) families entrenched local authoritarian governance for the
long run.
The tranzit vlasti (Russian for “power transfer”) completed in
Astana throughout 2019 was a unique development. It came to
signal the conclusion of the very first non-dynastic, managed
transition out of authoritarian rule attempted across post-Soviet
Eurasia. Ultimately, however, many of the problems that routinely
returned to affect Kazakhstan across the last five years originated
in the 2019 transition.
Nazarbayev’s resignation, and Tokayev’s subsequent accession to
the presidency, were meant to perfect a process of leadership
change rather than pursuing a more encompassing agenda of
regime transformation. Kazakhstani politics, in other words, was to
remain firmly non-democratic even after the country’s first post-
independence leader had left his post. The formalization of the
post-Nazarbayev presidency had at its very core a substantive
democratic deficit: the election that allowed Tokayev to formally
enter Ak Orda, the presidential palace, was profoundly non-
competitive. Widespread protests – which attracted the regime’s
typically repressive response – erupted across Kazakhstani
territory in the leadup to and, most violently, on June 9, 2019, the
day of the vote.
The anti-Tokayev demonstrations of mid-2019 reveal the hallmarks
of the relatively consolidated culture of protest and contestation
that characterized Kazakhstani political debate in 2019-2022. These
demonstrations, moreover, capture a major weakness affecting the
process that established the post-Nazarbayev order: By noting the
state-managed nature of the 2019 electoral competition, protesters

indirectly challenged the legitimacy of Tokayev’s accession to
power, seeing in the new president the continuation of an
established, and certainly decaying, order rather than the
harbinger of much-needed change.
The early post-Nazarbayev era was essentially defined by the often-
uneasy cohabitation between Kazakhstan’s departing president
and his successor. While Nazarbayev had formally retired from the
presidency, he retained a series of honorary posts that revealed his
actual powers. He accessed lifelong chairmanships of the
hegemonic Nur Otan party as well as of Kazakhstan’s National
Security Council, while holding the title of Elbasy, Leader of the
Nation. The structure of the managed transition meant members of
the extended Nazarbayev family did not have to interrupt their
political careers or cease their business activities; moreover, key
allies of the outgoing president – and Karim Massimov, the long-
time head of the Kazakhstani National Security Committee (KNB),
in particular – remained in their posts, ensuring regime continuity
beyond leadership change.
Tokayev himself appeared, at least during the early months of his
tenure, as merely the spokesperson for decisions made elsewhere.
In the first executive order issued after Nazarbayev’s resignation,
Tokayev renamed Kazakhstan’s capital after his predecessor:
Between 2019 and early 2022, Astana was known as Nur-Sultan, in
a striking manifestation of a rising cult of personality for a
supposedly retired leader.
The regime agenda of the cohabitation years (2019-2022) saw
Tokayev resorting with greater frequency to populist measures to
address the country’s many economic woes. Through the most
notable of these measures, the government bailed out large
swathes of the Kazakhstani population, as it approved an economic
package worth almost $1 billion to extend debt relief to over 3
million people. Political change, conversely, remained an
essentially cosmetic part of this agenda.
In announcing his first significant set of policies allegedly
departing from existing regime practice, Tokayev used his
inaugural annual speech to the population (known in Russian as

poslanie) to broadcast his intention to transform Kazakhstan into a
“state that listens to the voice of its people.” The listening state
narrative aimed to bridge the gap that existed between the
regime’s many agendas and the people’s demands for
socioeconomic reforms and political change. These demands,
importantly, had become louder throughout Nazarbayev’s closing
decade in power, a long goodbye during which Kazakhstan’s
economy stagnated as its politics inevitably withered. While
gaining much traction in Kazakhstan’s post-2019 public diplomacy,
this narrative did not, however, lead to the inclusion of dissenting
voices in the public debate nor did it see the boundaries of the
Kazakhstani political scene expanding to parties or movements not
completely aligned with the regime.
It turns out that, actually, another form of listening had indeed
been going on in Kazakhstan throughout 2019. The Organized
Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP) revealed in a July
2021 report that one of Tokayev’s mobile phones had been infected
with the Pegasus spyware and placed under surveillance not too
long before his accession to the presidency. As Tokayev’s name
popped up in the Pegasus list, it became apparent that powerful
segments of the Kazakhstani elite had concerns about the new
president’s loyalty to the Nazarbayev power system. This apparent
split within the regime returned to the surface most dramatically
during the Qandy Qantar events in January 2022.
The COVID-19 pandemic entrenched the weakness of Kazakhstan’s
underperforming economy and exposed even further the regime’s
manifest disinterest in political reform. Tokayev’s failure to
introduce meaningful change had become all the more visible as
the Kazakhstani government managed the emergency politics set
off by large-scale COVID-19 outbreaks. Seen from a regime
standpoint, COVID-19 became a convenient fig leaf for a
comprehensive power grab. The leadership in Nur-Sultan – just as
its Central Asian counterparts did – endeavored to curtail even
further the freedoms of expression and association of Kazakhstani
citizens and, moreover, engaged in murky international deals that
ended up reinforcing the leadership’s kleptocratic control over

Kazakhstan’s state resources and business sector.
Kazakhstan emerged from the pandemic as an essentially
dysfunctional authoritarian system, in which a disgruntled
population tended to offer very limited support to the central
regime, which had in turn to contend with a worrying degree of
elite fragmentation. Lack of legitimacy and regime disunity were
the two explosive forces that drove the events collectively known
as Qandy Qantar, the second landmark event that changed the
course of Kazakhstani history across the last five years.
In early 2022, Qandy Qantar revealed the instability underpinning
an authoritarian regime that, three years before, had attempted to
regenerate itself through a managed leadership transition. Qandy
Qantar sanctioned the failure of this experiment and opened the
Tokayev era in earnest by determining Nazarbayev’s ultimate exit
from the political scene.
The opacity surrounding the onset of the turbulence of January
2022 points to the complexity of the overlapping agendas at play
during Qandy Qantar. There certainly was a dimension of
contestation sitting at the core of this landmark event, revealing in
full the potential held by the protest culture developed between
2019-2021 by non-mainstream groups, including Oyan, Qazaqstan
(Wake up, Kazakhstan). Another key driver of unrest in early
January 2022 was represented by the population’s discontent with
the government’s economic policies.
The initial spark, it ought to be noted, erupted in Zhanaozen in
western Kazakhstan, where, on January 2, 2022, citizens had taken
to the streets to protest an increase in the price of liquified
petroleum gas (LPG). As the echoes of the Zhanaozen protest
reached the eastern part of the country, the nature of the
grievances mutated into a more comprehensive set of demands for
political transformation, which included the dismantlement of the
Nazarbayev power system and the establishment of a
parliamentary republic in Kazakhstan. By January 4, local and
international media were reporting that approximately 100,000
citizens were protesting in virtually every Kazakhstani region, with
demonstrations organized in all major cities across the country,

including Almaty and Nur-Sultan.
We will never know whether the protests of early January were to
organically evolve into a revolution: On the evening of January 4,
2022, Almaty’s largely peaceful protests were highjacked by
unidentified groups of men who engaged violently with security
forces, looted shops, and burned government buildings, including
the centrally located headquarters of the regional akimat. It was
only via the support of a contingent of CSTO troops, mostly
comprising Russian military personnel, deployed in Almaty on
January 6 that Tokayev managed to restore order.
This characterization of Qandy Qantar points to three fundamental
conclusions. The deployment in Almaty of a CSTO contingent
indicated, to begin with, that the Kazakhstani president no longer
trusted his own security services. Tokayev, in this sense,
understood the violence of January 4 as the initial stage of an anti-
regime coup.
Second, Tokayev perceived fragmentation within his supporting
elite as the key driver of this attempted coup. The arrest, on
January 8, 2022, of Karim Massimov, KNB chairman and long-time
associate of Nazarbayev, indicated that the Kazakhstani security
services were thought to have sided with the anti-Tokayev faction.
In April 2023, Massimov was found guilty on charges of high
treason, and he is currently serving an 18-year sentence in prison.
Finally, throughout the Qandy Qantar events, Tokayev revealed his
anti-democratic credentials in full, as demonstrated by his
infamous shot-to-kill order and the impunity granted to security
forces involved in the events. The violence that erupted after
January 4 resulted in an unconfirmed number of deaths, a few
thousand citizens wounded, and over 10,000 arrested. In the
aftermath of Qandy Qantar, the Tokayev regime systematically
refused to engage with popular demands for justice from citizens
who had been arbitrarily arrested, tortured, wounded, and the
families of those killed in January 2022.
Politically, Qandy Qantar certified the end of presidential
cohabitation. From January 2022 onward, the regime engaged in
the thorough, if at times cosmetic, work of de-Nazarbayevification,

removing members of the Nazarbayev family from top jobs,
dismantling the cult of the personality of Elbasy and accelerating
the ultimate departure of Nazarbayev from the political scene. As it
exited one of the most dramatic junctures of its recent history,
Kazakhstan returned to being ruled by one man only.
The Kazakhstani regime perceived de-Nazarbayevification as an
opportunity to break from the past, and rapidly devised a
propagandistic narrative centered on the idea of Jana Qazaqstan
(Kazakh for “New Kazakhstan”) to present post-Qantar Kazakhstan.
This narrative, which targeted with equal intensity domestic
audiences and international observers, mimicked the propaganda
devised in neighboring Uzbekistan after the death of its first
president, Islam Karimov, in 2016.
Karimov’s successor, Shavkat Mirziyoyev, presided over a process
of authoritarian modernization – presented internationally under
the umbrella of Yangi O‘zbekiston (Uzbek for “New Uzbekistan”) –
that aimed at globalizing the Uzbek economy while maintaining a
close watch over domestic political developments, which have
remained firmly non-democratic since 2016. Kazakhstan’s own
version of this rhetoric, as we will see below, remained for all
intents and purposes opaque and poorly articulated.
New Kazakhstan, ultimately, looks very much like old Kazakhstan.
The rhetoric of change originally brought forward by Tokayev in
his 2022 poslanie has not been translated into substantive policy.
Kazakhstani politics have not developed in a new trajectory
throughout 2022-23, when, perhaps not unexpectedly, we have
witnessed the return of many strategies of authoritarian
consolidation perfected in the Nazarbayev years.
The persistence of Nazarbayevist traits in post-Qantar Kazakhstan
emerges more visibly while looking at the processes whereby
Tokayev secured his presidency in 2022-2023. In sequence, he
presided over a constitutional referendum, held on June 5, 2022,
that supposedly aimed to rebalance the power equation between
the legislative and the executive branches of the government;
erased the powers granted to Nazarbayev in 2019; and offered
some opportunities for increased local representation via the

introduction of direct election for akims in select villages.
In September 2022, the Kazakhstani parliament approved a more
consequential reform package that, in an ostensible act of de-
Nazarbayevification, changed the name of the Kazakhstani capital
back to Astana and, more importantly, extended presidential terms
to seven years while introducing a one-term limit for future
presidents.
Tokayev was quick to capitalize on the new institutional
framework set up by these reforms. The presidential election of
November 20, 2022, sanctioned his re-election until 2029; the
parliamentary vote held on March 19, 2023, redesigned the
configuration of the Mazhilis in line with the agenda of the new
regime. None of these votes was deemed free and fair by the OSCE
or other Western observers. In another indicator suggesting that
post-Qantar regime dynamics had indeed remained unchanged,
constitutional tampering and uncompetitive elections came to
characterize Kazakhstani politics in 2022-2023 just as they did
throughout the Nazarbayev years.
The democratic deficit that affected pre-Qantar Kazakhstani
politics has hence continued to define the domestic landscape five
years on from Nazarbayev’s momentous withdrawal from the
presidency. In a particularly worrying, and ongoing, trend, the
government is focusing its repressive outlook on the Kazakhstani
media landscape, by censoring the activity of independent media
via legislative acts or forcing the periodic re-registration of non-
state media operators.
In 2024, moreover, Kazakhstani party politics remains a regime
monopoly. The post-Qantar years saw a relaxation in the legislation
regulating party registration, yet its application was exclusively
limited to parties supporting the regime agenda. The competitive
nature of the elections held in 2022-2023 was in this sense fictional;
regime-friendly parties and candidates were allowed to participate
in order to conceal the exclusion of independent movements and
actors from the electoral competitions held in the post-Qantar
years. In early 2024, five years after Nazarbayev had left power,
Kazakhstani politics continues to be completely sanitized from

opposition forces, which are not allowed to operate legally nor to
participate in electoral competitions at the local or national level.
A marked degree of continuity has also characterized Tokayev’s
post-Qantar economic strategy. The regime has persisted in
centering the national economy on the exports of hydrocarbons,
and oil in particular. Despite new opportunities arising from
COP28, Kazakhstan does not seem to be ready for a post-oil world –
despite the fact that its export activity is now operating in a
significantly more volatile environment. Since 2022, in fact, the
geopolitical repercussions of the war in Ukraine increased the risks
associated with Kazakhstan’s oil exports, which are mostly carried
out through Russia’s territory. Continuous delays in expanding the
Tengiz field are also likely to limit Kazakhstan’s growth, which the
IMF has predicted to stall at 3.1 percent year-on-year in 2024.
Failure to act decisively on economic diversification has obstructed
any progress in addressing the economic grievances expressed by
the population throughout the cohabitation years. There is
evidence of ongoing tensions in the oil sector, with workers in
Western Kazakhstan engaging in regular strike actions, while the
government, in late November 2023, allowed for a further rise in
LPG prices – the same measure that sparked the wave of protests of
January 2022. Despite macroeconomic stabilization, post-Qantar
Kazakhstan remains a very unequal country in which increasingly
larger sectors of the population are experiencing declining living
standards and are often prevented regular access to adequate
social security protection.
Against this already complex political and economic backdrop,
Tokayev also had to respond to the unprecedented pressures
exerted by the forced polarization of Eurasian geopolitics that
followed Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022.
Navigating this perilous juncture, the Kazakhstani president opted
for a line of equidistance from both the aggressor and its Western
opponents, carving a supposedly safe space wherein Kazakhstan is
not seen as part of Russia’s camp but has not openly denounced the
invasion. This policy too, ultimately, seems to follow a playbook
drawn in the Nazarbayev years, when Kazakhstan’s open
preference for multivectoral engagement concealed the regime’s

opportunistic intention to pursue multiple alliances at the same
time.
The Kazakhstani transition, one of the most anticipated across the
entire Asian political space, essentially returned a leadership that
did not innovate on the political choices and the economic
strategies consolidated throughout the Nazarbayev era. In 2024,
five years on from the resignation of his first president and two
years after one of the most dramatic weeks experienced by the
country since independence, Kazakhstan is still led by an elderly
man who heads an authoritarian, kleptocratic regime and presides
over a struggling economy.
Some things, it seems, never change.
The Author
Luca Anceschi is professor in Eurasian Studies at the University of Glasgow.
Facebook, His Majesty King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck
The Himalayan Triangle:

Bhutan’s Courtship With India
and China
Bhutan’s efforts to ensure predictable ties with China
and India (and between them) touch on the state’s
very survival.
By Passang Dorji
Following its fourth parliamentary elections and the swearing in of

a new government in January, those watching Asia’s geopolitical
dynamics would be wise to turn their eyes to Bhutan, a tiny
kingdom uncomfortably squeezed between the giants of China and
India. How is this small state with limited strategic space and even
fewer options to marshal agency balancing the competing interests

of its two nuclear-armed great power rival neighbors?
To date, Bhutan does not have official diplomatic relations with
China, while it maintains a “special relationship” with India. But
the triangular relationship is not as simple as it might appear.
Bhutan shares a dilemma with most small states: How to achieve a
favorable strategic geopolitical balancing act. It is not easy, but
Bhutan has defied the traditionally accepted foreign policy wisdom
that in such situations, a country would either balance or
bandwagon. Nor has Thimphu resorted to pitching China and India
against one another – a common temptation for smaller states. This
nuanced approach arguably should be credited for the
comparatively stable triangular relations between Bhutan-China-
India in the critical Himalayan sphere.
With a narrow margin of error in Bhutan’s foreign policy posturing
toward its powerful neighbors, Thimphu’s efforts to ensure
predictable ties with China and India – and between them – are
linked to its very survival. Thus, the country’s foreign policy
pathways are navigated within the broader systemic constraints
that the competitive and confrontational China-India relations
pose.
Central to Bhutan’s bilateral and multilateral engagements is the
driving force of China-India relations. They are not only powerful
nations, but immediate neighbors whose state behaviors bear great
implications for smaller nations on their periphery.
As China’s influence grows, Bhutan’s foreign policy perception has
been changing. The idea of China as a South Asian geopolitical
entity has become a reality; in that context, stable and normalized
relations between Bhutan and China could improve Bhutan-China-
India relations. China will get a clearer picture of Bhutan’s position
in the triangle when Thimphu and Beijing can discuss issues
directly.
It might be difficult for India to adapt to this changing dynamic, but
such a change will serve its own security interest in the long run. A
strong Bhutan with good relations with China will hugely reduce
the strategic mistrust between China and India. Historically,
practically, and geographically, the futures of Bhutan and India are

intertwined. Given that Bhutan is on the southern Himalayas, its
access to the world will always be easier through India. And
Bhutan understands India more than any other country.
The biggest challenge facing Bhutan is to convince China and India
that it will be sensitive to their security concerns, as it is difficult to
balance their overlapping great power interests and ambitions. A
distinguishing element in this challenge is India’s zealous approach
to maintain Bhutan as its strategic backyard, while China thinks
Bhutan must get out of India’s shadows and forge good relations
with it as well.
India’s Interest
Traditional international relations doctrine states that nations do
not have permanent friends or foes, only permanent interests.
India’s core interest in Bhutan is permanent: to have perennial
influence over the country to secure itself vis-à-vis China. This
interest is a hangover of history; it is an offshoot of the British
India frontier policy of the 19th and early 20th century, which
sought to secure the Himalayan sphere against China and the
expansionist Soviet Union.
The 1949 Indo-Bhutan Friendship Treaty, which required Bhutan to
consult India in conducting its foreign policy, was revised in 2007.
The new treaty requires the two countries to not allow their
territory to be used against the other’s interest. This was a major
development in the bilateral relationship, as the revision
rebalanced the previously lopsided treaty.
The revision is especially significant because Bhutan was to
transition to a democratic constitutional monarchy with an elected
Parliament a year later, in 2008. The shift in political system made
Bhutan more relatable to democratic India than the one-party
communist state of China.
The loosening of treaty relations, which theoretically assured
political and policy sovereignty, did not necessarily guarantee
strategic autonomy for Bhutan. India’s interest in the country is an
absolute geographical compulsion; India wants to preserve Bhutan
as its buffer zone against China. Without a stable Bhutan on the
southern Himalayas’ geopolitical map, India would be forced to

contend with its powerful rival to the north on yet another front,
with implications for its security and superpower dreams.
Some Western and Indian scholarship and media afford a lavish
description: Bhutan is India’s ally. While Bhutan is a close friend of
India, it is not India’s ally in the true sense of the word, because
they do not have a security and defense pact. And Bhutan will
never weaponize Bhutan-India relations to target a third party.
This clarification should be one of the prisms to evaluate what
Bhutan would want its relations with India to look like.
Given India’s competitive and confrontational relations with China,
it does not want Bhutan to fall under Beijing’s influence. The
Indian strategic community thinks Bhutan is in its strategic sphere
of influence, which entails a high security stake in the country.
Thus far, India has been able to preserve its interest in Bhutan
primarily through economic diplomacy and the demonization of
China.
India is Bhutan’s largest aid provider and the latter’s economy is
highly integrated into the former’s, making it the biggest source of
imports and destination for exports. Other critical yardsticks to
look at India’s success in Bhutan vis-à-vis China include the fact
that Bhutan is the only country in Asia that does not have formal
diplomatic relations with China. Of China’s 14 land neighbors,
Bhutan is one of just two, along with India, whose border
demarcation with China has not been finalized.
This status quo, however, faces a possible challenge: The Bhutanese
public may eventually realize that China is not as bad as India
makes it out to be.
China’s Interest
To the extent that China had any substantive political contacts with
Bhutan through the first half of the 20th century, its interest in
Bhutan (and Tibet) was to wall off the spreading influence of the
British. China’s current Himalayan policy has not seen much
deviation from that framework. It is similar to India’s Himalayan
frontier policy. China’s and India’s contemporary Bhutan policies
have their genesis in the overlapping interests of the British and

Russian empires in the Himalayas.
China became the immediate neighbor of Bhutan following the
integration of Tibet into the People’s Republic of China in the 1950s.
Until then, they did not have much direct interaction. Since Bhutan
and Tibet share contiguous land borders, the importance of Bhutan
for China is tied to the strategic importance Beijing places on Tibet.
The security of the Bhutan-China border is critical to China’s
domestic political, regional, and western development strategies.
Geopolitically also, a stable, strong Bhutan is good for China’s
domestic security, as it will prevent any anti-China activities
through its territory.
The core of China’s interest in Bhutan is its security concerns in the
Himalayas, especially regarding the Tibet question and its strategy
to penetrate into South Asia. Tibet is considered China’s “western
treasure house” (the literal meaning of “Xizang,” the Mandarin
name for Tibet) given its geopolitical significance and natural
resources. Because of the geographical proximity and people-to-
people links between Bhutan and Tibet, Bhutan assumes high
importance to China’s Himalayan Peripheral Diplomacy, which is
linked to its global development strategy and ambition.
Diving deeper, China’s Bhutan policy has a strong connection to all
three levels of its policy paradigm: domestic, regional, and global.
Beijing wants to wean the Himalayan buffer state away from its
regional peer competitor’s influence. In the future, the sway of
China’s demonization of India might increase in Bhutan and the
South Asian strategic space.
Notwithstanding the limitations of official substantive political
exchanges between Bhutan and China in the absence of formal
diplomatic relations, social and trade relations have been
deepening over the years. Regular contacts take place through
China’s embassy in India. China was the third-largest source of
tourists visiting Bhutan in 2019 (India is by far the largest source of
tourists, followed by the United States) and hundreds of Bhutanese
pilgrims visit Tibet every year. China is Bhutan’s second largest
trading partner after India.
In the early 2000s, trade and people-to-people contacts between the

two countries were almost non-existent. This shows China’s
inroads into Bhutan have been incremental and expanding. These
developments have a strong causal linkage to Bhutan’s receding
threat perception of China. The improvement in Bhutan-China
relations, especially since the 1980s, following the direct bilateral
negotiations on their boundary issues, has intensified the Sino-
Indian competition over Bhutan. China’s primary interest in
Bhutan is to resolve the boundary issue and establish diplomatic
ties to safeguard its security vis-à-vis India.
The Strategic Importance and the Boundary Issue
Bhutan does not bear much economic and commercial importance
to the two global economic giants, but they know their influence
over it is a highly prized geopolitical strategic good, given Bhutan’s
buffering role and their intense strategic rivalry. Therefore, China
and India’s strategic interests meet in Bhutan’s geography.
The geographical realities, historical perceptions of China, and
compulsions of the existing Bhutan-China relations framework
have tilted the Sino-Indian competition in favor of India’s influence
in Bhutan. However, the China-India balance of power in Bhutan
has been shifting, especially because of the positive momentum in
the Bhutan-China boundary talks.
Both sides have agreed to expedite the processes to resolve the
boundary issues by signing a Three-Step Road Map with the view to
finally settle diplomatic ties. Described as one of the most
successful negotiations, their 25th round of boundary talks in
October 2023 was a testimony to the spirit and conviction of the
Three-Step Roadmap. The meeting of the two foreign ministers in
Beijing the same month was yet another milestone in the
relationship.
Since the undemarcated China-Bhutan border is the heart of China-
Bhutan-India relations, India’s response to any new developments
on that front is predictable. India has highly securitized Bhutan’s
borders and relations with China. Its primary interest will be to
stop Bhutan from resolving its border issues with China, especially
the western sector, involving the Doklam area.
From a security perspective, the Doklam plateau is a dagger

pointing at the heart of India. Should China control it, Beijing could
separate mainland India and its seven northeastern states. From
India’s perspective, then, the ideal time to resolve the Bhutan-China
border issue with minimal security implications for New Delhi
would only be after resolving the China-India border dispute. This
suggests that Bhutan’s lack of border demarcation with China is a
sign of Thimphu’s solidarity with India. The Bhutanese stance on
the border is looked at as indicative of India’s security and a
strategic asset vis-à-vis China.
As China continues to rise, resulting in an increasing footprint in
Bhutan, India’s strategy of preventing Bhutan from resolving its
border issues with China and normalizing their relations will
increasingly lose currency. The perception among Bhutanese,
especially educated Bhutanese, of China is improving, and elected
governments in Thimphu will face pressure to open up to Beijing
substantively. India will have to come to terms with this reality.
A Delicate Balance
In the Bhutan-China-India trilateral relationship, Bhutan’s position
is between a rock and a hard place – leaving a tightrope walk over
the chasm as the only viable option. It is not only hard but risky
because the danger of getting entangled in great rival power
competition is real.
What does Bhutan actually need to balance?
To advance their foothold in Bhutan, China and India expound
their own narratives. China protests that India is treating Bhutan
as a protectorate while India accuses China of bullying Bhutan.
Bhutan needs to balance these narratives to protect its own
interests – its security, independence, and sovereignty. The idea of
Bhutan being a protectorate is not relevant; the country’s
international personality has always been sovereign and
independent. And Bhutan does not share the perspective that it is
being “bulled” by China. The theory of China as a threat to Bhutan
has passed its sell-by date.
India’s biggest worry is Bhutan moving into the Chinese embrace,
while China is concerned about India using Bhutan to act against
China’s interest, especially on the Tibet question. India thinks that

Tibet and Bhutan’s geographical proximity, as well as spiritual and
cultural affinity, is part of its strategic value.
What is missing in this debate, however, is Bhutan’s voice. It is not
in Bhutan’s interest to pitch China and India against each other. Its
priority is to maintain neutrality. A former diplomat said Bhutan’s
principal foreign policy goal is “to avoid getting in the crossfire”
between China and India. Bhutan has long opted for hedging as its
foreign policy toward its larger neighbors. It has to have a careful
and innovative balancing act to respond to the Sino-Indian contest.
With the People’s Democratic Party forming the new government
in Bhutan, there are speculations the country will be more pro-
India, with implications for its balancing act. In geopolitics, such
conjectures are common. But on the ground, the vagaries of
political parties in power will have minimal impact on Bhutan’s
relations with China and India. The country’s long-standing
approach of maintaining neutrality and cultivating good relations
will always inform its China-India policy.
Balancing on the Border Issue
The Bhutan-China border issue determines the Sino-Indian
geopolitical balance of power in the Himalayas. Any attempt to
change the status quo risks causing China-India strategic mistrust
to explode – as seen, for example, in the 2017 Doklam crisis.
In another recent development, however, Bhutan’s then-Prime
Minister Lotay Tshering commented that China has an equal say in
resolving the Doklam border issue. He said: “We are three. There is
no big or small country, there are three equal countries, each
counting for a third.” The comment must have spooked the Indian
establishment and its strategic community, though no public
official protest was made.
This means two things: India has gradually accepted that the
Bhutan-China border issue cannot remain unresolved indefinitely;
and the prospect of Bhutan-China formal diplomatic ties is
inevitable. This acceptance will stabilize Bhutan-China relations,
which could actually serve to reduce China-India mistrust.
Of the three sectors of the Bhutan-China border to be demarcated,

Doklam is the most critical. Resolving this sector will most pressure
Bhutan’s balancing act. During the 14th Bhutan-China boundary
talks in 2000 in Beijing, Bhutan extended its claim line in Doklam.
The new claim complicated the negotiations, which otherwise were
progressing smoothly. Geopolitical pressure from India could have
been the reason for Bhutan to extend its claim at that time.
It is important to imagine two scenarios: First, the possibility of
resolving the Bhutan-China border issue independent of Doklam;
and second, how to manage triangular relations if the joint
verification team rules that the disputed Doklam area does not
actually belong to Bhutan.
Is Bhutan afraid to cede Doklam to China? Did Bhutan really invite
India to intervene in the 2017 Doklam standoff? Do all the three
parties truly disagree on who has the rightful claim to the disputed
Doklam area, or is this a game of geopolitical posturing? The
answers to these questions must guide the ongoing Bhutan-China
border negotiations.
The latest round of talks indicated the process was inching toward
a final resolution. That, in turn, will eventually result in the
establishment of Bhutan-China diplomatic relations. These
questions and the possible future realities they suggest underpin
Bhutan’s balancing posture. It has a narrow margin of error and
limited agency to determine the after-effect of any China-India
brinkmanship on the borders.
Conclusion
The journey of the Bhutan-China relationship is a success story. The
two countries went from lacking any substantive contacts in the
1950s to now talking about stabilizing borders and establishing
diplomatic relations. This encouraging momentum is because of
the positive outcomes of successive Bhutan-China boundary talks,
the development of a positive perception of China among
Bhutanese, and growing trade and social relations. These
developments will bring about trust, predictability, and stability in
Bhutan-China-India engagements. A stable Bhutan-China
relationship with transparent direct bilateral communications will
reduce China-India strategic distrust, which currently distresses

both Beijing and New Delhi.
As Bhutan’s relations with China develop, the greatest challenge
will be to strike a balance that can avoid India’s ire. A clear
Bhutanese position on triangular relations is useful. It may be an
overstatement to say that China is in hurry to resolve border issues
and establish diplomatic relations with Bhutan. As long as it gains
the confidence of Bhutan, Beijing will be willing to wait for the
mutual right timing. This nullifies some Western and Indian views
that Beijing is impatient to normalize its relations with Bhutan.
One of the consequences of the long process of Bhutan-China
border negotiations is Bhutanese people becoming more open to
China, enabling it to make incremental inroads into the country.
Thus, it is not in Beijing’s interest to push Thimphu to establish
diplomatic relations because China knows that doing so could
reverse the improvement in Bhutan’s perception of China. China
will not do that unless it decides to alter its rules of engagement
with its smaller neighboring countries. This would, however, be
consequential to its peripheral diplomacy and global strategy more
broadly.
In the future, the outcome of the ongoing Bhutan-China border
negotiations will determine the kind of relations Bhutan will have
to maintain and balance with both China and India. India knows
that its unwillingness to support the Bhutan-China border
resolution is not sustainable and will become a security challenge
for itself in the long run. Bhutan’s balancing act should, therefore,
be anchored on convincing India that a normalized Bhutan-China
relationship is good for India’s security. It will reduce their
strategic suspicion regarding an important buffer zone.
Even in the event of Bhutan and China establishing formal
diplomatic ties, Bhutan will always have more and deeper
engagements with India. This lever must be the source of India’s
confidence and magnanimity. Thimphu has work to do to convince
New Delhi that a strong India-Bhutan relationship is even more
important for Bhutan than it is for India – and thus won’t be
impacted by progress in Bhutan-China ties.
The Author
Passang Dorji, Ph.D., is a scholar on Bhutan and Nepal relations with China and India,
and a former member of Bhutan’s Parliament. The views in the article are his own.
Associated Press, Wally Santana, File
Weiting Chen
10 years on, what impact has the Sunflower
Movement had on Taiwan?
By Shannon Tiezzi
In March 2014, the Kuomintang or KMT – then in control of both

Taiwan’s presidency and the legislature – attempted to force
through a controversial trade pact with China, the Cross-Strait
Service Trade Agreement (CSSTA). The move drew outrage from
civil society over concerns that the deal was opaque and would
grant China too much influence over Taiwan’s economy.
On March 18, days before the KMT planned to put the bill to a final
vote, student groups occupied the Legislative Yuan to show their
anger over the CSSTA. It soon became clear that the students were
not alone – public opinion wanted to put the brakes on then-
President Ma Ying-jeou’s attempts to draw Taiwan closer to China.
Hundreds of thousands turned out to show their support for the
students in a rally on March 30. The occupation and related rallies
now had a name: The Sunflower Movement.
It became a turning point in Taiwan’s politics. Not only was the
CSSTA scrapped, but the KMT suffered major losses in the next
election in 2016. It has not been able to win the presidency since,
most recently losing in the 2024 polls. Meanwhile, the Sunflower
Movement became a breeding ground for political talent for pan-
Green parties.
Weiting Chen was one of the student leaders of the Sunflower
Movement. In this interview, Chen, now a geopolitical analyst,
discusses the factors that helped the Sunflower protesters succeed,
and how the movement continues to reverberate in Taiwan’s
politics today.
What were the major concerns that drove the occupation of the
Legislative Yuan in 2014? Was it concern over China’s
influence, Taiwan’s sovereignty, the “black box” nature of the
bill, or all of the above?
All of the above. Before the occupation movement began in March
2014, civic groups and various industry-related organizations had
already started protesting against the content of the Cross-Strait
Service Trade Agreement (CSSTA) when it was signed in June 2013.
These protests included sectors like telecommunications,
publishing, advertising, media, and healthcare, all raising concerns
that the trade deal could threaten Taiwan's national security or
impact Taiwanese workers adversely. Therefore, those

fundamentally opposed to the trade agreement formed the core of
the movement.
After the occupation movement started in March 2014, more
people began to pay attention to this issue. These individuals were
not necessarily opposed to the trade agreement in its entirety but
quickly became aware of the government's lack of transparency
(the “black box” issue) in negotiating and reviewing the agreement.
They believed the government had failed to conduct proper impact
assessments, hence supporting the need for stronger supervisory
mechanisms to scrutinize the CSSTA.
However, whether it was groups opposed to the CSSTA itself or
those against the “black box” process, a common bottom line was
the desire to prevent an increase in Chinese influence in Taiwan
through the CSSTA, which could undermine Taiwan's sovereignty.
How did the Sunflower Movement fit into the longer tradition
of student-led protests in Taiwan, including the Wild Lily
Movement (1990) and the Wild Strawberries Movement (2008)?
What lessons did the Sunflower protesters take from previous
protests?
The core objectives of the Wild Lily Movement, the Wild
Strawberries Movement, and the Sunflower Movement align in
their shared aspiration to strengthen democracy in Taiwan. The
Sunflower Movement, in fact, was not solely a “student-led
movement” but a collaborative effort across generations, joining
forces with those involved in the Wild Lily and Wild Strawberries
Movements. Many leaders from the Wild Lily Movement
represented various NGOs during the Sunflower Movement,
actively participating in its strategic decisions.
Unlike the previous two movements, which were confined to
occupying the plaza of the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall, the
years leading up to the Sunflower Movement saw Taiwanese social
movements escalate to the point of preparing to occupy
government departments. Therefore, by the time of the Sunflower
Movement, activist groups were ready to occupy government
sectors as a means to exert pressure on the government when

necessary.
Furthermore, during the Wild Strawberries Movement, a
decentralized decision-making approach was adopted, allowing all
participants on the ground to be involved in the decision-making
process. However, this led to inefficiencies in decision-making.
Consequently, the Sunflower Movement saw a return to a more
centralized approach, where decisions were primarily made by the
initiating groups.
This shift aimed at more efficient decision-making, despite
criticisms regarding the movement's lack of openness in its
decision-making processes.
The Sunflower Movement had a particularly strong impact on
Taiwanese youth at the time, cementing political awareness
and interest in a wide number of young people. Are we still
seeing the impact of the movement on Taiwan’s political class
today?
For those who were in their 20s and 30s at the time of the
Sunflower Movement, now in their 30s and 40s, the impact on their
political identity appears to be lasting. Since 2014, the Kuomintang
(KMT) has struggled to gain meaningful support among this
demographic. These voters also show greater concern for the
government's approach to handling policies related to China.
However, for the younger voters, around 20 years old now, who
were in high school during the Sunflower Movement, the event
may not have left a deep impression. Most of their adult life has
been under the governance of the Democratic Progressive Party
(DPP), and despite the increasing threats from China, the
Taiwanese government has not engaged in actions that could
potentially harm Taiwan's sovereignty as might have been the case
during the KMT's rule from 2008 to 2016. Therefore, this group may
have a lower sense of urgency regarding Taiwan's sovereignty
issues and instead focus more on domestic policies. For them, the
Sunflower Movement might not be a particularly influential
political event.
The new parties formed in the aftermath of the Sunflower

Movement have lost their initial momentum, with the New
Power Party failing to win seats in the 2024 election for the first
time since it began competing in legislative elections. What
went wrong for these “third forces”?
After the Sunflower Movement, the political parties that emerged
primarily drew supporters due to their emphasis on strengthening
Taiwan’s sovereignty and their more assertive approach to
progressive issues compared to the Democratic Progressive Party
(DPP), including labor rights, LGBTQ+ rights, and environmental
policies. However, two main factors have structurally limited these
smaller parties:
First, post-2014, the DPP shifted toward a more progressive stance,
narrowing the gap between itself and the Third Force parties. With
Tsai Ing-wen’s government since 2016, the administration has
integrated leaders from past social movements into official roles,
driving reforms to meet the demands of civil society.
The New Power Party (NPP) has been crucial in overseeing the DPP
on various progressive issues, gaining the support of younger
voters in the process. Notable achievements include working with
progressive DPP legislators to pass the same-sex marriage bill in
2017 despite resistance from some conservative DPP members, and
collaborating with labor unions to protest against amendments to
labor laws proposed by the DPP in 2017, which garnered significant
backing. The NPP also kept a watchful eye on the DPP’s
development policies from an environmental protection
perspective. However, aside from a few national social movements,
voters have seen little difference between the NPP and the DPP on
progressive issues.
Second, increased pressure from China has made sovereignty
issues a priority for both DPP and NPP voters, leading to a united
front in support of the DPP to prevent pro-China parties from
coming to power. There is a considerable overlap in the supporter
base of the NPP and the DPP, with most NPP supporters casting
their presidential votes for the DPP. These voters not only prioritize
strengthening Taiwan's sovereignty but also expect the NPP to

monitor domestic issues in the legislature.
Nonetheless, since 2016, the escalating pressure from China has
amplified the sense of urgency among these supporters, prompting
them to downplay internal differences and rally behind the DPP to
maximize its parliamentary presence. The NPP's criticism of the
DPP’s domestic policies has been criticized as “divisive” and
potentially beneficial to pro-China parties, thereby limiting the
NPP’s influence.
In light of these structural factors, the NPP has been embroiled in
an ongoing internal debate about whether to forge a closer
collaboration with the DPP or to maintain a distance and possibly
ally with parties that place less emphasis on sovereignty issues,
such as the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP). This dilemma has resulted
in numerous members leaving the party, significantly diminishing
its strength.
Given the mass movement in opposition to the CSSTA, were you
surprised to see calls for the deal’s resurrection during the
2024 presidential campaign?
Yes. However, the opposition in Taiwanese society to the CSSTA was
still quite strong. After the TPP allegedly advocated for reopening
negotiations on the CSSTA, [TPP presidential candidate] Ko Wen-je
saw a significant drop in his approval ratings. Consequently, Ko
quickly shifted his stance, no longer vehemently advocating for the
reopening of the CSSTA discussions. The KMT, despite its strong
support for the CSSTA, also failed to resonate with younger voters.
A decade has passed, and given China's current economic state and
the increased military threats to Taiwan, signing the CSSTA would
only lead to greater peril. I remain confident that if the risks
associated with the agreement were thoroughly discussed, the
majority of Taiwanese voters would still oppose this agreement.
The Author
Taiwan Coast Guard Administration via Associated Press
Kinmen Again a Flashpoint in

Cross-Strait Relations
The outlying islands governed by Taiwan, but far
closer to the mainland, are an often overlooked factor
in regional security dynamics.
By Shannon Tiezzi
When we talk about Taiwan, “the island” is often used as

shorthand. Taiwan is, in fact, the name of a particular island – but
the entity known as the Republic of China is more than just the
island of Taiwan. The ROC also governs over 160 smaller, outlying
islands, including the Penghu Islands, the Kinmen Islands, the
Matsu Islands, and several features in the South China Sea.
Of these, the Kinmen and Matsu island groups are just a stone’s
throw from China. Kinmen Island (from which the larger group
gets its name) is just 6 kilometers from the major city of Xiamen, in
China’s Fujian province, but roughly 190 km away from Taiwan
Island. In fact, under Taiwan’s governance structure, both Kinmen
and Matsu are technically part of Fujian province (spelled
“Fuchien” by the ROC in English) – a holdover from the days when
the ROC governed the mainland.
Given the geographic proximity, connections between Kinmen and
mainland are greater than between Taiwan Island and China. A
regular ferry runs between Kinmen and Xiamen, and Kinmen
receives some of its water and electricity from the mainland.
Chinese President Xi Jinping has proposed expanding such links
between the two, including constructing a bridge linking Xiamen
and Kinmen.
Close proximity, however, can also be a breeding ground for
conflict. Recent tensions in the waters around Kinmen are creating
a new potential flashpoint in the already-complex security
environment of the Taiwan Strait.
On February 14, a confrontation between a Taiwanese coast guard
vessel and a Chinese speedboat resulted in all four passengers
aboard the latter falling into the ocean. Two drowned; two were
retrieved from the water by the Taiwanese coast guard and
eventually sent back to China.
China immediately condemned Taiwan for the fatal incident. A
spokesperson for the Taiwan Affairs Office (TAO) in Beijing said
China “strongly denounced” Taiwan, accusing it of “wicked” and
“rough” conduct. The spokesperson warned that the incident was
“absolutely not an isolated case,” alleging consistently “brutal
treatment of mainland fishermen” since the Democratic

Progressive Party (DPP) came to power.
China pledged it would “never allow such this type of incident to
happen again.”
China matched words with actions when the Fujian Coast Guard
announced it would “strengthen its maritime law enforcement
capabilities” and “launch regular patrol operations” in the waters
near Xiamen and Kinmen. To that end, the TAO also emphasized
that China does not recognize Taiwan’s designation of “prohibited”
or “restricted” waters around Kinmen, saying such off-limit zones
“absolutely do not exist.”
Taiwanese media noted that broader patrol efforts indeed went
into effect soon afterward, reporting that China Coast Guard (CCG)
vessels were “navigating in waters to the east, southeast, and south
of the main island of Kinmen.” On February 19, a CCG vessel even
boarded a Taiwanese tourist boat. The Chinese officers spent half
an hour on board, demanding to see the boat’s route plan as well as
operating license, before departing.
Taiwan’s government said the boarding “created panic among the
people, and was not in the interest of the people on both sides of
the Taiwan Strait,” but stressed that it wanted to resolve the issues
of maritime law enforcement peacefully.
“We hope that the two sides of the Taiwan Strait will adopt a
rational, reciprocal, and cooperative approach to maintain the
security of the waters between Kinmen and Xiamen,” Premier
Chen Chien-jen said.
On February 20, Taiwan said its coast guard had driven off a CCG
boat that entered prohibited waters near Kinmen, using radio
warnings.
As China steps up its patrols in the region, Taiwanese experts fear
the CCG will look to contest or outright block Taiwan’s ability to
conduct maritime law enforcement operations near Kinmen. We
could see access denial operations similar to China’s consistent
attempts to block the Philippines from reaching disputed features
in the South China Sea. And if Taiwan loses de facto maritime
jurisdiction around Kinmen, that could be a stepping stone to

China attempting to wrest control of the island group away from
Taipei altogether.
While talk of a Chinese invasion of Taiwan – generally meaning
Taiwan Island – has reached a fever pitch lately, most analysts
think that catastrophe remains thankfully far-fetched. But the
possibility of China testing the waters by attempting to seize
control of the outlying islands, starting with Kinmen, is much
greater.
China has long viewed Kinmen as a stepping stone to taking control
of Taiwan proper. Kinmen (also known as Quemoy, a term more
commonly used in historical documents) was the center of the First
and Second Taiwan Strait Crises in 1954-55 and 1958, respectively.
In both cases, it was largely U.S. intervention – including the
signing of a Mutual Defense Treaty with the ROC in 1954 – that
prevented China from a full-on invasion attempt. After the intense
shellings of these two crises, China bombarded Kinmen
intermittently from 1958 all the way until 1979, although the
shelling was mostly pro forma and did little actual damage.
Today, China seems more intent on winning “hearts and minds” in
Kinmen than dropping artillery shells on the island group. Building
on Xi’s push to expand links between Xiamen and Kinmen, in
September 2023 Beijing announced plans for a “integrated
development demonstration zone” in Fujian to entice more cross-
strait travel and investment. Given the proximity between the two,
and the existing links, Kinmen is supposed to be the major
beneficiary of the policy, which promises to treat Kinmen residents
(numbering under 130,000) the same as locals from Fujian.
Coming at a time when Beijing has severed ties with Taiwan’s
central government, led by the DPP, the pledge to increase links
with Kinmen is viewed as an attempt to drive a wedge between
Taipei and the outlying islands. Taiwan’s Mainland Affairs Council
dismissed Beijing’s development plan as “one-sided wishful
thinking to try and seduce our members of the public and
enterprises to the mainland and integrate into their system, laws,
and norms and accept the leadership of the Communist Party.”
Now that economic “carrot” is, in line with China’s typical

playbook, being accompanied by a “stick”: beefed up patrols that
attempt to prove China has maritime jurisdiction over the waters
surrounding Kinmen. China is already squeezing Taiwan’s ability
to respond to maritime and aerial incursions within the Taiwan
Strait, but don’t sleep on developments in the Xiamen Bay.
The Author
Depositphotos
Healthcare Dynamics and

Corruption in China
Even as China pursues an anti-corruption crackdown
in the industry, it continues to pour money into
sectors like medical devices in preparation for
continued aging.
By Sara V. Fernandez and Nick Carraway
In summer 2023, President Xi Jinping’s administration launched a

nationwide anti-corruption campaign in China’s healthcare system.
The campaign (still ongoing today) came after crackdowns in the
real estate sector and education sector, overlapping with shocks in
the financial sector.
The Chinese pharmaceutical and healthcare industry is valued at
around $1.5 trillion. On a day-to-day basis, 90 percent of Chinese
households have access to a nearby clinic, often within 15 minutes’
walking distance, for non-surgery related health issues, according
to an official source, and developing community clinics in rural
areas has been listed as a top policy directive in the 14th Five-Year
Plan in 2021.
While a widespread community-based approach is effective in
treating minor issues, China faces challenges in its capacity to
provide large-scale advanced medical care. China uses a tiered
ranking system for hospitals based on the levels of facilities and the
number of staff members. Top-tier hospitals are qualified by their
capacities, facilities, and equipment, and they enjoy better
reputations that help them secure more talent, funding, and
patients. People rely on them for addressing complex health
related issues. Out of China’s 36,570 hospitals, only 1,651 are
qualified as top-tier.
Parallel to the large hospitals, day-to-day healthcare in China relies
on around 980,000 community-level clinics staffed by over 4.55
million people. There are 14.4 million healthcare personnel
nationwide equipped to care for China’s 1.4 billion people

(equivalent to 0.01 per capita), with 6.7 beds available per 1,000
people. In comparison, China’s proportion of healthcare workers
per capita is higher than the global average (which stood at 0.008 in
2020) but lower than the United States’ and other developed
countries’ (all over 0.015).
The limited number of qualified hospitals not only puts
tremendous pressure on top-tier medical practitioners and
patients, but also positions practitioners to exert near-unilateral
decision making, with low accountability. This is a recipe for
corruption.
Doctors often have a finite, designated number of hospital beds
they are in charge of, and it is not uncommon for doctors to
prescribe expensive treatments and medicines in pursuit of high
kickbacks, according to a CCTV interview. To receive better
treatments and medical attention, a patient’s family must often
leverage personal connections (guanxi) and give “red envelopes”
(i.e., cash) to both doctors and nurses. This also furthers inequality
within healthcare as ordinary citizens often do not have access to
top-tier medical care to begin with.
Three years of the COVID-19 pandemic revealed many of the
problems within China’s healthcare system. The swift anti-
corruption campaign following the post-COVID opening up has
already brought down nearly 200 senior leaders of hospitals.
Analysis of 2016 Health Criminal Judicial Judgment Documents
Source: Judgment Document Network
The rationale for the crackdown is easy to spot: The healthcare

industry in China has been rapidly growing, given rising incomes,
urbanization, and the aging population. As the sector becomes
ever-more awash in money, it’s imperative to make sure the funds
are actually being put to their intended purpose. The recent anti-
corruption campaign, for example, triggered investigations of
publicly listed pharmaceutical companies, sending shocks to
investors, and making it more difficult for firms to go public.
A lion share of the investment landscape is in medical devices, with
equipment accounting for 60 percent of the market in 2021 at
approximately $77.5 billion. That year, diagnostic imaging received
the greatest proportion of investments at 30.7 percent, followed by
consumables, patient aids, orthopedics and prosthetics, dental, and

other medical devices.
Since the COVID-19 pandemic, medical device industrial zones such
as China Medical City in Jiangsu province, home to over 110
medical device manufacturers, have cropped up. These zones offer
preferential policies and financial incentives, such as rent
reductions, a lower company tax of 15 percent, and a reduced
value added tax (VAT). These have led medical device companies in
China, both China-based and foreign, to become more focused on
local R&D investment, localizing the supply chain, and selling to
local markets. According to the government’s 14th Five-Year Plan
(2021-2025) which calls for growth of domestically-produced high-
tech medical devices, the medical device market in China is
projected to continue to grow over the remainder of the 2022-2027
forecast period.
China's unique demographic composition influences its policy
direction and investment priorities. For instance, China’s aging
population has been accompanied by growing investment in
assistive technologies, rehabilitation equipment, personal home
healthcare devices, remote monitoring devices, and medical
imaging equipment. These medical device categories are especially
pertinent for the elderly. Director Li Xi of the China Assistive
Devices and Technology Center for Persons with Disabilities China
stated that over over 15 million people with disabilities received
assistive devices in 2019.
In response to the increasing demand for remote monitoring
devices, China has increasingly invested in wearable devices, home
monitoring systems, and telehealth platforms, which can facilitate
remote patient monitoring, enabling early intervention for age-
related health conditions. China invested $4.88 billion in these
sectors in 2022 and is projected to invest $20.6 billion by 2030.
In the diagnostic imaging devices sector, increased investment in
state-of-the-art medical imaging devices such as MRI machines, CT
scanners, and ultrasound systems for early detection and diagnosis
of age-related diseases has positioned China to be projected to
reach $3.2 billion in revenue by 2024, followed by an annual
growth rate of 6.17 percent between 2024 and 2028 such that a
revenue of $4.1 billion is reached by 2028. This is relatively high
globally but still falls short of U.S. figures of $12.3 billion.
As China grapples with existing problems in the healthcare system
and demographic shifts, heightened focus on advanced medical
devices signifies a strategic response to emerging healthcare needs,
shaping the trajectory of China’s healthcare landscape for years to
come.
The Authors
Sara V. Fernandez holds a B.Sc. in Materials Science and Engineering from MIT,
minoring in Chinese and Entrepreneurship & Innovation. She specialized in innovative
medical devices as a researcher in the Conformable Decoders group at the MIT Media
Lab, publishing research articles in Science Advances, Nature Electronics, ACS
Biomaterials Science & Engineering, and Foresight. She is currently pursuing an M.Sc. in
Global Affairs as a Schwarzman Scholar at Tsinghua University in Beijing, China.
Nick Carraway is a Canada-based analyst researching China’s role in international
relations.
Office of the President, ROC (Taiwan)
The Non-consensus Consensus

of Taiwan’s Election
While there is plenty of daylight between the DPP and
KMT, the two parties have converged on remarkably
similar positions with regard to national sovereignty.
By Sasha Chhabra
When Lai Ching-te led Taiwan’s Democratic Progressive Party

(DPP) to an unprecedented third term in the presidency on January
13, international commentators were quick to note two things:
First, a rejection of Beijing’s “preferred candidate,” Hou Yu-ih of
the Kuomintang (KMT), and, second, the deep polarization in
Taiwan between the “independence-leaning” Green camp and

“pro-China” Blue camp, resulting in a divided legislature.
These oversimplifications not only present a distorted view of
Taiwanese politics but mask the remarkable progress Taiwan has
made over 30 years of democratization and nation-building.
While the DPP has roots in the aspiration for Taiwanese
independence, it has long moderated its stance on the issue,
culminating in the 1999 “Resolution on Taiwan’s Future.” In that
document, the DPP asserted that Taiwan does not need to declare
independence, because it is already an independent country with
the name Republic of China (Taiwan).
While there is plenty of daylight between the DPP and KMT, the
two camps have coalesced over the years under remarkably
similar positions with regards to national sovereignty. Since 1999,
both parties have affirmed and defended the existence of a
sovereign state named ROC (Taiwan). Although the Green camp
emphasizes “Taiwan,” and the Blue camp emphasizes “ROC,” both
accept the ROC (Taiwan) framework, reflecting a basic consensus
across the mainstream. Neither party proposes changing the
country’s name, nor declaring independence. The ROC abandoned
its plans of “reconquering” the mainland in 1991, and in 2002
abandoned its claim to Mongolia.
Although both sides have long abandoned extremist positions in
favor of moderate consensus-based politics, outsiders continue to
view Taiwanese politics in terms of outdated tropes that paint the
country as more divided and volatile than it is. Most notably, in
2011 the Obama administration in the United States interfered in
Taiwan’s 2012 presidential election through media leaks declaring
a lack of confidence in the ability of Tsai Ing-wen, then the DPP’s
candidate, to maintain cross-strait stability.
Tsai ultimately won the following election in 2016. Her eight-year
tenure reflects the fact that Taiwan, while having genuinely
competitive electoral politics between parties with starkly different
visions for the country, has a predominant mainstream consensus
on the basic political issues that cause foreign observers so much
consternation.
One disagreement has been the “1992 Consensus,” an agreement

between KMT and Chinese Communist Party (CCP) representatives
that Taiwan and the PRC are part of a singular “China.” The CCP
has called for adherence to the 1992 Consensus as a precondition
for talks, which the DPP has long rejected. Yet in 2022 KMT
Chairman Eric Chu declared the 1992 Consensus a “non-consensus
consensus,” obliquely rejecting it.
The only prominent figure who seems to hew strongly to the 1992
Consensus has been former President Ma Ying-jeou. Although Ma
seemed to have strong influence over Hou Yu-ih, he became
persona non grata at the end of Hou’s campaign after calling on
Taiwan to “trust Xi Jinping.”
As Chu and Ma tussle within the KMT, today’s KMT is not simply a
“pro-China” party, nor a party solely of waishengren, the
descendants of colonists who arrived in 1949 and brutally
suppressed Taiwan’s Taiwanese-speaking population. All three
candidates this year came from Taiwan’s benshengren population,
which was in Taiwan for centuries prior to the ROC’s colonization
of the island. Hou can be heard speaking as much Taiwanese,
which the KMT had previously banned under martial law, as he
speaks Mandarin.
And while no ROC flags can be found at DPP rallies, the DPP will
continue to fly it over the presidential office building, a 25-year
policy of recognizing the sovereignty of a country called “ROC
Taiwan.” This is the “non-consensus consensus” of Taiwanese
politics: despite bitter divisions over domestic and foreign policy,
both parties adhere to a broad political consensus.
One of the great ironies of the 2024 election is that a KMT victory
may have ended up frustrating China even more. Although the
KMT would likely have pursued foolhardy economic policies,
allowing China to exert more influence over Taiwan, the party has
clearly rejected pursuing any efforts toward “unification.” And the
KMT broadly favors stronger defense cooperation with the United
States. Even with its preferred partner in power, China would find
Taiwan unwilling to pursue unification talks, unwilling to cut
defense ties with the United States, and wavering on the 1992
Consensus.
Where would that leave China, whose President Xi Jinping has
declared “reunification” to be a “historical inevitability?” At least
with the KMT in opposition, China can keep telling its citizens that
it is just the “separatist” DPP authorities obstructing the inevitable,
and that one day Taiwan will be back on the path to unification.
Taiwan remains today, as it was before the election, a country
divided along many fault lines, and it is in for a rocky four years of
divided government. But it would be folly to ignore the deep
currents of political moderation running through the country, and
international observers and policymakers would do well to
acknowledge the longstanding “non-consensus consensus” that
stabilizes politics in ROC Taiwan.
The Author
Sasha Chhabra is a writer, analyst, and commentator on China's foreign policy,
Taiwanese politics, and cross-strait affairs.
Depositphotos
Xi Jinping’s Quest for Self-

governance Without
Democracy
In the quest to ensure local accountability, elections
are out; the “Fengqiao Experience” is in.
By Jonghyuk Lee
In the quest for modern governance solutions, China continues to

explore innovative methods to ensure local accountability without
adopting Western-style democratic elections. This trend has been
particularly notable during Xi Jinping’s tenure, marking a
significant deviation from the methodologies preferred by his
predecessors. Under Xi, the once-promoted enthusiasm for local

elections has significantly waned.
A key initiative in this shift is the revival of the “Fengqiao
Experience,” a concept originating from Mao Zedong’s era. This
strategy focuses on resolving local disputes and grievances through
community mediation and self-regulation, thereby reducing the
need for higher authority intervention. The Fengqiao Experience is
particularly supported by Xi Jinping as a means to mimic the
outcomes of liberal democracy – accountability and public
satisfaction – within China’s unique political framework.
The Challenge of Local Governance in China
China’s vast territorial expanse and the complexity of its
demographic composition pose unique challenges for centralized
governance over localities. The absence of local democratic
institutions complicates the central leadership’s ability to hold local
officials directly accountable to the public.
Traditionally, governance in China has relied on a top-down
monitoring system to regulate the behavior of local officials, such
as local cadre management and anti-corruption campaigns.
However, these methods have limitations, as the central leadership
lacks the capability to acquire full information about local affairs.
In contrast, liberal democracies typically employ a bottom-up
system of accountability, allowing the public to elect their leaders
directly, thereby incentivizing those leaders to prioritize the
welfare of their electorate.
China also attempted to secure bottom-up accountability by
establishing the Bureau of Letters and Visitations (信访局) and
online petition system, intended to gather complaints and petitions
directly from the public regarding local governance. However, the
effectiveness of this bottom-up system is compromised by its
integration within the very local governmental structure it is
supposed to monitor, creating a conflict of interest that undermines
its potential to authentically address local concerns. This structural
flaw leads many citizens to bypass local mechanisms altogether,
opting to petition the central office in Beijing, thus burdening the
central government further with monitoring the system itself.
Hence, Xi Jinping’s predecessors, beginning with the reforms under

Deng Xiaoping, initiated the gradual introduction of local
democratic elements, especially through village-level elections,
with the intention of expanding these practices to higher
administrative levels and across different entities. However, under
Xi Jinping's leadership, there has been a notable shift away from
this trajectory. Xi has concentrated power at the central level and
cannot afford to expand local democracy, which may nurture
potential political opponents.
The Fengqiao Experience as a Solution
The “Fengqiao Experience,” which originated in the early 1960s in
Fengqiao village in Zhejiang province, functions as a mechanism
for mobilizing the masses to address social conflicts at the
grassroots level, bypassing the involvement of higher legal
institutions. Mao Zedong later endorsed this practice, leading to its
nationwide adoption.
The Fengqiao Experience advocates for mediating conflicts
informally and locally, without resorting to punitive measures. As
the China Media Project explained, this method promotes the idea
of “keeping minor issues within the village and more significant
issues within the town,” effectively preventing the escalation of
conflicts to higher authorities.
In recent years, Xi, who has promoted the model since his tenure as
Zhejiang provincial party secretary, has introduced the “New-Era
Fengqiao Experience.” This updated version integrates self-
governance, rule of law, moral principles, and digital technology,
aiming to modernize the traditional model while maintaining its
core objectives of social harmony and conflict prevention.
Under Xi’s advocacy, the Fengqiao Experience has been adapted
and implemented in various innovative grassroots governance
models, highlighting multi-departmental collaboration and the use
of digital platforms to enhance conflict resolution effectiveness. For
example, Shanghai's Hongkou District developed the “Three
Institutions Linkage” mechanism to address the limitations faced
by police stations, judicial offices, and lawyers in conflict
resolution. Similarly, in Zhoushan’s Putuo District, a unique four-
step management method caters to the challenges of one of China's

largest fishing ports. Additionally, in Zhejiang’s Zhili, an initiative
by local entrepreneurs to form the “Big Sisters for Security” studio
exemplifies the self-organization aspect of the Fengqiao
Experience, successfully mediating disputes such as factory wage
arrears.
These adaptations reflect the flexible and innovative application of
the Fengqiao model in addressing modern governance challenges,
demonstrating its ongoing relevance and effectiveness in fostering
social harmony and stability.
Medicine or Poison: The Effectiveness and Potential Risks
The Fengqiao Experience offers an innovative alternative for local
governance, enabling communities to manage social controls
internally. Traditional public security measures – encompassing
repression, litigation, and mediation – impose significant
operational costs. China’s expenditure on public security has
consistently represented a substantial portion of its fiscal budget,
escalating further with an increase in mass incidents. In 2023, the
budget allocation for public security exceeded 200 billion yuan
($28 billion).
There is a judicial burden as well. National courts managed to
mediate 7.822 million disputes before reaching litigation in the first
three quarters of 2023, marking a 30.1 percent increase compared
to the previous year. This burden to the judicial system highlights
that, in terms of reducing litigation processes, the Fengqiao model
has proven to be an effective strategy within China’s governance
framework.
However, the nationwide implementation of the Fengqiao
Experience also presents potential risks. Despite its emphasis on
the rule of law, the mechanism is fundamentally rooted in
grassroots self-governance, which may lead to a lack of
standardized criteria in dispute management and reliance on
subjective judgments. Granting power beyond the law to mediators
could potentially lead to misuse by unqualified individuals,
compromising fairness, particularly in disputes involving the
interests of related parties or personal grievances.
Additionally, when practical problems arise in the promotion of the

Fengqiao Experience, it becomes challenging for localities to
provide feedback to the central government, as the model is
personally approved and vigorously promoted by Xi Jinping. Those
pointing out its flaws could be questioned in terms of loyalty, a
factor highly valued by Xi.
Moreover, the adaptability of the Fengqiao Experience raises
significant concerns. Its birthplace, Zhejiang, is one of the
wealthiest and most open provinces in China, with relatively well-
educated and affluent local populations. Replicating Fengqiao’s
success in underdeveloped regions may prove highly challenging.
In regions where tangible interests outweigh concerns about
dignity and pride, individuals may lean toward confrontational
methods of resolution until their demands are met.
As a cornerstone model of contemporary grassroots governance,
the implementation of mediation techniques in these areas has
long been a complex yet unavoidable issue in China’s efforts to
uphold stability. To simultaneously improve both the quantity and
quality of conflict resolution, local authorities may need to further
enhance policy flexibility and innovation in the application of the
Fengqiao Experience.
The Author
Jonghyuk Lee is an assistant professor at the S. Rajaratnam School of International
Studies, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore
Depositphotos
A New Era for China’s Overseas

Anti-Corruption Campaign
In an apparent first, China has convicted two people
for bribing foreign officials. The high-profile judgment
sends a clear signal: the time has come to exercise
extraterritorial jurisdiction.
By Chi Yin
In October 2023, China’s top court publicized a lower court’s ruling

that is of great importance: It is the first publicly reported case of
convictions being handed down under a law passed 12 years ago
which incorporated the crime of bribing foreign public officials
into China’s criminal law. Beyond heralding a new era of criminal
liability for Chinese businesspeople, these convictions also

manifest Xi Jinping’s global ambition. They are an important early
step in what he calls “Foreign Related Rule of Law.”
The judgment was passed down by the Guangzhou Intermediate
Court. It found that, from 2017-2019, two former senior staff
members of the state-owned China Railway Tunnel Group Co., Ltd.
(CRTG), Xi Zhengbing and Zhou Zhonghe, sought illegitimate
business interests by paying bribes totaling SG$220,000
(US$166,000) to Henry Foo Yung Thye, then-deputy group director
of Singapore’s Land Transport Authority. Xi was also found guilty
of receiving bribes of 1.92 million Chinese yuan (US$270,000). The
court sentenced Xi to five years in prison for both paying and
taking bribes, and Zhou to two years for paying bribes.
In 2021, Foo, the Singaporean official tasked with overseeing the
construction of a large subway project, was sentenced to five-and-
a-half years in prison by a Singaporean court for taking bribes
totaling SG$1.24 million. Those bribes came from contractors and
subcontractors, including the CRTG. Foo’s case was described by
Singaporean prosecutors as “the most significant case of public
sector corruption” in recent memory in a country that prides itself
on the rectitude of its officials.
The Xi and Zhou case provides a glimpse into China’s application of
extraterritorial jurisdiction in anti-corruption laws. In doing so
under the larger backdrop of the so-called “Foreign Related Rule of
Law,” it also sheds light on China’s ambition to take the driver’s
seat in the international order.
China’s original Criminal Law, promulgated in 1979, contained no
stipulation about bribing foreign public officials. In 2003, China
signed the United Nations Convention against Corruption, which
requires each state party to adopt legislation to criminalize bribery
of foreign public officials (FPOs) and officials of public
international organizations (OPIOs). After ratifying the Convention,
China added the crime of bribery of FPOs and OPIOs to its Criminal
Law through the eighth amendment in 2011. This new provision,
applicable to both natural persons and legal persons (entities), was
added as a second paragraph under Article 164, where bribery of
non-public officials was stipulated. It provides that “[w]hoever

gives any property to a functionary of a foreign country or an
official of an international public organization for any improper
commercial benefit shall be punished according to the previous
paragraph [i.e. the provision of bribery of non–public officials].”
As for extraterritorial jurisdiction, when China’s Criminal Law was
first revised in 1997, it provided Chinese courts with jurisdiction
over crimes specified in international treaties or conventions
where China is a party or a member. In this case, despite the fact
that the crime was committed in Singapore and was a part of Foo’s
larger bribery scheme, the Chinese court could assert its
jurisdiction based on China’s obligations under the Convention.
Additionally, Chinese courts’ jurisdiction could also stem from Xi
and Zhou’s Chinese citizenship.
Given the ample grounds for jurisdiction, why have there been no
previously reported cases of convictions in China resulting from
bribing FPOs and OPIOs? Clearly, it is not for lack of prosecutable
suspects. Over just the last decade, more than 150 Chinese
companies and individuals have been debarred from the World
Bank, Asian Development Bank, and other multilateral
development banks for fraud and corruption. High-profile cases
involving Chinese businesses or individuals bribing FPOs have
been widely reported in other countries. These include unspecified
Chinese state-owned companies reportedly bribing Malaysia’s
former Prime Minister Najib Razak in exchange for rail link and
pipeline projects that would provide the companies “above market
profitability.” Multiple Chinese companies have been investigated
by local prosecutors for offering bribes in Latin American
countries including Bolivia, Ecuador and Venezuela.
The unusual – indeed, unprecedented – conviction of Xi and Zhou
can be attributed to two major recent developments in Chinese law,
domestically and internationally.
Clarifying China’s Domestic Law
Domestically, the judiciary and the procuracy are gradually putting
enforceable measures in place to deal with overseas corruption.
Until recently, Chinese law lacked clear guidance on even the

threshold for indictment. At the time of the eighth amendment,
bribery of non-public officials (NPOs) was prosecuted if a person
paid bribes of over 10,000 yuan or if an entity paid bribes of over
20,000 yuan. According to Article 164 of the Criminal Law, bribery
of FPOs and OPIOs should have the same threshold for indictment
as that of NPOs.
However, a judicial interpretation in 2016 complicated things by
raising the threshold for bribery of NPOs to 60,000 yuan, but
omitting to specify whether this should also apply to bribery of
FPOs and OPIOs. This omission created confusion over the very
basic question of the amount above which bribery became a
criminal offense. The confusion was not resolved until May 2022,
when the monetary threshold was set at 30,000 yuan for both
crimes.
Despite this important clarification, prosecutors needed still more
guidance before they could effectively enforce the provision. For
example, what is the scope of FPOs and OPIOs, and what shall be
deemed “improper commercial benefit?” Though the Convention
has provided definitions for FPOs and OPIOs, it is not directly
applicable to China’s domestic cases without being incorporated
into Chinese law. Under the common understanding of Chinese
criminal law, officials employed by foreign governments are often
undisputedly a type of FPOs. But it is not clear whether, for
example, officials in non-profit organizations funded by a foreign
government, or nominal representatives of international
organizations, have the status of FPOs or OPIOs.
Additionally, unlike most bribery crimes in China, which require
the element of “improper benefit,” bribery of FPOs and OPIOs
requires “improper commercial benefit.” There are several judicial
interpretations and departmental guidelines elaborating the
definition of “improper benefit,” but none of them touch on
“improper commercial benefit.”
Not surprisingly, then, when being interviewed by a leading
national legal newspaper, several judges and prosecutors
expressed concern that this new provision is not really operational,

and that its symbolic meaning probably exceeds its judicial effect.
Nevertheless, the court did hand down the convictions of Xi and
Zhou. It is not clear what exact improper commercial benefit the
CRTG had sought, except that Foo reportedly shared confidential
information relating to the project and promised to support the
bribers in their bid. At least there is little doubt that Foo, as director
of Singapore’s Land Transport Authority, was an FPO.
The judgment was announced with fanfare, in the presence of local
legislators. It was immediately published by the top court’s website,
as well as People’s Daily, the Chinese Communist Party’s
mouthpiece. The decision has likely become final since no appeal
has been reported.
By promoting the Guangzhou court’s decision, the Supreme Court is
encouraging courts across the country to refer to it while
adjudicating similar cases. Although the judiciary and the
procuracy are likely to release more detailed guidance related to
foreign corruption in the near future, the campaign of Foreign
Related Rule of Law (FRROL) is marching on and cannot wait. For
now, courts have to take a pragmatic approach called “crossing the
river by feeling the stones.”
China’s Law Goes Global
China’s impactful FRROL campaign is the other recent development
in Chinese law that helped the Guangzhou court to arrive at its
convictions in this case. As China has become increasingly
assertive globally, expanding its Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) to
154 countries and 32 international organizations, China’s
leadership is stressing the importance of being able to apply its
own rules to foreign-related matters.
The term FRROL was coined by Xi Jinping in 2020. There is still no
consensus among scholars and practitioners as to its specific
application in the legal field. One of the most prominent authorities
on this subject within China is Huang Huikang, a law professor and
a former diplomat, who gave a talk on this topic in November to
the Politburo, the highest political body of the Chinese Communist
Party. According to Huang, one of the most important aspects of
FRROL is to apply jurisdiction of domestic laws to legal matters

with foreign elements, which is to be done by improving both
legislation and law enforcement.
Huang underlined that FRROL is different from long-arm
jurisdiction in the United States. The latter allows a U.S. court to
exercise jurisdiction over foreign persons or entities having
minimum contacts with the United States. For example, it allows
the prosecution of individuals operating websites in foreign
countries whose only contact with the U.S. is the use of their
websites by U.S. citizens. The Chinese government portrays U.S.
long-arm jurisdiction as unilateralism and bullying. Its own FRROL,
on the other hand, it portrays as a concrete embodiment of widely
recognized legal principles for extraterritorial jurisdictions.
In theory, Huang’s differentiation between FRROL and long-arm
jurisdiction is legally subtle. In practice, given China’s global
ambition, FRROL will likely become just a Chinese euphemism for a
policy essentially similar to the long-arm jurisdiction it criticizes.
China has long been accused of deliberately neglecting to enforce
its anti-foreign corruption laws. When competing with
democracies where bribing foreign public officials is vigorously
prosecuted, it enjoys advantages from this negligence, especially in
some of the BRI countries where corruption is ubiquitous. Why
would China curtail its unethical but lucrative practices? It has two
major incentives, one reactive and one proactive.
Reactively, China is touting FRROL to counteract foreign
interference and foreign sanctions, and to block U.S. long-arm
jurisdiction. China-U.S. relations have soured over the past eight
years. Geopolitical tensions are mounting over numerous matters,
including Taiwan’s status and accusations of Chinese espionage.
Beijing feels isolated and victimized by U.S.-led Western countries.
FRROL will serve as a platform from which to mount legal
counterattacks.
Proactively, China is boasting a “rule-based” business environment
to attract and regulate foreign investment, to provide the BRI with
legal protections, and to increase its impact on international rule
making. Recently, in an effort to recover from the economic impact
of three years of COVID-19 lockdowns, China lifted visa

requirements for 11 Asian and EU countries. It also increased
international flights to attract foreign business. It is eager to
reassure foreign investors, who want predictable outcomes.
At the same time, China has become the world’s biggest creditor. In
the past three years, $78.5 billion worth of debt from China’s $1
trillion BRI infrastructure financing program has gone into default,
and China spent $240 billion in bailout money between 2008 and
2021. China is eager to establish a legal framework for dispute
resolution.
As the world’s second largest economy, China is no longer shy in
showing its ambition to reshape the global order. The Supreme
Court’s publicization of the Xi and Zhou case sends a clear signal to
the country’s 409 intermediate courts: the time has come to
exercise extraterritorial jurisdiction. The Xi and Zhou case will be
the first of many prosecutions involving FPOs and OPIOs. People
and businesses who used to think they would have little contact
with China’s judicial system will feel the impact of China’s anti-
corruption laws and policies.
It is one thing to expand a country’s jurisdiction over foreign-
related disputes. It is quite another to inspire stakeholders with
confidence in the credibility of a country’s judiciary and
acceptance of its decisions. Beijing has long been criticized for
weaponizing its domestic anti-corruption campaigns to get rid of
unwanted political rivals. Will the foreign anti-corruption laws and
FRROL fall into the same pattern? Will they become instruments
for China to manipulate the world order? Or will they, in a more
hopeful scenario, improve China’s relationship with the West?
Might they even, by a virtuous feedback loop, improve China’s own
domestic rule of law? We will be watching to see.
The Author
Chi Yin is an operations manager and a research fellow at the U.S.-Asia Law Institute,
New York University School of Law, and formerly served as an intermediate court judge
in China for six years.
Japanese Ministry of Defense via Associated Press
Japan’s Noto Peninsula Post-

Earthquake Recovery Stalls
Survivors of the strongest earthquake to hit west
Japan struggle to regain normalcy amid the slow
restoration of water and sewage infrastructure.
By Thisanka Siripala
In the wake of the deadly earthquake on New Year’s Day, locals in

western and central Japan are stuck in post-disaster limbo. After a
devastating start to the year, more than 14,000 people continue to
shelter in evacuation centers across three prefectures. Tens of
thousands of people are without running water, which could
continue for weeks or longer.
On New Year’s Day, a major holiday in Japan, households on the
Noto Peninsula were jolted by a massive 7.6 magnitude earthquake
that killed some 250 people, injured thousands, and toppled around
40,000 buildings in Ishikawa, Toyama, and Niigata prefectures. It
was the largest earthquake to hit the area since records began in
1885. The economic damage is estimated at $18 billion.
Two months on, local authorities are still battling a logistical
nightmare, with cracked roads and damaged water and sewage
infrastructure hampering relief efforts, including the delivery of
essential supplies. The situation remains unpredictable due to
almost daily aftershocks. As of writing – seven weeks after the
massive earthquake – the worst affected six coastal towns, such as
Suzu, Wajima, and Anamizu in Ishikawa prefecture, remained
without running water.
In 2021 a national survey investigating whether water pipes can
withstand a “maximum strength earthquake” found that Ishikawa
Prefecture had a low seismic compliance rate compared to the
national average. Local officials say that a major earthquake
resistant water pipe, which serves half of the affected cities’
population, was impacted by landslides and tremors.
The risk of indirect disaster-related deaths as a result of prolonged
stays in cramped makeshift evacuation centers is on the rise.
Evacuees are reporting unhygienic conditions and the spread of
respiratory diseases such as COVID-19 and influenza as well as
gastroenteritis. The governor of Ishikawa Prefecture, Hase Hiroshi,
promised to improve the conditions at evacuation centers.
There are also thousands of people who are staying in secondary

evacuation facilities such as hotels and inns. But in the beginning
of March they face being displaced again, with the hotel industry
eager to bounce back after being hard-hit during the pandemic.
Hotels say they want to free up space ahead of a projected post-
pandemic tourist surge. Officials from Ishikawa Prefecture say they
are surveying the accommodation requests of some 5,000 evacuees.
The local government has been encouraging the use of temporary
accommodation as a way to prevent indirect disaster-related
deaths. It has begun the construction of temporary accommodation
units for 3,000 applicants, but that is still well below the 7,000
applications. Reconstruction has been hampered by a shortage of
accommodation for construction workers, who have come to
rebuild from outside the prefecture.
In February, Prime Minister Kishida Fumio visited the quake-
stricken region, where he announced financial aid and interest-
free loans to households and local businesses that have sustained
extensive damage. He also expressed concerns over a possible
outflow of locals from the area, which could accelerate
depopulation in regional areas.
Japan’s deadly magnitude 9 earthquake and tsunami in March 2011
spurred a national agenda on disaster preparedness and
community resilience. The government also launched a
Reconstruction Agency in 2012 that oversees the reconstruction
and revitalization of disaster-affected regions. Japan began sharing
its experiences and renewed efforts for disaster reduction with
countries susceptible to earthquakes and landslides, such as
Mexico and Brazil.
Yet there is growing criticism from Noto Peninsula locals and
experienced disaster relief personnel, who point out the slow speed
of relief efforts despite Japan strengthening disaster awareness and
coordination since 2011.
The Noto Peninsula earthquake is a dark reminder that Japan is at
constant risk of a devastating natural disaster. While Japan has
made efforts to link disaster awareness to daily life, personal
preparation is not enough. Not only do homes need to be rebuilt
with a higher earthquake resilience, but Japan must also invest in

reinforcing roads, water and sewage pipes, power lines, as well as
communication infrastructure. It’s a mammoth restructuring that
requires comprehensive earthquake-proof technology for
susceptible regional towns.
The Author
Thisanka Siripala is an Australian-Sri Lankan cross platform journalist living in Tokyo.
Facebook, New Reform Party
South Korea’s Breakaway Third

Parties Fail to Set Up Their ‘Big
Tent’
Although fractious, third parties could pose significant
challenges to the ruling People Power Party and the
opposition Democratic Party.
By Eunwoo Lee
South Korea has had a de facto two-party system since

democratization. As of late 2023, the country’s two largest parties,
the ruling People Power Party (PPP) and the opposition Democratic
Party (DP), made up 93 percent of the 300 seats in the National
Assembly. In the absence of the need for compromise and coalition
with minor players, the PPP and the DP have obsessed over intra-
party control and persecution of each other.
Since May 2022, when President Yoon Suk-yeol started his term,
South Korean politics has been a farce. The government is guilty of
pulling strings with the Prosecutor’s Office in an attempt to jail the
DP leader, Lee Jae-myung, gag the press, and shield the president
and his family from allegations of malfeasance. Meanwhile, the DP
is taking advantage of its parliamentary majority and using the
threat of impeachment to disrupt Yoon’s Cabinet, while also
passing laws to elect special counsels to investigate the Yoon
administration and his family (all of which Yoon vetoed).
To say that South Korean politics has been at a standstill would be
overly generous. Instead, it has been sinking into the swamp of
pseudo-dictatorship and unchecked elitism.
In January 2024, however, things began to stir when Lee Jun-seok,
the PPP’s former chief shoved out of his post by Yoon, formed his
own party, the New Reform Party. Lee Nak-yon, a former prime
minister and an influential household name in the leftist camp,
broke away from the DP and created the New Future Party.
In early February, the two Lees agreed to merge their parties and
act as a “Big Tent” to incorporate a broad spectrum of supporters,
especially those disillusioned by the irresponsibility of the PPP and
the DP.
Yet the sense of optimism died down quickly. On February 19,

shouts were heard from within the two Lees’ leadership committee
meeting. Soon, Lee Nak-yon bolted out of the room. Lee Jun-seok
insisted on making decisions on campaign policies all by himself,
citing the lack of time remaining until the April elections, the need
for efficiency, and his track record of winning unfavorable
elections. Lee Nak-yon countered that the other Lee’s intention
reeked of dictatorship. After Lee Nak-yon and his aides left the
meeting, Lee Jun-seok and the remaining members passed a party
rule investing the younger Lee with all the rights over campaign
policies.
Their parties officially parted ways the next day.
Now purged of liberal elements within his New Reform Party, Lee
Jun-seok came crawling back to old supporters who had ditched his
party out of hostility against the older Lee. The party rules bar the
re-entry of defectors for a year, but Lee passed another rule on
January 21 that allows for instant reinstatement of party
membership.
His spokeswoman apologized to Lee’s former fan base for not
giving them enough explanations for having had to accommodate
Lee Nak-yon. “We would be grateful for the return of those who left
our party because they were angry,” she added.
Shortly after, as if self-conscious of public accusations of his
unilateralism, Lee Jun-seok hired an octogenarian campaign guru
and entrusted him with recommending candidates and directing
campaign policies.
Of late, another major front has developed. Cho Kuk, a former
justice minister under former liberal President Moon Jae-in,
announced his plan to create a new leftist party on February 13. A
flurry of excitement has arisen on the part of many liberals
disappointed by the DP and desperately looking for an alternative –
Lee Nak-yon was that alternative until he held hands with Lee Jun-
seok in what many believed to be an appalling display of
opportunism. In a recent poll, almost 14 percent of South Koreans
said they would vote for Cho’s new party.
Cho has a hardcore support base thanks to his stints as a senior

secretary and then justice minister under Moon. He fought to
reform the Prosecutor’s Office and curtail its distended political
power, but prosecutors retaliated by successfully digging up dirt on
him and his family. Cho had padded his children’s CVs while his
wife doctored an award to facilitate their daughter’s college
entrance. Amid the scandal, Cho resigned as justice minister in
October 2019, just one month into his new position.
In December 2020, Cho’s wife was sentenced to four years in prison
for college admission fraud and illicit stock investment. She was
released on parole last September. Cho has publicly apologized for
the wrongdoing numerous times and is still fighting other charges
(some valid, others trumped up) brought on by the prosecutors.
Based on both his past politics and, now, his personal experience,
Cho has pledged to fight to eradicate the prosecutorial branch’s
corrupt practices of “targeted investigations” and “praying-for-rain
investigations.” The Prosecutor’s Office has long been engaged in
eliminating political enemies. They scour their targets first without
much cause and “pray for rain to drop,” a euphemism for the
prosecutors' fondness for investigating first, expecting damning
materials to appear, and then deciding what to charge the target
with.
Most liberals are concerned that Cho is merely widening the
breaches within different leftist factions, thereby weakening the
DP’s mandate. He reassured them with his promise to support the
DP in the parliament, while focusing entirely on bringing justice to
the Yoon administration’s “prosecutorial dictatorship.”
Approval ratings of the PPP and the DP have been wallowing in the
30-something point range. Barring any major scandals and
depending on the voter turnout, the new third parties will perhaps
garner around 20 percent, at the least, and 30 percent, at the most,
of the votes. Taking into account the Green Justice Party and
unaffiliated candidates, that suggests that neither the PPP nor the
DP can secure a majority by themselves.
Throughout 2024, we will have ample opportunities to see whether
the National Assembly becomes messier or not.
The Author
Eunwoo Lee writes on politics, society, and history of Europe and East Asia. He is also a
non-resident research fellow at the ROK Forum for Nuclear Strategy.
Depositphotos
What’s Driving Kim Jong Un’s

New Regional Development
Policy?
The plan acknowledges the severe disparity in living
conditions between Pyongyang and the rest of the
country – and the resulting public discontent.
By Lee Sang-yong
North Korea’s leadership recently announced a new regional

development policy entitled the “regional development 20×10
policy,” which refers to a plan to build manufacturing facilities in
20 cities and counties every year over the next 10 years. The policy
can be seen as an official acknowledgement of the severe disparity
in living conditions between Pyongyang, known as the “capital of
the revolution,” and the rest of the country, and how this fact is
causing considerable discontent among the North Korean people.
It was surprising that such an admission came from the lips of
North Korean leader Kim Jong Un during his speech to the
Supreme People’s Assembly on January 15. Kim also departed from
the norm by giving the program a long time frame of 10 years,
apparently recognizing that its goals cannot be achieved in a short
period of time. What are the Kim regime’s true motives?
A Ploy to Win Over the Public?
First, it is clear that the Kim regime could no longer ignore the
continuing deterioration of public opinion in areas outside
Pyongyang, commonly referred to as the “provinces.” In
Pyongyang, the regime has been able to score points with the
public since 2021 with housing projects in Songsin, Songhwa, and
Hwasong districts and a terraced housing project on the banks of
the Potong River. However, the provinces have had to foot the bill
for these construction projects in Pyongyang, which has left many
people outside the capital feeling financially exploited.
Moreover, provincial industries and markets have been devastated
by the closure of the national border during the pandemic, and
high hopes for foreign direct investment were dashed by North
Korea’s determination to make a stronger nuclear arsenal an
official part of government policy. Dissatisfaction with the regime is
growing, and many see a bleak future.
Against that backdrop, Kim needed a ploy to win back the hearts of
the people. The problem is that his scheme appears to be little
more than another slogan for stabilizing the regime by once again
blaming government officials. For example, in August last year, Kim

publicly reprimanded Prime Minister Kim Tok Hun for “severely
disrupting discipline” while on an on-the-spot inspection in North
Pyongan Province. Later, through the Rodong Sinmun newspaper,
Kim Jong Un repeatedly called officials incompetent and accused
them of hindering the development of revolutionary projects. In
this way, Kim has shown his willingness to place blame for North
Korea’s economic woes on the prime minister and other officials.
Second, Kim seems to have adopted the strategy of once again
exploiting the North Korean people’s fond memories of his
grandfather, Kim Il Sung. North Koreans remember the elder Kim
as a leader who worked tirelessly to improve the provinces.
According to North Korean propaganda, Kim Il Sung advocated the
equal development of counties during a meeting of economic
bureaucrats and provincial party committees in Changsong County,
North Pyongan Province, in 1962. In effect, Kim Jong Un has
officially pledged to continue the policy of regional development
that his grandfather never completed. This amounts to an attempt
to use “legacy politics” to further consolidate his position.
Kim has also resorted to a bit of grandstanding by holding meetings
at Mt. Myohyang, a site symbolic of his grandfather. Kim Il Sung
often summoned economic officials to his Myohyang villa to
pressure them to find ways to save the economy from deepening
crises. As a result, North Koreans tend to associate the mountain
with Kim Il Sung. This may have been Kim’s goal, as he sought to
demonstrate that he could be as hardworking as his grandfather.
Since taking power, Kim Jong Un has spent most of his leisure time
in Chagang Province, where underground bunkers are always
within reach, and in Wonsan, Kangwon Province, which is widely
known as his home. But 10 years into his reign, Kim is rumored to
have finished rebuilding and modernizing his villa and other
guesthouses on Mt. Myohyang. Presumably, he took his close
advisers to the villa after the renovations were completed.
Third, Kim has tried to cultivate the image of an easy-going and
honest leader. The North Korean leader has complained that people
in the provinces do not receive the basic necessities of life, and he
has even allowed these complaints to be reported in full. He

apparently wanted to show the North Korean public that he was
aware of their situation while projecting the image of a leader who
has been working on these issues for the past decade.
In particular, Kim set up a body (the Non-Permanent Central
Committee for Promoting Regional Development 20×10 Policy) to
take care of the provinces under the Organization and Guidance
Department of the Workers’ Party of Korea. He also placed his most
trusted apparatchik, Jo Yong Won, secretary of organizational
affairs of the Party’s Central Committee, in charge of the new body,
emphasizing that it is not a mere formality but is intended to
produce results. In other words, Kim is making it clear that he
intends regional development to be his signature achievement for
the next decade.
Challenges Ahead
Kim seems to despise the stigma of being the leader of a poor
country. As soon as he took power, he focused on building the
Masikryong ski resort in Kangwon Province, and he has also sent
soldiers and young people to build up mountainous and rural
areas. Following a housing project in rural towns such as Samjiyon
in Yanggang Province, Kim has emphasized that other areas must
follow suit by building more houses for the rural population.
Notably, nine months after the Eighth Congress of the Workers’
Party of Korea, North Korea enacted the City and County
Development Act, providing institutional support for provincial
development.
While Kim’s “regional development policy 20×10” appears to be an
extension of previous policies, the question of whether it will
succeed is another matter entirely. One obvious shortcoming of the
policy is that it is based on self-sufficiency. The amount of aid from
the central government should become clear in the first half of the
year, but Kim may be reluctant to disburse money from funds
under his direct control.
Another variable is the various kinds of “non-tax burdens” that
may be foisted upon the North Korean populace during this
process. Such measures are currently being prepared right now by
the relevant agencies, and the authorities are expected to demand

money or goods from each region, either at a fixed rate or at a rate
tailored to local circumstances. The likely result is an absurd
situation in which a policy designed to win the hearts of the people
is implemented by picking their pockets. From Kim’s point of view,
the potential for greater volatility in public sentiment is another
worrying consideration.
Yet another thorny issue is the possibility that Kim will lose the
support of loyal elements in North Korea. The elites concentrated
in Pyongyang have enjoyed considerable luxury thanks to the
sacrifices of those in the provinces. If North Korea begins to invest
its limited resources in the provinces, the elites could quickly
become less loyal to the regime. They may begin to feel that they
are being shortchanged by the regime’s policies. Ultimately, Kim’s
bold regional development gambit is likely to be a crucible for his
leadership.
The Author
Lee Sang-yong is the director of research and analysis at Daily NK.
This article was translated by David Carruth and edited by Robert Lauler.
Associated Press, Shuji Kajiyama, Pool, File
The Bank of Japan’s Year of

Living Dangerously
Japan looks set to end negative interest rates for the
first time in eight years.
By Anthony Fensom
Global investors are convinced 2024 will be the year the Bank of
Japan (BOJ) finally “normalizes” policy and hikes interest rates
above zero. Making the wrong bet could cost the nation dearly.
Negative interest rates have been a hallmark of Japanese monetary
policy since 2016, with the BOJ maintaining ultra-easy policy to
conquer deflation. Yet with inflation having exceeded the central
bank’s 2 percent target for over a year, and amid signs of higher
wages growth, economists are increasingly confident of an end to

negative rates this year.
In its latest policy meeting on January 23, the central bank
maintained its ultra-easy settings, pointing to “extremely high
uncertainties.” Nevertheless, BOJ Governor Ueda Kazuo hinted that
conditions for a policy change were gradually falling into place.
“Prospects of higher wages are gradually affecting sales prices,
which is leading to a gradual increase in service prices,” Ueda told
a press conference after the BOJ's policy announcement.
“If we get further evidence that a positive wage-inflation cycle will
heighten, we will examine the feasibility of continuing with the
various steps we are taking under our massive stimulus program,”
he said.
Ueda indicated the full range of the BOJ’s policy armory, including
negative rates, yield curve control, government bonds, and equity
buying, would be on the table when it begins normalizing policy.
Ueda’s remarks helped spark a rebound in the Japanese yen and
stock market, with the short-term government bond yield hitting a
one-month high the same day.
In its latest quarterly outlook, the central bank projected inflation
would remain above 2 percent through fiscal year 2024 due to
higher import prices and other factors, with consumer prices only
easing back below its target the following year.
However, the report suggested a “virtuous cycle” from income to
spending was intensifying, with the likelihood of achieving its price
stability target continuing to “gradually rise.”
"The BOJ is signaling that the pieces are falling into place for
ending the negative interest rate," Shunsuke Kobayashi, chief
economist at Mizuho Securities told the Nikkei.
April Move?
Ueda gave little indication of an early exit at the January 23 press
conference, only saying “it is difficult to say how close we are [to
the exit] in a quantifiable way.”
While the BOJ’s next monetary policy meeting is scheduled for

March 18-19, economists suggest the following meeting on April 25-
26 could prove more noteworthy.
“Ueda's comments heightened my conviction the BOJ will end
negative rates in April,” Mari Iwashita, chief market economist at
Daiwa Securities, told Reuters.
“He suggested that the BOJ doesn’t need to wait too long in
scrutinizing this year’s wage outlook. Furthermore, he no longer
talks about the danger of a premature exit,” she said.
Capital Economics suggests the central bank will wait for the
results of February’s nationwide consumer price index (CPI), which
will be released after the BOJ’s March policy meeting.
Japan’s core CPI increased by 3.1 percent in 2023, its biggest gain
since 1982, on higher food costs and greater import prices due to a
weaker yen.
However, there are signs of slowing inflation, with the Tokyo CPI
diving from 2.4 percent to 1.6 percent in January, putting it below
the BOJ’s target for the first time in two years.
“The upshot is that the [BOJ] will now want to see the results of the
February nationwide CPI, which will only be released after the
Bank’s March meeting, to ensure that price pressures haven’t
subsidized altogether,” Capital Economics said in a January 26
report.
“If those figures show a renewed acceleration in price pressures,
we think the bank will press ahead with ending negative rates in
April. What’s increasingly clear though is that the bank won’t need
to embark on a full-fledged tightening cycle.”
Tokyo-based economist Jesper Koll agrees, telling The Diplomat
that 2024 will be the year of the “reliquefication of money
markets.”
“Last year, around 90 to 95 percent of the liquidity in the Japanese
government bond market was from the BOJ… now it’s down to
around 15 to 20 percent, so Governor Ueda has been successful in
reliquefying the government bond market,” said Koll, who is the
expert director at Monex Group.
“This year will be about the reliquefication of the money markets. I

expect that by April or May, the BOJ will increase its policy rate to
around 10 to 15 basis points – normalizing policy, not tightening.”
Koll said the BOJ’s scope for a policy change would be supported by
planned income tax cuts by the administration of Japanese Prime
Minister Kishida Fumio in 2024.
In December, Japan’s ruling coalition approved cuts in income and
resident taxes, together with incentives for businesses to hike
wages, aimed at achieving a “virtuous cycle in the economy.”
“That fiscal policy easing will give greater freedom for the Bank of
Japan to start the normalization process,” Koll said.
Economic and Political Worries
Kishida is gambling that private consumption revives on the back
of real wage hikes at the spring “shunto” labor-management
negotiations. Last year’s shunto talks resulted in an average wage
rise of around 3.6 percent, a 30-year high, and the Japanese Trade
Union Confederation is pushing for at least a 5 percent increase
this year to counter inflation.
Kishida has described the talks as “a critical moment in
determining whether Japan’s economy will revert back to deflation
or move toward a complete escape from deflation.”
Positive momentum on wages could help counter a fundraising
scandal in Kishida’s ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) that has
seen his Cabinet’s approval rating fall to record lows.
A Nikkei poll published January 29 showed Kishida’s Cabinet still
near the record low approval rating recorded in December 2023,
with just 27 percent support.
With the LDP set to hold a presidential poll in September 2024 –
effectively deciding the nation’s prime minister – Kishida lags party
rivals in the public approval stakes.
The Nikkei poll found support for former LDP Secretary-General
Ishiba Shigeru at 22 percent, followed by former Environment
Minister Koizumi Shinjiro at 15 percent and Digital Transformation
Minister Kono Taro at 10 percent. Kishida came seventh, with just 3

percent support.
Yet the latest gross domestic product (GDP) data released February
15 made grim reading for proponents of a BOJ policy change.
Japan’s GDP contracted at an annualized rate of 0.4 percent in the
December quarter, which following the previous quarter’s revised
3.3 percent decrease meant it technically fell into recession.
Both private consumption and capital expenditure declined in the
December quarter, although exports rose.
The data surprised economists, with only one of 34 surveyed by
Bloomberg tipping a contraction.
The Cabinet Office report also showed Japan losing its third-placed
global economic ranking to European powerhouse Germany.
Japan’s nominal GDP stood at $4.21 trillion in 2023, below
Germany’s $4.46 trillion, with a weak yen contributing to the
decline.
The markets reacted to the GDP data by pricing in a 63 percent
chance of the BOJ raising rates by April, down from 73 percent a
day earlier.
“Weak domestic demand makes it hard for the BOJ to pivot toward
monetary tightening,” Naomi Muguruma, chief bond strategist at
Mitsubishi UFJ Morgan Stanley Securities, told Reuters. “The hurdle
for ending negative rates in March has risen.”
However, Capital Economics’ Marcel Thieliant said the GDP
contraction would not prevent the BOJ ending negative rates.
“While job vacancies have weakened, the unemployment rate
dropped to an 11-month low of 2.4 percent in December. What’s
more, the Bank of Japan’s Tankan survey showed that business
conditions across all industries and firm sizes were the strongest
they’ve been since 2018 in [quarter four],” he said in a February 14
report.
“The [BOJ] has been arguing that private consumption has
‘continued to increase moderately’ and we suspect that it will
continue to strike an optimistic tone at its upcoming meeting in
March. An upward revision is still possible in the second estimate

of [fourth quarter] GDP, due on March 11, and we doubt that
today’s GDP figures will prevent the bank from ending negative
interest rates in April.”
The Japanese government projects GDP growth of 1.6 percent for
fiscal year 2024, easing to 1.3 percent in the next fiscal year starting
in April, with planned tax cuts and wage hikes expected to support
domestic demand even amid a weak global economy.
However, in its latest “World Economic Outlook” report the
International Monetary Fund (IMF) sees Japan’s GDP growth
slowing from 1.9 percent in 2023 to 0.9 percent in 2024 and 0.8 in
2025, “reflecting the fading of one-off factors that supported
activity in 2023.”
Similarly, the Organization for Economic Cooperation and
Development (OECD) sees Japan maintaining a 1 percent GDP
growth rate in both 2024 and 2025, with headline inflation
contracting to 2.6 percent this year and 2 percent in 2025.
In a January 11 report, the Paris-based organization said Japan
needed to “focus on ensuring fiscal sustainability, boosting
productivity growth, and addressing the economic and social
impacts of rapid population aging.”
Despite Japan’s mixed GDP data, the Japanese stockmarket has
continued to hit new highs. On February 16, the benchmark Nikkei
Stock Average closed at 38,487, reaching a new 34-year high and
within touching distance of its all-time high of 38,957 achieved
during the “bubble economy” era on December 29, 1989.
Nikko Asset Management sees the gains continuing in 2024, aided
by corporate governance reforms, increased merger and
acquisition (M&A) activity, and “buoyant” consumption driven by
higher wages. With Tokyo targeting raising the national minimum
wage by 50 percent by the mid-2030s, wage hikes will be “front and
center in Japan’s economic agenda,” it said in a December 2023
report.
“In 2024, the government will be waiting for the right moment to
officially announce victory over deflation, although the exact
timing of this will largely be a function of political dynamics. Even

so, it appears Japan’s policymakers and politicians are aligned, and
the exit from deflation and the normalization of monetary policy
should therefore be well orchestrated,” it said.
Koll of Monex said increased business investment and wages
growth will push Japan’s GDP higher, rising at around 2 to 2.5
percent in 2024, with the Nikkei to top 44,000 on the back of
improved corporate earnings.
He argued there was a new “corporate metabolism” in Japan with
the average age of a Nikkei 225 CEO dropping by almost 10 years
and a record amount of domestic M&A.
“During the last 20 years the vast majority of Japanese companies
were playing defense. Now the new generation of CEOs is actually
playing offense,” he said.
“They are buying companies, they are building new factories, and
this is where the primary source of optimism comes from.”
Another positive factor for Japan was its increased level of foreign
workers as well as tourists.
In 2023, the number of foreign workers in Japan hit a record 2.04
million, up 12 percent from 2022. Japan also welcomed 25 million
overseas visitors last year, reaching 79 percent of the pre-pandemic
level in 2019, with foreign tourists spending an estimated $35.7
billion, the highest amount on record.
These trends are expected to continue in 2024, although a broader-
based retail revival will depend on the wallets of Japanese
consumers, who have been hit hard by rising inflation.
“We will do everything possible to achieve income hikes that
exceed price rises this year. We must make this a reality,” Kishida
told the Diet on January 30.
Will the BOJ end negative rates soon, as market watchers
anticipate? Much will depend on the March shunto results,
together with the February CPI figure and April’s quarterly
“Tankan” survey of business sentiment.
“It’s just a question of timing,” a government source told the Nikkei.
Circumstances may never be better for a BOJ policy shift than in

2024, Asia’s Year of the Dragon. Ueda will need all the famed
courage and intelligence of the mythical creatures if he is to
survive this baptism of fire.
The Author
Anthony Fensom is an experienced business writer and communication consultant with
more than a decade’s experience in the financial and media industries of Australia and
Asia.
Depositphotos
The Osaka Expo Could Make or

Break Nippon Ishin’s Political
Future
The success of Nippon Ishin as a national political
force has originated from their effort to convince the
voters of their competent governance in Osaka. The
Expo is a major test.
By Jio Kamata
Nippon Ishin no kai, Japan’s third largest political force, seems to

be everything to everyone. While championing itself as an enforcer
of “small government” by advocating for deregulation and
reducing the number of elective officials, it also promotes free
tuition and universal basic income – both expensive policies that
would require more “government.”
Also, when the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) passed legislation
intended to promote awareness for sexual minorities – largely
based on Nippon Ishin’s proposal – it generated a backlash not
against Nippon Ishin but toward LDP and Prime Minister Kishida
Fumio. Complaining that the LDP crossed a line as a result of the
law’s passage, a prominent conservative launched his own party,
and members of nationalist groups are now considering changing
allegiance to Nippon Ishin, despite their discomfort being caused
greatly by the party they are moving toward. The fallout of this
incident has shown that while Nippon Ishin promotes socially
progressive issues, it retains a portion of trust from staunch
conservatives that are anti-establishment and hawkish on foreign
and defense policy – both marked characteristics of Nippon Ishin.
Regardless of how big one wants the government to be, or which
cultural issues they want it to stand by, Nippon Ishin has seemingly
achieved success in welding diverging viewpoints together, while
avoiding a blowback to its electoral prospects. In fact, recent
elections testify that the current orientation of the party is
delivering results.
However, the growing criticisms toward Nippon Ishin over the
Osaka Expo expected to be held in 2025 – a timeline that critics
argue is not attainable – is stressing its potential for far-reaching

appeal and, more importantly, the party’s raison d’etre.
One of the most significant challenges facing the Osaka Expo is the
cost. Although initial estimates put the cost of the Expo venue
construction at 125 billion yen, it is forecasted that the ultimate
cost will be 1.9 times that, largely due to the weakening of the
Japanese yen and global inflation causing construction materials to
be more costly.
The vast amount of spending going into the Expo – one-third
funded by tax money authorized by the government – has
enthused only a few. According to polls, 79 percent of the public
will not even consider purchasing tickets for the event. Even 65.7
percent of Nippon Ishin’s supporters believe that their leaders
should scrap the Expo altogether. From the left – which perceives
Nippon Ishin with particular distaste – the Japanese Communist
Party’s periodical has criticized they party for moving forward
with the ill-planned Expo while paying scant attention to the
victims of the Noto Peninsula earthquake, which occurred on New
Year’s Day.
Although it’s too early to give the final verdict on the Osaka Expo,
the whole enterprise has seemed to diminish Nippon Ishin’s
appeal. While preaching “anti-establishment” rhetoric and
advocating for fiscal restraint, the party voted affirmatively on the
government-sponsored budget, which would include partial
funding for the Expo, an act rarely seen by a typical Japanese
opposition party. In addition, the whole success of Nippon Ishin as
a national political force has originated from their effort to
convince voters of their competent governance in Osaka. The
negative press coming out of the Osaka Expo seems to indicate that
they are blundering on their home turf.
However, not everything surrounding the Osaka Expo is negative
for Nippon Ishin. At the very least, the party’s active involvement
in the organization of a billion-dollar international project could be
used as a strong message of Nippon Ishin’s governing ability.
Considering that there are no notable opposition parties that have
elected officials serving at the prefectural level – let alone longevity
in actual governance in local politics – the simple reality of Ishin’s

governance of Osaka could be their strongest asset against the LDP.
The success and failure of the Osaka Expo may become a “make it
or break it moment” for Nippon Ishin. As revealed by their
preparation for the Expo, the various features that build up the
party’s brand are seemingly breaking up into pieces. However, the
fact that they are still in the midst of their struggles is in itself
indicative of the path they have taken and the potential they have
that no other opposition party has.
The Author
Jio Kamata is a freelance writer and regular contributor to the Japanese opinion website
Agora.
Associated Press
India’s Uttarakhand State

Legislature Passes Uniform
Civil Code Bill
Contrary to the BJP’s claim that gender justice is the
underlying motivation of a uniform civil code, the bill
seems aimed at weakening Muslim identity and
homogenizing a diverse country.
By Sudha Ramachandran
On February 7, the legislative assembly of the northern Indian state

of Uttarakhand passed the Uniform Civil Code (UCC) Bill. The bill
will go to the president for her assent, after which it will become
law.
Uttarakhand, which is ruled by the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya

Janata Party (BJP), is the first Indian state since independence to
pass the UCC. Two other BJP-ruled states – Gujarat and Assam –
have announced plans to enact the UCC and other states, including
Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan, are expected to follow.
In India, personal laws – laws applying to marriage, divorce,
inheritance, and adoption – draw on religious texts, customs, and
traditions and are thus different for different religious groups.
Laws on who and how many people a person can marry, and how
to end a marriage differ by religion. Indians can either follow their
religious group-specific laws or opt for a secular code.
A uniform civil code envisages replacing these separate codes with
a single set of laws that apply to all citizens irrespective of their
religion.
So, what does the Uttarakhand UCC Bill say? It proposes a common
law on marriage, divorce, inheritance of property, and live-in
relationships for all citizens in the state, irrespective of their
religion. However, tribal communities, who comprise 2.9 percent of
the state’s total population, have been exempted from its ambit.
The bill prohibits polygamy, retains the legal minimum age for
marriage at 18 years for women and 21 years for men, and
abolishes the concept of “illegitimate children.” It provides for
equal rights for women and men in marriage, divorce, and
inheritance. All children, whether born in or out of wedlock,
adopted, or born through surrogacy, will be on equal footing. It
makes registration of marriages mandatory. Indeed, registration of
live-in relationships has been made mandatory too.
When India’s constitution was being written in the late 1940s, the
question of a uniform civil code was among the most contentious
issues. Religious conservatives opposed it, as they feared a UCC
would reduce the role of religion and of clerics in the community.
Others believed that it would undermine the distinct identities of
different religious groups. A UCC was not suitable for a country
with staggering diversity like India, some argued, while others said
it would be an assault on a citizen’s right to freedom of religion.
However, proponents argued that a UCC held out the possibility of

rationalizing and modernizing archaic laws and replacing them
with a progressive civil law that would promote gender equality,
among other things.
In the end, the Constituent Assembly merely said that the Indian
state “shall endeavor to secure for the citizens a uniform civil code
throughout the territory of India.”
In the decades thereafter, the implementation of a UCC has
triggered mixed feelings and polarized debate. While the left,
feminists, and liberals have argued in favor of a UCC because it can
be a tool for modernizing laws and ensuring gender equality, these
sections are also apprehensive that a uniform code across religious
groups, especially in the hands of a regime that is anti-minority,
would end up erasing minority identities.
Interestingly, the Hindu right wing, which once fiercely opposed
the UCC, has become its strongest champion. Indeed, implementing
the UCC is an important item on the BJP’s political agenda and has
figured several times in its election manifestos, including those in
the 2014 and 2019 general elections as well as in several state
assembly elections like the 2022 Uttarakhand assembly election.
While the BJP justifies its plans to bring in a UCC on the grounds of
gender equality and justice – its 2019 election manifesto said that
the party “believes that there cannot be gender equality till such
time India adopts a Uniform Civil Code, which protects the rights of
all women” – its primary motivation rests elsewhere.
It is evident that the BJP and its fraternal organizations see the UCC
as an opportunity to homogenize India to fit into its vision of a
Hindu state, and to erode the distinct ways of life of India’s
religious communities, especially Muslims.
Muslim community leaders and politicians have criticized the
Uttarakhand UCC’s banning of Islamic practices like halala, iddat,
and triple talaq. The All India Muslim Personal Law Board has
slammed the bill as “inappropriate, unnecessary and against
diversity.”
Critics have labeled the Uttarakhand bill discriminatory. If tribals

have been exempted from the purview of the UCC because of their
distinct customs and objections, why not the Muslims too? Why
does the UCC ban only practices that are allowed under Muslim
personal law, like polygamy and halala, on the grounds that they
are “defective” and “regressive”?
On the other hand, why does the UCC not incorporate progressive
aspects of Muslim law, such as the compulsory payment of mehr by
the husband to the wife, which provides her with financial
security? Women’s rights groups have rightly pointed out that if the
objective of the Uttarakhand UCC was to ensure gender justice,
practices like payment of mehr would have been extended to all
religious groups, rather than eliminated.
A particularly disturbing and dangerous provision in the
Uttarakhand UCC bill is one requiring registration of live-in
relationships. Critics have argued that it is an invasion of privacy, a
violation of an adult individual’s freedom to enter into a
relationship and an unwarranted meddling by the state in matters
that are not the state’s business. As opposition Trinamool Congress
parliamentarian Saket Gokhale pointed out in a post on X, formerly
Twitter, the “BJP has now stepped into people’s bedrooms.”
Failure to register a live-in relationship or even a month’s delay in
registration can attract punishment, including imprisonment.
Worryingly, under the UCC, consenting adults in a live-in
relationship will have to inform their parents. There are concerns
that the Uttarakhand UCC would encourage moral policing and
vigilantism.
The Uttarakhand UCC bill is not unconstitutional. Indeed, a
uniform civil code is desirable, especially to modernize outdated
laws. However, some specific provisions in the Uttarakhand Bill are
regressive and discriminatory.
As Supreme Court advocate Prashant Bhushan pointed out to The
Hindu, “The current UCC is an instrument of harassment given to
the state police to harass citizens, particularly Muslims. A UCC that
is liberal and consistent with public policy is desirable.”
In the coming weeks and months, more BJP-ruled states will

announce plans for their own UCC bills. With general elections
around the corner, the BJP can be expected to trumpet this as an
achievement. However, laws that are discriminatory and
dangerous are no achievement.
The Author
Sudha Ramachandran is South Asia editor at The Diplomat.
Depositphotos
Pakistan Searches for Stability

Following Contentious Elections
At present, no political party seems capable of

sustaining a prolonged agitation campaign as people
want to get on with their lives.
By Umair Jamal
After a turbulent election, two of Pakistan's major parties, the

Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N) and the Pakistan People's
Party (PPP), have joined forces to form a coalition government.
This is the third time in 15 years that the PML-N and PPP are
forming a coalition government at the federal level. The two
parties, along with their minor allies, have more than 150 seats in
the 266-member National Assembly, the lower house of parliament,
where 134 seats are required to form a government.
Under the agreement between the two parties, PML-N President
Shehbaz Sharif is set to become prime minister, while PPP head
Asif Ali Zardari will become president. The rest of the cabinet will
include leaders from the two parties, but it will be the PML-N that
will dominate.
The Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), led by former Prime Minister
Imran Khan, is absent from this picture. Although the candidates it
backed won 93 seats, they lack the necessary majority to establish a
government. Khan, who is incarcerated on charges of fraud and
other offenses, has firmly barred his party from initiating
negotiations with other political groups.
While there is controversy regarding the fairness of the election
and allegations that PTI was excluded from the political process by
the powerful military establishment, there is hope that the
incoming government will restore some degree of political and
financial stability.
There are several reasons why this may be possible.
The PTI faces challenges in effectively playing the role of
opposition due to strategic missteps and internal dynamics. By
rejecting negotiations with major political parties like the PML-N
and PPP, the party has missed an opportunity for reconciliation,
putting its members in the National Assembly in a difficult

position. Additionally, Khan's decision to merge his party with an
Islamist group has prompted some lawmakers to reconsider their
support for the PTI chief.
It is unlikely that the state institutions, particularly the military,
will ease the pressure on Khan's party. This essentially means that
PTI-affiliated legislators may not be able to participate in
parliament without making compromises with the military
establishment. They could be required to stay silent and refrain
from participating in Khan’s agitation campaigns or efforts to
undermine the new government.
Moreover, key pillars of power in Pakistan, including the military,
bureaucracy, and overall state machinery, are inclined toward
supporting the elected civilian government and focusing on
governance amid economic challenges. This collective stance aims
to shield the government from political opposition and ensure
stability in addressing pressing national issues.
Given this context, it is probable that the new administration will
continue the financial reforms initiated by the caretaker
administration. Significant reforms are expected to be
implemented during the initial months of its tenure, indicating a
commitment to progress and development.
The new government is poised to receive substantial support from
key international stakeholders such as Saudi Arabia, China, the
United States, and the IMF to restore financial stability. This
backing will be crucial in navigating economic challenges
effectively.
Despite claims of election manipulation and fraud, no country has
demonstrated any desire to put pressure on Pakistani authorities to
help Khan's party or to reject the results of the election.
A Western diplomat in Islamabad, who spoke to The Diplomat on
condition of anonymity, said that Khan has gained a reputation for
being “unreliable and irrational.” In an indication of discomfort
with the PTI chief, this diplomat lamented that “Imran has
preferred to talk to Islamist groups but not political parties.” This
indicates that the incoming government may benefit from a more
favorable reputation among allies for maintaining stability and

fostering positive relationships with key partners.
Given sentiments in favor of financial stability in Pakistan, there is
increasing disinclination among the populace to engage in protest
movements or agitation in support of any political leader. Many
individuals have channeled their concerns through the electoral
process and want to move forward with their lives.
At present, no political party seems capable of sustaining a
prolonged agitation campaign in Pakistan. There is a general
disinterest in such activities among the public. Looking ahead, it
will be crucial for Khan and his allies to initiate dialogues with key
stakeholders to navigate the country's political landscape
successfully.
The government is expected to remain stable in the coming months
as these dynamics unfold. The long-term success of the new
administration, however, will hinge on how well it handles
financial issues and maintains relationships with important allies,
especially by persuading opposition leaders to start negotiations in
order to pave the way for reconciliation among political elites in
the country.
The Author
Umair Jamal is a correspondent for The Diplomat, based in Lahore, Pakistan.
Flickr, sanjitbakshi
UN Doha Conference on
Afghanistan Fails to Achieve
Key Goals
The Taliban’s refusal to participate – and those invited
to represent Afghanistan from other groups – sparked
much debate among Afghans.
By Freshta Jalalzai
A high-level conference on Afghanistan from February 18-19 failed

to achieve its primary objectives, leaving many participants
disappointed.
The two primary objectives of the Doha meeting were to delineate

a course for international engagement with Afghanistan and to
facilitate dialogue between the Taliban and the global community
on vital issues such as women’s rights, girls’ education, and the
eagerly awaited appointment of a United Nations Special
Representative for the nation.
Unfortunately, neither of these objectives was accomplished during
the two-day conference, which convened special envoys from over
25 countries and regional organizations.
U.N. Secretary General Antonio Guterres expressed the desire for
Afghanistan to achieve internal peace and foster peaceful relations
with its neighbors, while also fulfilling the commitments and
international obligations expected of a sovereign state. The
Taliban, however, refused to participate in the conference.
The Taliban's Ministry of Foreign Affairs issued a statement
reiterating their position as the sole official representative of
Afghanistan for engagements with the international community.
They stressed that meaningful and transparent dialogue could only
take place under their exclusive representation, implying that the
involvement of other parties would impede progress. The Taliban’s
decision, announced on the eve of the conference, also asserted,
“This government of Afghanistan cannot be coerced by anyone.”
For his part, Guterres said the Taliban set conditions for their
participation “that were not acceptable.” The U.N. secretary
general, speaking at the conclusion of the two-day meeting in
Qatar, stated that the Taliban had sent him a letter in which they
were seeking treatment equivalent to official recognition as
Afghanistan's legitimate rulers. The Taliban’s “conditions first of all
denied us the right to talk to other representatives of the Afghan
society and demanded a treatment that would, I would say, to a
large extent be similar to recognition,” Guterres said.
The U.N. had invited members of Afghanistan’s civil society,
including women’s groups, to participate in the conference.
Guterres refuted claims that the Taliban’s non-participation had
harmed the process. He emphasized the importance of discussing
the meeting's outcomes with the Taliban, stating, “It did not happen
today. It will happen in the near future. I think we will find a

solution to allow for the participation of the Taliban.”
Despite the head of the United Nations downplaying the Taliban’s
rejection of the conference, it is logical to recognize that the
Taliban regime effectively controls Afghanistan and decides the
fate of the millions of Afghans whom the U.N. seeks to reach out to
and assist.
Afghans, reflecting various perspectives across age groups, political
affiliations, and ethnic backgrounds, expressed mixed reactions to
the conference, as evident on social media. Many viewed the
Taliban’s non-participation as a significant setback. The Doha
meeting’s Afghan participants emerged as a major point of
contention in these discussions.
Obaidullah Baheer, a professor of transitional justice at the
American University of Afghanistan, voiced concerns on X
(formerly Twitter), stating, “As much as the Taliban's presence at
the UN meeting in Doha would've been useful, the invitation
extended to affiliates of an armed insurgency (NRF) and female
drug lords makes a mockery of the whole process. No need for
participation if the meeting is designed to platform spoilers.”
It is unconfirmed whether official representatives from the NRF, or
the National Resistance Front, were invited to the meeting.
However, Baheer’s tweet reflects the widespread frustration among
the Afghan population regarding the choices made by the
international community regarding representation in discussions
on the Afghan crisis.
The NRF is led by the son of the renowned Afghan militia
commander Ahmad Shah Massoud, who gained global recognition
for aiding the United States in combatting al-Qaida in Afghanistan,
and his assassination in 2001. However, Massoud also played a
significant role in a brutal civil war that claimed the lives of
thousands of Afghans, including women and children.
Consequently, references to the NRF inevitably stir up painful
memories and evoke the horrors of war among Afghan survivors.
Both former heads of state of the erstwhile Afghan Republic
maintained silence regarding the Doha conference. However,
several former Afghan government employees argued that the

Taliban’s decision not to participate was a political misstep, seeing
it as a missed opportunity to engage in discussions about
Afghanistan’s future with the international community.
On the other hand, amid frustration with Afghanistan’s current
political stalemate, widespread poverty, and near-global isolation,
many Afghans praised the Taliban’s refusal to attend, arguing that
the international community, especially the U.N., should recognize
Afghanistan's sovereignty and engage directly with the Afghan
people – including the Taliban – on the agenda that affects them.
Many Afghans expressed disappointment with the international
community for continuing to select former Afghan officials from
the fallen republic, which was globally recognized for its
corruption and ineffectiveness, as representatives and providing
them platforms.
These individuals are widely seen as primarily responsible for the
collapse of a government that the Afghan public staunchly
defended. Many of them are also accused of various crimes,
including promoting ethnic tensions, drug trafficking, widespread
corruption, warlordism, and extortion. Their portrayal as
representatives of Afghans has drawn parallels with the 2001 Bonn
Conference, largely regarded as a failed experiment where the
destiny of Afghans was placed in the hands of individuals
embroiled in a civil war that resulted in the loss of thousands of
lives and left millions in despair.
The Author
Freshta Jalalzai is an Afghan-American journalist who holds a degree from Columbia
University’s Graduate School of Journalism in New York.
Suleman Hashim
Public Trust in Ballot Box

Politics Could Weaken Further
in Balochistan
The poor performance of Baloch nationalist parties in
the recent elections is surprising, as is the victory of
candidates who were barely known in their
constituencies.
By Mariyam Suleman Anees
Like other provinces in Pakistan, Balochistan voted in elections to

the national and provincial assemblies on February 8. And like
them, it had to wait for over 48 hours before the final results were
announced.
As elsewhere in Pakistan, voter turnout in Balochistan was low.

However, the turnout in Balochistan, which was just 42 percent,
was lower than the nationwide turnout of 47 percent, as reported
by the Free and Fair Election Network (FAFEN). In the 2018
elections, 45 percent of registered voters exercised their franchise
in Balochistan.
Of the 51 seats in the Balochistan Assembly, the Pakistan People’s
Party (PPP) won 11 seats (21 percent), followed by the Pakistan
Muslim League Nawaz (PML-N) with 10 seats (19 percent), Jamiat
Ulama-e-Islam (JUI) with 11, independent candidates with six, the
Balochistan Awami Party (BAP) with four, and the National Party
with three. The newly formed Haq Do Tehreeq (HDT) and the
Balochistan National Party (BNP) won a single seat each.
Incidentally, in the 2018 elections, BAP, which was formed only a
few months before the polls, won 13 seats, and with the support of
independent candidates notched up a tally of 18 seats to form the
provincial government.
Polling in Balochistan was hit by violence. There were several
grenade attacks near polling stations in Gwadar district. Two
deadly bomb attacks in Pishin district, north of Quetta city, and
Qilla Saifullah near the offices of political parties, led to the deaths
of more than 30 people. Despite the deployment of as many as
700,000 security officials on election duties, the situation around
polling stations across the province was tense. Election violence is
not new in Balochistan. In previous elections too there were
attacks on candidates and their offices as well as on polling
stations.
The results of the recent elections have come as a surprise to many
in Balochistan. The parties that won the most seats were not
expected to do well, while the Baloch nationalist parties performed
poorly. The BNP, one of Balochistan’s largest political parties, won
only one seat in the provincial assembly and two seats in the
National Assembly.
According to the Election Commission of Pakistan, in NA-264,
Akhtar Mengal, the 61-year-old former chief minister of
Balochistan, was defeated by 25-year-old Siraj Raisani of the PPP.
Raisani was a caretaker provincial minister for sports and youth

affairs before he resigned in December 2023 to contest in the
elections. In fact, his nomination papers were rejected by the
Balochistan High Court (BHC) in January after the BNP filed an
appeal challenging his candidacy as he was not registered in any
constituency as a voter. But later the BHC allowed him to contest
elections. Rainsani’s victory against Mengal is thus hugely
controversial.
Several candidates who were declared winners are not known in
their constituencies. This was the case in NA-259 Kech-Gwadar,
where Malik Shah Gorgaij of the PPP won against the immensely
popular NP politician and former Balochistan Chief Minister Dr.
Abdul Malik and the HDT’s Hussain Wadela. Gorgaij’s son, Ubiad
Ullah, who contested and won in a Quetta provincial assembly
constituency, is hardly known there.
These and many other controversial wins have triggered
allegations of rigging and sparked widespread protests in the
province. Several political parties have held press conferences to
draw attention to the manipulation of elections in favor of the PPP
and PML-N. The NP’s General Secretary Jan Muhammad Buledi,
who lost the provincial assembly election from Kech, has appealed
against the election result, citing rigging concerns.
Unfortunately, election rigging is the norm in Pakistan. Elections
are held to project a facade of democracy, even as the outcome of
elections is strategically manipulated.
This has not only undermined the essence of the democratic
process but also increased public distrust of the electoral system.
Balochistan is an already restive and problematic province.
Alienation from the state is widespread. It is concerning when
those not even known to the people of their constituencies are
handpicked to represent them in the provincial and national
assemblies.
In the last 10 years, Balochistan has witnessed over 2,700
terrorism-related incidents. These have claimed the lives of over
5,000 people and left thousands more injured, according to the
South Asian Terrorist Portal.
In the months leading up to the end of 2023, Islamabad’s National

Press Club was the site of a powerful and prolonged sit-in. Around
300 people, predominantly women from Balochistan, participated
in the protests. They demanded justice for disappeared persons
and an end to extrajudicial killings in the province. In 2021, the
Haq Do Tehreeq emerged in the port city of Gwadar, advocating for
the social and political rights of the people. These powerful mass
protests and movements underscore the depth of anger and
alienation in the province.
The recent elections were an opportunity for the state to win back
the trust of the people of Balochistan. Letting locals decide who will
represent them in the legislature would have been a step in the
right direction. Instead, it seemed to have been pre-decided who
would sit in the assemblies. This will further weaken public trust in
the ballot box route to addressing their grievances.
The Author
Mariyam Suleman Anees is a development specialist and a freelance writer from
Gwadar.
Wikimedia Commons, Anton Croos
What a Tamil Language School

in Sri Lanka Tells Us About the
Reconciliation Process
Language is a critical part of the country’s moves
toward post-war reconciliation, especially when it
comes to grassroots efforts.
By Niru Perera
The Sri Lankan government’s recent announcement that it would

establish a much-delayed post-civil war reconciliation process in
the country has been met with skepticism from many Sri Lankans.
Even as this latest attempt at reconciliation is being assessed, some

Sri Lankans are finding their own ways to address the brutal
historic divisions through what is being described as "linguistic
reconciliation."
Language has played a critical role in Sri Lanka, starting long
before the civil war began in 1983. Immediately after
independence, a reckless policy to make Sinhala the sole official
language was implemented, negatively impacting the status of
other minority languages, especially Tamil.
The civil war ended in 2009, with the final stage of the conflict
marred by brutal killings of Tamil civilians. But when it comes to
truth and reconciliation processes, Sri Lanka has remained stuck.
With the economic and social crisis of 2022, issues of language
marginalization have fallen off the radar. Language is often treated
as a trivial concern, less important than health or economic
development. Yet, at the same time, the state’s powerful
encroachment on Tamil language and culture poses a huge threat
to peace.
In this climate of intense public distrust of the government’s
capacity to progress post-war reconciliation, it is often individuals
who step up to address the injustices of the past.
In 1983, Sabitha’s mother was traveling home in a van during the
anti-Tamil riots known as Black July. A mob of Sinhala nationalists
stopped the van and got on board, shaking bottles of kerosene and
ordering the driver to say the Sinhala word for “bucket.” Bucket
(baaldhyia in Sinhala) was a shibboleth during these times, an
innocuous word that, if pronounced with a Tamil accent, would
decide whether its speaker was subject to attack, or worse, death.
Almost 40 years later, after living through a childhood of hiding her
mother tongue and her Tamil identity, Sabitha began working as a
Tamil language teacher.
In that same year, Manel, a young Sinhala girl, was hiding her best
friend’s family in her house to protect them from Sinhala mobs
using electoral rolls to target Tamil properties. The Tamil family
ended up moving overseas for safety. Manel stopped speaking
Tamil altogether and only restarted learning the language nearly

40 years later.
In Sri Lanka, opening a school to teach Tamil as a second language
to adults is virtually unheard of. Yet, in 2019, this is precisely what
Amita Arudpragasam did when she established Learning Tamil.
Growing up, Amita had to work hard to improve her Tamil outside
of the education system and could not find suitable adult language
courses in Sri Lanka. This inspired her to start the school, which
has attracted more than 250 students and teachers like Sabitha and
Manel.
Students come from both sides of the so-called ethnic divide.
Growing up during the war, students and teachers at the school
were denied the right to learn and use Tamil. This had grave
consequences for many Sri Lankans including loss of mother
tongue and identity, inability to connect with Tamil people, and
limited access to Tamil literature, arts, media, and culture.
Tamil people were often unable to access public services in their
language as Sinhala chauvinism spread through society and
Sinhala language dominated in public forums. Tamil language
masses at local churches were canceled, as was the singing of the
national anthem in Tamil. It was common for Tamil families to
change the language used at home to English for fear of children
being harassed if they spoke Tamil in public.
As one Tamil teacher said, “I have this memory that, as we were
walking into school, we were speaking to each other in Tamil, but
as we got closer, we had a signal where I would squeeze her hand
and we’d switch to English.”
Reconciliation and linguistic justice are at the center of the Sinhala
students’ motivations to learn Tamil. As one student said, “I felt
that I had to learn the language because we just don’t give it the
prominence it deserves.”
Students working on rehabilitation projects in war-affected Tamil
regions of the country do not want to rely on interpreters and feel
it is important to speak Tamil themselves in order to build trust.
Some students have Tamil partners and want to be able to

communicate with their in-laws. “When we have a family, I want to
make sure we have Tamil and Sinhala language in it,” one student
explained.
Both Tamil and Sinhala members of the school share a vision of
linguistic equality and social inclusion for all groups in Sri Lanka.
These are signs that public support for progressing reconciliation
already exists. Regardless of what process the state introduces,
transitional justice is already happening on the ground.
The Author
Dr. Niru Perera is a sociolinguist and a research fellow at Curtin University in Australia.
She conducts research on language policy, language politics and linguistic justice for Sri
Lankan languages. Her book “Negotiating Linguistic and Religious Diversity: A Tamil Hindu
Temple in Australia” is out now from Routledge.
Associated Press, Sakchai Lalit
Thailand Braces for New Wave

of Myanmar Migration
The enforcement of a conscription law by the military
junta is forcing many Myanmar youth to look for an
escape plan.
By Sebastian Strangio
On February 19, Thailand’s Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin issued

a warning to any Myanmar nationals planning on entering the
country illegally to escape the military’s junta’s recent conscription
order.
“They are welcome if they enter the country legally,” Srettha told
reporters, according to the Bangkok Post. “But if they sneak into the
country illegally, legal action will be taken against them. I already

discussed the matter with security agencies.”
Srettha’s comments came nine days after Myanmar’s military
administration said that it would begin implementing the People’s
Military Service Law, which was passed by a previous military
administration in 2010 but has never been enforced. Under the law,
men aged 18-45 and women aged 18-35 can be drafted into the
armed forces for two years, a period extendable to five years
during national emergencies.
The military administration subsequently announced that it
planned to draft 60,000 young men and women for military service
each year, with call-ups to begin after the Thingyan new year
festival in April. The first intake will involve 5,000 draftees, mostly
men.
The activation of the law is a clear response to a series of
significant battlefield setbacks that the Myanmar military has
sustained over the previous four months. The biggest losses have
taken place in northern Shan State, where a coalition of armed
resistance groups launched a surprise offensive in late October,
seizing numerous towns and border crossings with China.
Meanwhile, the Arakan Army continues to make significant
inroads in Rakhine State, in Myanmar’s west.
Since the mandatory conscription announcement, tens of
thousands of young people have scrambled for ways to avoid
service – and understandably so, given the military’s history of
forcing civilians to serve as minesweepers and frontline porters.
While deferments and exemptions are available for students and
Buddhist monks, the majority of young people have two choices.
The first is to join one of the resistance groups or People’s Defense
Forces opposing the military’s rule. The second is to flee the
country entirely, worsening the significant brain drain that
Myanmar has experienced in the three years since the coup of
February 2021.
As The Irrawaddy reported, Myanmar expats have created
Facebook groups where young people are now able to inquire
about the cost of migration to foreign countries, and the job

prospects and academic opportunities that are available there.
For those who opt to leave the country, and lack the means and
connections to find sanctuary in the West, the most obvious
destination is Thailand. Thailand is more accessible from
Myanmar’s heartland regions than India and China, and has long
served as a sanctuary for those fleeing the country’s conflicts.
Sure enough, the number of Myanmar citizens applying for
passports and visas to enter Thailand has increased sharply since
mid-February, with thousands of people flocking to passport offices
across Myanmar and to the Thai embassy in Yangon to apply for
visas to enter Thailand. On February 19, two women were killed in
a pre-dawn stampede at a passport office in Mandalay, as several
thousand people attempted to squeeze into the line allowing them
to apply for travel documents.
According to a report of the incident in The Irrawaddy, the number
of passport applications has been limited to 2,500 a day in Yangon
and 200 a day in Mandalay, creating business opportunities for
“line sitters,” who stake out prime positions in the passport
application queue overnight and then offer to sell their places in
the line to applicants.
The Thai embassy has also been swamped by crowds, prompting it
to announce on its Facebook page that it is only accepting 400 visa
applications per day, effective February 15.
Just how many people will depart for Thailand remains hard to
calculate, and depends in large part on how zealously the
conscription law is enforced. But according to recent calculations
by Surachanee Sriyai, a visiting fellow at the ISEAS Yusof-Ishak
Institute in Singapore, if 5 percent of those eligible to be drafted
into the military choose to leave for Thailand, that would amount
to more than 336,000 people, in addition to the existing population
of displaced civilians living along the Thai-Myanmar border.
With the supply of visas likely to be restricted, many of those
unable to obtain proper documentation could well decide to go to
Thailand via informal channels. But while the country has long
been home to a population of an estimated 5 million migrant
workers from Myanmar, a sudden influx of undocumented arrivals

could create opportunities for predatory employers.
Htoo Chit, executive director of the southern Thailand-based
Foundation for Education and Development, told The Irrawaddy
that “there will be more labor rights violations when there are
more illegal migrant workers.”
In her article, Surachanee said that the large number of people
willing to pay hefty sums to secure passage out of Myanmar could
also create opportunities for human traffickers. (People smugglers
have played a similarly prominent role in ferrying Rohingya
refugees from Bangladesh and Myanmar to other parts of
Southeast Asia by sea, with sometimes deadly consequences.)
Surachanee argued that with its current migrant processing
channels already overburdened, the Thai government needs to
prepare for a likely wave of migrants in the months to come.
“Without proper preparation and clear guidelines, local
authorities, who find themselves overwhelmed by the movement
of people, may resort to the usual tactics via immigration measures
without regards to international human rights obligations,” she
wrote.
While Srettha’s government has pledged not to “interfere” in
Myanmar’s internal affairs, Thailand has never been immune from
the backwash from the country’s conflicts. Since the coup, however,
the Thai policy toward refugees from Myanmar has remained
mostly the same. Security forces have pushed some civilians back
over the border, and turned a blind eye to the presence of others.
There have also been reports that illegal migrants have been
arrested and deported.
Srettha’s comments give no indication that the Thai government is
set to shift its approach significantly – though it has a couple of
months to get things right before the full impact of Myanmar’s
disastrous conscription order is felt.
The Author
Sebastian Strangio is Southeast Asia Editor at The Diplomat.
Associated Press, Tatan Syuflana, File
Indonesian Election Shows

Advances In Deradicalization
Methods
A number of former members of the extremist group
Jemaah Islamiyah cast their votes in the 2024 election,
some for the first time.
By Aisyah Llewellyn
Indonesians went to the polls on February 14 to elect a new

president and vice president, with some 204 million of the
country’s 270 million population registered to vote.
Ahead of the election, which was the single largest one-day election
of its kind in the world, there had been some fears that polling
stations could be the targets of terrorist attacks, although these
fortunately proved to be unfounded.
Not only did terrorists fail to disrupt the “festival of democracy,” as
the election was dubbed across the country, but some former
members of hardline groups even went to the polls themselves to
cast their votes – some of them for the first time.
In East Java, convicted Bali bomber, 57-year-old Umar Patek, cast
his vote alongside his wife. Patek was convicted of mixing some of
the chemicals to make the bombs that killed 202 people in Bali in
2002 and injured another 200, and was sentenced to 20 years in
prison in 2011 before being released on parole in December 2022.
Patek proudly told The Diplomat that both he and his wife were
first-time voters in the election, which is not particularly
surprising. Jemaah Islamiyah (JI), the hardline Islamist group
behind the Bali bombing, has traditionally shunned and refused to
recognize the Indonesian state.
JI, which is classified as a terrorist organization in Indonesia, has
long followed an ideology that preaches the destruction of the
Indonesian state and the establishment of a caliphate in the world’s
most populous Muslim nation. The group regularly attacked police
stations and army posts during its heyday in the late 1990s and
early 2000s.
Any form of government organization or political apparatus,
including democratic elections, has long been outlawed for
members of JI, which makes Patek’s decision to vote (which is not
mandatory in Indonesia) even more interesting and perhaps
persuasive in terms of Indonesia’s strides in tackling radicalization

in recent years.
And Patek was not the only one to make his way to the ballot box.
In the city of Surakarta in Central Java, which is also known as
Solo, Abdul Rohim Bashir, the son of Abu Bakar Bashir, the so-called
“spiritual godfather” of JI, told The Diplomat that both men also
cast their votes, getting up early to get to the polls first thing in the
morning on February 14.
Abu Bakar Bashir, who co-founded JI with Abdullah Sungkar in
1993, was released from prison in 2021 after serving two-thirds of a
15-year prison sentence for terrorism-related charges that were not
linked to the Bali bombing. He also publicly threw his support
behind presidential candidate Anies Baswedan before the election
– something that would have been unthinkable 20 years ago.
When the Bali bombing took place, Indonesia did not have robust
anti-terrorism legislation, which was only drafted in 2003 and
applied retroactively. Similarly, it did not have deradicalization
programs across the country.
However, in the years that followed the Bali bombing, and in the
wake of other attacks such as the 2003 attack on the JW Marriott in
Jakarta that killed 11 people, the Indonesian authorities worked
with other countries, including Australia and the United States, to
create deradicalization programs for those convicted of terrorism-
related offenses. These programs have widely been praised for
being largely successful and for significantly reducing attacks
across Indonesia.
While the “success” of deradicalization efforts can be difficult to
measure, the last JI attack was in 2011 when a police station in
Cirebon was bombed, with the suicide bomber being the only
casualty. The Indonesian authorities do appear to have snuffed out
the large scale attacks of the 2000s.
In Jakarta, Ali Imron, who was sentenced to life in prison for his
role in orchestrating the 2002 Bali bombing, told The Diplomat that
he had planned to vote for presidential candidate Ganjar Pranowo.
He said that he had participated in voting in previous presidential
elections from prison, where he is incarcerated at the Greater

Jakarta Metropolitan Police Headquarters.
This year, however, Imron said that he had been unable to cast his
vote due to a shortage of ballot papers.
Far from the days when he would have refused to participate in
such a nationalistic spectacle, Imron expressed some frustration
regarding the situation, saying that he had been looking forward to
voting.
Rather than refusing to participate in civil society, it seems that
some of the most senior members of JI are embracing their rights
and reintegrating into society, one of the cornerstones of
Indonesia’s deradicalization programs. The programs also stipulate
other activities in order to receive remission time such as attending
flag-raising ceremonies for Indonesia’s national day on August 17
and swearing an oath to the Indonesian state.
Whether the Indonesian authorities have managed to completely
rid the country of terrorist cells is a separate matter for debate, but
the lack of attacks on the election and the flurry of former JI
members eager to turn up at the polling stations suggests that
government efforts have at least managed to change some of the
preconceived notions held by once radical extremists.
To many people, turning up at a polling station to exercise one’s
right to vote mostly evokes feelings of democratic freedom, but to
others, it comes laden with deep and radical connotations of state
control.
If framed as part of the work of deradicalization, of which
Indonesia has always been at the forefront, former terrorists
happily handing in their ballot papers is not to be underestimated.
The Author
Aisyah Llewellyn is a British writer based in Medan, Indonesia, and a columnist for The
Diplomat.
Depositphotos
What Thaksin Shinawatra’s

Parole Says About Thai Politics
The detained former PM’s persecution and
rehabilitation have both reflected the use of the
country’s administrative and legal system for political
ends.
By Sebastian Strangio
On February 13, Thailand’s jailed former Prime Minister Thaksin

Shinawatra was granted parole, as anticipated, paving the way for
his release on February 18.
The announcement was made by Justice Minister Tawee Sodsong
ahead of a weekly Cabinet meeting in Bangkok, according to The
Associated Press. Tawee said that the 74-year-old Thaksin, who last
year returned from more than a decade of self-imposed exile,
qualified for early release because he was in the eligible category
of inmates who have serious illnesses, are disabled, or are aged
over 70.
Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin, who hails from the Thaksinite
Pheu Thai Party, confirmed the news in comments to reporters
after the cabinet meeting. He said that the pardon had been
granted in accordance with regulations.
“Once released, he [Thaksin] will just be a normal citizen. What’s in
the past is in the past. Everything went according to the law,” he
said. Srettha added, “I believe that Thaksin can give good advice to
his daughter to serve the country.”
Thaksin’s parole represents a watershed in Thai politics. By sealing
the former leader’s rehabilitation, it effectively draws a line under
a two-decade-long political war between Thailand’s conservative
establishment, clustered around the monarchy and the Royal Thai
Army, and the populist political machine created by Thaksin after
the Asian financial crisis of 1997-98, which was seen to pose a
threat to this establishment.
After being elected twice by considerable margins, in 2001 and
2005, Thaksin was ousted in a military coup in 2006 and left
Thailand for good two years later to avoid facing prison on
corruption charges that he claims were politically motivated. Even
then, many royalists began to view Thaksin as a sort of black hand,
directing events in Thailand from his plush exile in Dubai.
Fortified by an army of “red shirt” supporters from rural parts of
the north and northeast, Thaksin-aligned parties went on to win a
string of elections, prompting the establishment to undertake a
series of increasingly ludicrous maneuvers, from economically
paralyzing anti-Thaksin protests to ludicrous legal rulings, to
remove these governments from power. In 2014, the military lost
patience and resorted to another coup, this time removing
Thaksin’s sister Yingluck from power.
The beginning of the end came at last year’s general election, when
a Thaksin-aligned party failed to win a plurality of voters for the
first time since 2001. The Pheu Thai Party, led by Thaksin’s
daughter Paetongtarn, was bested by the Move Forward Party
(MFP), which promised an ambitious progressive platform that
pledged to break up powerful monopolies, end military
conscription, and – to royalists’ shock and horror – amend the
country’s severe royal defamation law.
When the military-appointed Senate closed ranks to block the MFP
from forming the government, Pheu Thai stepped into the breach,
forming a coalition under Srettha Thavisin, which included several
conservative and military-backed parties long known for their
zealous opposition to Thaksin.
While the coalition was in many senses a marriage of convenience
– with the MFP cast back into opposition, Pheu Thai could not form
a government in any other way – its formation also appears to have
cemented a new elite pact. With the MFP now the locus of
opposition to established power, Pheu Thai had come to be seen
less as a threat than as a bulwark against the MFP’s more radical
demands. This pact created the political conditions for Thaksin’s
return from self-exile and rapid rehabilitation.
The billionaire former leader touched down in Bangkok on August
22 and was taken into custody to begin serving his eight-year
prison sentence. Almost immediately, he was transferred to a
police hospital after complaining of a variety of health complaints,
including chest tightness and high blood pressure. The following
month, his sentence was reduced to one year by a royal pardon.
After the parole announcement, he was released in to the luxuriant
expanses of his family’s Bangkok mansion.
There may be additional skirmishes yet to come – a lese-majeste
charge from 2016 is still hanging over Thaksin’s head – but it is
clear that a truce has been called and a new defensive line
established.
To be sure, it may take Thai politics some time to catch up to such a
sudden recalibration of alliances. Thaksin’s parole has been
opposed by figures on both sides of the Thai political spectrum:
both royalist conservatives, who have struggled to accept the
rehabilitation of a leader that they opposed for so many years, and
progressives, who have complained about unequal treatment for

the wealthy former leader. Opponents of the decision have
promised to hold additional protests against the Justice
Department’s decision.
Above all, the parole decision points to the ongoing politicization of
the Thai legal and administrative system, and extends its long
series of interventions into Thai politics on the side of elite
interests.
That politically motivated charges should be quashed by political
means is in some ways to be expected – and better, perhaps, than
such charges being allowed to stand. But the fact that Thaksin has
not spent a single night in prison, and that the charges against him,
once the subject of such passionate conservative focus, have been
so effortlessly rescinded, only underlines a fact that every
politically aware Thai person understands: There is one set of rules
for Thailand’s wealthy and powerful, and another for everyone
else.
The Author
Sebastian Strangio is Southeast Asia Editor at The Diplomat.
Pool Photo via Associated Press, Mohd Rasfan
What Malaysia’s New King

Means For the Country’s
Monarchy
In recent years, the ceremonial monarchs have been
taking a more active role in the country’s political life.
By Prem Singh Gill
On January 30, Malaysian politics witnessed a significant event

with the ascension of Sultan Ibrahim Sultan Iskandar to the throne
under the nation's unique rotational monarchy. This transition has
stirred both curiosity and concern, particularly regarding the
intersection of wealth and power, as the 65-year-old sultan from
Johor State is one of Malaysia’s richest men, has been politically
outspoken, and has not shied away from criticizing perceived

misconduct among the country’s politicians. The question on many
minds is how Sultan Ibrahim's substantial financial interests will
shape his kingship, and what implications this holds for the
monarchy's evolving influence on the country's political landscape
and society.
Traditionally viewed as a ceremonial position with limited powers,
the Malaysian monarchy has departed from this perception in
recent years. Monarchs such as Sultan Abdullah of Pahang, who sat
on the throne from 2019 to 2024, and now Sultan Ibrahim Iskandar,
have exerted considerable influence over the formation of recent
governments, which may go beyond what was traditionally
perceived as their ceremonial role.
Sultan Ibrahim’s vast fortune, derived from business ventures
spanning real estate, mining, and a joint venture with a Chinese
property developer for the ambitious Forest City project in Johor
Bahru, raises questions about the potential interplay between
personal interests and royal responsibilities. His possession of a
private army adds complexity to the traditionally symbolic role of
custodianship of Islam in this Muslim-majority nation.
Unlike many of his predecessors, Sultan Ibrahim has also been
vocal about political matters and has a close relationship with
Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim. His advocacy for the establishment
of a special economic zone between Johor and Singapore, which
the two nations agreed to in January, further underscores his
engagement with broader political and economic issues. This active
involvement in political and economic policymaking, coupled with
his substantial financial interests, raises questions about the extent
and nature of his influence on the nation's political landscape.
As the Yang di-Pertuan Agong, to give the king his official title,
Sultan Ibrahim's role is primarily ceremonial, with authority
defined by the federal constitution. As the new monarch begins his
five-year term, the central concern is how his financial interests
will align with his responsibilities as king. Will his wealth serve as
a tool for positive change, funding initiatives for the betterment of
the nation, or will it become a source of potential conflicts of
interest? The intricacies of his business ventures, including the

stalled Forest City project, prompt scrutiny into the king’s
involvement in large-scale economic developments and the
potential implications for local communities and the environment.
In addition to his economic pursuits, Sultan Ibrahim has also
expressed a desire to help stabilize Malaysian politics after a
period of unusual political flux, in which Malaysia has had four
prime ministers since 2018. The Malaysian constitution delineates
specific powers for the monarch, requiring adherence to the advice
of the prime minister and cabinet, but recent years have seen an
increased level of intervention by the monarch to address
Malaysia's political instability and foster a more cohesive political
environment.
The outgoing Sultan Abdullah, for instance, actively intervened in
Anwar’s appointment during the country’s recent spell of political
instability, ensuring the formation of a government capable of
addressing the nation's challenges. He also engaged in post-election
negotiations and publicly denounced politicians for their self-
interested behavior.
Sultan Ibrahim has given every indication that he plans to continue
along these lines, something that his predecessor has encouraged.
Prior to stepping down, Sultan Abdullah expressed hopes that
Malaysia will see a full-term government under the Anwar
administration and accused several opposition and ruling bloc
figures of trying to undermine his government. “Foreign investors
want to see a country that's stable, that they can invest in and
maximize their returns on quickly. If we are always changing
governments… this will cause delays,” he said. "We need to remain
competitive otherwise we will be left behind… we cannot afford to
have an unstable government."
The king’s power to pardon convicted individuals further
complicates the landscape. The controversial pardon of Anwar in
2018 by Sultan Muhammad V of Kelantan prompted contemplation
about the monarch's role in the judicial process and the potential
for the abuse of this power for political purposes. Such accusations
have also dogged the recent granting of a pardon to former Prime
Minister Najib Razak, currently in prison for his involvement in the

1MDB corruption scandal. This halved his prison sentence from 12
to six years and sharply reduced his fine. This decision was
announced after the Board's meeting on January 29, in one of
Sultan Abdullah’s final acts before stepping down.
The broader implications extend beyond the corridors of power to
societal dynamics and perceptions of the monarchy. Does the king’s
growing involvement in politics and economics compromise the
neutrality and apolitical nature traditionally associated with
constitutional monarchies?
The fragile equilibrium between the evolving responsibilities of the
monarchy and its commitment to constitutional principles is in
jeopardy.
In a nutshell, the ascendancy of Sultan Ibrahim Sultan Iskandar to
the throne could mark a pivotal moment in the evolution of
Malaysia's monarchy. As Sultan Ibrahim begins his reign, the
delicate equilibrium between traditional customs and the needs of
contemporary governance, ceremonial obligations, and domestic
politics will shape the monarchy's position within Malaysia's ever-
changing socio-political environment. The nation watches with
anticipation, questioning how the billionaire king will wield his
influence and what this signifies for the future of Malaysia.
The Author
Prem Singh Gill is a visiting scholar at Universitas Muhammadiyah Yogyakarta,
Indonesia, and a scholar in Thailand.
Depositphotos
Why Vietnam Cannot Copy the

Philippines’ China Policy
The country’s awkward geographic position with
China militates against it adopting a strong pro-U.S.
orientation.
By Khang Vu
Recent tensions between China and the Philippines over the South
China Sea, especially the Chinese blockade of the Philippines-
controlled Second Thomas Shoal, have alerted all countries with a
stake in the regional disputes to the risk of a possible crisis
involving China and its maritime neighbors. To counteract its
weakening position at sea vis-à-vis China and Chinese bullying, the
Philippines has looked to strengthen its alliance with the United

States, which includes securing a pledge from Washington to treat
any Chinese attacks against Philippine vessels or aircraft as attacks
against the Philippine homeland under the 1951 U.S.-Philippine
Mutual Defense Treaty, an increase in U.S. naval presence in
Philippine ports, and most recently, the initiation of Philippine-U.S.
joint naval patrols. Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s
hardline policy toward China represents a reversal of his
predecessor Rodrigo Duterte’s China-friendly policy, reflecting
Manila’s perception that its friendlier policy toward China had
failed to stop the bullying.
Like the Philippines, Vietnam is also a target of Chinese bullying in
the South China Sea. However, Vietnam has adopted a completely
different approach to counteract China. While Hanoi is now open
to upgrading its defense cooperation with the United States, as seen
in the visits of the USS Ronald Reagan aircraft carrier to Danang
last June and U.S. President Joe Biden to Hanoi in September, the
Vietnamese government has stuck firm to its “Four Nos”
nonaligned foreign policy.
Chinese President Xi Jinping’s visit to Hanoi in December drives
home the point that Vietnam puts its relationship with China above
that with the U.S., despite the upgrade of U.S.-Vietnam ties during
Biden’s visit to a comprehensive strategic partnership. Vietnam
continues to condemn Chinese bullying at sea while quietly
expanding its maritime claims, but its policy is to not let the
maritime disputes damage the upward trajectory of China-Vietnam
relations.
It is not surprising that Vietnam’s approach has received criticism
in the past, because Hanoi, unlike Manila, does not look to establish
alliances with outside countries, such as the U.S., to restrain
Chinese maritime activities. Vietnam also cannot depend on its
traditional partnership with Russia at a time when Moscow is
increasingly dependent on China because of the war in Ukraine.
Marcos’ visit to Hanoi in January, which saw the two sides pledge
to strengthen Philippine-Vietnam maritime cooperation, did not
receive much fanfare in Vietnam. The pitfall of such a neutral
policy is that Vietnam will be on its own in the event of Chinese
bullying. Critics of Hanoi’s current China policy suggest, therefore,

that Vietnam should learn from the recent reversal in the
Philippines’ policy.
Comparisons between the approaches of Vietnam and the
Philippines ignore one fundamental difference over their
respective geopolitical position. The Philippines is an island
country with no land border with China, and thus it does not have
to worry about a Chinese land invasion. Vietnam is not as lucky.
Hanoi is the only South China Sea claimant to share a land border
with China and has been a victim of Chinese bullying by land in the
past, in addition to bullying at sea. Throughout the 1980s, China
launched skirmishes along the China-Vietnam land border, and in
1988, it attacked and occupied Vietnam-controlled Johnson South
Reef.
For China, coercing Vietnam can be a multi-domain undertaking.
What this difference suggests is that Vietnam’s margin for error in
its China policy is much smaller than those of its Southeast Asian
neighbors having disputes with China. What the Philippines can do
vis-à-vis China, Vietnam cannot do.
Vietnam’s dilemma is unique: while it must protect its maritime
claims against Chinese assertiveness at sea, it cannot let the
maritime disputes come onshore and destabilize the 1,400-
kilometer-long China-Vietnam land border. Vietnam’s dilemma vis-
à-vis China has translated into two key tenets of Vietnam’s China
policy, which include both assurances to China that it will not hurt
Chinese national interests in the continental sphere and deterrence
against China to prepare for Chinese bullying in the maritime
sphere.
Vietnam’s conscious attempt to confine and isolate its maritime
disputes with China explains why one of Hanoi’s “Four Nos” is to
not let any foreign militaries establish bases on Vietnamese soil,
which would allow those militaries to come onshore in violation of
China’s sphere of influence in continental Asia. Vietnam welcomes
the presence of foreign navies in the South China Sea to restrain
Chinese bullying, but it will not allow those navies to establish a
permanent foothold on the mainland. In a general sense, thanks to
its neutrality, Vietnam prevents China from seeing Vietnam

through the lens of China’s relations with other extraregional
powers and avoids being a victim of great power rivalry.
Importantly, by confining the maritime disputes offshore, Vietnam
can prevent any tensions at sea, such as the 2014 oil rig crisis, from
escalating beyond a potential China-Vietnam naval clash. Any
outcomes of such a clash must not hurt Vietnam’s security on land
because Vietnam’s South China Sea islands are not important to the
country’s survival. So far, China and Vietnam seem to be
cooperating over the confinement of maritime disputes, as both
countries want to maintain a peaceful land border as seen in
Communist Party of Vietnam General Secretary Nguyen Phu
Trong’s and Chinese Ambassador to Vietnam Xiong Bo’s visit to the
Huu Nghi (Friendship) International Border Gate in Lang Son last
August. Unlike the maritime border, both Vietnam and China agree
under the 1999 Treaty of Land Border that they have no disputes
over the land border.
Such confinement of maritime disputes also explains why China
has not criticized Vietnamese activities aimed at asserting its
maritime claims as harshly as it has criticized the Philippines. Like
Vietnam, China benefits from the confinement of the maritime
disputes with Vietnam to the maritime sphere because China does
not want to create troubles along its southern border that could
give Vietnam the pretext to allow extraregional powers to establish
military bases on Vietnamese soil.
Calling for Vietnam to adopt the Philippines’ China policy would
unravel Hanoi’s clear distinction between a continental security
policy and a maritime security policy vis-à-vis China. The
Philippines, on the other hand, only needs to have a maritime
security policy. And even such a policy is not without its risks. By
allowing the U.S. to expand its naval presence in the Philippines,
Manila could come under pressure to contribute to the U.S. efforts
to defend Taiwan if China attacks. Since its costly occupation of
Cambodia in the 1980s, Vietnam has had a policy of not officially
sending troops abroad, and allowing any extraregional power to
establish bases on its soil or islands would significantly increase
Vietnam’s entrapment risks and create differences over issues on
which Vietnam and China have already established a consensus,

such as the “separation” of Taiwan from China.
Vietnam’s differentiation between the continental and the
maritime sphere in its policies vis-à-vis China, with the former
driving the latter, demonstrates that it values its security on land
more than at sea. Preventing Chinese coercion on land will remain
the bedrock of Vietnam’s post-Cold War foreign policy to avoid the
repetition of the disastrous 1979 China-Vietnam border war.
The Author
Khang Vu is a doctoral candidate in the Political Science Department at Boston College.
Associated Press, Aijaz Rahi
Tajikistan’s Wildest Football

Dreams
Although Dushanbe’s spectacular shot at the Asian
Cup was cut short, Tajikistan has its eyes on the World
Cup.
By Catherine Putz
There was a brief moment last month when Central Asia’s wildest
football dreams – an Asian Cup game between Tajikistan and
Uzbekistan, essentially guaranteeing the region its first cup –
existed in the realm of possibility. That dream imploded with
Tajikistan’s loss to Jordan on February 2 and Uzbekistan’s loss to
Qatar in the penalty round after a 1-1 draw the next day.
The quarterfinal loses, however, won’t erase the moment of pan-
Central Asian joy that was evident in the stadium during the
January 28 Round of 16 game when Tajikistan, whose national
team is referred to as the Lions, ousted the UAE in penalties and
punched its first-ever ticket to the quarterfinals. The team
celebrated before a mixed Tajik and Uzbek crowd, vastly
outnumbered by Qataris at the Ahmad Bin Ali Stadium in Al-
Rayyan, west of the capital, Doha. They were raucous in their joy.
Journalist and football fan Chris Rickleton reported on the game
for RFE/RL, recounting the gripping final moments:
Cue five perfect Tajik penalty kicks and one U.A.E. penalty saved by
the Tajik goalkeeper. Cue bedlam. Cue Tajik players piling on top
of each other and getting down on their haunches and yelling like
men possessed.
Cue [Tajikistan’s head coach Petar] Segrt leading a chorus of
"Tojikiston, ba pesh!" (Go forward, Tajikistan!) in front of the
Central Asian country's supporters – vastly outnumbered by glum-
faced Arabs but notably backed up by fans from Tajikistan's larger
neighbor Uzbekistan, which is also doing well in the tournament.
As Rickleton went on to point out, “Go forward, Tajikistan!” is a

phrase made famous by President Emomali Rahmon, and one that
echoes at most national sports games. Indeed, it’s impossible to
separate the sport from the state.
The president of Tajikistan’s football federation is none other than
36-year-old Rustam Emomali, the president’s son. He holds other
notable positions, including as chairman of the National Assembly
of Tajikistan and mayor of Dushanbe but football has been a
lifelong passion.
In 2007, Rustam co-founded the Dushanbe-based football club
Istiklol and played on the team as a striker while also, naturally,
serving as the club's captain. The team dominates on the national
circuit, shadowed by rumors of preferential refereeing and
selective punishment targeting teams that happened to beat FC
Istiklol. In one memorable instance in 2012, FC Ravshan Kulob beat
FC Istiklol. Immediately after, according to RFE/RL’s reporting at the
time, FC Istiqlol’s head coach accused the FC Ravshan team of
playing in a “very rude and mean” manner. Tajikistan’s football
federation acted quickly, imposing sanctions on five FC Ravshan
players.
The events, and accusations of favoritism, followed in the wake of a
June 2011 snafu in which FC Ravshan fans rioted after a loss to FC
Istiklol, complaining about the referees. At the time, 24-year-old
Rustam had just taken up the football federation’s presidency.
In recent years, Rickleton reports, Tajikistan’s football federation’s
work “has been guided by a program called Orzu 2026 (Dream
2026), which aims to get Tajikistan qualified for a World Cup.”
That journey begins soon. As the Asian Cup wrapped up in
February 2024, in March the Tajik Lions will play two matches
against Saudi Arabia as part of the 2026 World Cup qualification
process. Although Tajikistan entered its first World Cup qualifying
tournament in 1998, Dushanbe has never actually qualified for a
World Cup. That said, the Tajik national team either did not enter
or did not quality for any Asian Cup until 2023. And an expansion
of the field of qualifying teams – from 32 to 48 – starting with the
2026 World Cup will open the doors for more teams than ever to
punch their ticket to the ultimate football tournament. So
Tajikistan’s dream is very much alive.
Rustam is widely understood to be waiting in the wings to take
over the country’s presidency when his father, who has led
Tajikistan since 1994, deigns the moment ripe to step down.
Tajikistan is not due for a presidential election until 2027. Of
course, 72-year-old Rahmon may decide to step down early and a
World Cup appearance would make a nice backdrop for Rustam to
ascend to the presidency, wouldn’t it?
The Author
Depositphotos
Can Kazakhstan Stay the

Course on Economic Reform?
As Astana moves from crisis management to long-
term planning mode, the challenge will be whether
the government can stick to its economic reform
plans.
By Bryn Windsor
Last month, Kazakhstan’s President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev

reshuffled his government. Besides new Prime Minister Olzhas
Bektenov, notable appointments included Finance Minister Madi
Takiyev, and National Economy Minister Nurlan Baybazarov. The
fresh faces in the economic bloc come as Tokayev pledges to pursue
a new economic course, including promises to reduce the state’s

outsized role in the economy, boost local production, and create a
more efficient, market-led environment.
Tokayev’s economic reform agenda has already begun to take
shape this year with a string of new policies rolled out in recent
months, including plans to lift state subsidies on gas, utilities, and
some food products, develop new infrastructure, and introduce a
new, more efficient Tax Code. Last month, Kazakhstan’s national
airline, Air Astana, listed on the London Stock Exchange, ending an
almost decade-long “will it, won’t it” tale since the government first
mooted floating its flagship carrier in 2016.
Astana’s motivation to reform the economy is clear. Last year,
bulging state spending and a lower-than-expected tax take meant
Kazakhstan registered a budget deficit of $6.2 billion, or 3.7 percent
of GDP, on par with the deficit reported in 2020 at the height of
COVID-19 pandemic. While the economy has expanded in recent
years, performance has been lackluster compared to the heady
growth days of the early 2000s. Once a darling of foreign oil and
gas investors, Kazakhstan has long since failed to get any major
new projects off the ground. In 2023, the long-awaited expansion of
the Tengiz oil field, the Tengiz Future Growth Project, was delayed
again, prompting the IMF to downgrade its forecast for Kazakh
GDP growth in 2024 from 4.2 to 3.1 percent.
In many ways, the failures of Tokayev’s administration to get the
economy moving in recent years can be put down to unfavorable
political circumstances. The dust of the widespread protests that
rocked Kazakhstan in January 2022 is only just beginning to settle,
and Tokayev has been busy overseeing a lustration of sorts,
pushing out loyalists of former President Nursultan Nazarbayev in
favor of a new political and economic elite. Moreover, Russia’s war
in Ukraine has presented a serious threat to Kazakhstan’s economic
stability. Roughly 80 percent of Kazakh crude exports pass through
Russian territory via the Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC) –
which, already interrupted on dubious political grounds in 2022,
has its terminal just west of Russia’s Novorossiysk port,
unnervingly close to Ukrainian forays against Russian warships in
the area in recent months.
Nevertheless, with the domestic political tensions that followed the

January 2022 protests largely subsiding and the understanding that
the war between Russia and Ukraine is here to stay, Tokayev
appears to be refocusing his attention on economic reform.
Tokayev’s State of the Nation address in September last year was
devoted solely to economic policy and laid out prudent measures to
decrease the state’s share in the economy and boost growth. These
included convincing banks to lend more to the private sector,
streamlining ministries, and maximizing Kazakhstan’s potential in
promising sectors, such as renewables.
All of these are broadly sensible policies; the proof will be in the
pudding. None of the measures set out by Tokayev are new, and
Kazakhstan has often tried and failed to implement them in the
past. Kazakhstan’s failure to stay the course is often due to the
adverse short-term consequences that such reforms entail. Lifting
subsidies increases living costs for the population, and reducing
the state’s share in the economy pushes up unemployment – factors
that foster public dissatisfaction and prompt the government to
backtrack on reforms. For example, it was the state’s efforts to lift
price caps on LPG that provided the catalyst for the January 2022
protests in the first place – price controls that were quickly
reinstated as the unrest grew.
As the immediate fallout of the domestic and geopolitical
turbulence of the last two years abates, the Tokayev administration
is finally able to move out of crisis management mode and return
to its economic agenda. While the direction of travel is positive, the
real challenge will be seeing the reforms through. A tight
socioeconomic climate and risk of public protest could easily see
the government backtrack and much-needed reforms fall by the
wayside.
The Author
Bryn Windsor is a senior Eurasia analyst at PRISM Political Risk Management,
specializing in Central Asian political and economic affairs.
Depositphotos
Smugglers and Scammers Make

Wild Promises to Uzbeks
Desperate to Reach US
Uzbek citizens interested in getting to the United
States are confronted with a confusing miasma of
regulations, made all the more murky by
disinformation and scammers.
By Catherine Putz
Late last year, the U.S. government “facilitated the removal of

Uzbekistani citizens who unlawfully entered the United States.”
Uzbekistan’s Agency for External Labor Migration reported that
119 Uzbek citizens, most of whom had crossed illegally into the U.S.
from Mexico, had been returned to Tashkent.
Earlier, in October, Fox News reported on leaked U.S. Customs and
Border Protection (CBP) data for October 2021 to October 2023,
which noted that agents had encountered 13,624 people attempting
to cross into the U.S. illegally from Uzbekistan. The data, Fox
reported, did not include information “on how many of those
migrants were removed or who were released into the U.S. with a
court date.”
But the following month, the U.S. Department of Homeland
Security informed the State Department that Uzbek nationals
caught trying to enter the United States via Mexico illegally would
not be released into the U.S. but detained, pending the conclusion
of their immigration cases. At the time, in announcing the change
the U.S. embassy in Tashkent also noted that those caught illegally
crossing the U.S. border would be banned from legal re-entry for at
least five years, and those who help individuals migrate illegally
could be permanently ineligible for a U.S. visa.
Nevertheless, the draw of the United States persists.
In October 2023, law enforcement in Samarkand were contacted by
a 22-year-old man who reported that a man going by the name
“Damir” had promised to help him get to Mexico on a charter
flight. The two men had met in a “USA Mexico reviews” Telegram
group. After accepting $10,000, “Damir” vanished with the money.
Police later identified “Damir” as a 26-year-old Samarkand resident
and filed fraud charges against him.
In January, law enforcement in Samarkand region detained a man
who promised another he could send him to the U.S. via Turkey,
Qatar, and Mexico, for $18,000.
Then, in early February, a joint raid carried out by the State

Security Service and the Ministry of Internal Affairs in Andijan
detained “fraudsters” who had promised to send other Uzbek
citizens to the United States via Mexico. One man was detained
after receiving $15,000. Another citizen was detained receiving for
$6,000 from the first man.
“Illegal migration via the U.S.-Mexico Border to the United States is
dangerous and expensive,” the U.S. embassy in Tashkent warned in
December. “We strongly condemn the actions and caution Uzbeks
not to fall prey to the lies of criminal smugglers who regard
persons as commodities.”
Current Time, citing reporting by RFE/RL’s Uzbek Service, Radio
Ozodlik, observed that while the migration of Central Asians to the
U.S. via Mexico started about five years ago, the numbers have
radically increased. “Now the issue of illegal entry into America
through Mexico is openly discussed in dozens of Telegram
channels.”
The report noted a pattern: fantastic stories of successful migrants
who took the path through Mexico and are now living large in the
United States would inspire others to seek out the same route. “In
one of these channels, Ozodlik’s journalists were given a 100%
guarantee that for $19,000 they would be sent through Mexico to
the United States.”
Uzbek citizens interested in getting to the United States are
confronted with a confusing miasma of regulations, made all the
more murky by disinformation and scammers. With legal
pathways, such as the “green card lottery,” little more than a
random gamble, illegal options are attractive. But the risks just
proliferate: How can one tell the difference between a real people
smuggler and a scam artist just making promises on the internet?
Sometimes the smuggler is real and has prior connections to
terrorist groups like the Islamic State that draw even greater
attention and concern. Sometimes it’s just a guy with a Telegram
handle making wild promises. When dealing with shades of the
illegal, everything starts to look gray.
It’s clear that both Washington and Tashkent view this as a serious
problem. “Uzbekistan’s partnership to facilitate the return of its
nationals subject to removal from the United States shows its
commitment to international obligations,” the U.S. embassy stated.
The Author
Associated Press, Emrah Gurel
Fratricidal Jihad: Assessing the

Central Asian ISKP Attacks on
Turkey
Due to linguistic, religious, and cultural

commonalities, members of the Islamic State and al-
Qaida from Central Asia can often bypass security
filters in the wider Turkic world.
By Uran Botobekov
Although Turkey regards the post-Soviet countries of Central Asia

as its strategic allies, viewing them as “brothers with common
historical, linguistic, and cultural ties,” and confidently assumes the
role of a “big brother” (Büyük Abi) to politically and economically
integrate the vast Turkic world, it has paradoxically encountered
security threats from Central Asian Salafi-Jihadi groups affiliated
with the Islamic State (IS) and al-Qaida over the past decade.
Beyond Borders: Tajik ISKP's Calculated Strike on a Catholic
Church in Istanbul
The January 28 assault targeting an Italian church in Istanbul's
Sariyer district during Sunday worship deeply unsettled Turkey.
President Recep Tayyip Erdogan personally reached out to the
church's priest, Rev. Anton Bulai, to convey his condolences and
express support for the country's Christian community.
In the aftermath, the Islamic State, through its official Amaq News
Agency, claimed responsibility for the attack, which resulted in the
death of one congregant and the injury of another. The group
stated that the attack was perpetrated as part of their new global
campaign titled “And Kill Them Wherever You Find Them,” which
specifically targets Jews, “Crusaders,” and their perceived criminal
allies, in response to Israeli military actions in Gaza, according to
the Amaq News Agency. The attack was carried out by two Islamic
State Khorasan Province (ISKP) members.
Turkey’s National Intelligence Organization (Milli İstihbarat
Teşkilatı, MIT) swiftly apprehended two perpetrators allegedly
responsible for the terrorist attack, naming them as Amirjon
Kholikov from Tajikistan and David Tanduev from the North
Caucasus in Russia, along with 34 suspected accomplices. The
individuals are under investigation for alleged charges of
“membership of the ISKP terror organization” and “premeditated

murder.”
The incident once again highlights how, due to linguistic, religious,
and cultural commonalities, members of the Islamic State and al-
Qaida from the Central Asian republics can often bypass security
filters in the wider Turkic world. They can legally reside and work
in Turkey, successfully infiltrating the local society. They patiently
await commands from their emirs to carry out lone-wolf terrorist
attacks, adeptly navigating security measures. According to MIT,
Tajik ISKP member Kholikov had a residence and work permit in
Istabul’s Basaksehir, which is a favorite haven for Uzbek, Tajik, and
Turkmen migrants. Kholikov reportedly kept his residence permit
inside a Quran, the holy book for Muslims.
One of the detained suspects, identified as Alisher Ugli Mirzoev and
appearing to be of Uzbek nationality based on his name, attempted
to organize weapons training for Islamic State members on a farm
in Istanbul. He planned to send them to the United States in July
2023, as reported by Turkish intelligence. MIT asserted that
Mirzoev, failing to accomplish his objectives, reported to Adam
Khamirzaev, one of the Central Asian ISKP leaders, seeking
permission to execute an operation in Turkey.
These details, along with the insights from Telegram discussions
among ISKP members, lead us to the conclusion that Tajik and
Uzbek ISKP members have been attempting to plan transnational
operations on U.S. soil. Their intent is to strike at the core of the
“big enemy,” a warning previously emphasized by U.S. Central
Command’s General Michael Kurilla.
Resurfacing Horrors: The Lingering Impact of Past Uzbek ISKP
Attacks in Istanbul
Significantly, acting upon the Islamic State Shura Council’s hukum
(order), its Central Asian members executed three high-profile
targeted attacks on Turkish territory in the past seven years.
Overall, IS-linked foreigners were involved in at least seven of the
17 IS attacks in Turkey between 2014 and 2024 that killed some 300
people in total. These actions were aimed at undermining Ankara's
counterterrorism efforts, both domestically and in neighboring

Syria and Iraq.
The most prominent IS attack in Turkey involving Central Asian
militants was the assault on the Reina nightclub on January 1, 2017,
which was described by the Amaq News Agency as “God’s
punishment for those who deviated from Islamic norms of life and
celebrating the polytheistic [pagan] holiday of New Year.” The
attack saw IS fighter Abdulkadir Masharipov (alias Muhammed al-
Khurasani), an Uzbek national, open fire at the Istanbul nightclub,
killing 39 people. Following an extensive manhunt, Turkish
security forces arrested Masharipov on January 17, 2017, in
Esenyurt, an Istanbul district densely populated by Central Asian
migrants, where he had reportedly been hiding in the home of a
Kyrgyz national since the shooting.
Masharipov hailed from a small town in the Fergana region along
the Kyrgyz-Uzbek border. He was born in 1983 and graduated from
Fergana State University in Uzbekistan. Associated with jihadi
terrorist organizations since 2011, Masharipov received military
training at an al-Qaida camp in Afghanistan. Subsequently, while in
Pakistan, Masharipov joined ISKP, pledging allegiance to IS’ first
leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi at a later point.
Another sophisticated suicide attack involving Central Asian IS
terrorists took place at Ataturk Airport in Istanbul on June 28, 2016.
The assailants, hailing from Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, and Russia's
Dagestan, carried out the attack on behalf of the Islamic State after
traveling to Turkey from IS-controlled Syria. The incident resulted
in the tragic loss of 45 lives, with over 230 individuals sustaining
injuries. Turkey's MIT identified the mastermind behind the
Istanbul airport attack as Akhmed Chataev, a Chechen Salafi
jihadist and the leader of a Russian-speaking IS faction in the post-
Soviet space. As a component of the subsequent counterterrorism
operation, Turkish security forces implicated and apprehended 42
migrants from Central Asia and the Caucasus. In June 2022, the
Bakirkoy High Criminal Court in Istanbul sentenced six IS
members to 46 aggravated life sentences and a cumulative
imprisonment term of 2,604 years.
Unmasking Central Asian Clandestine Terror Cells in Turkey

As revealed by court documents on IS terror attacks in Turkey
involving Uzbek and Tajik militants, evident linkages and tight
coordination exist within the triangle: the Islamic State’s core
leadership in Iraq and Syria, and its provinces of “Wilayah
Türkiye” and “Wilayah Khurasan,” encompassing aspects such as
recruitment, logistics, and fundraising. According to Masharipov’s
2017 testimony to the Turkish prosecutor, he was dispatched to
Syria by his ISKP parent organization. The command to attack the
Reina nightclub came through Telegram from an IS emir in Raqqa,
named Abu Shuhada. Furthermore, the funds (amounting to
$197,000), weapons (an AK-47 with six loaded magazines and three
stun grenades), and multiple cell phone SIM cards were provided
by the IS-Central cell in Istanbul. An investigation into the Reina
attack revealed that over 50 IS operatives from Central Asia,
Afghanistan, Turkey, Syria, and Iraq directly provided support to
Masharipov before and after the attack.
IS-Central, operating through its “Wilayah Türkiye” and “Wilayah
Khurasan” branches, effectively engages in clandestine
recruitment within the Central Asian migrant community in
Turkey. Many Uzbek, Tajik, Turkmen, and Kyrgyz migrants in
Turkey had previously faced challenging conditions as migrant
workers in Russia. Finding themselves unable to endure the
religious pressures associated with Russian chauvinism and
nationalism, they turned to Turkey. The Kremlin's coerced
deployment of disenfranchised Central Asian migrants as
combatants in the Russia-Ukraine war, coupled with economic
stagnation and the rise of pro-war nationalist-imperialist Putinism,
is compelling Central Asian Islamists to undertake migration from
Russia to Turkey.
Some individuals thereafter have become ensnared in the
recruitment networks of Central Asian Salafi-Jihadi groups, such as
the Katibat al-Tawhid wal Jihad (KTJ), the Turkestan Islamic Party,
and ISKP. Although the threat posed by IS to Turkey has diminished
since it held vast territory in Iraq and Syria, Central Asian Salafi-
Jihadi groups affiliated with IS, al-Qaida, and Hayat Tahrir al-Sham
(HTS) clandestinely continue to utilize Turkish territory as a rear

base, logistics hub, and hawala transit center.
It is widely acknowledged that IS specifically deploys Central Asian
militants to carry out terrorist attacks within Turkey. This choice is
influenced by shared language and culture, making them less likely
to attract the attention of the Turkish security forces. Moreover,
Ankara's simplified visa regime permits residents of Central Asia’s
Turkic-speaking countries to stay in Turkey for up to 90 days
without a visa, further facilitating the activities of ISKP followers.
There is no singular solution to the challenges Ankara faces from
Uzbek and Tajik ISKP members. Over the past quarter-century,
Turkey has been on the frontline of combating global religious
terror groups, enduring significant impact from both Arab and
Turkish IS fighters, as well as Central Asian ISKP members.
Following the recent deadly attack on the Santa Maria Catholic
Church by the Tajik ISKP wing, Turkey launched a comprehensive
counterterrorism operation, resulting in the detention of 147 ISKP
suspects in January 2024. Additionally, in December 2023, Turkish
security forces arrested 189 individuals suspected of having ties to
IS as part of “Operation Heroes-38,” a coordinated effort spanning
37 provinces. In June 2023, the Turkish MIT arrested Shamil
Hukumatov of Tajikistan, a “high-ranking” ISKP operative and the
Tajik wing financier, for recruiting Central Asian migrants to IS and
providing them with finances.
Uzbek ISKP's Propaganda War Against Erdogan
The opulent Islamic heritage of Turkey, the heir to the Ottoman
Empire, which presided over the fourth major Islamic Caliphate for
over six centuries, has become the target of vehement ideological
assaults from Central Asian ISKP jihadists. In the 26th edition of the
Voice of Khurasan magazine, an article titled “Call to the Turkish
People: Abandon Erdogan's Highway to Hell and Join the Century
of the Islamic Khilafah” fervently implores Turks to dismantle
“Erdogan's Taghut regime” and lend support to the authentic
Islamic State. The latter identifies itself as the legitimate successor
to the Islamic Caliphate and condemns modern Turkey for straying
from the divine path of Allah.
Developing propaganda attacks, the Uzbek-language Xuroson Ovozi

also featured a comprehensive article on the decline of the
Ottoman Empire and its perceived deviation from Islam. Abu
Muhammad al-Uzbeki, the notorious ISKP ideologist, contends that
the Ottoman Empire wasn't deserving of the Caliphate title as it
favored Sufis over Salafis, actively targeting the latter. He accuses
Turkey of persisting in its continuing official support for the Sufi
sect, members of which are deemed "apostates" by IS due to their
veneration of mystics and the construction of shrines to saints.
Consequently, ISKP draws a connection between its ongoing war
against Afghan Sufists and its critique of Erdogan's Turkey, merging
both religious and political dimensions.
From the perspective of ISKP's Al-Azaim Media Production, Turkey
is classified as a taghut (idolater) state, and its leader, Erdogan, is
labeled an apostate. The Uzbek and Tajik language pro-IS media
arms have consistently targeted Erdogan personally, issuing
explicit death threats and employing takfir, a form of
excommunication. On February 18, 2023, the Voice of Khurasan, in
its 22nd issue, published an article titled "The crimes of the Turkish
Taghut," listing reasons why Allah purportedly punished Turkey
with deadly earthquakes in 2023. IS-Khurasan ideologies assert that
God's punishment has befallen Turkey for "replacing sharia with
Kuffar (unbeliever) laws, committing Shirk, waging war against
Islam, collaborating with NATO alliance, HTS, Afghan Taliban, Iran,
and Russia, and legalizing alcohol, homosexuality, adultery, and
nudity.”
Frequently, Uzbek KTJ and ISKP’s Uzbek wing engage in public
disputes online regarding religious purity and the lofty objectives
of holy jihad. These disagreements often escalate with threats to
locate and execute their jihadi adversaries. Notably, Uzbek ISKP
supporters allege that their counterparts within the Uzbek, Kyrgyz,
and Tajik KTJ ranks have forsaken Islam, transforming into pawns
manipulated by Erdogan.
Strategic Imperative: Establishing a Counter-Terrorism Body in
the Turkic World
Given the intensification of anti-Turkey propaganda, there exists a

notable possibility that Ankara may once more become the focal
point for attacks orchestrated by formidable Uzbek and Tajik ISKP
terrorists. These potential attacks could materialize both within the
borders of Turkey and against its strategic interests in Central and
South Asia.
The challenges posed by Uzbek and Tajik jihadi groups highlight
deficiencies in the exchange of information about individuals
affiliated with IS between Central Asian states and Turkey at the
intelligence service level. Facilitating robust cooperation in this
regard is essential for effectively tracking, apprehending, and, if
necessary, prosecuting, or repatriating individuals associated with
ISKP, who may utilize Turkish territory as a transit zone.
Nevertheless, the Organization of Turkic States (OTS), which
includes Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan,
Turkmenistan, and Turkey, notably lacks dedicated military and
counterterrorism institutes. Turkey's persistent endeavors to
establish a military bloc among the Turkic states within the OTC
framework face a vehement backlash from the Kremlin. In
apprehension of potential dilution of its Collective Security Treaty
Organization military bloc, Putin's Russia opposes the formation of
an alternative Turkic military union in post-Soviet Central Asia.
The establishment of a counterterrorism body within the OTS could
serve as a preventive measure against terrorist attacks, benefiting
not only Turkey but also Western nations. Such a development
would be crucial for effectively addressing the challenges posed by
Central Asian ISKP, given that its members occasionally attempt to
infiltrate Europe and the U.S. to carry out lone-wolf terror attacks.
The Author
Uran Botobekov has a PhD in political science and is an expert on political Islam.
Unsplash, AXP Photography
Why Is Tashkent Reluctant to

Reconnect with Ethnic Uzbeks
Abroad?
Although there are millions of ethnic Uzbeks in
neighboring countries, the Uzbek government does
not seriously entertain the idea of building bonds with
them. Why?
By Niginakhon Saida
Apart from 29 million Uzbeks living in Uzbekistan, there are almost

3 million ethnic Uzbeks in neighboring Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan,
Tajikistan, and Turkmenistan, and another 2 to 4 million ethnic
Uzbeks in Afghanistan, making Uzbeks the most populous ethnic

group in Central Asia.
Yet, Tashkent has never actively pursued kin-state politics.
Political scientist Dr. Myra A. Waterbury defines a kin-state as “a
state that represents the majority nation of a transborder ethnic
group whose members reside in neighboring territories.” Kin-
minorities or national/external-minorities are groups that share a
culture with the majority group that a kin-state represents.
Kin-states usually try to establish close ties with their ethnic
minorities abroad and this activism tends to target two groups.
“Minorities by will” are made up of ethnic diasporas formed
through migration and usually live far from their homeland, for
example, Armenians or Turks in Germany. “Minorities by force”
refers to transborder ethnic communities.
Sociologist Rogers Brubaker calls these minorities “accidental
diaspora” as they accidentally became minority groups following
the disintegration of the larger political entities in which they lived:
the Habsburg, Romanov, and Ottoman Empires, for example, and
later the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia, and Czechoslovakia. Those
groups used to be part of “multinational political structures” and
suddenly found themselves separated from the groups they feel
they share a common culture and identity with.
The dislocation and mass migration of populations in Central Asia

and the Caucasus can be observed in two waves. The first wave
occurred during the early period of Soviet occupation as people
fled to neighboring countries such as Iran, China, Afghanistan, and
Turkey. The majority of ethnic Uzbeks who now live in northern
Afghanistan settled there in the 1920s and 1930s due to Central
Asia’s “Basmachi” nationalist movement and the Soviet policies of
collectivization.
The second wave came after the Soviet occupation, as the
Bolsheviks implemented what historian Touraj Atabaki calls
“engineered partition.” Before the so-called natsional’noe
razmezhevanie (national delimitation) – the political and social re-
organization of Soviet Central Asia which took place roughly in the
1924-1936 period – the Soviets categorized the Central Asian
population into six nations: Kazakhs, Turkmens, Uzbeks, Tajiks,
Kyrgyz, and Karakalpaks. Under the engineered partition, Moscow
intended to align these ethnic nationalities with newly formed
“national-territorial entities.” This was intended not only to help
Moscow to exert more effective command over the region, but also
to weaken “potential nationalist resistance in the region by
deviating from ethnic boundaries and creating substantial
minority populations.”
With the disintegration of the Soviet Union in 1991, the five Central
Asian republics were suddenly “catapulted” into independence.
The ethnic groups of Central Asia, Uzbeks included, who previously
enjoyed free movement around the Soviet Union found themselves
scattered across international borders and formed different ethnic
minority groups in neighboring states in which they were not part
of the titular nations. By 1989, Kyrgyzstan had over 550,000 ethnic
Uzbeks and most of them were living in the territory close to what
became the Kyrgyz-Uzbek border. Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan
had over 300,000 ethnic Uzbeks living in their territories each,
while in Tajikistan, the number of ethnic Uzbeks was highest in the
region after Uzbekistan itself – 1,197,000.
As Uzbekistan developed its own nation-building process after
gaining independence, the national identity was formed not based
on ethnicity, but on territory, which eventually led to the cutting off
of ties with co-ethnics across borders. The notion of O’zbekchilik

(Uzbekness) pushed forward by the first president of Uzbekistan,
Islam Karimov, meant being born in the territory of Uzbekistan
and identifying with the territorial element of that belonging.
Karimov’s politics did not care about ethnic Uzbeks who were born
during the Soviet period and were living in neighboring countries,
or any ethnic Uzbek not born in the Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic
or later in independent Uzbekistan. Although O’zbekchilik
welcomed anyone who embraced Uzbek culture, language, and
traditions, in practice, it was only reserved for citizens of
Uzbekistan.
Tashkent also thoroughly avoided “any request for direct
relationship with the organizations of Uzbeks abroad,” as Matteo
Fumagalli wrote in a 2007 article for Central Asian Survey.
Uzbek minorities abroad called for help several times. The most
significant call came from Kyrgyzstan during the Osh inter-ethnic
conflict which claimed the lives of 500 people in 2010. Tashkent
briefly hosted ethnic Uzbeks from Kyrgyzstan and then sent them
back. As recently as in 2017, “Begayim,” a non-governmental
literary fund of ethnic Uzbek youth in Kyrgyzstan, sent an open
letter to Uzbekistan’s current president, Shavkat Mirziyoyev,
reminding him of their ethnic ties. A year later, ethnic Uzbeks in
Turkmenistan also appealed to Tashkent. Tashkent ignored them.
Fabrizio Vielmini noted in a 2021 article that because Uzbeks were
alienated from the majority group, the Kyrgyz people, “a number of
Kyrgyzstani Uzbeks radicalized adhering to extremist Islamism
thus becoming target of recruitment for insurgencies abroad.” At
the same time, both in Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, education in the
Uzbek language is less and less available. Uzbeks in Tajikistan
reportedly change the nationality of their newborns to “Tajik” and
send their kids to Tajik language schools to provide better
opportunities for them in the future.
Representation of Uzbek communities in Tajikistan is not great;
ethnic Uzbeks held “only 7.6 percent of jobs in the civil service, far
below their representation in the population” in 2014. In
Turkmenistan, after the attempted assassination of then-President
Saparmurat Niyazov, “ethnic Uzbeks were removed from high-

ranking government positions, while all Uzbek-language schools
were closed.”
“New Uzbekistan” under Mirziyoyev has made efforts to connect
with the Uzbek diaspora, but with a heavy focus on those who have
been successful in pursuing better career and study opportunities
abroad.
Abstaining from claiming ethnic kin abroad is not unique to
Uzbekistan. Other Central Asian countries also refrain from
intervening in each other’s business in this regard. One reason for
this may be that Central Asian republics always view the problems
of other countries as contagious and fear spillover into their own
territory. While conflicts may arise among Central Asian states,
they usually revolve around border issues rather than kin-minority
concerns.
Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan did launch programs to bring their
kin-minorities back. The Kazakh government tried to brand its
Oralman program as historic and fulfilling a moral obligation to
Kazakhs who had left their motherland due to tumultuous events
such as the famine in the early 1930s. At least a million ethnic
Kazakhs from China, Uzbekistan and other places moved to
Kazakhstan under the program. But the program’s aim was
essentially to “gerrymander the demography” of the country.
Kazakhstan was the only Central Asian country formerly occupied
by the Soviet Union that had a minority as its titular nation.
Kazakhs made up around 40 percent of the overall population in
the early 1990s. It also addressed another problem – Kazakhstan
has a large landmass and a relatively small population.
Uzbekistan, on the other hand, has never experienced the loss of
territory or population because of war, revolution, or famine. The
borders of the Uzbek SSR were not drawn by the Uzbek
government. It was Moscow who left ethnic Uzbeks on the other
side of the border, so Tashkent feels no moral or historic
responsibility toward transborder co-ethnics.
At the same time, unlike Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan also has no
demographic problem to solve. Uzbekistan is the most populous
among the five Central Asian countries with 36 million people as of

2023. The titular nation, the Uzbeks, also make up the majority in
the country. As per 2021 data, 84.4 percent (29 million) of
Uzbekistan’s population are ethnically Uzbek. In the early 1990s
and into the 2000s, in Samarkand and Bukhara regions where
there are many Tajiks and in other ethnically Tajik cities, Tajiks
reportedly chose to be identified as Uzbek in their passports. There
is not much of a gender imbalance in Uzbekistan either – 18.1
million males versus 17.8 million females. These are some reasons
why Tashkent does not look to bring Uzbeks abroad back to the
country.
Integration could also be an issue. If Uzbekistan, for example,

allowed ethnic Uzbeks from Afghanistan to resettle in Uzbekistan,
integration may be a challenge. Uzbeks in Uzbekistan and ethnic
Uzbeks in Afghanistan are exposed to different ideologies; and

while language patterns may be changing, many Uzbeks in
Uzbekistan speak Russian and the same cannot necessarily be said
of Uzbeks in Afghanistan. Similarly, ethnic Uzbeks in Kyrgyzstan,
living in a country once called the “island of democracy,” are
exposed to a more open society than the general public in
Uzbekistan. Even Oralmans at times find it hard to integrate with
locals in Kazakhstan.
When Uzbekistan shows any interest in ethnic Uzbeks abroad, it is
often for pragmatic reasons. For example, Karimov had interest in
the Uzbek community in Afghanistan when they were fighting
against the Taliban under General Abdul Rashid Dostum’s
command. During the early and mid-1990s, Karimov provided
some support to Dostum, an Uzbek-Afghan warlord and politician.
Dostum’s soldiers could even withdraw into Uzbekistan and
“recuperate” after fights with the Taliban. Dostum’s family also
lived in Tashkent by the early 2000s. Tashkent extended its support
by providing free electricity to Mazar-e-Sharif, the fourth largest
city in Afghanistan, and one that was under the control of Dostum
until the late 1990s. Reportedly, there was more aid offered by
Uzbekistan than just electricity. “Tashkent saw Dostum as the
guardian of the gates to Uzbekistan,” Bruce Pannier wrote in a 2016
article, but not because he was an ethnic Uzbek. Tashkent
supported Dostum because he was a buffer between Uzbekistan
and the Taliban. Tashkent’s current attempts to build an amicable
relationship with the Taliban is also not because it is worried about
the 2 to 4 million ethnic Uzbeks there. Tashkent just wants a stable
border.
Another reason for Uzbekistan not to get involved in kin-minority
support and especially not to encourage ethnic-Uzbeks to resettle in
Uzbekistan or to extend citizenship or residency to them, like
Hungary has done for transborder Magyars, has to do with the
state economy. Uzbekistan already has problems creating enough
jobs inside Uzbekistan for its current citizens. Millions of
Uzbekistanis migrate abroad for work, to Russia, Kazakhstan,
South Korea and other parts of the world. Of course, Tashkent
would not want another couple of million ethnic Uzbeks moving
into the country and burdening the government even further.

Currently, the official unemployment rate is at 8.9 percent.
Unofficially, it is reported to be higher. The national poverty rate is
at 14 percent while in some regions it is as high as 19 percent. The
necessary integration programs also would cost. Tashkent simply
does not need additional expenses.
As mentioned above, Mirziyoyev has been trying to connect with
the successful diaspora in the West because those individuals bring
political and economic benefits. Ethnic Uzbeks in neighboring
Central Asian countries cannot offer much. They are already
marginalized in their own countries and far less educated and
globally connected than the diaspora Tashkent is trying to reach
out to.
One of the strongest imperatives, however, for Tashkent to avoid
developing and employing kin-minority policies is that it might
compromise Uzbekistan’s relationship with its neighbors.
Uzbekistan is a double-landlocked country and having good
relationships with its neighbors is essential, especially for trade. It
is difficult and expensive to trade via air-routes alone. Although
Uzbekistan is self-sufficient in the production of goods and
services, having access to the wider world presents more
opportunities and a greater variety of goods and services. Playing a
nationality card and offering help and support to Uzbek
communities in neighboring countries might alter Uzbekistan’s
amicable relationship with those states.
Central Asian countries are already “nervous” about Uzbeks and
Uzbekistan. Uzbeks are the most populous ethnicity in the region
and Uzbekistan commands the biggest military power in the
region. Tashkent cannot commence large scale support programs
for ethnic Uzbeks in neighboring countries without triggering
security concerns in those adjacent states.
Given the above reasons, there’s no reason to assume the present
government in Uzbekistan will actively seek to build a stronger
relationship with transborder ethnic Uzbeks solely because of their
shared culture and ethnicity any time soon. If a more nationalistic
government came into power in the future, Tashkent’s position
toward its kin-ethnics might change. But it is important to keep in

mind that when regimes use nationalistic rhetoric to gain support,
their promises are not always translated into consistent state
policy. For example, neighboring Tajikistan’s President Emomali
Rahmon resorts to nationalistic rhetoric quite often and he is even
called the “savior of all Tajiks in the world.” He talks a lot about the
suffering of ethnic Tajiks in Afghanistan, but in reality, he has
allowed very few Tajiks from Afghanistan to permanently move to
Tajikistan.
Another incentive could be a popular demand from within
Uzbekistan. If people in the country start advocating for moral and
material support for ethnic Uzbeks abroad, the government may
change course. Uzbeks in Uzbekistan are in touch with ethnic
Uzbeks abroad on a family level if they have relatives in
neighboring countries or on business or friendship level. This is
especially true in the Ferghana Valley. But that’s it. Apart from
familial ties, Uzbeks in Uzbekistan may become sympathetic
toward ethnic Uzbeks in times of tumult, such as ethnic violence
targeting such communities. In 2010, during the ethnic clashes in
Kyrgyzstan, there was overwhelming support from Uzbeks in
Uzbekistan, whether they had a relative in Kyrgyzstan or not.
Military commanders were reportedly even ready to go to Osh and
protect ethnic Uzbeks. But Tashkent did not give such an order.
Instances of public empathy remain unpredictable, and not all
cases trigger such a strong response. There is not widespread
sympathy toward the plight of ethnic Uzbeks residing along the
southern border in Afghanistan, for example, at least not that we
can openly observe.
This article is based on the author’s recent master’s thesis The
author thanks Bruce Pannier, Dr. Edward Lemon, Temur Umarov,
and other Central Asia studies scholars and journalists who
participated in the research but asked to remain anonymous.
The Author
Niginakhon Saida is a scholar whose research interests focus on gender, Islam, and
politics in Central Asia.
Australian Department of Defence
Australia Seeks to Boost

Surface Naval Fleet
The defense investments Australia is now making are
an indication of just how nervous Canberra is about
China’s intentions in the region.
By Grant Wyeth
As a continent-size country sitting at the junction of three oceans,

Australia’s naval power is its most important defense capability.
The enormous investment in a new fleet of nuclear-powered
submarines under the AUKUS arrangement is testament to this;
however, in mid-February the government announced another
massive new investment in the country’s naval fleet. This
investment will see the country increase its “surface combatant
fleet” from the current 11 vessels to 26.
These investments will include three air warfare destroyers, six
frigates with undersea strike capabilities, 11 general purpose
frigates with maritime and land strike capabilities, as well as six
new Large Optionally Crewed Surface Vessels (LOSVs), which will
increase Australia’s long-range strike capacity.
This significant upgrade to Australia’s capabilities comes after an
independent Enhanced Lethality Surface Combatant review, which
recommended that the Australian Navy grow larger and increase
its firepower in order to meet the challenges that the Department
of Defense laid out in the 2023 Defense Strategic Review. (DSR). It
also aligns with the government’s stated objective for better
“impactful projection” – the ability to apply military power at a
greater distance from Australia’s shores.
The DSR was frank in its assessment that the collective Australian
Defense Force (ADF) was currently “not fit for purpose.” It stated
that Australia’s strategic environment was deteriorating, and that
Australia’s core interests – which are intimately tied to open sea
lines of communication through the Indo-Pacific – were potentially
under threat.
The DSR evaluated that China’s military expansion is “the largest
and most ambitious of any country since the end of the Second
World War” and that this build-up is being conducted without any
“transparency or reassurance to the Indo-Pacific region of China’s
strategic intent.” The document asserted that the organizing
principle of the ADF should be to work with its allies and partners
toward the deterrence and denial of the military objectives of
China’s People’s Liberation Army.
However, as with the AUKUS submarines, the work necessary to

achieve this increase in Australia’s naval capabilities is substantial
and will take considerable time. While Australia may now have
identified what it requires to enhance its naval fleet, the tenders to
build the vessels are still under consideration. German, Japanese,
South Korean, and Spanish platforms are all being considered. The
objective is to have several vessels built quickly in one of these
countries, before transferring shipbuilding to Australia.
While finding the right designs and strategic considerations for
shipbuilding is one problem, the next problem is the ability to
actually crew twice the number of current vessels. In January, ADF
Chief Angus Campbell told a parliamentary hearing that the ADF
had a shortage of 4,300 people, with the navy’s personnel shortfall
being around 900 people. Attracting people to the various arms of
the defense force – particularly in a period of strong economic
opportunities elsewhere – is now also a strategic priority for
Australia.
The investments Australia is now making – with both AUKUS and a
new surface naval fleet – are an indication of just how nervous
Canberra is about China’s intentions in the region. Beijing’s
ignoring of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Seas
(UNCLOS) and an UNCLOS-mandated arbitral tribunal’s decision in
favor of the Philippines over claims in the South China Sea is a
strong indication that China seeks a new regime of norms in the
Indo-Pacific – one where mutually beneficial rules are dispensed
and Chinese dominance is exerted.
To Australia, as to most other states in the region, this is an
unacceptable outcome. The uncertain circumstances therefore
require not only a strong projection of deterrence, through both
enhanced capabilities and coordination between allies and
partners, but also the ability to push back with force if necessary.
Australia is, of course, a power of limited capabilities. Even with
these enhancements to its fleet and eventually nuclear-powered
submarines it will remain a middle power whose role is to
supplement the power of its primary ally, the United States.
However, there is another, unacknowledged, calculation to
Australia’s naval investments, rooted in the question of whether

the U.S can continue to be a reliable ally and maintain its role as
the guarantor of rules and norms in the Indo-Pacific region. If the
answer is no, then whatever new investments Australia makes in
its capabilities may not be enough.
The Author
Grant Wyeth is a Melbourne-based political analyst specializing in Australia and the
Pacific, India, and Canada.
Australian Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet
Marape’s State Visit Puts

Australia-Papua New Guinea
Bonhomie on Display
For Australia, it is critical to keep good ties with PNG
amid China’s growing influence.
By Patricia O'Brien
When Papua New Guinea’s prime minister, James Marape,

addressed Australia’s Parliament on February 8, much was made of
history. Some shared histories, like pitched World War II battles
fought together on Papua New Guinea’s soil, were remembered.
Other histories, notably decades of harsh colonial rule by Australia,
were not mentioned by the Australian leaders who have been
highly attuned to colonial histories in other contexts. Marape
briefly alluded to this troubling past but then graciously let it lie.
However, everyone was on the same page that Marape’s reception
was historic. This was the first time the honor of being a guest of
the Australian government, the equivalent of a state visit, was
bestowed on a Papua New Guinea prime minister in the 49 years
since the nation’s independence from Australia. Indeed, it was a
first for any Pacific leader.
While there was much nostalgia, the occasion and the three
speeches delivered by Marape, Australia’s Prime Minister Anthony
Albanese, and the opposition leader, Peter Dutton, were carefully
crafted to send signals to far-flung audiences from Australia to
Papua New Guinea and the wider Indo-Pacific region and, most
notably, China.
Because of their geographic proximity, their complicated and
interlocked histories, and their deeply integrated contemporary
ties, Australia and Papua New Guinea have a unique relationship.
Marape took the opportunity to playfully toy with Australia’s recent
adoption of the term “Pacific family” to describe its Pacific
relationships. Marape said, “One can choose one’s friends, but one
is stuck with their family. Our two countries are stuck with each
other… and joined at the hip forever.”
Though made in jest, these words were reassuring to Australian
ears. The two nations have been linked since ancient times. These
timeless bonds are still recognized today through the exceptional
immigration status that exists for Australia’s Torres Strait Islanders
and their extended community who live north of the shifting
international border first drawn on maps in the 1870s.
These ancient connections have persisted through prodigious
geopolitical change with the border demarcating a vast and
expanding divide between Australia’s developed country status
and Papua New Guinea’s developing country realities. This
immense socioeconomic disparity was the pervasive subtext of the
event.
Marape’s visit came less than one month after the eruption of
violence in Papua New Guinea’s main cities of Port Moresby and
Lae on January 10 revealed deep wounds and dysfunction in
Marape’s nation and the enormous gulf of lived experiences
between the majority in Australia and Papua New Guinea. There
has been much reckoning in the wake of the riots that killed 22
people and caused an estimated 1 billion kina ($300 million) in
damages to businesses and property, leaving the nation shaken.
Marape faced a personal reckoning when Papua New Guinea’s
opposition moved to mount a no confidence vote in mid-February,
following not only the January 10 riots but also deadly inter-tribal
clashes in the PNG Highlands. However, Marape survived the test,
with the opposition failing to demonstrate it had the necessary
numbers. The motion died without a vote, having been rejected on
procedural grounds. With Parliament adjourned until May,
Marape’s leadership is safe for the next few months, at least.
Marape’s Australia visit and his statesman-like performance seem
to have burnished his standing and further raised the question
already being asked by MPs: Who could replace Marape, who has
led his country since 2019, in these testing times?
In Canberra, Marape did not present as a leader on the political
ropes. He delivered a gracious speech and appealed to Australia, a
country he acknowledged for giving a great deal to his nation, to

not now “give up” on his nation despite their many challenges.
There is little chance of that happening given the rapidly escalating
tensions in the region and Papua New Guinea’s vital place in the
security frameworks of Australia and her allies.
Though not mentioned by Albanese or Marape – but identified by
Dutton in his speech, when he repeatedly referred to malevolent
regional “autocrats” – China’s leadership was perhaps the highest
priority target audience for the event. The pressures China is
applying in countless national and subnational ways are causing
alarm in the Pacific. Most recently, discussion of a China-Papua
New Guinea policing arrangement in the aftermath of the riots
undermined the sense of achievement felt by the United States and
Australia after brokering security agreements with PNG in 2023,
though Marape has attempted to quash concerns.
Another shadow hanging over proceedings was China’s unchecked
expansion in PNG’s neighbor, the Solomon Islands. Though putting
on a brave public face, officials from the U.S. and its allies are
behind closed doors expressing their deepest concerns about what
is unfolding there. This only makes PNG’s existing importance to
the security landscape grow exponentially.
Marape’s Australia visit, and the prominent displays of
brotherhood during public events, were all about emphasizing the
“special relationship” the two nations share relative to competitors
(read: China). Mentioned several times was the hope that a PNG
rugby league team would be absorbed into the Sydney-based
National Rugby League (New Zealand has fielded teams in this
competition for many years) and so ignite a whole new level of
integration and connection. Sports diplomacy is one of the myriad
tactics Australia is deploying in the hope that Pacific nations,
particularly PNG, keep looking to Australia for its most important
partnerships and security needs.
As noted, a centerpiece of the Australia and PNG relationship is
World War II, which assumes mythic proportions in the historical
narrative and was evoked many times by the three leaders on
February 8. The war forged deep bonds and transformed relations
from a strictly policed and divided colonial world that had

operated for decades before the war came to New Guinea’s shores
in early 1942. New Guinea endured being the longest open front in
the Pacific war. The war transformed the Australia-PNG story into a
brothers-in-arms narrative, though many New Guineans supported
Japanese forces and Australia conscripted thousands to serve its
military forces.
That catastrophic war eight decades ago looms over the present in
alarming ways. One day after Marape addressed Australia’s
Parliament, Australian Foreign Minister Penny Wong gave a
keynote address at the seventh Indian Ocean Conference in Perth.
She articulated the Australian government’s outlook that “the risk
of regional escalation remains great.” Wong named China, saying
that “countries of the Indo-Pacific face China’s rapid military build-
up, without the transparency and reassurance that the region looks
for from great powers.” She cited potential flashpoints and
ominously warned that “the prosperity, peace, and resilience we
seek are being seriously challenged.”
The feared future for the Pacific is one that too closely resembles
the past Pacific-wide conflict. Marape’s visit was important for the
solidification of relations between two nations whose fates are
linked, albeit well overdue. It served particular political agendas.
But its overarching purpose was to prevent Pacific history from
repeating in ruinous ways.
The Author
Dr. Patricia O’Brien is a historian, author, analyst and commentator on Australia and
Oceania. She is a faculty member in Asian Studies at Georgetown University and in the
Department of Pacific Affairs, Australian National University.
State Department, Chuck Kennedy, Public Domain
COFA Collateral Damage and Its

Consequences: A View from
Palau
Palau President Surangel Whipps says that “there was
optimism and hope” when the Palau-U.S. compact
agreement was signed. But concerns are mounting as
funding stalls in the U.S. Congress.
By Patricia O'Brien
Washington’s rancorous and “chaotic” politics of the past month

have reverberated far and wide. Bipartisan legislation addressing
the pressing domestic issue of the southern border crisis, bundled
together with foreign policy flashpoints of funding for Ukraine and
Israel, was torpedoed in early February by Republicans who had

previously been clamoring for a border resolution. Also bundled in
the now-scrapped Border Bill was legislation finalizing the lengthy
and complicated renewal of the 20-year Compacts of Free
Association (COFAs) between the U.S. and the Republic of the
Marshall Islands (RMI), the Federated States of Micronesia, and the
Republic of Palau.
For unclear reasons, the COFA renewal legislation was taken out of
a revised Senate bill early last month, leaving it without a
legislative path to enactment. Some members tried get the COFAs
included in a Senate bill that created a $95 billion funding package
for Ukraine, Israel, and other national security areas. That bill
passed out of the Senate on February 13 but COFA was not
included. The bill has moved back to the House of Representatives,
where things went awry last time and there’s no sign whether
COFA will find a way into the contentious bill.
There is extensive bipartisan appreciation in Congress that U.S.
security in the Pacific has been predicated on these agreements for
the past 40 years. The importance of these agreements has been
elevated exponentially in light of escalating tensions with China.
The case for renewing the COFAs for the third time since the mid-
1980s has not been contentious (although it was for the RMI), but
figuring out how the increased financial packages will be funded
scuttled a late 2023 attempt to bundle the COFA renewals with the
National Defense Appropriations Act (NDAA).
Now Congress must endeavor to fashion legislation and funding
that must be enacted by March 28, 2024, when the existing
continuing resolution expires. It represents a financial precipice
for all three COFA nations. Resolving this, to put it mildly, is of
critical importance to multiple interlocking U.S. interests, as well as
those of the three compact states.
Nearly 14,500 kilometers from Washington, where a replica U.S.
Capitol building houses the legislature of the Republic of Palau, the
chaos of Congress is having serious repercussions. In an interview
with The Diplomat, President Surangel Whipps laid out what the
delay in passing COFA renewal legislation means for his nation,
which is on the frontline of China’s geopolitical pressure

campaigns and its expanding military zone in the South China Sea.
Whipps said that when the Palau-U.S. compact agreement was
signed in Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, in May 2023, “there
was optimism and hope.” The expectation was that bolstered
funding would be flowing by October following U.S. congressional
approval of the renewed agreements and their funding lines
The renewed agreement was supposed to have transferred $92
million to Palau by now, $40 million for operating costs like
funding education and health care, and $50 million in a trust fund.
Due to the financial strictures of the previous COFA agreement
with Palau brokered in 2004, which differed from the financial
arrangements of the other two COFA states, and that has been
maintained in the 2023 continuing funding resolution, Palau has
instead received about $2 million. This dire financial shortfall
brings home the “gravity of the situation” for Palau, as Whipps put
it, due to the ongoing U.S. congressional delays.
Whipps will be facing his electorate in November 2024 when he
seeks another presidential term. The renewed COFA, the ongoing
relationship with the U.S. and its use of Palau for military
installations, and Palau’s allegiance to Taiwan will all be issues
impacting the election. Whipps recounted that in the 2020 election,
two out of the four presidential candidates supported switching
Palau’s allegiance to China. In the intervening years, China’s
geopolitical pressure campaigns have increased markedly and
transformed the Pacific region in myriad ways.
China’s brokering of a security deal with the Solomon Islands in
March 2022 triggered a complete reassessment in Washington, and
beyond, about the importance of the Pacific Islands. The COFA
renewal negotiations, which had stalled since the Biden
administration took office, were reactivated with vigor.
China’s efforts to undermine the United States by diminishing the
number of nations maintaining allegiance with Taiwan bore fruit
recently when Nauru announced its switch to Beijing in the wake
of the Taiwan election in January.
More recently, eyes have turned to Tuvalu's newly elected

government, which at first seemed headed in the same direction –
that is toward Beijing, though the latest reports indicate it will not
alter its position on Taiwan. All of these factors will undoubtedly
make Palau’s allegiance to Taiwan an even more forceful and
divisive electoral issue in 2024.
U.S. congressional dysfunction only hands “more ammunition” to
U.S. “competitors” and creates “uncertainty” and “doubt” in the
minds of Palauans, Whipps said.
In Palau, China’s pressure campaign to achieve a diplomatic switch
has been acutely felt for over 14 years. When the U.S. Congress took
eight years to finalize the last of Palau’s compacts from 2010 to
2018, China swooped in with massive investment, and Chinese
tourist numbers exploded. When Palau refused to switch allegiance
to Taiwan, China crashed the Palau economy by preventing
Chinese tourist arrivals in November 2017. The pandemic’s collapse
of tourism in 2020 only exacerbated Palau’s economic woes, which
are still acutely felt.
Whipps said that the line from China is “if you switch, the sky’s the
limit” for the flow of yuan into Palau, yet the president added,
“Palau has been strong” and it continues to stand by Taiwan. And,
by extension, the United States.
There is now talk in Palau, Whipps said, that Nauru has taken the
most pragmatic path and that Palau should follow. Given its dire
financial circumstances, why does Palau remain loyal to Taiwan
and the United States? One undeniable reason is Whipps’ outlook.
He is a staunch believer in democracy and its processes (no matter
how bewildering and frustrating, as exemplified by the U.S.
Congress this past month) and that “like-minded democracies
should stick together.” Whipps appreciates the 25 years of support
Taiwan has shown Palau, which has been reciprocated. He is also a
staunch supporter of U.S. military expansion in the northern
Pacific, adhering to the view that peace comes through strength.
Whipps noted, however, that other Palauan legislators disagree
with this thinking and instead fear that the placement of military
assets on Palau soil increases the likelihood of conflict returning to
the nation, which was devastated during World War II. Indeed, the
Palau Senate acted to prevent a U.S. missile deployment in
December 2023. Politicians furthering this line, which aligns with
China’s objectives, will likely contest the presidential election come
November.
The U.S. Congress will erode, albeit inadvertently, Whipps’ electoral
support and bolster these politicians’ electability by inflicting
ongoing economic precarity on Palau if Congress fails to compact
renewal legislation, and fast. The COFAs may now seem, from a U.S.
viewpoint, like collateral damage in the Border Bill debacle and the
mess that is the U.S. Congress, but all the signs point to far greater
consequences for the United States if this linchpin of Pacific
security is not rapidly put right.
The Author
Dr. Patricia O’Brien is a historian, author, analyst and commentator on Australia and
Oceania. She is a faculty member in Asian Studies at Georgetown University and in the
Department of Pacific Affairs, Australian National University.
Depositphotos
It’s Time for Australia to Take a

‘Whole-of-Nation’ Approach to
Foreign Policy
“Whole-of-nation” language carries a sense of urgency
that the country’s economy, society, and public
institutions must become more alert to their role in
the international sphere.
By Grant Wyeth
There has been a noticeable rhetorical shift from the Australian

government in recent years about the country’s approach to
foreign policy. The prime minister, foreign minister, and defense
minister have all used the phrase “whole-of-nation" to describe
how to best utilize Australia’s tools of statecraft, defend and

advance its interests, and build greater international influence.
This push for a more purposefully coordinated Australian
statecraft has been driven by an increasingly challenging and
complex external and security environment, one where a more
efficient and effective use of national resources is required. There
is a pervasive sense of crisis, created by the complexity of
cascading challenges that cut across sectors of society and defy
institutional siloing.
To those focused on the climate emergency, it is self-evident that
dealing with a problem of this magnitude will require that all
Australia’s capabilities be brought to bear. For those concerned
about a worsening geopolitical environment, again it is obvious
that a coordinated approach is required. With the Indo-Pacific the
epicenter of this century’s great power competition, it is no small
matter for Australia to want to contribute to the region’s stability,
prosperity, and security. This means utilizing a range of resources
to seek an Indo-Pacific that is peaceful, where international law is
respected, where coercion is minimal, and where economies and
societies can pursue their own development.
There is also a sense of having to do more with what we have.
While Australia will continue to grow in most important respects in
absolute terms, its relative weight in the Indo-Pacific is likely to
diminish. In a broader global context; a similar shift is likely with
relative power moving away from Western countries, including
Australia’s traditional allies. In a world where Australia and its
allies occupy a less dominant position in the global order, the
statecraft of rivals and adversaries becomes more threatening.
In this sense, some use of “all tools of statecraft” and “whole-of-
nation” language can be understood in part as a response to what
might be called the “total statecraft” challenge posed by countries
such as China. Consistent with the ideology of the Chinese
Communist Party, no part of the Chinese state or society is immune
from utilization in support for the CCP’s international objectives.
While it is neither feasible nor desirable for the Australian
government to aspire to such command of its people and resources,
the nature and scale of the China challenge compels a more

coherent and comprehensive approach by Canberra – to some
extent a “top down” approach, albeit with the recognition and
maintenance of the asset of Australia’s liberal democracy.
Policymakers are concerned about issues such as the need for a
stronger defense industrial base (including better links to industry
in general), relatively low levels of research and development in
Australia, and the general issue of “preparedness” – including
social cohesion, security of critical infrastructure, and civil
mobilization. Put in these terms, there are many potential positives
from a whole-of-nation approach. According to Prime Minister
Anthony Albanese, “national security demands a whole-of-nation
effort. It also presents a whole-of-nation opportunity.”
There is a sense that Australia needs to avoid “foreign policy
autopilot.” A new breadth of actors and resources and a new depth
of coordination and coherence must be injected into Australia’s
international and security policy.
“Whole-of-nation” language carries a sense of urgency that
Australia’s people, economy, society, and public institutions must
become more alert to their role in the international sphere and
better organize themselves to meet these exceptionally challenging
times. This will require that the depth and diversity of Australia’s
resources, assets and capabilities – across both the state and civil
society – be identified, harnessed, and applied to secure the
country’s future, in a way that increases their productivity and
effective service of Australia’s objectives.
As a first step, this means that Australians need to update their
mental model of who does foreign policy. Yes, core international
policy actors like the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade and
the Department of Defense pursue international policy as their
core mission. But there are a range of other actors that also interact
internationally. These include other federal departments and
national institutions, state, territory and local governments.
Beyond this, many overlapping sectors have international impact,
including science and technology, business and investment,
education, First Nations, diaspora groups, civil society, culture,

sport, and media.
Australia is now operating in an international environment where
its traditional modes of statecraft – and traditional dependencies –
have become less effective and less reliable. This requires a serious
rethink of how it can best defend, maintain, and advance its
national interests. The challenges of the era are such that
complacency is no longer affordable. A greater awareness of all its
capabilities and how they can best be harnessed in a whole-of-
nation effort is now a necessity.
The Author
Grant Wyeth is the editor at Asia-Pacific Development, Diplomacy and Defence Dialogue
(AP4D).
Depositphotos
Asia Is Watching the Future of

the US Foreign Aid Bill
In a rare move, nine sitting U.S. ambassadors to Asian
countries wrote to Congress regarding the
importance of the bill.
By Shihoko Goto
The U.S. presidential elections are eight months away, but the
political divide on Capitol Hill is already intensifying and spilling
over into the realm of foreign policy. When it comes to Asia,
though, there has been less divergence between the Democrats and
Republicans. In fact, one of the few issues where there is bipartisan
support is in addressing the China threat and the need for greater
U.S. commitment to confront Beijing’s military aggressions and, in

particular, to push back against China’s claims of Taiwan.
Certainly, the latest bipartisan Congressional delegation visit to
Taiwan – a February trip led by Representative Mike Gallagher (a
Republican from Wisconsin), who is chairman of the House Select
Committee on the Chinese Communist Party – demonstrates how
eager U.S. legislators remain to demonstrate their support for
Taipei. While the motivation for congressional members to visit
Taiwan may be geared more toward demonstrating their anti-
China stance to voters back home, rather than supporting Taiwan
per se, the U.S. will to demonstrate support for Taiwan remains
strong.
One might think it would be be easy enough to leverage such
support into actual assistance for Taiwan. But it has been anything
but straightforward. As the House debates the modified foreign aid
bill passed by the Senate, which includes assistance for Taiwan as
well as Ukraine and Israel, there is wariness that the additional
focus on U.S. border security and immigration policy is making the
bill politically contentious.
The stalling of U.S. foreign aid support has already had
consequences in Ukraine, where Washington’s deadlock over the
bill decreased the Ukrainian troops’ capabilities and hampered
their defense efforts. In the case of Taiwan, the bill is expected to
allocate $1.9 billion to enhance its defense capabilities against
China. But what Taiwan needs most now is not U.S. weapons, but
rather reassurance from the United States that it would come to the
defense of Taiwan and further its commitment to the survival of
the Taipei government.
While congressional delegations – from then-House Speaker of the
House Nancy Pelosi’s trip in 2022 to the latest visit by Gallagher –
may be welcomed by the Taiwanese government, there is growing
concern about the staying power of the U.S. presence in Taiwan
and the region more broadly. So deep is the anxiety in the region
that nine current U.S. ambassadors across the Indo-Pacific – those
stationed in Japan, South Korea, Australia, New Zealand, India, the
Philippines, Vietnam, Malaysia, and China – jointly submitted a
letter to legislators in February to express their concerns about the

risks of Congress failing to pass the foreign aid bill.
The ambassadors, including Rahm Emanuel and Caroline Kennedy,
stated in the letter, “Governments are watching what we do at this
pivotal moment in history – a time when decisions that we take
now will have lasting impacts for years to come… they want to see
that when the chips are down, the United States will be there for
our allies and partners.”
Open letters directly addressed to members of Congress by sitting
ambassadors are rare. The letter thus speaks volumes. The
ambassadors see an urgent need for the United States to
demonstrate its steady, unwavering commitment to the Indo-
Pacific. In the case of Taiwan, the 100 days between the January
elections and the presidential inauguration in May are said to be
when the government is the most vulnerable to aggression from
Beijing. While the Gallagher visit may be seen as a demonstration
of U.S. solidarity, it does not necessarily convey Washington’s
longer-term commitment to Taipei, which is critical for its stability
and very survival.
But the rest of the region is closely monitoring the U.S. commitment
to Taiwan and beyond, too. In the case of Japan, a Taiwan
contingency has come to be seen as a de facto Japanese
contingency and a test of U.S. capabilities and will in the case of
regional conflict. As such, Washington’s ability to deliver on its
rhetoric through legislation will be closely scrutinized in Tokyo and
beyond.
As political tensions rise ahead of the presidential elections, the
United States’ ability to remain a Pacific power both in words and
deeds will be critical for maintaining the regional order in the
Indo-Pacific.
The Author
Shihoko Goto is the director the Asia Program and director for geoeconomics and Indo-
Pacific enterprise at the Wilson Center.
Depositphotos
Would Donald Trump Start a

China-US Trade War 2.0?
Even if Trump could somehow weather the economic
repercussions of another trade war, the broader
political consequences for the Republican Party would
likely be insurmountable.
By Jiachen Shi
Donald Trump is close to securing the 2024 Republican presidential

nomination after a winning streak in early GOP primaries. To take
it up a notch, the former U.S. president wants his mounting clout to
be felt not only by his challengers within the country, but also by
the United States’ biggest international competitor: China. To that
end, he claimed China’s recent stock market crash was a response
to his victory in the Iowa caucus, despite the lack of any evidence
to prove such a correlation.
Will Trump’s comeback bring a tougher policy on China? It is
possible. Considering Trump’s track record of confronting China
and his persistent anti-China rhetoric during his campaign, his
high-key return to the spotlight of U.S. politics – and potentially, to
the White House – is starting to spark speculation about the
reversal of the Biden-led détente between the United States and
China. One widely discussed scenario is the initiation of a second
trade war.
However, a closer examination of the aftermath of the first trade
war and its political ramifications within the Republican Party
would lead to a different perspective.
It is ironic that Trump, generally characterized as an isolationist,
never shies away from weaponizing trade policy. Despite his boast
about the trade war’s benefits for the United States, though, it
actually did more harm than good to the U.S. economy. Contrary to
Trump’s intentions, the high tariffs on Chinese goods neither
boosted U.S. manufacturing nor reduced the trade deficit with
China. Instead, U.S. firms and consumers bore the brunt of tariffs
on Chinese imports, leading to higher costs for businesses and a
huge decline in U.S. products’ international competitiveness.
To make matters worse, China suspended its purchases of U.S.
agricultural products and imposed retaliatory tariffs on U.S.
imports, exacerbating the challenges faced by U.S. firms in
downstream industries. For all intents and purposes, the trade war
proved to be a resounding economic failure for the United States,
causing an estimated annual net loss of $16 billion to the U.S.

economy.
If a 25 percent tariff on imports from China already wrought such
havoc on the U.S. economy, it is highly improbable that Trump
would genuinely consider imposing a 60 percent tariff, as recently
reported by the Washington Post. Even if Trump could somehow
weather the economic repercussions of another trade war, the
broader political consequences for the Republican Party would
likely be insurmountable.
The most direct political impact on the GOP was exhibited by the
results of the 2018 midterm elections, which occurred several
months after the trade war. Whereas Trump attributed the loss of
many GOP candidates to their failure to embrace him, studies have
pointed out a different causation: The Republican House
candidates lost vote share in counties where employment heavily
relied on manufacturing and agricultural products affected by
China’s retaliatory tariffs. This impact was especially pronounced
in “swing” counties, where the election outcome had been closely
contested during the 2016 presidential election.
While Trump has never acknowledged the negative political
repercussions of his tariff policy toward China, his actions say
otherwise. The most prominent example is his initiation of a large-
scale bailout program aimed at subsidizing farmers, a group
directly affected by the trade war and a key component of his voter
base. Nevertheless, not only did the bailout program substantially
worsen the government deficit, but it offered little electoral help to
Republican candidates.
Despite polling indicating continued support for Trump among a
considerable proportion of farmers leading up to the 2024 election,
empirical evidence reveals that their verbal support for Trump
does not necessarily translate into voting support for the
Republican Party. Take Iowa, one of the regions hardest-hit during
the trade war, for example: Many Republican farmers there have
expressed unwavering support for Trump for his reelection, even
in the face of potential trade conflicts with China. However, the
2018 midterm elections saw the GOP lose two congressional seats
to the Democrats, resulting in the latter becoming the majority in

the state.
Thus, the cost of another trade war with China is evidently more
pronounced for GOP politicians from farm states than for Trump
himself. Nearly a year ago, many rural Republicans already
rejected Trump’s proposals to slap new tariffs on Chinese imports.
Even within the House China Select Committee, where China
hawks predominate, heated debates about the prospect of another
trade war have never ceased, with concerned Republicans
discreetly aligning with several Democrats in opposing such a
possibility.
Considering Trump’s current sway over the GOP, a swath of
Republican lawmakers are still reluctant to publicly criticize him.
However, if faced with a choice between their own political careers
and blindly following Trump, it is anticipated that many would
prioritize their own interests over the former president. Historical
precedents support this notion: In 2000, three out of four
Republicans voted in favor of Bill Clinton’s decision to grant Beijing
permanent normal trading privileges, demonstrating a willingness
to break ranks when they believed it would serve the best interests
of their constituencies – even just months before a presidential
election.
While Trump is gaining stronger momentum among his supporters
than in 2016 and 2020, a parallel anti-Trump force is also on the
rise, both within and outside the GOP. Trump may not truly care
about the victims of the trade war as he claims to do, but there is
no way he could completely ignore the voices of rank-and-file
Republican lawmakers. As Trump-backed candidates did not fare
well in the 2022 midterm elections, he should have realized by now
that if he does not wish to be a lame duck during a potential second
term, he has to make a breakthrough on the razor-thin margin that
House Republicans currently hold in 2024 and beyond.
With the ousting of their former House speaker, any rational
Republican would prioritize stability over uncertainty at this
juncture. Initiating another trade war with China would likely sow
further discord within the already-divided GOP, exacerbating

divisions rather than fostering unity.
Since the Biden administration has maintained most of Trump’s
tariffs on China, the former president will continue to tout the idea
of a trade war 2.0 in the lead-up to the general election,
emphasizing his greater determination to counter China than his
Democratic counterpart. Nevertheless, if the lessons of the previous
three elections have taught Trump anything, it is that he and his
party are the ones ultimately paying the political price of the trade
war. And the significant rejection from within the GOP is becoming
a formidable deterrent to his pursuit of such an agenda.
The Author
Jiachen Shi is a Ph.D. candidate in Political Science at Tulane University.
U.S. State Department
A Murdered Ambassador, a
Closed Embassy: The Tragic
History of US Diplomacy in
Afghanistan
As the U.S. debates the fate of its embassy in Kabul,
it’s worth remembering the broader context of
Afghanistan-U.S. diplomatic relations – including the
murder of Ambassador Dubs in 1979.
By Freshta Jalalzai
February 14 marked the 45th anniversary of the assassination of

U.S. Ambassador to Afghanistan Adolph Dubs, who was taken at
gunpoint off the streets of Kabul on that date in 1979. Today, it’s
worth remembering that event as debate continues about whether
the U.S. should return in some form to its embassy in Kabul, which
has been shuttered since August 2021. The closure of the U.S.
embassy and the 1979 murder of the U.S. ambassador together
underscore the complexities shaping Afghanistan-U.S. relations
over their 103-year history.
Diplomatic engagements between Afghanistan and the United
States began with the official recognition of Afghanistan by U.S.
President Warren G. Harding in 1921. Diplomatic relations were
formalized in 1935, when U.S. Ambassador William H. Hornibrook
presented his credentials to the Afghan government. At the time,
U.S. diplomacy with Afghanistan was carried out from the U.S.
embassy in Tehran.
During World War II, Afghanistan maintained its neutrality,
refraining from aligning with any of the warring factions. The
American Legation in Kabul was established in 1942 and upgraded
to embassy status in 1948. The first U.S. embassy in Kabul was
located in a rented house in Wazir Akbar Khan district, not far
from the new building.
During the 1950s and 1960s, Afghanistan received substantial
assistance primarily from the Soviet Union, while support from the
United States was comparatively less. Consequently, the
geopolitical scales tilted in favor of the Soviets, granting them
greater sway over Afghan politics and affairs.
In November 1963, King Mohammed Zahir Shah visited the United
States, meeting with President John F. Kennedy to enhance mutual
relations and seek support for Afghanistan’s modernization efforts,
including infrastructure development, education, healthcare, and
defense strengthening. His request was largely ignored.
Years later, following the end of the Afghan monarchy and the
bloody pro-Soviet coup that terminated the first Afghan Republic in
1978, Afghanistan’s strategic location as a buffer state between the
Soviet Union and South Asia heightened its significance to the
United States and the Western bloc in the Cold War era. In the same
year, the Soviet Union solidified its support by signing a “friendship
treaty,” committing to provide economic and military assistance to

bolster the pro-Soviet regime in Kabul.
This was also the year that Adolph Dubs, also known as Spike Dubs,
assumed the role of ambassador to Afghanistan. Dubs was well-
equipped for his diplomatic mission with prior experience in
Soviet Russia, having served in Moscow.
On Valentine’s Day in 1979, militants disguised as police officers
abducted Dubs from his car and took him to the Kabul Hotel, an
Afghan government property nestled within sight of the U.S.
embassy. Despite U.S. appeals for peaceful negotiations, the then-
Afghan government reportedly authorized a violent assault on the
captors, resulting in Dubs’ death during a rescue attempt.
The claims surrounding the kidnapping and killing remain
contentious and polarizing within Afghan political circles.
According to the U.S. State Department, to this day “[t]he exact
identity and motive of these kidnappers remain a mystery.”
However, Bruce Flatin, the political counselor in Kabul, conveyed
suspicions to Washington that the Afghan government, and
potentially the Soviets, were involved in Dubs’ assassination.
The tragedy dealt a significant blow to Afghanistan-U.S. diplomatic
relations, symbolizing the volatile nature of Afghan politics and the
fragility of the half-hearted U.S. diplomatic presence in the country.
For years, Kabul residents viewed the Kabul Hotel as a symbol of
the political turmoil that followed the killing of the U.S.
ambassador, perceiving it as a cursed locale.
In a matter of months, the Soviets invaded Afghanistan, thrusting
the country into a full-fledged war. Millions of Afghans lost their
lives, limbs, and homes in the conflict. The closure of the U.S.
Embassy in Kabul on January 30, 1989, due to concerns about the
new regime’s ability to maintain security and ensure the safety of
diplomats, particularly after the final withdrawal of Soviet forces
from the country, left a void in bilateral relations, cutting off
Afghanistan from the United States.
As a result of these factors, the U.S. government refrained from
appointing a replacement for Dubs for several decades. The U.S.
had a charge d’affaires, but no ambassador to Afghanistan from

Dubs’ murder in 1979 until 1989, when the embassy closed.
Efforts to re-establish diplomatic ties between the U.S. and
Afghanistan began only after the September 11 attacks and the
subsequent U.S.-led invasion of the country. On December 17, 2001,
the U.S. Liaison Office in Kabul was inaugurated, and a week later,
the U.S. officially acknowledged the Interim Authority in
Afghanistan, empowering it to represent the country in
international affairs.
The U.S. embassy in Kabul stood as a strategic sentinel within the
once formidable bastion of the Green Zone, nestled deep in the
beating heart of the Afghan capital. From Kabul to Baghdad, the
U.S. embassy in Afghanistan held sway as a significant U.S.
diplomatic presence in the region.
Although officials rarely divulged details about its dimensions,
insights gleaned from talking points from the U.S. embassy in
Kabul, obtained by NPR in 2019, shed light on the embassy’s
magnitude, suggesting that it was the largest diplomatic mission
globally. The once sprawling U.S. embassy complex was
inaugurated in 2006, and an investment of nearly $800 million was
allocated for its expansion as recently as 2016.
However, the events of August 2021 saw a stark reversal of this
trajectory as the U.S. diplomatic mission departed Kabul in a
chaotic airlift, drawing comparisons to the fall of Saigon, Vietnam.
The swift Taliban takeover of Kabul in August 2021 marked the end
of over two decades of partnership between Kabul and
Washington.
Today, the status of the U.S. embassy remains uncertain, echoing
the ambiguity surrounding Washington’s stance on Afghanistan’s
evolving political climate. The U.S. government severed direct
diplomatic engagement with the Taliban in Kabul following their
takeover of Afghanistan and has refrained from officially
recognizing the government or engaging in discussions over
critical issues.
Officially, the U.S. embassy in Kabul has “suspended operations” –
rather than closed – since August 31, 2001.The suspension of
operations at the U.S. embassy in Kabul prompted the

establishment of a diplomatic entity tasked with representing U.S.
interests in Afghanistan: the Afghanistan Affairs Unit, currently
headquartered in Doha.
Recently, the State Department, in a strategy document titled
“Integrated Country Strategy Afghanistan,” approved in October
2023, hinted at the cautious exploration of resuming consular
access to Taliban-controlled Afghanistan without formal
recognition of the Taliban’s Islamic Emirate. “Even as – and for as
long as – the United States does not recognize the Taliban as the
legitimate government of Afghanistan, we must build functional
relationships that advance our objectives and further our
understanding of the Taliban’s readiness and ability to fulfill their
commitments to us,” the document said.
There are various models already in place for this. China, for
example, has an official ambassador in Kabul but has not formally
recognized the Taliban government. India has a lower-key
presence, with its embassy in Kabul staffed by a “technical team”
rather than an ambassador.
The “Integrated Country Strategy Afghanistan” implied a potential
change in U.S. policy toward minimal interaction with the isolated
Islamist regime, and sparked some optimism among Afghans
looking forward to a more robust and direct U.S. engagement in
Afghan affairs. However, a State Department spokesperson told
Voice of America that there are no “near-term plans to return any
diplomatic functions to Kabul.”
The Taliban’s Foreign Ministry declined to comment on the U.S.
political stance. They also did not provide information about the
status of the U.S. embassy, its maintenance, and current security
arrangements.
Lisa Curtis, director of the Indo-Pacific Security Program at the
Center for New American Security, argues against reopening the
U.S. embassy in Kabul until the Taliban permit girls’ education and
lift restrictions on women’s freedom to work and political
participation. She said that she remains hopeful that the United
Nations’ appointment of an envoy for Afghanistan could strengthen
the international community’s focus on pushing the Taliban on

human rights, especially for women and girls.
The designation of a United Nations special envoy for Afghanistan
is positioned to become the focal point for the upcoming meeting of
special representatives for Afghanistan, set for February 18-19 in
Doha, Qatar.
Curtis expressed disappointment that Washington has not taken a
greater leadership role when it comes to human rights and
women’s issues in Afghanistan as millions of Afghan girls are
barred from attending school, and women’s freedoms are
restricted, the country is subjected to stringent political embargoes,
its government lacks recognition, and poverty looms.
The abandonment of the U.S. diplomatic mission had profound
consequences beyond diplomatic and security concerns,
significantly impacting the young generation of Afghans. The
embassy provided educational resources, scholarships, and
employment to thousands. Through such initiatives, the U.S.
government empowered talented young Afghans, including girls
and women, to contribute to rebuilding their war-ravaged country
and explore avenues for personal and intellectual growth. With the
closure of the U.S. embassy, all that is gone, but the image of
America lingers in the minds of Afghans, stranded in a country
isolated from the world’s embrace.
In 1979, Afghanistan faced the Soviet invasion when U.S. attention
waned. Today, concerns about China’s growing interest in
Afghanistan are rising among regional observers. Moving forward,
condition-based U.S. involvement is crucial to support
Afghanistan’s role as a buffer against emerging influences and to
advance strategic objectives. Through active engagement,
promoting reconciliation, and fostering stability, the U.S. can better
enhance regional security, counter extremism, and safeguard its
interests in the region.
The Author
Freshta Jalalzai is an Afghan-American journalist who holds a degree from Columbia
University’s Graduate School of Journalism in New York.
Japan Ministry of Foreign Affairs
What Trump’s Re-election Could

Mean for for the Japan-US
Alliance
The return of an alliance skeptic as U.S. president
would lead Tokyo to enhance Japan's self-defense
capabilities.
By Takahashi Kosuke
What will happen to Japan if former U.S. President Donald Trump

wins the 2024 presidential election? As more than a few opinion
polls have found the former president has the upper hand over
current President Joe Biden in the election, this “what if Trump
wins?” question has become a real and serious issue in Tokyo.
Debate over what Japan can do to prepare for a possible Trump
comeback heated up during the latest session of the country’s
National Diet, which started on January 26.
At the House of Representatives Budget Committee session held on
February 22, Ogata Rintaro, member of the House of
Representatives and a former diplomat, proposed bringing forward
the government’s ongoing plan to raise defense spending and
related budgets to 2 percent of gross domestic product (GDP) in
fiscal year 2027.
On February 10, Trump revealed that while he was in office he said
the United States might not protect its North Atlantic Treaty
Organization (NATO) allies from a potential Russian attack if they
did not pay their fair share of defense expenditures. Trump
appears to have aimed this warning at NATO countries whose
defense spending does not reach the NATO standard of 2 percent of
GDP.
“If we don't reach 2 percent of GDP by November of this year,
there’s a possibility that someone who says ‘I won't help’ will
become the next U.S. president,” Ogata cautioned. “We should
hurry up to achieve the 2 percent target.”
In response, Chief Cabinet Secretary Hayashi Yoshimasa demurred.
“Regarding what if Trump wins, I will refrain from commenting on
elections in other countries,” he said. “I want the government to
work together as one.”
Defense Minister Kihara Minoru also spoke carefully, saying, “We
have to refrain from hypothetical talk about individual candidates
in the U.S. presidential election such as [asking] what if.”
According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute

(SIPRI) Fact Sheet published in April 2023, the global defense
budget represented 2.2 percent of global GDP in 2022, while Japan’s
defense budget represented only 1.1 percent of its GDP.
Although the administration of Prime Minister Kishida Fumio
already decided to increase defense spending during the Biden
administration, if Trump returns, that alone will not be enough.
Trump, who advocates an “America First” posture, has repeatedly
indicated that he would not hesitate to withdraw U.S. forces from
Japan and South Korea if necessary.
According to a memoir by John Bolton, who served as national
security advisor for Trump from April 2018 to September 2019,
Trump said the best way to get allies like Japan and South Korea to
pay more for the cost of maintaining American troops in the two
nations is “to threaten to withdraw all U.S. forces.”
In addition, according to the memoir of Mark Esper, who was
secretary of defense under the Trump administration, Trump once
advocated for the “complete withdrawal of U.S. forces from South
Korea.” But then-Secretary of State Mike Pompeo reportedly
offered to help prevent this. According to Esper, Pompeo told
Trump that the withdrawal of U.S. forces from South Korea should
be made a priority during the president’s second term in office, to
which Trump responded, “Yeah, yeah, a second term.”
With that in mind, it is almost certain that Trump, if elected again,
will intensify pressure on both Japan and South Korea to bear the
cost of stationing U.S. troops by frequently threatening to withdraw
troops from allied countries. Unfortunately for Japan, former
Prime Minister Abe Shinzo, who got along well with Trump and
earned his personal trust, is out of the picture, having been
assassinated in July 2022.
There is also a possibility that Trump will request or demand Tokyo
revise the Japanese Constitution’s Article 9 to allow Japan to protect
Taiwan from China. Article 9 of the constitution renounces war as a
means of settling international disputes and prohibits the
maintenance of armed forces and other war potential.
Trump has also seemed unconcerned with the state of U.S.

extended deterrence. In 2016, then-presidential candidate Trump
did not oppose the idea of Japan and South Korea becoming
nuclear-armed, saying, “it’s going to happen anyway. It’s only a
question of time.”
Japan, which protects the lives and property of its people based on
the Japan-U.S. alliance, has no choice but to get along well with the
United States, no matter who is in the White House, at least in the
current situation.
However, Trump’s re-election could also be a big opportunity for
Japan. A second Trump administration will surely provide an
opportunity for Tokyo to move away from its servile diplomacy
toward the U.S. and move closer to becoming a truly independent
country that can protect itself on its own in a time of crisis by
enhancing Japan's self-defense capabilities. In a sense, Trump 2.0
may be shock therapy for many peace-addicted Japanese
lawmakers who lack crisis management awareness and are
currently heavily embroiled in a series of money scandals.
Kishida is scheduled to make a state visit to the United States on
April 10. Considering the possibility of Trump’s re-election, how
should Japan deal with the Biden administration while ensuring it
does not become still more entangled with the United States?
Kishida is faced with a difficult task.
The Author
Takahashi Kosuke is Tokyo Correspondent for The Diplomat.
The White House, Adam Schultz
After a Major Upgrade, the US

Military Wants to Take Things
Further With Vietnam
Despite mutual concerns about China, Hanoi’s
wariness of its larger neighbor may limit what it’s
willing to do with Washington.
By Christopher Woody
U.S. military leaders are eyeing more cooperation with Vietnam in

2024, aiming to deepen a relationship that has expanded rapidly
amid heightened tensions with China. But while both sides have
expressed interest in strengthening ties, Hanoi’s desire to balance
between its foreign partners and its wariness of its larger neighbor
will likely limit how far it will take its security relationship with the
U.S.
Vietnam’s elevation of its relationship with the U.S. to a
comprehensive strategic partnership in early September was a
major milestone, moving the U.S. up two tiers in Vietnam’s
diplomatic hierarchy just 10 years after the countries first
established a comprehensive partnership. In a statement
afterward, President Joe Biden and Nguyen Phu Trong, general
secretary of the Communist Party of Vietnam, praised their
countries’ “remarkable strides” over the past decade and pledged
“to deepen cooperation,” including by their militaries.
Since then, U.S. military leaders have touted the upgrade as an
opportunity to do more with Vietnam.
“We’d really like to get to Vietnam,” Col. Brandon Teague,
commander of the U.S. Army’s 5th Security Force Assistance
Brigade (SFAB), said in an interview at a conference in Washington,
D.C. in October. Teague’s unit, which is assigned to the Indo-Pacific
theater, is one of several SFABs set up in recent years to train
foreign forces and build relationships overseas.
Teague said that during the Indo-Pacific Armies Chiefs Conference
in India in late September, the commander of U.S. Army Pacific,
Gen. Charles Flynn, asked his Vietnamese counterpart to host this
year’s version of that meeting. Vietnam didn’t agree at the time,
“but they didn’t say no,” and their presence at the 2023 meeting
“was a good sign all in itself,” Teague said. “So we’d really like to
partner with Vietnam, if possible, in the future.”
Flynn met with Vietnamese army officials in Hanoi in November
and reiterated the U.S. Army’s interest in expanding collaboration.
Speaking to reporters in January, Flynn again praised the elevation
of relations, calling it one of several “indications” of “increased
opportunities for interoperability” and “increased opportunities to
continue to work with our allies and partners” in the region.
Adm. Samuel Paparo, who is nominated to lead U.S. Indo-Pacific
Command, echoed that sentiment at his confirmation hearing in
February, telling lawmakers that, “we’re ready to partner with
Vietnam as deeply as they want.”
The U.S. and Vietnamese militaries have worked together for

decades, focusing on recovering missing personnel and
unexploded ordnance from the Vietnam War. Those efforts have
expanded in recent years and other exchanges have increased,
highlighted by several visits by U.S. aircraft carriers to Vietnam
since 2018.
The militaries now cooperate on humanitarian assistance, disaster
preparedness and relief, peacekeeping, military medicine, and
public health, among other efforts. “There are a number of things
that we’re doing together as partners that I think reflect our shared
interests,” Lindsay Ford, deputy assistant secretary of defense for
South and Southeast Asia, said at an event hosted by the Center for
Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) in January.
Asked what cooperation the Pentagon wanted to pursue in 2024,
Ford pointed to ongoing work on disaster response and military
medicine as well as maritime security, including “helping Vietnam
build its own maritime-domain awareness capabilities.”
“One thing we are certainly focused on helping our partners with
[is] English-language training as well, because a lot of times when it
comes down to the very tactical [military-to-military] kinds of
exchanges, things as basic as they need to actually use the same
words and stuff for what they’re doing is a part of how we can
grow” those exchanges, Ford added.
U.S. officials emphasize that they want to work with Vietnam for
the sake of improving bilateral relations rather than to counter
China, but the outreach comes as the U.S. is trying to bolster its
partnerships and alliances amid competition with Beijing. For
Vietnam, the elevation of relations with the U.S. reflects a desire to
improve ties with Washington, but Hanoi has upgraded relations
with a number of countries while seeking to reassure China, its
larger neighbor and major trading partner, that it is not doing so to
challenge Chinese interests.
“Vietnam last year was probably the only country that hosted both
President Joe Biden and President Xi Jinping, so it maintains a good
relationship with all competing major powers,” Huong Le Thu,
deputy director of the Asia Program at the International Crisis

Group, said at a Carnegie Endowment event in February.
Vietnam engages with countries “as long as it is within its interests,
so I don’t think anyone is able to gear Vietnam away from any
other country,” Le Thu said, adding that the U.S. should “manage”
its expectations, as Hanoi “is not going to align its interest more to
the U.S. if it’s not already in Vietnam’s interest.”
That approach will likely limit military cooperation with the U.S.,
according to Nguyen Hung Son, vice president of the Diplomatic
Academy of Vietnam.
“Military cooperation that is characterized as capacity-building, as
sharing of knowledge, maybe to a certain extent sharing of
information, that is the type of activities that Vietnam might be
more ready to participate in,” Hung Son said at the CSIS event.
“Regarding more, I’d say, sophisticated kind of activities, like
exercises or deeper kind of cooperation, I think that is going to take
more time for Vietnam to be ready to be fully engaged.”
But that “doesn’t mean there can’t be arrangements,” Amb. Ted
Osius, U.S. ambassador to Vietnam from 2014 to 2017, said at the
Carnegie event.
Leaders in Hanoi “are pragmatic,” Osius said, citing the possibility
of granting U.S. warships access to Cam Ranh Bay for refueling and
replenishment as part of a commercial deal rather than in a basing
agreement, which Vietnamese defense policy precludes.
“We’re developing a powerful partnership with Vietnam,” Osius
said. “There’s a lot of that can be done in a very pragmatic fashion
that will strengthen our partnership including in the security
realm, even absent alliances, even absent bases.”
The Author
Christopher Woody is a defense journalist based in Bangkok, Thailand.
Russian Presidential Press and Information Office
A China-Russia Arctic Alliance?

Not So Fast.
Despite lofty declarations of mutual interests in the
Arctic, there have been significant cracks in this
regional relationship.
By Marc Lanteigne
With the Arctic finding itself under ever greater global scrutiny due
to climate change, and opening up to increased economic activities,
from shipping to mining to fishing, the question of whether great
power competition is spilling over into the far north has assumed
greater importance. One aspect of this attention has been the idea
of a probable, and perhaps even inevitable, Arctic pact between
China and Russia, one based on mutual northern interests and

shared mistrust of the West.
At first glance, there is much evidence to support this view,
especially with Beijing declining to condemn the Russian invasion
of Ukraine, and instead adopting a nebulous policy of neutrality
toward the conflict. China and Russia are both pushing back
against what they perceive as NATO militarism and expansionism
in the Arctic. The Polar Silk Road, which the two states began to
jointly develop after 2017, was meant to further enhance Sino-
Russian boreal cooperation, centering on the Northern Sea Route
connecting Asia and Europe via the waters abutting Siberia.
These points of collaboration are now more commonly viewed as
signals that a deeper Arctic pact is forming between the two
powers. One recent example is a report, published last month by
American intelligence firm Strider Technologies, which argued that
China is rapidly increasing its economic presence in the Russian
Arctic and that Moscow has opened the door to Chinese interests in
Siberia and Russia’s Far East. This would suggest the powers are
now openly seeking to counterbalance the West in the Arctic in
light of NATO’s expansion to include Finland and likely Sweden. In
short, there is the conclusion that the Sino-Russian "no limits”
partnership – declared in February 2022, on the eve of the invasion
of Ukraine – is allegedly thriving in the Arctic.
A closer look at the pattern of Sino-Russian cooperation in the
Arctic over the past decade, however, reveals much more
ambivalence, especially on Beijing’s part. There are concerns
within both governments as to each other’s future intentions in the
Arctic. Far from pursuing an “unlimited” partnership, Beijing has
instead selectively engaged Russia in the Arctic, in areas that reflect
China’s own interests, such as increased science diplomacy, and has
agreed to purchase Russian oil and gas (at discounted rates).
As for overall shipping, Chinese firms have been reluctant to use
the Northern Sea Route since 2022 due to concerns about facing
Western sanctions for providing economic assistance to Russia.
Additionally, the Hong Kong-registered vessel Newnew Polar Bear
was placed under an uncomfortable spotlight after being
implicated in undersea cable cuts in the Gulf of Finland last

October.
China’s stance on oil and gas development in the Russian Arctic has
also been sporadic, with Beijing remaining tepid on Russian
interests in co-developing the Power of Siberia 2 natural gas
pipeline. Chinese energy firms have made only infrequent protests
over Western sanctions on Russia.
The Strider report highlighted a considerable uptick in Chinese
firms registering to operate in the Russian Arctic as a sign of
deepening bilateral cooperation in the region. Yet this leads to the
question of whether these figures reflect an immanent increase in
joint China-backed Russian Arctic projects, or merely a window of
opportunity for Chinese interests to jockey for position, given the
spaces vacated by European firms decamping from Russian
partnerships. What remains to be seen is whether the potential
impact of the growing number of Chinese companies in the Arctic
will represent any significant economic power shift, given ongoing
Russian sensitivity to the economic sovereignty of its Arctic lands,
and the uneven track record of previous joint Polar Silk Road
projects in Siberia.
One notable example is the long-planned Belkomur rail link in
western Siberia, which was touted as a potential Sino-Russian
investment in a vital land link for Eurasian trade. The project
remains in bureaucratic limbo, with ongoing questions about its
economic viability.
Moreover, China originally perceived the Polar Silk Road as
eventually linking Chinese interests with the whole of the Arctic,
with plans ranging from mining in Canada and Greenland, to rail
links in the Nordic region, to natural gas development in Alaska.
Few of these projects are likely to move forward. Now Beijing must
deal with Russia as its only viable economic outlet to the Far North,
a situation the Chinese government did not anticipate when the
Polar Silk Road was first established.
Much discussion of closer Sino-Russian Arctic ties ignores the fact
that Moscow is seeking to further diversify its Arctic partners
beyond China, by including India and countries in the Gulf Region.
With Russian participation in the Arctic Council reduced since

March 2022, Moscow has made little secret of its interest in looking
for additional Arctic partners elsewhere.
Last year, Russia called for a BRICS science station to be established
in Pyramiden, in Norway’s Svalbard archipelago, which would
allow not only China but also other members of the group such as
Brazil and India to participate. This came at a time when the BRICS
are in the process of expanding their membership, with countries
such as Egypt, Iran, and the United Arab Emirates already signed
on (and the UAE has recently given many indications that it is
seeking to expand its own Arctic interests). While China will
remain an integral player in Moscow’s Arctic planning, it is evident
that the Russian government is counting on the creation of a wider
alternative Arctic regime.
Despite lofty declarations of mutual interests in the Arctic, there
have been significant cracks in this regional relationship. These
include ongoing concerns about demographic stresses between
Russia’s depopulated Arctic territories and adjacent Chinese
provinces. In addition, in 2020 a Russian Arctic researcher was
accused of spying for Beijing, and overall there has been little
movement beyond rhetoric on further joint research initiatives
between the two states.
Another telling sign of trouble was the release of an official
standard Chinese map in August last year, which designated an
island shared by the two powers, Bolshoi Ussuriysky (Heixiazi
Island in Chinese), as wholly belonging to China. The Chinese
Ministry of Natural Resources had also decreed in February 2023
that its own maps of the Russian Far East be changed to use
traditional Chinese names of Russian cities like Vladivostok. These
moves must also be considered when discussing the robustness of
Sino-Russian Arctic cooperation.
The underlying question is whether there is a threshold degree of
trust between China and Russia to allow for a deepening of Arctic
cooperation. Both countries have engaged in joint military
operations in and near the Arctic, such as off the coast of Alaska in
August of last year, but it remains unclear as to whether these
displays have served any purpose beyond a show of unity versus

the West. The signing of a bilateral coast guard agreement in
Murmansk, near the Finnish border, was symbolic, but there has
been little sign that Russia will significantly yield its coveted Arctic
maritime space to Chinese vessels.
The Russian government remains concerned about China’s longer-
term goals in the region, especially as the power gap between the
two states continues to widen. Beijing worries about being too
dependent upon Russia, especially since the future of that country
remains cloudy, at best. The 1969 Sino-Soviet border war has likely
not been forgotten by either power, and remains a cautionary tale
for both states about the dangers of, to use the Maoist-era phrase,
“leaning to one side” too much.
While the far-northern strategies of Beijing and Moscow need to be
carefully analyzed, presuming that the two states are in lockstep
with their regional policies creates a distorted strategic picture at a
time when clarity about Arctic security is desperately needed.
The Author
Marc Lanteigne is a professor of Political Science at UiT: The Arctic University of
Norway, Tromsø, and an adjunct lecturer at the Ilisimatusarfik / University of Greenland,
Nuuk. He is also the editor of the Arctic news blog Over the Circle.
Associated Press, Bikas Das, file
India and the Red Sea

Imbroglio
India, with its traditionally close ties with Iran and its
increasing influence in the region, may have a role to
play in alleviating the present crisis.
By Anil Golani and Radhey Tambi
In August 2022, given that there had been no incident of attacks on

merchant shipping off the coast of Somalia since 2018, industries
representing various sectors such as shipping, cargo, tanker, and
insurance conveyed their position to the International Maritime
Organization (IMO) concerning the removal of the Indian Ocean
High Risk Area, effective January 1, 2023.
It did not take too long for the Houthis in Yemen to upend the
decision. They started attacking merchant ships in the Red Sea, a
global maritime trade route that connects the Indian Ocean with
the Mediterranean Sea, and further to Europe, as retaliation
against Israel’s assault on Gaza following Hamas’ October 7, 2023
attack on Israel. The Houthi attacks have led to soaring oil prices,
increased insurance costs, and detours of mercantile marine traffic
resulting in a cascading effect on costs and the global economy.
This also puts the United States in a peculiar position, as its attacks
on the Houthis in the region have had a negligible effect. The
Houthis are aided and abetted by Iran, but the United States does
not want to get into a direct conflict or confrontation with Iran, as
this might lead to a wider conflict in the region beyond the ongoing
Israel-Hamas war that continues to smolder without any end in
sight. In this context, it is important to understand the relevance of
Iran’s support to the Houthis and the implications of continued
strife affecting global shipping and trade.
India, with its traditionally close ties with Iran and its increasing
influence in the region, may have a role to play in alleviating this
crisis.
Iran’s continued support to Houthis as it attacks ships in the Red
Sea could well be another attempt to continue the escalatory spiral
between the West and Iran. This needs to be understood against the
backdrop of transition day (when the U.N. sanctions of the 2015
Iran nuclear deal lapsed) and the quick imposition of new
sanctions by Western countries, mainly led by the United States, in
an attempt to target Iran’s ballistic missile and drone programs.
The utilization of Iranian drones, particularly by proxies, is a low-
cost option that affords plausible deniability with strategic
ramifications in the region. Especially with the conflict that rages
between all-weather U.S. ally Israel and the Palestinians in the
Gaza strip, this is an opportune moment for Iran, with the United
States wary of getting into a direct conflict in an election year. The
message for the United States is loud and clear: The more it
attempts to corner Iran internationally, first by scuttling the Joint
Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), and then by imposing
additional sanctions on Iran's energy, financial, economic, and

defense sectors, the higher Tehran will bounce back through its
proxies in the region. This would ultimately help Iran further
achieve its objective of widening the wedge between itself and
Israel, and the larger Arab world.
China, for its part, smells an opportunity to be a security provider
in the region given its close ties with Iran and its reluctance to
condemn the Houthi attacks. China does not want to be a part of
Operation Prosperity Guardian, the U.S.-led effort to defend
shipping in the Red Sea region. Beijing, which has conveyed its
support for the Palestinian cause, is more than happy to witness
decreasing U.S. influence in the region while projecting itself as a
power that needs to be reckoned with. It also does not want to be
seen as being aligned with the United States, as would occur if it
were to join the U.S.-led coalition to protect shipping in the region.
Discrediting the United States, Beijing might want to pursue a more
active role in diffusing the Israel-Hamas conflict by acting as an
interlocutor with the Arab world, and this would indirectly reduce
Houthi attacks on Red Sea shipping.
There is no denying the fact that India is a resident player that
occupies nearly 40 percent of the strategic waters of the Indian
Ocean. At the same, it is also true that New Delhi, on its own, lacks
the capability and capacity to deal with any crises where the lines
between state and non-state actors have blurred and shades of gray
have emerged.
Times have changed, as today India continues to buy energy from
Russia despite sanctions, while it stopped importing crude from
Iran following the JCPOA when sanctions were imposed on Iran’s
energy and financial sectors. India, with its geopolitical influence
and strategic location in the Indian Ocean Region, and possessing a
large navy that has exercised with most countries within the region
and beyond, can emerge as a major player to become a net security
provider.
The 12th edition of the biennial multinational exercise, MILAN
2024, which took place from February 19-27 in Visakhapatnam,
saw the navies of 50 countries, including Iran, participating. With
its theme of “Camaraderie, Cohesion, Collaboration” the Indian

Navy, with its partners, aimed to work together, collaborate, and
respond cohesively as a united and credible force in the region.
These exercises help forge bonds with professional interactions as
well as cultural, sports, and other activities during the harbor
phase. That will go a long way in increasing the synergy between
the participating navies toward large force multilateral operations
at sea that can act as a deterrent to inimical forces like the Houthis.
Apart from the immediate economic fallout and consequential
inflation for some parts of the world, the possible long-term
implications of the Red Sea crisis may lead to a deteriorating
security situation in the region. The need of the hour today is for
like-minded countries to unite, collaborate, and operate in unison
to ensure freedom of navigation on the high seas that does not
adversely affect maritime trade and security in the region.
The Authors
Anil Golani, retired Air Vice Marshal, is currently the additional director general of the
Centre for Air Power Studies, New Delhi.
Radhey Tambi is a research associate at the Centre for Air Power Studies, New Delhi.
Depositphotos
Marginally Indian: Indian Sci-Fi

and Gore’s ‘Marginally Human’
Gore’s “Marginally Human” and Akbar’s “Leila” both
show how science fiction can bloom outside the West.
By Krzysztof Iwanek
With mainstream global fantasy and sci-fi arguably dominated by

Western authors, what perspectives do Indian writers bring in?
Since it would be too ambitious to try and discuss all of Indian
fantasy and science fiction in one go, a piecemeal approach will
have to suffice. In that vein, to start answering this question, I’ll
focus on two Indian sci-fi novels that envisage the life of human
societies in the future: Vidyut Gore’s “Marginally Human” (2021)
and Prayaag Akbar’s “Leila” (2017), which has also been adapted by
Netflix.
One reply to the question posed at the start of this article is obvious
and intellectually rather lazy – a Western author’s sci-fi novel or a
Western sci-fi movie often takes place in the West (the movie
“District 9” ridiculed this tendency). Even if such a story is not set
in, say, the United States as we know it now, the political entities it
presents usually closely resemble Western constructs (think “Star
Trek”).
We would thus expect a non-Western sci-fi to be written with
different lenses. This is indeed true for both Akbar’s and Gore’s
novels, but it is also an assumption one could reach without
reading many non-Western authors. What else, then, do these
novels bring into the picture?
Both Gore’s “Marginally Human” and Akbar’s “Leila” present a
vision of the future in which the degradation of the environment
has greatly deepened and humanity is forced to live in pockets of
strictly-controlled habitation. Curiously, in both novels, these take
the form of domes. In “Leila,” living outside these zones exposes
human settlements to rising heat and pollution; in “Marginally
Human,” the territories outside the domes are referred to as a
“wasteland” and also less habitable, due to the past wars.
In both cases, the story takes place in an India of the future. It is
hard not to see the changing conditions of our world today,
particularly in a country like India, as a source of inspiration for
such literary visions. However, in both novels these catastrophic
changes have been global.
Moreover, both novels reveal a particular sensibility to economic
and social divisions. In both, there are communities living on the
verge of, or perhaps even beyond the limits of, what many
inhabitants of these future words would consider civilization –
outside the domes. Again, it is easy to compare these visions with
India of today, where village life, slums, and pockets of tribal
populations are facing a hard coexistence with growing cities and
industrial progress. Indeed, in the India of today the differences
between living in a tribal village and a metropolis like Delhi or
Mumbai could as well be already considered science fiction. In

both novels, the life within the domes themselves is also strictly
divided between the enclosures of the rich and the crowded zones
for the general population.
Here, however, these general similarities end and differences begin
– including the difference in how much each novel draws on
contemporary Indian social and political life. “Leila” is a dystopian
tale with a dark vision of the future similar to, for instance, that
seen in “Cloud Atlas” by David Mitchell. Thus, the novel presents
the Earth as facing not only inadvertent environmental decay but
also the decline of political life into totalitarianism.
Moreover, in “Leila,” this vision of the authoritarian government,
filled with references to the current Hindu right of India, also
blends with a rigid caste system. The domes are divided into
residential zones for particular castes and radical forces are trying
to enforce purity of blood. Again, it is not hard to perceive the
future societies as envisaged in Akbar’s “Leila” as an extension and
enhancement of the most radical and negative aspects of today’s
urban life in India.
This is where “Marginally Human” takes a completely different
trajectory, however. The novel presents a vision of the future where
our planet survived centuries of war, though with only a fraction of
the population left. Not much is said about what these conflicts
were fought over, but it is mentioned that they were caused by old
divisions (country versus country, religion versus religion). This
long and bloody churn led to these divisions being wiped out. Thus,
while the divisions between the elites and the masses are profound
in “Marginally Human,” caste or ethnic purity as such are not
mentioned as socio-political factors.
In this sense, “Marginally Human” presents a more radically
futuristic, and still a more positive, vision. The world seems broken
and humanity is decimated, but it also crossed over old social and
political boundaries and entered a path of remarkable
technological, and biotechnological, progress. Thanks to the
technology of symbionts, humans are virtually immortal, and some
even possess powers like telepathy or teleportation. This is wholly
unlike “Leila,” which sees the humans of the future as still human,
with their worst vices actually multiplied by the lack of resources.
“Marginally Human” asks whether the humans of the future will
still be humans at all once progress crosses certain physical
boundaries. This way, “Marginally Human” is much more similar
in its discourse to novels such as “Dune” or “Do Androids Dream of
Electric Sheep?” (both have cinematic versions; the second is
known as “Blade Runner”). In a world like this, the fact that we are
still in India matters little – “Marginally Human” is in this way only
marginally Indian.
Finally, one could point out that both “Leila” and “Marginally
Human” lack a certain “imperial,” state-centered approach. One
could argue that many novels written by Western authors have not
just a West-like state as part of their vision, but that this state, or
states, play a central role in the plot. This is true for some of the
most popular sci-fi series such as “Expanse,” “Foundation,” or
“Dune.” One could say that both in “Leila” and in “Marginally
Human,” the plot is more tightly focused on individual needs and
challenges, not the ambitions of whole states, noble houses, or
elites. “Leila” is centered on a mother’s search for her daughter.
Similarly, one of the turning points of “Marginally Human” is the
kidnapping of one of two siblings, prompting the older sister to
look for the younger.
However, I think this would be stretching the “non-Western
perspective” too far. In both “Leila” and “Marginally Human,”
politics do play a role, even though they do not reach the level of an
epic conflict of states, or their future forms. It wouldn’t also be
hard to find Western sci-fi works which, like these two novels, are
not focused on the “imperial” level of human endeavors. Similarly,
it would be deeply unfair toward Western authors to assume that
non-Western authors somehow find it easier to center their plot on
simple, human needs, away from grand conflicts.
Thus, we should avoid both extremes – either assuming that being
a non-Western author plays a central role in how one crafts their
sci-fi world, or assuming that this background hardly plays any
role. “Leila” happens to be an example of the first type of a novel,
while “Marginally Human” is an instance of the latter, but a great

many other novels are certainly positioned in various points across
this spectrum.
The Author
Krzysztof Iwanek is a South Asia expert and the head of the Asia Research Centre (War
Studies University, Poland).
Flickr, Roko Indonesia
‘Cigarette Girl’ Is a Big

Streaming Hit in Indonesia
Is kretek nostalgia undercutting the country’s

campaign to curb tobacco use?
By Sribala Subramanian
A period drama about the fortunes of an Indonesian family in the

clove cigarette (kretek) business is the latest streaming hit from
Asia.
Based on a popular novel, “Cigarette Girl” was filmed in Java
against a backdrop of tobacco plantations, warehouses, and vintage
kretek factories. The five-episode series has “a ton of smoking,”
wrote one reviewer.
Following its debut on Netflix last November, “Cigarette Girl” was
on the streaming platform’s non-English, global top ten list for two
consecutive weeks. The series also topped the weekly list of most
popular streaming shows in Indonesia.
Does kretek nostalgia undercut the country’s campaign to curb
tobacco use?
A new report on tobacco trends published by the World Health
Organization (WHO) highlights the less glamorous aspects of
cigarette smoking in Indonesia. Southeast Asia had the highest rate
of tobacco consumption of any region, driven primarily by the
Indonesian market, which ranks second after China.
Globally, nicotine use is declining. However, smoking in Indonesia
has risen precipitously in the last two decades, especially among
males. According to the WHO report, Indonesian men had the
highest rate of tobacco use at 73.6 percent, up from around 58.4
percent in 2000.
Clove cigarettes dominate the Indonesian market, accounting for
90 percent of sales. Kreteks were first sold in the 1880s as a remedy
for lung ailments like asthma and subsequently gained a
reputation as a less toxic, “herbal” alternative to nicotine
cigarettes.
“The false image of these products as clean, natural, and safer than
regular cigarettes seems to attract some young people who might
otherwise not start smoking,” observed the American Cancer

Society after clove cigarettes gained popularity with teenagers and
college students in California during the 1980s.
Within Indonesian society, however, kreteks are viewed more
favorably. Mark Hanusz, author of “Kretek: The Culture and
Heritage of Indonesia’s Clove Cigarettes,” told an industry
publication that the indigenous product was “very much a national
symbol as well as a source of pride.”
“Cigarette Girl” delves into the subculture of the clove cigarette
industry through a flavor-obsessed lead character. “The secret of
kretek is in its sauce,” says Dasiyah, played by Indonesian movie
star Dian Sastrowardoyo. Dasiyah is determined to shatter gender
barriers in an industry where women “can only be rollers” by
experimenting with aromas in the forbidden “sauce room.”
The “sauce” recipe is often a closely guarded secret and could
determine “the success or failure of a kretek brand on the market,”
explained Monika Arnez, a Southeast Asia scholar at the University
of Hamburg.
Kretek sales boomed in the early 1980s when machine-made
cigarettes flooded the market, surpassing the hand-rolled varieties.
Indonesia’s wealthiest family, the Hartonos, made their fortune in
the clove cigarette business. Their brand Djarum popularized
kreteks using “aggressive” advertising campaigns.
Tobacco entrepreneurs have been criticized for hard-knuckle
tactics and “unnecessary interaction” with the government. The
industry “works to defeat, dilute and delay effective tobacco
control measures,” wrote Mary Assunta, principal author of the
Global Tobacco Industry Interference Index.
The tobacco industry in Indonesia thrives due to the low price
point of cigarettes: a pack of kreteks retails for about $1. A 2020
Universitas Brawijaya study by the Faculty of Medicine pointed out
that “the cigarette tax in Indonesia is far below the WHO
recommendation of 70% of retail price,” making it an attractive
market globally for cigarette manufacturers.
The easy availability of kreteks has had far-reaching social

consequences for Indonesia, which has one of the highest rates of
smoking among children and adolescents. The median age of lung
cancer patients is younger than in any other country, with the
Indonesian Society of Respirology blaming the “early onset of
carcinogens” brought on by underage smoking.
Yet the appeal of kreteks remains undimmed. Clove cigarettes are
an entrenched part of the cultural landscape, explained Kamila
Andini, co-director of “Cigarette Girl.”
“Like rice and coffee, tobacco is one of the textures of Indonesia,”
she said.
The Author
Sribala Subramanian is a New York-based columnist for The Diplomat.
Depositphotos
The Self-Defeating Nature of

Thailand’s ‘Soft Power’ Push
A genuine flowering of popular culture would
inevitably showcase the repressive nature of the Thai
state.
By Mark S. Cogan
Thailand’s new government cannot get enough of “soft power.” It

has become such a buzzword in the Kingdom that a Chiang Mai
man on X (formerly Twitter) gasped at the extent of its use,
mockingly noting, “My [mate’s] daughter won a Thai dancing
competition in [Bangkok] and her school called it a soft power
competition.” It’s easy to see the appeal of the idea, given the recent
appearance of pop superstar Ed Sheeran posing with famed Thai

chef Jay Fai and his after-concert visit to a tattoo shop for a
traditional Sak Yant tattoo.
But celebrities like Ed Sheeran are passing visitors, and as a matter
of practice do not often speak their minds about the other, less
appealing aspects of Thai culture. To Sheeran, engaging with local
culture and being seen out and about is part and parcel of
enhancing his own cultivated British soft power. As much as he
brings attention to local attractions, attraction and celebrity also
threaten to expose to the world the Thai state’s notorious use of
hard power against critics and dissenters.
Within hours of Sheeran’s Thai cultural escapade, two Thai
journalists were arrested as “accomplices” to the March 2023 act of
a young Thai man, Suttawee Soikham, who spraypainted an
anarchist symbol and the number 112 with a cross through it on
the outer wall of Wat Phra Kaew, a temple inside Bangkok’s Grand
Palace. Suttawee was later charged with violating the Cleanliness
Act and the Ancient Monuments Act.
What was the crime committed by the two Prachatai journalists?
Merely covering the actions of that young Khon Kaen protester.
Nutthaphol Meksobhon, the reporter who wrote the story about
the incident and Natthapon Phanphongsanon, a freelance
photographer, took a video of the incident face the same charge:
collaborating in vandalizing a historical site. The crime is
punishable by up to seven years in prison.
Thailand has been down this road before, but the current reality
has been made possible by Thai Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin’s
recent silence and the crippling effect of the recent Constitutional
Court ruling that found attempts to reform or repeal Article 112 –
Thailand’s lese-majeste law – to be treasonous. Thailand could now
fall into a junta-era pattern of media self-censorship, where
coverage of conventionally taboo topics like the monarchy leads to
an internal crackdown, evidenced by a 2020 speech by human
rights lawyer and now political prisoner Anon Nampa, who first
tested the limits of public speech by discussing the role of the
monarchy in current Thai society. This led to Thai media outlets

cutting their live coverage of the speech.
These two events, the arrest of the Prachatai journalists and the
Constitutional Court decision, add to the massive public dossier of
heavy-handed “hard” power tactics that the Thai state has
employed since the de facto restoration of the monarchy under
Field Marshal Sarit Thanarat in the mid-1950s. No life, no
individual right, and no political expense has been spared in the
defense of the Palace and its symbiotic relationship with the
military – a fact that exists in high tension with Srettha’s “soft
power” pursuit.
When Thailand achieves (and it will) the same cultural soft power
that Britain and the United States are fully capable of exporting
globally, much of this cultural production will likely arise in
response to the repressive tactics of the Thai state, rather than
Sheeran’s politically harmless childhood reflections or Taylor
Swift’s lambasting of past boyfriends. There is a good chance that
the tone of this cultural output will be darker, infused by the
structural and physical violence of the Thai state, like the anger
reflected in early American “gangsta” rap.
While Srettha has emphasized a more depoliticized form of soft
power, with the National Soft Power Committee in January
announcing changes in censorship rules, it still forbids discussion
of the monarchy. And, in a new, unpredictable environment, it will
be difficult for the government to promote the emergence of soft
power while completely suppressing vocal dissent.
For instance, former junta leader and Prime Minister Prayut Chan-
o-cha was quick to praise rapper Danupa “Milli” Kanaterrakul for
her promotion of mango sticky rice at Coachella, but not before he
sued her for defamation after she criticized him online. As Thai
music becomes more popular, it will soon further irritate and mock
the government, undermining Thailand’s international image and
reputation. The shame of its past actions is reflected in the lyrics of
Rap Against Dictatorship, whose song “prathet ku mee” symbolizes
the actions of a brutal 1970s military government, where “The
country that its capital's hearth turned into killing fields / The
country that leaders eat taxes like a sweet meal.”
When Thai culture and music transcend the region and become
impossible to censor, how long will it be until songs are written
about the fates of popular figures like Pita Limjaroenrat, the denial
of democracy, and the complicity of Thaksin Shinawatra’s family,
who championed Thai democracy only to betray it? If Srettha is
successful in boosting Thai cultural soft power, he will inevitably
also broadcast Thailand’s continuing legacy of hard power
oppression.
The Author
Mark S. Cogan is an Associate Professor of Peace and Conflict Studies at Kansai Gaidai
University in Osaka, Japan.
PUBLISHER
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Sribala Subramanian
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04/03/2024, 22:27 Myanmar: The Many Foes of Min Aung Hlaing

Letter From the Editors

Welcome to the March 2024 issue of The Diplomat Magazine.

Myanmar under Min Aung Hlaing seems locked into perpetual

Associated Press, File

Myanmar: The Many Foes of

The small protest in the central Myanmar town of Pyin Oo Lwin on

three groups had dramatically built up their forces and expanded

to carry out online scams,” along with another 100,000 in

ultimately had to accept, but there are limits to Chinese influence

late October, the group has cemented control over much of

November, the military could immediately institute a movement

Although the military initially downplayed the January 21 incident,

No doubt recent Chinese pressure on Thailand and Myanmar to

Aung Hlaing is the largest benefactor to the resistance, which until

Although they captured several towns, most notably Kawlin, they

Which brings us back to Min Aung Hlaing’s political future.

Associated Press, Alexei Filippov, File

The Old Politics of New

Some things, it seems, never change.

state-managed nature of the 2019 electoral competition, protesters

inaugural annual speech to the population (known in Russian as

ended up reinforcing the leadership’s kleptocratic control over

demonstrations organized in all major cities across the country,

the thorough, if at times cosmetic, work of de-Nazarbayevification,

some opportunities for increased local representation via the

Kazakhstani politics continues to be completely sanitized from

preference for multivectoral engagement concealed the regime’s

Facebook, His Majesty King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck

The Himalayan Triangle:

Following its fourth parliamentary elections and the swearing in of

fewer options to marshal agency balancing the competing interests

practically, and geographically, the futures of Bhutan and India are

southern Himalayas’ geopolitical map, India would be forced to

have their genesis in the overlapping interests of the British and

In the early 2000s, trade and people-to-people contacts between the

From a security perspective, the Doklam plateau is a dagger

China’s interest, especially on the Tibet question. India thinks that

Of the three sectors of the Bhutan-China border to be demarcated,

reduce China-India strategic distrust, which currently distresses

Associated Press, Wally Santana, File

In March 2014, the Kuomintang or KMT – then in control of both

impact Taiwanese workers adversely. Therefore, those

sectors as a means to exert pressure on the government when

The new parties formed in the aftermath of the Sunflower

strengthening Taiwan's sovereignty but also expect the NPP to

Taiwan Coast Guard Administration via Associated Press

Kinmen Again a Flashpoint in

When we talk about Taiwan, “the island” is often used as

treatment of mainland fishermen” since the Democratic

jurisdiction around Kinmen, that could be a stepping stone to

Now that economic “carrot” is, in line with China’s typical

Healthcare Dynamics and

In summer 2023, President Xi Jinping’s administration launched a

nationwide equipped to care for China’s 1.4 billion people

Analysis of 2016 Health Criminal Judicial Judgment Documents

Source: Judgment Document Network

The rationale for the crackdown is easy to spot: The healthcare

consumables, patient aids, orthopedics and prosthetics, dental, and

Office of the President, ROC (Taiwan)