As an academic field in its own right, the topic of border studies is 

experiencing a revival in university geography courses as well as in 

wider political commentary. Until recently, border studies in contemporary Southeast Asia appeared as an afterthought at best to the politics 

of interstate rivalry and national consolidation. The maps set out all agreed 

postcolonial lines. Meanwhile, the physical demarcation of these boundaries lagged. Large slices of territory, on land and at sea, eluded definition or 

delineation. 

That comforting ambiguity has disappeared. Both evolving technologies 

and price levels enable rapid resource extraction in places, and in volumes, 

once scarcely imaginable. The beginning of the 21st century’s second decade 

is witnessing an intensifying diplomacy, both state-to-state and commercial, 

over offshore petroleum. In particular, the South China Sea has moved from 

being a rather arcane area of conflict studies to the status of a bellwether 

issue. Along with other contested areas in the western Pacific and south 

Asia, the problem increasingly defines China’s regional relationships in 

Asia—and with powers outside the region, especially the United States. 

Yet intraregional territorial differences also hobble multilateral diplomacy 

to counter Chinese claims, and daily management of borders remains 

burdened by a lot of retrospective baggage.  

The contributors to this book emphasize this mix of heritage and history 

as the primary leitmotif for contemporary border rivalries and dynamics. 

Whether the region’s 11 states want it or not, their bordered identity is falling 

into ever sharper definition—if only because of pressure from extraregional 

states. Chapters are organized by country to elicit a broad range of thought 

and approach as much as for the specific areas or nation-states examined in 

each chapter. This book aims to provide new ways of looking at the reality 

and illusion of bordered Southeast Asia. 

Edited by James Clad, Sean M. McDonald, and Bruce Vaughn, with contributions from:

Zachary Abuza Rhoda Margesson David Rosenberg

Richard P. Cronin Dick K. Nanto Carlyle A. Thayer

David Lee Patricia O’Brien Michael Wood
The Borderlands of Southeast Asia: 

Geopolitics, Terrorism, and Globalization

The Borderlands of Southeast Asia: 

Geopolitics, Terrorism, and Globalization

Edited by James Clad, Sean M. McDonald, and Bruce Vaughn 

Published for the 

Center for Strategic Research

Institute for National Strategic Studies

by National Defense University Press

Washington, D.C.

2011
Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied within are solely those 

of the contributors and do not necessarily represent the views of the Defense Department 

or any other agency of the Federal Government. Cleared for public release; distribution 

unlimited.

Portions of this book may be quoted or reprinted without permission, provided that a 

standard source credit line is included. NDU Press would appreciate a courtesy copy of 

reprints or reviews.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The borderlands of Southeast Asia : geopolitics, terrorism, and globalization / edited 

by James Clad, Sean M. McDonald, and Bruce Vaughn.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references.

1. Borderlands--Southeast Asia. 2.  Southeast Asia--Boundaries. 3. Southeast 

Asia--Foreign relations. 4.  Terrorism--Southeast Asia. 5. Globalization--Southeast 

Asia.  

I. Clad, James. II. McDonald, Sean M. III. Vaughn, Bruce, 1963- IV. National Defense 

University. Institute for National Strategic Studies.

JZ1720.B67 2011

327.59--dc23

 2011020039

NDU Press publications are sold by the U.S. Government Printing Office. For ordering information, call (202) 512–1800 or write to the Superintendent of Documents, U.S. Government Printing 

Office, Washington, D.C. 20402. For GPO publications on-line, access its Web site at: http://bookstore.gpo.gov.

For current publications of the Institute for National Strategic Studies, consult the National 

Defense University Web site at: http://www.ndu.edu.
 v

Contents

List of Illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix

Chapter 1

Delineation and Borders in Southeast Asia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

James Clad

Chapter 2

Archaeology, National Histories, and 

National Borders in Southeast Asia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Michael Wood

Chapter 3

Historical Survey of Borders in Southeast Asia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

David Lee

Chapter 4

Borderlands, Terrorism, and Insurgency in Southeast Asia. . . . . . . . . . . 89

Zachary Abuza

Chapter 5

The Maritime Borderlands: Terrorism, Piracy, 

Pollution, and Poaching in the South China Sea. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107

David Rosenberg

Chapter 6

Bilateral and Multilateral Trade Arrangements 

in Southeast Asia: Forces for Integration?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

Dick K. Nanto

Chapter 7

The Environment and Development: 

Greater Mekong Subregion Dynamics Considered. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157

Richard P. Cronin
Chapter 8

Displaced Populations in Burma’s Borderlands: When Are 

Borders a Significant Barrier or Means of Protection?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187

Rhoda Margesson

Chapter 9

Center-Periphery Relations and Borders 

in Western New Guinea. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211

Patricia O’Brien and Bruce Vaughn

Chapter 10

China and Southeast Asia: A Shifting Zone of Interaction. . . . . . . . . . . 235

Carlyle A. Thayer

About the Contributors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263

vi THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
vii

Illustrations

Figures

Figure 6–1. Types of Trading Arrangements

by Intensity of Economic Integration. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137

Figure 6–2. Major Regional Trade Arrangements 

in the Asia Pacific. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

Figure 6–3. ASEAN Trade within ASEAN 

and with Rest of World. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151

Figure 6–4. ASEAN Country Exports of Automobiles 

and Parts to ASEAN and to Rest of World. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153

Figure 6–5. Exports of Automobiles 

and Parts from Thailand. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154

Tables

Table 6–1. Free Trade Agreements, Negotiations, 

and Discussions by ASEAN Members 

and Selected Other Nations, 2010. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141

Table 6–2. Major Trading Partners of East Asian 

Nations and the United States Ranked 

by Total Exports Plus Imports. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148

Table 9–1. Chronology of Key Events in Western 

New Guinea. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216

Maps

Map 1–1. Southeast Asia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

Map 3–1. Ethnic Mosaic of Southeast Asia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62

Map 3–2. Colonial Boundaries in Southeast Asia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65

Map 5–1. South China Sea Maritime Claims. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121

Map 6–1. Trade Arrangements in Southeast Asia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128

Map 7–1. Greater Mekong Subregion 

Economic Corridors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169

Map 8–1. Refugee and Resettlement 

Sites along Thai-Burma Border. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199

 ix

Introduction

As an academic field in its own right, the topic of border studies is 

experiencing a revival in university geography courses as well as in wider 

political commentary. 

Of course, something about the postmodernist sensibility readily 

embraces the ambiguity, impermanence, transience, and twilight nature 

of bordered spaces among the planet’s 192 territorially defined states. 

But we have another motivation in assembling this book, one rooted in 

contemporary rivalries sited in one of the world’s most open regions. 

Until recently, border studies in contemporary Southeast Asia appeared as an afterthought at best to the politics of interstate rivalry and 

national consolidation. The maps set out all agreed postcolonial lines. 

Meanwhile, the physical demarcation of these boundaries lagged. Large 

slices of territory, on land and at sea, eluded definition or delineation. 

That comforting ambiguity has disappeared. Both evolving technologies and price levels enable rapid resource extraction in places, and 

in volumes, once scarcely imaginable. The old adage that God really 

does have a sense of humor (“after all, look where He/She put the oil”) 

holds as true in Southeast Asia as in the Middle East. 

The beginning of the 21st century’s second decade is witnessing 

an intensifying diplomacy, both state-to-state and commercial, over offshore petroleum. In particular, the South China Sea has moved from 

being a rather arcane area of conflict studies to the status of a bellwether 

issue. Along with other contested areas in the western Pacific and south 

Asia, the problem increasingly defines China’s regional relationships in 

Asia—and with powers outside the region, especially the United States.

Yet intraregional territorial differences also hobble multilateral diplomacy to counter Chinese claims. For the region’s national 

governments, the window for submission and adjudication of maritime 

claims under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Seas 

marks a legal checkpoint, but daily management of borders remains 

burdened by retrospective baggage. 

The contributors to this book emphasize this mix of heritage 

and history as the primary leitmotif for contemporary border rivalries 

and dynamics. Whether the region’s 11 states want it or not, their bordered identity is falling into ever sharper definition—if only because of 

pressure from extraregional states. 

Chinese state and commercial power dovetails almost seamlessly 

with Beijing’s formal territorial demands. Yet subregional rivalries 
x THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

and latent suspicions also remain firmly in place—as in those among 

Singapore, Indonesia, and Malaysia, or between Thailand and those 

states that encircle the kingdom. Tracing back to its history of tributary 

states, the Chinese colossus has fixed views about all states contiguous 

to its territory; in some Chinese dialects, Vietnam is still referred to as a 

“renegade province.” 

We chose to organize the chapters by country to elicit a broad 

range of thought and approach as much as for the specific areas or 

nation-states examined in each chapter. For both Southeast Asia and 

the outside world, the current era portends another unsettled period of 

border disputes and contentious territorial claims. Complex claims also 

have unsettled the Arctic and inland seas like the Caspian. 

The precision we laud in global positioning and tracking systems 

has also wreaked havoc on the apparent certainties bequeathed by all 

the carefully surveyed (at least by 19th-century standards) boundaries 

left behind by the departing colonial powers. Of course, these new 

uncertainties about the place on the terrain of exact map coordinates can 

probably remain safely unsettled for a long time—but only so long as no 

resource discoveries emerge, which can lift the problem from obscurity 

to prominence in the political equivalent of a heartbeat. 

Each chapter aims to provide new ways of looking at the reality and 

illusion of bordered Southeast Asia. We hope this volume marks the first 

of a series offering a similar variety of perspectives into the working of 

the Westphalian system in different parts of Asia—and the wider world.

We would like to thank the administration of Bentley University, 

which provided a generous amount of time, research, and publication 

support, and we remain grateful for the faith they have consistently 

shown in our efforts. We would also like to thank the United States–

Indonesian Society for the travel research grant that enabled the authors 

to conduct field work in support of this project.

We would like to acknowledge the Institute for National Strategic 

Studies (INSS) at the National Defense University (NDU) for providing funding for this book’s publication. We thank Lew Stern at INSS for 

initially recommending publication and Phillip Saunders at the Center 

for Strategic Research for reviewing and refining the manuscript; NDU 

Press, particularly Lisa Yambrick, for editing the manuscript and managing the publication process; and the Center for Strategic Conferencing, particularly Gerald Faber, for developing a targeted distribution 

strategy for the book.
Chapter 1

Delineation and Borders in Southeast Asia

James Clad

A comfortingly vague concept, globalization, became fashionable 

after the end of the Cold War. Obsessed by the dramatic immediacy 

of new global communication technologies, as well as by the annually 

doubling or trebling of passenger air miles flown and an increasingly 

prevalent human mobility in general, converts to the globalization creed 

lost their sense of proportion. 

For starters, they assumed an irreversible global democratic agenda. In their uncritical lauding of ever freer trade, they also assumed an 

unending global readiness to lie supine before the crushing economies 

of scale that China and other emerging mega-manufacturers (India and 

Brazil sense their moment has also arrived) have consolidated in successive rounds of trade liberalization. Other trends also went “global”—

terrorism, climate change, pollution, human trafficking, money 

laundering, and criminality.

Their most serious error stemmed from an implicit belief that national boundaries were destined somehow to fade away before the forces of 

globalization—an error leading to a conviction that we had already begun 

to inhabit a borderless world, a place where political boundaries had 

become passé and where people moved about without restraint (“the world 

is flat” was one refrain, meaning that everything was accessible to all). 

During the last two decades, the academic literature focused on 

“agents of globalization”—whether ordinary travelers, smugglers, illegal migrants, petty traders, mainline exporters, or even terrorists bent 

on a specific job. In nearly all cases, the world became increasingly “globalized” as the expansion of Europe proceeded apace, though mobility 

through invasion or trading links predated that by several millennia. 

What changed the world was not mobility per se, but rather the arrival 

and gradual imposition on the rest of the world of a strange 17th-century 

matrix, a structure of economic, political, and social reality resting on 

thousands of kilometers of imaginary but rigidly enforced lines placed 

on and over both land and water. 

 1
2 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

One might argue that the pre-Westphalian world saw more globalization than later times. For the truth is, national borders can and 

do stop people in their tracks. Postmodernist writers correctly describe 

political borders as imaginary social constructs, but these abstractions 

shut out people as effectively as the toughest topography or stormiest 

sea. Even contemporary air transportation, which transcends all surface 

geography, has run into many post-9/11 restrictions. A wary world 

regulates air travel with new vigor, fueled by political reaction from the 

bordered world to the perceived threat of a borderless world. 

Far from opening the truly borderless arena in which people may 

move at whim, the near future augurs even more readiness to monitor 

borders as governments react to public clamor for tighter controls. 

An extraordinary array of monitoring and interdiction technologies 

has emerged from private and government laboratories, increasingly 

inexpensive and readily available devices that can be easily installed in 

an afternoon on an open field or in airport departure lounges. Interdiction can and does occur from computers or closed-circuit television 

monitoring a “virtual border,” boundaries wholly without identifying 

structures and frontiers policed by fused technologies—radar, sound 

sensors, night vision aids, unmanned aerial vehicles, motion sensors, 

and radio wave interruption devices. 

While heightened concern about terrorism has prompted new 

border monitoring, the primal fear focuses on visions of unending 

waves of third-world migration—a vision that preoccupies the nations 

of Southeast Asia with rapidly growing economies, as governments devise new internal laws and root out illegally arriving economic migrants. 

Elsewhere, an emerging consensus in Organisation for Economic 

Co-operation and Development countries is that borders are the sole 

remaining barrier, lines that crucially obstruct, confine, protect, shelter, 

impede, or facilitate—but only as and when trade or tourism requires 

permeable boundaries. 

Most of all, borders define.  In Southeast Asia, they define the nascent but steadily more confident state-centered nationalism, heir to the 

departed, territorially defined European empires. China’s increasingly 

assertive insistence upon its claim to the entirety of the South China Sea 

(SCS) hangs like a specter over the lines of maritime territory and exclusive economic zones created by the 1970s United Nations (UN) Law 

of the Sea. Southeast Asian countries zealously guard their common
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 3

Map 1–1. Southeast Asia

borders; where disagreement about borders prevails, the resulting 

tensions belie the smiling equanimity of the Association of Southeast 

Asian Nations (ASEAN), which projects the illusion of an economic 

community solidified by common purpose. 

Therefore, to suggest that we now live beyond borders seems at 

variance with countervailing trends, both globally and regionally, that 

are making borders more durable, enforceable, and omnipresent. In 

global terms, entirely new sovereign borderlines have emerged in recent 
4 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

years (just the dissolution of Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union created 

26 new sovereignties) where none existed before; regionally, East Timor 

emerged from the Indonesian archipelago, finding little welcome from a 

region suspicious of all drives for local autonomy. 

As it happens, the last 60 years have witnessed the most rapid 

cumulative lengthening of international boundaries since the Treaty 

of Westphalia in 1648 legitimized the “inviolable international line” 

in European statecraft. After the 1960s, decolonization dramatically 

increased the length of all the world’s sovereign borderlines; if we were 

to splice every current international boundary line end to end, the total 

mileage would reach to the Moon and beyond. 

The Perfectly Surveyed State

Outside the West, the existence of fixed international borders 

originated in European colonialism. The dream of the perfectly surveyed 

territorial state found articulation in events such as the 1899 Hague 

Peace Convention. The idea that a world of bordered entities meant a 

world at peace found its way into a slew of pre–World War I border 

demarcation manuals; the first publication produced by the Carnegie 

Endowment for International Peace after its formation in 1910 was a 

border demarcation manual.

During the era of what might be called “direct administrative imperialism” between 1880 and 1914, colonial boundary commissioners 

and imperial surveyors tramped around the non-Western world, 

including Southeast Asia, a term that came into common use only during World War II. The perfectly surveyed state depended on what were 

known as the “three Ds”: definition, delimitation, and demarcation. 

The colonial surveyors and their joint border tribunals crafted a 

world that is still found on 21st-century political maps. The Royal Geographical Society in London contracted out the services of its surveyors, 

who cheerfully worked as surveyor-spies as they demarcated steamy or 

torrid frontiers, breathtaking alpine heights, or desert wastes. In Southeast Asia, borders dividing states almost always emerged from deals 

between the colonial powers. Only rarely did they arise from local accommodations to European territorial pressure—as happened in Thailand, 

which to this day is not reconciled to boundaries imposed on it by expansionist pressures from French Indochina and British Burma. (Bangkok’s 

only fully settled boundary separates it from peninsular Malaysia.)
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 5

What type of boundaries emerged? The region’s state frontiers 

often show some geographic logic, following topography or coastline. 

But boundary markers also march in rigid lines across challenging 

topography, dividing ethnicities and slicing through villages or river 

valleys. From a distance, outsiders accept these lines as normal, if only 

from force of map-reading habit.  But the European legacy—a world 

of states whose theoretical sovereignty runs without break right up to the 

limits of a bordered national territory—has become just as fiercely 

defended a norm in Southeast Asia as it is elsewhere around the world. 

Here we tread squarely on “mental geography” and people’s 

“spatial positioning.” Except for members of the region’s commercially 

active ethnic minorities—most notably the Chinese but also other Asians 

and resident Western expatriates—Southeast Asia’s resident populations now identify with parcels of land separated by lines originating in 

European turf disputes. All states are artifacts, of course. But Southeast 

Asia’s expanding middle classes, urban dwellers, and governing elites 

unthinkingly carry these legacy lines in their heads whenever they 

view their surrounding world. In the West, we do the same, of course—

but those lines are our constructs. Insofar as broad and unconscious 

acceptance of formal delineated boundaries is concerned, we can say 

that 60 years of Southeast Asian nation-building have perpetuated the 

mental dominion of Europe. 

Boundaries are synonymous with identity. Postcolonial experience in Southeast Asia shows an intense insistence on maintaining 

the boundaries imposed by competing European states, sometimes 

almost as acts of whimsy. This mirrors the bedrock norms of African or 

Middle Eastern states. Beyond the lowly border guard, Southeast Asia’s 

border protectors include scholars, journalists, diplomats, bureaucrats, 

and lawyers. Each invests the new nations’ prestige by rejecting affronts 

to the territorial status quo. The same fear of an unraveling order prompts 

insistence on living with what has been bequeathed to the region. 

When defending their national territorial positions, Southeast 

Asian governments rely on a variety of bequeathed tools from the vanished imperial age. Colonial border commission reports, centuries-old 

navigator notations, or dusty treaties between rival colonial powers 

buttress claim and counterclaim. For every accepted bilateral boundary, 

dozens of lines remain imprecise. And Southeast Asia faces a maritime 

border challenge from China, which bases its vague and contestable 
6 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

assertion of a right to tens of thousands of square kilometers of ocean 

on the continuing traversal of that ocean by Chinese people. “Since time 

immemorial, the South China Sea has been China’s,” Beijing proclaims. 

Even its name, China insists, proclaims ownership. 

Though shrouded in arcane reasoning, these disputes have 

real-world immediacy. Miscalculation and national pride can spark, 

and have periodically ignited, armed hostilities—in the SCS as well as 

in other areas discussed in this book. Sharp encounters since the 1970s 

attest to this, the most recent standoff occurring between Cambodia 

and Thailand over sovereign ownership of an ancient Buddhist temple 

site—a lucrative source of revenue from tourism. Yet the more serious of 

these disagreements, especially those involving external claimants such 

as China, can quickly expand the dispute as outside states proclaim their 

own equities, as the United States has done in recent years regarding the 

SCS, where China’s claims conflict with those of five other states. 

By the beginning of the 21st century’s second decade, successive 

U.S. administrations were signaling unease about unilateral moves to 

increase bargaining positions for resources and maritime passageways. 

In June 2008, Defense Secretary Robert Gates spoke of a “global commons” in the seas, the air, and cyberspace that needed to be respected. His 

audience, a gathering of defense officials in Singapore, knew exactly 

what he meant to convey to the Chinese authorities: that unilateral territorial ambitions in the East and in the South China Seas had elicited an 

American strategic watchfulness. Beyond this new articulation of respect 

for the global commons, American interests in Southeast Asia’s border 

disputes remain anchored in traditional U.S. insistence on freedom of 

navigation or in bilateral security obligations to some regional states.

Dimensions to a Bordered Southeast Asia 

The remaining pages of this chapter traverse a range of border 

security and borderland issues in an area stretching from India’s Naga 

foothills near Burma to eastern Indonesian islands where the Malay 

realm either dissolves into Micronesia or approaches continental 

Australia. One such dimension concerns a nuanced memory of these 

borders’ colonial origins. Another delves into activities both defined and 

enabled by the lawless frontiers and borderland nature of the region’s 

many peripheral places that now appear as problems in national agendas, 
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 7

such as suppression of illicit trade or discouragement of unilateral action 

such as China’s building many dams along the upstream Mekong River. 

A more conventional approach to regional borders looks at successes, or the lack thereof, in solving, shelving, or otherwise defusing the 

long list of residual territorial disputes. This method includes mention 

by the contributors to this book of the ASEAN states’ resource diplomacy or efforts to fashion legal regimes to exploit oil and natural gas in 

contested maritime areas. This approach reflects what might be called a 

“foreign ministry agenda” that speaks to dossiers and the legal dimensions of territorial adjudication. In 2001, for example, Malaysia and 

Indonesia agreed to refer a dispute over some islands near Borneo to the 

International Court of Justice in The Hague. In 2008, the court delivered 

a verdict giving each country some, but not all, of what it wanted.

In the SCS, the Southeast Asian states face a China that is inflexible, the correct adjective to describe Beijing’s refusal to budge over a 

claim to assert its sovereignty over the entire SCS. 

This enduring difficulty leads in turn to broader questions about 

the continuing importance of external powers to Southeast Asian 

security. The regional power equilibrium rests in part on maintaining 

an uneasy territorial status quo in places like the SCS where rival 

claimants agree to refrain, at least for the time being, from pressing their 

differences but refuse to settle them. 

Beyond that, which foreign navies accept which maritime areas 

as international waters? What attitudes and comprehensive borderland 

and perimeter strategies lie behind Beijing’s implacable claim, contested 

by five Southeast Asian states, to the entirety of the SCS? 

Bordering an Archipel

In addition to considering physical geography, this book also traverses, explicitly or by implication, what we call Southeast Asia’s mental 

geography. Some writers of a more romantic bent have written extensively about the region’s “maritime soul.” The French word archipel captures 

a sense and a depth of understanding that goes beyond the physical 

identification of the region primarily as an “archipelago.” Irrefutably, the 

sea defines the reach and temperament of Southeast Asia. “Tanah Air 

Kita,” as the Indonesians say, “Our beloved land/water.” The Malays add 

“Kepulaua,” an abstract noun that can best be translated as “island-ness.” 
8 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Across the 3,000 miles stretching from the Kra Peninsula 

and north Sumatra to Ambon and the Spice Islands, only the deep 

interior of Borneo and the peninsular mainland’s river valleys that 

drain once-forested upland hills can affect indifference to the sea. Right 

down to the present era, the region’s seas acted as natural obstacle and 

highway, as barrier and open door. They shaped outlook and mental 

horizon. They channeled and inhibited movement.  Proximity to the sea 

meant mobility and elastic political identity. Only mainland Southeast 

Asian and Javanese upland empires developed many deep hierarchies 

and formal continuities. And even then, cities and surrounding agricultural domains developed languages and concepts entirely at home with 

owing a gradated allegiance to two, three, or even four nearby kings. 

Coextensive, territorially defined, and impersonal “sovereignty” came 

to Southeast Asia as a strange, alien concept. 

The colonial era brought enormous material change, but the most 

important colonial legacy lies in its “geography of the mind.” Colonial-era 

archaeology rediscovered indigenous empires from the distant past that 

subject peoples later invoked and employed as a national history to contest 

control of areas delineated by those scientifically surveyed colonial borders. 

Though originally drawn in distant European capitals, these 

borderlines as noted now determine spatial location for nearly all the 

region’s 700 million people.  Only a tiny number of “sea gypsies” still roam 

what are now the islands of Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines. 

And while hill tribes in Southeast Asia’s mainland once crossed colonial borders obliviously and with impunity, today they cannot avoid the 

pull of modernity and an enforced “bordered” identity. As Burma’s long 

conflicts reveal, mainland hill minorities must accommodate the 

territorially defined national authority, and they do so from a position of 

gathering weakness and exposed isolation. 

Although Asia experienced roughly 400 years of European intrusion, colonial powers directly governed their subject territories (or ruled 

indirectly, as in British Malaya) for a very short time. This era of direct 

administrative imperialism had a big agenda. It included a liberal plan 

for enlightened rule and administrative order. This same era saw the 

creation of many boundary commissions and the convening of border 

determination conferences involving contending European empires. 

For local peoples, most of the resulting borderlines arrived as if 

out of the sky. Indigenous rulers saw them as an outright imposition, a 
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 9

fait accompli, or both.  The local kingdoms and sultanates mostly had 

succumbed to direct European rule by the turn of the last century—

notably the Acehnese, Balinese, Burmese, and Makassar states. Only the 

Thai kingdom preserved some independence; adroit manipulation of 

competing foreigners may be said to characterize Thai diplomacy even 

to this day. 

All of this occurred quite rapidly in historical terms, between the 

1880s and the end of the 20th century’s first decade. Like any intruder intent on profit, European traders and the joint stock companies chartered 

by European sovereigns to advance their interests did everything they 

could to avoid the cost of direct rule. Only rarely, as in 18th-century Java, 

did Europeans seize direct and formal power—and even then the Dutch 

preserved in febrile form the indigenous Solo and Yogyakarta dynasties. Even as Europeans became more overtly the deciding powers in the 

region, surveyed boundaries usually had to wait. 

Most often, intra-European wars and rivalries forced territorial 

delimitations. The growing list of colonial tasks, from antipiracy patrols 

to orderly customs collection, forced more collaboration with neighboring colonial powers. This collaboration in turn required administrative 

order and rationality. 

Bit by bit, colonial administrators determined, divided, and demarcated the subject lands for purposes of both control and exclusion. 

In doing so, they gave their subject peoples a profoundly different conception of space, order, and authority. Princeton University emeritus 

anthropologist Clifford Geertz has written about differences between 

foreign and indigenous conceptions of sovereignty in Southeast Asia. In 

an influential essay, he likened Javanese conceptions of political power 

to a candle whose light and warmth becomes progressively weaker 

as one moves away from the flame. By contrast, and especially after 

the 17th century, European colonizers thought in terms of a distinct 

territorial entity whose sovereign writ runs without interruption or 

diminution right up to a treaty-defined, latitudinal/longitudinal limit. 

British diplomatic dispatches narrating dealings with Burmese 

kings and Dutch accounts of negotiating with the Mataram kingdom 

in central Java show this mental disconnect. Territorial segmentation in 

Southeast Asia happened in a historical hurry, with subject peoples slow 

to realize the irrevocable changes brought by the surveyor’s skills and 

cadastral surveys. 
10 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Still, in the 19th century, frontier ambiguities yielded one by one 

to the formal, abstract, and rigid logic of longitude and latitude. Often 

coupled to multipurpose geographical expeditions, border demarcation teams arrived before, or after, periods of intra-European tension. 

Many pieces were in play. For example, Anglo-French colonial rivalry in 

Africa saw a French expansionary dynamic going in an east-west 

direction from Sahel and Central African toeholds. This directional 

push famously met Britain’s north-south thrusting, from Egypt to 

southern Africa, at Falusha, along the Nile in what is now central Sudan. 

Governments in London and Paris perceived these competitive 

plays in aggregation. So did Germany, Russia, and such lesser colonial 

states as the Netherlands. So driven by the same dynamic and alert to 

news from Africa and elsewhere, British agents in Southeast Asia pushed 

east and north from positions in Burma and Malaya against Siam 

(Thailand). The French pushed west against the Thais from their 

toehold in Annan (Cambodia) and Vietnam. 

Though Thailand survived as a constrained but genuinely independent country, it emerged bruised and shorn of lands that it saw (and 

at some level still sees) as rightfully its own. Thailand’s ongoing reluctance to formalize unambiguously those same frontiers thus becomes 

more understandable, if no less infuriating, to its neighbors.

Other contenders lost ground entirely. The Philippines passed to 

the United States in 1898 after what some historians view as a barely 

disguised aggressive war against Spain. Other lagging European powers 

found themselves relegated to marginality, as Portugal yielded ground to 

the British in Macao and the Netherlands East Indies took more ground 

in Timor. As the 19th century wore on, the Dutch and British traded 

ports for other ports—Malacca for Bengkulu on Sumatra’s west coast, 

and islands near Singapore to tidy up navigation channels and deal with 

administrative anomalies. 

By the late 1890s, Southeast Asia’s colonial map had taken the 

shape it has today. True, reluctant independence pushed Singapore away 

from the rest of the former Federated Malay States. British sovereignty 

in north Borneo, the lines of which were settled in the 19th century 

with the Dutch, passed in the 1960s to two entities, Sabah and Sarawak, 

which in turn joined in somewhat reluctant federation with the 

peninsular Malay sultanates and with Penang.
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 11

By the 19th century, the Sultan of Brunei had yielded to British 

“advisors” who sought to preserve the fiction of their wards’ political independence but really governed in their stead. But doing so enabled the 

separate survival, in its own right, of the Sultanate—unlike the situation 

in the Malay Peninsula. Brunei never lost its formal independence, but 

neither did its royal descendents forget the glory days when Brunei 

controlled Borneo’s entire northern coastline. 

Forcible changes to the colonial map have not fared well. Jakarta’s 

solution to the question of East Timor was a 1975 invasion and the 

benighted territory’s forcible incorporation as Indonesia’s 27th province. 

Yet this imposed arrangement collapsed in 1999, yielding a weak, 

poorly managed but sovereign East Timor 3 years later. 

French Indochina after 1952 dissolved into its three constituent 

parts, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. The ruling junta of Burma now 

calls the country Myanmar. But the country’s demarcated territory, despite Thai ambivalence, remains as it was during British rule. Rangoon 

has had to settle for some territorial changes to win a border agreement 

with China, not least because 19th-century European land delineations 

gave no considerations to what was then the Chinese Empire. 

Frontier Life

The European experience left another legacy. The perfectly surveyed state was also expected to be an administratively competent entity. 

Borders connote firm management. For policemen, borders connote 

control. For government exchequers, borders connote revenue, whether customs duties or import levies. For armies and navies, the formal 

guardians of national security, borders connote a barrier, a place where 

security forces can interdict threats. There are other dimensions. For 

innkeepers, borders offer enforced resting spots. For transporters, they 

offer transit and repackaging opportunities. For nomadic seafarers 

and itinerant hill tribesmen, borders on administrators’ maps in 

distant capitals had negligible impact on their lives. But the prospect of 

enforced borders with guards, barriers, fences, and other paraphernalia 

was quite another matter. 

Arguably the region’s most absurd border slices straight down the 

middle of New Guinea. It separates Indonesian Papua on the west and 

Papua New Guinea to the east. Those affronted by border barriers can 
12 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

only wish for the same indifference Dani tribesmen display to occasional border markers in New Guinea’s dense mountain forest or lowland 

mangrove jungles. Dayak or Iban tribes also remain oblivious to the 

international boundary separating Sarawak from Indonesia’s three 

provinces in Borneo, the world’s second largest island.

What are now the region’s “firmly fixed” frontiers could have 

looked very different. During World War II, for example, Japan 

apportioned both Malaya and Sumatra to the Imperial Navy. Java passed 

under Japanese army control. Had the war ended differently, we might 

have seen a perfectly natural Malay linguistic and cultural area on both 

sides of the Strait of Malacca contained by boundaries enclosing a 

sovereign political union. The Japanese high command discussed this 

prospect as the war entered its last phases. 

The idea of transcending European lines had a strong hold on 

Indonesian president Soekarno. In the early 1960s, he aspired to a 

grand union of Malay peoples in Maphilindo, an acronym formed from 

the names of the three archipelagic states left behind by the Dutch, 

British, and Americans. Lest this seem far-fetched, nationalists like 

Soekarno sought to bring independence to Indonesia, a name coined 

by a 19th-century Dutch anthropologist. They identified this as their national homeland, territorially coextensive with the Dutch East Indies. 

Each year, 50,000 vessels use the strait that now separates three 

sovereign states. The Strait of Malacca channels two-thirds of the world’s 

entire freighted oil and half of its liquid natural gas tankers. Apart from 

energy supply vessel transit, the strait funnels about a third of the world’s 

annual freighted tonnage between the Indian and Pacific Oceans. 

Most foreign navies, including those of the United States and 

most Western countries, regard the strait as international waters. Countries adjoining or contiguous to the region’s straits and other marine 

passageways measure territorial waters at right angles out to a notional 

median line that follows opposing shoreline contours. This enormous 

expansion of national sovereignty into the world’s oceans followed 1970s 

conventions developing a new Law of the Sea (LOS), which further 

complicated the region’s territorial contentions. 

Multilateral responses to specific but overlapping territorial tasks 

have had mixed results. Malaysia, Indonesia, and Singapore formed a 

tripartite commission to regulate and manage the Strait of Malacca. 

They pledged best efforts to suppress the persistent piracy bedeviling 
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 13

parts of the strait, especially the Phillips Channel near Singapore and 

areas of the Sumatra coast.

In the 1980s, executives with the marine insurer Lloyds of 

London sent the author some aerial photographs that revealed incidents of piracy as they were occurring in broad daylight in the Strait 

of Malacca. Each photo vividly proved that Indonesia’s antipiracy 

enforcers and the pirates they ostensibly sought to suppress had 

become one and the same group. At the time, official patrol craft flying 

Indonesian and other flags routinely extorted money from small vessels. Some also connived in attacks by specially fitted speedboats on far 

larger ships nearing Singapore. 

The contrast between official and pragmatic jurisdiction in areas like this remains just as stark today. Away from global shipping 

lanes, the lines become even more blurred. In lesser waterways or in the 

Sulu Sea or Lombok Strait (a deep channel used by submarines and the 

largest oil carriers), fishermen or petty traders ply a sideline in piracy. 

Brazen displays of piracy last received sustained global attention when ethnic Chinese migrants from Vietnam in the late 1970s ran 

into Thai pirates. These moonlighting fishermen routinely killed and 

robbed the passengers, then sank the victims’ barely seaworthy vessels. 

This seems old history, but sea travel continues to be risky for Filipinos, 

Thais, Indonesians, and Malaysians, who can still suffer attack or extortion away from foreign or their own media attention. In their countries, 

the official reaction too often approaches indifference. 

As on water, so also on land: Southeast Asia’s peripheral areas 

usually touch the frontier adjoining official borders. Often depicted as 

noble ethnic groups rebelling against cruel central governments, insurgent hill tribes in Laos and Burma often fund these insurrections 

against the government by trafficking in tropical timber and endangered 

animal species. 

But that is just the start of it. Trafficking along the borderlands 

involves both profit-sharing in and protection for ethnic Chinese 

business networks trading in commodities such as women for sale to 

gender-imbalanced marriage markets in China or children heading 

for destinations in Thailand that specialize in pedophilia. Not least are 

weapons and drugs. Some borderlands are fearsome indeed.

The corollary to border creation supposedly comes in border 

management and control. But administrative competence only reaches 
14 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Southeast Asia’s border control in airports and other destinations for 

well-heeled tourists. Middle-class and foreign business patronage usually brings a degree of respectful monitoring by the authorities at the 

region’s entry airports. But overcrowded bus and long-distance ferry 

journeys remain the option of necessity, not choice, for local people. For 

them, their own or their neighboring country’s border formalities can 

be a harrowing experience.

The chapters of this book provide fuller explanations and descriptions of these brief vignettes. The literature of borderlands has 

grown rapidly in the last 15 years, reflecting rising interest in seemingly unstoppable migration from Mexico and other places into the 

United States. Meanwhile, scholars in Europe follow the European 

Union’s (EU’s) expansion, focusing on migratory consequences and 

analyzing a frontier shifting eastward as new EU members (Hungary, 

Romania, and Bulgaria) join the group. Wariness toward North African 

migration also focuses European scholars on borders and borderlands. 

By comparison, Southeast Asian scholars have only recently begun to take the topic seriously. This is odd. Behind the plentiful ASEAN 

communiqués is an implicit assumption—that each member state really 

does monitor its borders to contain or prevent avian influenza, transit 

by Islamic terrorists, or cross-border pollution. Border studies should 

become first-order topics for political studies in Southeast Asia, as no 

stronger disconnect exists than that between weak state capacity (exemplified by lax border control) and the aura of modernity that Southeast 

Asia would prefer to project. 

Tracking the “Disputes Trend” 

When assessing successful attempts to stabilize or solve inherited 

territorial disputes through regional diplomacy, the glass—as the saying 

has it—really is half-full or half-empty. Southeast Asian states can truly 

point to many achievements that now reduce the impact of territorial 

disputes on bilateral ties and regional security. On the other hand, however, this work has only dealt with second-order problems. 

The major disagreement, and even a few of the lesser ones, stubbornly resists solution. Two first-order problems are evident—the first 

is overt, and the other is a latent problem that could turn the world 

upside down if attitudes changed. 
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 15

Elephants in the Parlor 

The region’s overt territorial problem arises from the stark contrast between various second-order ASEAN country claims on parts of 

the SCS and China’s vast claim on the entirety of that body of water. 

From this claim, Beijing has not budged an inch. Although 

they have settled their proximate land borderlines, neither China nor 

Vietnam can agree on how to reconcile competing claims to the Paracel 

Islands. Vietnam and four other ASEAN states have overlapping, albeit 

partial, claims to other SCS areas and the Spratly archipelago; all these 

collide with an implacable claim by China to everything, a claim based in 

part on historical association by Chinese navigators and traders.

This deadlock has important consequences. Beijing tries to divide ASEAN diplomatic cohesion by holding out joint SCS development 

prospects. It did so successfully with the Philippines in 2004, though 

Manila has tried to backtrack since then. Beijing takes a dim view of 

signs that ASEAN countries are trying to harmonize their diplomacy. 

As Daojiong Zha and Mark Valenzia wrote in 2001, the SCS problem is an order of magnitude much greater than the other problems. 

China’s steady encroachment upon a Philippine shoal aptly named “Mischief Reef” led to its outright occupation by Beijing in 1995, a move that 

“set off a chain reaction among Southeast Asian countries . . . [and by] 

the U.S., Japan, Australia, New Zealand and even the European Union.”1

By mid-2010, China’s unilateral claim to the entirety of the SCS, including 

subsurface features and airspace, had risen to a higher profile, as claimant 

states filed territorial claims under a deadline set out in the UN Law of the 

Sea treaty.

China’s actions, Zha and Valenzia continue, scarcely “contribute to fostering a favorable external environment for China’s economic 

modernization program . . . [while] maintaining a presence in the 

Spratlys demarcates a ‘strategic territory’ (zhanlue jiangyu) permitting 

China to influence use of international sea-lanes.” 

For the U.S. and allied navies, the SCS matters most of all in a 

framework prizing freedom of navigation above everything else. Various external powers also registered reservations about extending LOS 

“archipelagic principles” in Southeast Asia. The principle holds that 

archipelagic states may claim as national territory all waters encompassed by baselines drawn between each of its farthest flung islands. The 

Philippines and Indonesia understandably have embraced the principle.  
16 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Hence, the second, scarcely discussed, latent problem that could 

shake the status quo. In different and inimical hands, Indonesian 

sovereignty could be turned into an instrument seeking to deny transit 

through its claimed national territory to foreign shipping, including 

naval vessels.  Submarines prefer Indonesia’s deep internal channel, the 

Lombok Strait, over the Strait of Malacca. 

To be sure, most if not all navies extend routine courtesies to 

Jakarta for many acts of transit. But an overt effort to prevent passage 

would precipitate a serious crisis if forces sought to enforce the prohibition. Nothing would more readily be seen as “strategic denial,” detested 

in American strategic thinking ever since the young republic sent a 

demarche to European states rejecting efforts to lock Yankee traders out 

of the China trade way back in 1791. 

The Positive Side of the Ledger 

The positive side of the regional diplomacy ledger merits praise. 

Since the late 1970s, bilateral disagreements over territory have greatly 

diminished. The record of settling upon final land and maritime frontiers has been good for both mainland and maritime Southeast Asia. 

Many territorial understandings went back to the European 

era. For example, the 1939 Brevie Line settled—for French colonial 

bureaucrats, at any rate—ownership by Vietnam or Cambodia of many 

offshore islands in the Gulf of Thailand. The two countries settled the 

matter in 1985—but that left multilateral disputes about possession and 

sovereignty in the Gulf of Thailand still unresolved. 

In another example, the 1990 Laos-Vietnam border settlement 

resulted in demarcation of a line that was very close to but not identical with 1945 borders set down by the French between Laos, Vietnam 

(then known as Tonkin), and Cambodia (at the time called Annam), 

respectively.

The appearance of LOS diplomacy has added new complications 

to the region’s already heavy legacy of territorial delineation problems. 

Price spikes drove mineral and hydrocarbon exploitation in the 1970s 

and are doing so again in the current decade. The need for legal regimes 

to attract resource extraction investment gave new urgency to seeking 

bilateral agreements about the division, or at least use, of seas so narrow 

that new LOS rules often left no area of open ocean or international 

waterway outside the reach of one or another nation’s sovereignty. 
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 17

The 1990s witnessed progress in bilateral diplomacy toward both 

final territorial determinations and development regimes that at least 

would freeze the question of which country had sole sovereignty in 

which region. Various self-described “codes of conduct” also emerged to 

govern the way states might behave in disputed areas, even in the SCS, 

where China’s claims dwarf those of the five ASEAN states. 

Even the difficult frontier between China and Vietnam, site of a 

short but bloody war in 1979, seemed to be approaching resolution as 

sustained talks during the 1990s yielded the Land Border Treaty signed 

in December 1999. On the maritime side, a Sino-Vietnamese working 

group met 17 times before both countries reached the December 

2000 Agreement on the Delimitation of the Territorial Seas, Exclusive 

Economic Zones, and Continental Shelves in the Gulf of Tonkin. 

Their final maritime boundary agreement went into full force in June 

2004. Meanwhile, Indonesia and Malaysia, and even Singapore and 

Malaysia, also moved to determine exact borderlines. So did the 

Indochinese states, all working bilaterally to lock up definitive and 

mutually accepted lines on the political map. 

On the debit side of the diplomacy ledger, the 1990s did little 

to reconcile Indonesian maritime claims vis-à-vis Vietnamese ones, 

despite a generally cordial bilateral relationship for many years.  

In addition, new land border problems surfaced in Hanoi’s relations with Cambodia while Manila continued to avoid burying its 1962 

claim to what has become the Malaysian state of Sabah. Fortunately, 

neither of these situations, nor the occasional bluster between and 

among Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia, has the potential to seriously 

destabilize regional security. 

For example, East Timor’s refusal to accept a maritime border 

agreed to prior to its independence by Australia and Indonesia simply delays deepwater investment by footloose foreign energy firms—

which, in the end, costs East Timor dearly in lost opportunity time. Not 

even occasional gunfire between Thai and Burmese (along a border 

Bangkok leaves deliberately vague) tips the regional consensus in favor 

of the present order. 

As Ramses Amer and Nguyen Hong Tao noted,2 “Full normalization of bilateral relations [between China and Vietnam] took place 

without resolving the border issues.” The article detailed the settling by 

Vietnam of five land and maritime disputes with Malaysia, Thailand, 
18 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

China, and Indonesia between 1992 and 2004, contributing along the 

way “to the development of international law such as application of the 

uti possidetis principle, the ‘equitable principle,’ the application of single 

lines for maritime delimitation, [and new approaches to] the effect of 

islands in maritime delimitation.” 

Nor should we see progress as solely a one-on-one effort. A few 

multilateral initiatives among ASEAN countries have also emerged. 

One is a trilateral effort by Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam to settle 

on a regime to develop an area of overlapping claims in the Gulf of 

Thailand. This would mirror bilateral deals in the same area by Malaysia 

and Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam, and Thailand and Cambodia. 

Southeast Asia “On the Map”

In Southeast Asia, as elsewhere, borders form the world’s 

basic building blocks. Without them, the international order as 

currently defined would vanish in an instant. Everything durable in 

a contemporary social and political sense—money, law, loyalty, and 

patriotism—can be traced to them. These lines accompanied Western 

world supremacy, and they shore it up today. Boundaries, like money, 

law, or property, arise from human abstractions; they are mental 

constructs applied to a fluid physical world.  Nowhere is this plainer 

than in Southeast Asia. 

This chapter has offered some perspectives on how the grid of 

lines set upon and over Southeast Asia acts to determine social and 

political realities from mundane daily life to the highest statecraft. Over 

the years, a once-easy ambiguity about place and identity has yielded 

to a mapped order imposed at the onset of the last century by colonial 

rulers using the extreme precision of longitude and latitude and, in 

many places, not much else. 

We might recall that land delineation attempts go back to 

Sumerian surveys in around 3000 BCE. Political maps depicting territory survive from Mayan, Aztec, Roman, Chinese, Indian (Mauryan and 

Gupta empires), Incan, Celtic, and other realms. But these took a view 

of “borders” as “borderlands” with generous provision for permeable 

frontiers, indistinct zones, and transitory areas. Precision lines are quite 

another thing. Even in Europe, the technology and skill to create them 

did not arrive until little more than a century ago. 
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 19

Rivers and mountain ridgelines usually sufficed to delineate the 

frontier points where, as the Victorian phrase went, “empires meet.” Local peoples in Asia watched with vague suspicion as colonial surveyors 

clambered over stumps or paddled upriver with heavy surveying equipment. Europeans surveyed Southeast Asia to determine, with a greater 

degree of precision than ever before, exactly what they owned and what 

they might still covet. 

We think of these times as far-off days, consigned to a past as 

distant as the racist discourse of imperialism. We forget that we live 

within a seam of lines determined by that just-departed era. We think 

we see our world today as a seamless arena where universal forces are at 

play. Until September 2001, at least, the spirit of our times had posited a 

world of global flows, global forces, and global movements—of people, 

capital, ideas, talent, goods, and services. We forgot that this flow might 

also include terrorists, criminals, and smugglers. 

Since the drawing of those Southeast Asian lines, so many empires have fragmented—British, French, Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese, 

Austrian, Ottoman, and Russian. The paths taken during the last half 

of the last century steadily added more sovereign states, each with 

often troublesome borders.  In the face of mounting evidence of comprehensive “state failure,” we have no answers—except redoubling our 

effort to breathe life into postcolonial structures stubbornly resisting 

any self-sustaining identity, allegiance, or authority. 

Some scholars, even in Southeast Asia, have suggested breaking 

down the lines still further in an elusive search for earlier constituent 

parts. We heard talk of this when some saw Indonesia close to breaking 

up after President Suharto’s grip slackened in the late 1990s. Yet the 

Soviet Union’s or Yugoslavia’s dissolution shows what can happen when 

another scramble begins for one’s own state and one’s own borders. As 

moderate thinkers realized, any new boundaries will have to rest on distinctions just as whimsical as those on which the current lines are based. 

There is no perfect, irreducible territorial unit. 

Why does a line that is as straight as a ruler cut through the eastwest orientation of all the valleys in New Guinea? The line slices the big 

island into Papua New Guinea on the east and West Papua (formerly 

Dutch New Guinea) on the west. How did this piece of geographic 

genius happen? Some accounts suggest it occurred at a European 
20 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

boundaries conference as inebriated diplomats pondered the British, 

German, and Dutch spheres of influence in Southeast Asia over cigars 

and brandy. For their purposes, the abstract lines put down by these 

distant imperialists dealt with a problem seemingly remote from all 

immediate consequence, as the rugged island’s topography runs east 

and west, while the line runs north to south, straight as an arrow. 

Some bizarre lines bring unexpected benefits. The demilitarized 

zone dividing North and South Korea seems an unmitigated insult, a 

corridor of latent death. Yet the heavily mined and fortified zone cutting 

across the Korean Peninsula gives sanctuary to unique wildlife. When 

Korea reunifies, ecotourism can flourish there. 

The ebb and flow across the world of all these lines, some more 

senseless than others, have not rewarded every nationality hungry for 

boundaries and a flag.  Neither Turkey, nor Persia, nor Britain could 

find a way after World War I to accept a Kurdish yearning for a bordered national territory. Nothing has changed since then. Or consider 

how, just before the same war in 1913, some Chinese envoys traveling 

to Sinha in British India evaded British pressure to accept a sovereign 

Tibetan entity. That incident has left the Tibetans in a limbo from which 

they may never escape. 

Yet a closer look at the intended result of Tibetan self-determination brings us no closer to clarity. What is “territorial ‘Tibet,” anyway?  At 

least five sets of persuasive boundaries exist. Real success can come only 

from the international community. And its recognition can only come 

when and if Beijing’s central power has receded into insignificance—not 

an imminent prospect. Still, one can always hope. In the meantime, even 

the Dalai Lama has not yet decided quite what his national homeland 

area should encompass. There is no hurry for him to do so. 

Southeast Asia should count itself lucky to escape most border 

conflicts. In 1997, armies mobilized and tensions rose as Ecuador and 

Peru fought a short war over a tract of Amazonian jungle. The cause 

for this foolishness? Fee-grubbing surveyors over 100 years ago whose 

mismatched and confusing survey maps have prompted claims and 

counterclaims ever since. 

Indeed, despite the SCS, Asia’s most contentious boundaries 

lie elsewhere. Routine dueling went on for years between Indian and 

Pakistani units positioned at the frigid Aksai Chin glacier, 17,000 feet 
DELINEATION AND BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 21

in elevation. Chinese and Indian army scouts still glare at one other in 

other Himalayan passes 1,000 miles east of Aksai Chin. 

In the study of boundaries, political geographers can sometimes 

retreat into a cubbyhole, fretting about such chicken-and-egg questions 

as, “What comes first, boundaries or identity?” In truth, the evidence 

has already come in: Like other people becoming citizens, Southeast 

Asians find themselves “spatially compartmentalized within a fixed territory,” to use one geographer’s phrase. As a result, Southeast Asians are 

developing steadily more identifiable national identities. The lead book 

here remains Thongchai Winichakul’s Siam Mapped, a tour de force in 

its field that shows how foreign geographic concepts, including territoriality and sovereignty, became identified with “Thai-ness.”3

Finally, to return to this chapter’s beginning assertion: Is globalization a hoax? Strictly speaking, the idea of a borderless world collides 

with a durable reality of fixed and obstructive frontiers. Indeed, more of 

these lines exist today—all necessarily artificial—than ever, thereby posing more arbitrary impediments to human movement than ever. Even 

when some borders fade or disappear altogether, others will emerge. 

Lines have failed to lock in functioning sovereignties in Africa, Asia, 

and the south Pacific, but no one has anything better to offer. 

It seems safe to speculate that this century’s remaining years will 

see changes in technology enabling a more aggressive monitoring of 

boundaries. Cross-border terrorism and criminality will engender new 

forms of interdiction. For Southeast Asia, only a return to the fluidity of 

the archipel will reduce or eliminate these intruding, obstructive lines. 

But that is not about to happen soon.

Notes

1 “Mischief Reef: Geopolitics and Implications,” Journal of Contemporary Asian Studies 31, 

no. 1 (2001).

2 “The Management of Vietnam’s Border Disputes: What Impact on its Sovereignty and Regional 

Integration?” Contemporary Southeast Asia 27, no. 3 (2005).

3 Thongchai Winichakul, Siam Mapped (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1995).

Chapter 2

Archaeology, National Histories, and 

National Borders in Southeast Asia

Michael Wood

This chapter will examine how archaeology, the study of the 

material culture of past societies, has been used to define and critique 

national histories and borders in Southeast Asia. Archaeologists have 

reconstructed broad cultures identified as using similar artifacts and 

embracing common worldviews. These cultures (or “civilizations”) do 

not usually correspond with modern nation-states (or with ancient 

polities, for that matter). This is especially the case in Southeast Asia, 

a region long part of larger cultural units and open to border-crossing 

influences (the very concept of a border in fact having little resonance 

in the region until recent times). Southeast Asia has been described as a 

“crossroads,” and the description is not inaccurate. 

The first section of the chapter will describe how Southeast 

Asia has historically been open to outside inputs; Hindu and Buddhist 

architecture, Chinese models of governance and trade, Chinese immigrant groups, the Islamic religion, and Western economic penetration 

and colonial rule have all marked the culture of the region. By 1900, 

virtually the entire area had come under some form of colonial control. 

Colonial authorities defined clear borders for their possessions, replacing earlier forms of state organization. A final foreign intervention came 

in the form of imperial Japan, which overthrew the European colonial 

order. Japanese victory paved the way for the emergence of independent 

Southeast Asian nation-states, which had the task of defining national 

borders and asserting common national histories. 

The second part of the chapter will show how these tasks were 

facilitated by the earlier experience of colonial rule. Treaties between 

European powers defined borders between colonies, which largely remained intact after independence. Ancient symbols were presented as 

emblematic of a Southeast Asian past that glorified outside influence 

at the expense of local genius. Indonesia and Cambodia kept much of 

23
24 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

the history unearthed by Dutch and French scholars and used it for 

purposes of nationbuilding. “National history” glorified such ancient 

civilizations as the Majapahit and Angkor and often linked presentday struggles to past triumphs. Thus, in freeing themselves from Dutch 

control and constructing a unified nation-state, Indonesians were 

simply building on the earlier work of Gajah Mada, the great 14thcentury ruler of Majapahit. Cambodians were reminded that if their 

ancestors could build Angkor, they could do anything. Although partially constructed by rulers foreign to the region who, at least in the case of 

Cambodia, denigrated local achievements, national histories have been 

used by modern nation-states as a way to stress the uniqueness of their 

local cultures and to bolster national unity. 

Not all Southeast Asians were satisfied with pasts handed to them 

by colonial rulers. Also troubling was that national histories often marginalized large segments (if not sometimes the majority) of a country’s 

population and instead glorified distant cultures that had little if any 

current resonance. This situation was particularly notable in Indonesia, 

where the Java-centric national history was felt by many to have 

downplayed the contributions of Muslims. The third part of this chapter looks at how some Indonesians have turned to archaeology in order 

to reconstruct a national history that emphasizes links to the Islamic 

world. Such a history might in fact also act as a reminder that Southeast 

Asia has always been at the center of larger currents, while at the same 

time having a strong tradition of autonomous development. The chapter concludes with some comments on whether such archaeological 

research, intended to reorient Indonesia toward the Islamic world, 

might also in fact strengthen a national identity or even a regional 

Southeast Asian one, rather than, as some have suggested, pave the way 

for some form of pan-Islamic caliphate.

Southeast Asia as a Crossroads

Southeast Asia has seldom been victim to land invasion, as was 

often the case in continental Eurasia. Much more common was the 

arrival by sea of outsiders from China, India, the Middle East, and eventually Europe. Foreign visitors were chiefly motivated by trade rather 

than the desire to conquer, even though almost the entire region 

eventually lost its independence. The Indian Ocean long functioned 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 25

as a major trade corridor. Links to China, India, and the Middle East/

Mediterranean world date to around the time of Christ. Trade 

networks also served as a conduit for ideas and religious beliefs, including Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, and Christianity. 

The Influence of India

When Western scholars first began to study the archaeology 

of Southeast Asia, they were struck by an apparent Indian cultural 

influence. Sustained Indian contact or perhaps even some form of 

colonization best explained the impressive Hindu monuments found in 

the region. The kshatriya theory of a Southeast Asia settled by Indian 

warriors was supplemented by the Brahmin theory, which involved 

Hindu religious practitioners bringing high culture to the region. 

Brahmins were held to have strengthened local rulers by performing 

magical rituals, creating mythological symbols, and providing prestigious iconography. A few argued that Indian civilization was brought 

to Southeast Asia through the arrival of the vaisya caste of traders and 

craftsmen.1 However, these models of Indian colonization or passively 

accepted “Indianization” are no longer tenable.2 The scenario of an 

expanding Indian high civilization encountering a stone-age Southeast 

Asia with any local innovations such as metallurgy as late or derivative 

developments no longer stands up. Recent archaeological research 

has established that rice cultivation developed in the major valleys of 

mainland Southeast Asia between 2500 and 500 BCE. From 500 BCE 

until around 800 CE, agricultural intensification and centralization occurred, along with technological innovations in the use of bronze and 

iron. There was more local demand for prestige items from India, which 

helped enhance the status of local rulers, and that stimulated trade. The 

initial Indian impact acted as a catalyst; the Indian presence played a 

more direct and positive role with time and eventually resulted in the 

adoption of writing systems, political philosophy, and the Hindu and 

Buddhist religions. This helped nurture complexity in Southeast Asian 

societies; local chiefs attracted more retainers and employed craftsmen 

while mobilizing the local population in order to construct irrigation 

systems and temple complexes.3 Whatever the exact dynamics of how 

India influenced Southeast Asian culture, it seems clear that imported 

concepts were accepted only as far as they complemented and reinforced local traditions. 
26 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Islamization

A similar process may have brought Islam to Southeast Asia. 

Muslims, making up about one-half of the population of the region, 

presently reside in a “Muslim zone” consisting of Indonesia, Malaysia, 

Singapore, and Brunei, as well as the southern parts of the Philippines, 

Thailand, and Cambodia. There is no evidence of large-scale Muslim 

invasions or even immigration into the region. Instead, Islam developed in Southeast Asia as the result of peaceful interaction between 

Muslim visitors and the local population. Muslims came to Southeast 

Asia for trading purposes, from perhaps as early as the 7th century, as 

part of a well-established process of globalization focused on the Indian 

Ocean.4 (The wreck of a 9th-century Indian or Arab ship recently discovered between Sumatra and Borneo attests to the existence of these 

early trade routes.5) With trade came religious change. Anthony Reid 

relates the Islamization of parts of Southeast Asia during this “age of 

commerce” (1450–1689) to the integration of the region into larger cultural and commercial systems.6

 But as Reid’s timeframe indicates, this 

was far from an overnight process. In fact, Muslims may have been 

visiting Southeast Asia for centuries before local inhabitants took a real 

interest in this new religion. Traders lived in separate communities 

and only slowly began to integrate themselves into the larger Southeast 

Asian society. Muslims often married into local ruling dynasties or held 

the important position of harbormaster, in charge of settling disputes 

among merchants. A shared religion also allowed access to trade and 

credit networks that transcended the region. By the late 13th century, 

some Southeast Asian rulers began to see advantages in converting to 

Islam, and Islamic polities become evident. Muslim states apparently 

first emerged in northern Sumatra, where such travelers as Marco 

Polo and Ibn Battuta noted their presence and early grave markers of 

Islamic rulers have been found. Fourteenth-century grave markers also 

have been found in Brunei and the Philippines. The 15th century saw the 

rise of a series of Islamic states in Malaysia and Java, although especially 

in the case of the latter, the process of Islamization was to take many 

centuries. The 16th century saw the penetration of the Moluccas; such 

Islamic polities as Ternate and Tidore were soon to encounter the 

aggressive Christian powers of Portugal and Spain. 

It has been argued that the Islamization of island Southeast Asia 

is an ongoing process, or has not in fact occurred at all. Southeast 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 27

Asian Islam is held to be quite distinct from that of the Arab Middle 

East, which is held to be normative. Thus, Clifford Geertz chose to 

entitle his anthropological study of a small East Java town The Religion 

of Java, implying the existence of a unique Javanese worldview clearly 

distinguishable from Islam.7 Earlier Dutch analyses, which for political 

reasons downplayed Islam’s hold over the population, made a similar 

assertion: that Islam was somehow foreign to the natural culture of the 

archipelago. The real civilization of Indonesia, it was argued, had been 

an Indic one. When the Islamic presence in Indonesia was acknowledged, it was held to be a corruption of the “true faith” of the Middle 

East.8 Geertz himself is apparently cited by some Indonesian Muslims 

as “scientific proof” that the nation’s believers have strayed from Islamic 

norms.9 But, as Mark Woodward points out, it is a mistake to identify 

a text-based version of Islam not only as normative, but also as the sole 

barometer by which one can measure what is and what is not Islamic.10

Ignoring some of the more “ritualistic” and “mystical” elements of Islam 

in general and Islam as it is practiced in Java in particular, Geertz identifies a “real religion” as emphasizing texts; he has difficulty understanding 

the rationale for “chanting” of the Koran by non–Arabic speakers. But 

from a traditional Javanese perspective, it is quite problematic to claim 

that people are not pious simply because they cannot read Arabic.11

Marshall Hodgson noted that when Javanese Islam is seen from the 

perspective of Islam as a whole, it exhibits many similarities to that of 

South Asia and the Middle East.12 

That is not to say that Southeast Asian Islam does not have a 

unique character. Many local customs survived the process of religious 

change. The Islamic rulers of Java adopted earlier Hindu-Buddhist/

Javanese models of governance, as can be seen in their use of Majapahit 

regalia and the fabrication of genealogies linking their houses to the 

Majapahit dynasty. Local belief may even have facilitated the acceptance 

of the Islamic religion; the wali songo, a semilegendary group alleged to 

have brought Islam to Java, are held to have drawn on Java’s rich cultural 

traditions in order to convert the population. Sunan Kalijaga, for example, was said to have brought the wayang puppet play to the region 

and used it to explain Islamic doctrine and history, despite that fact 

that at present the most popular subjects for the wayang are two Hindu 

epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabarata. Sufism has long been held 

as instrumental in making Islam attractive to local sentiment. Anthony
28 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Johns sees the Mongol invasions of the Middle East in the 13th century 

as scattering many mystical practitioners across Asia, some of whom 

eventually arrived in Southeast Asia via the established trade routes.13

Sufism’s stress on mystical experience of the divine as well as ideas 

about secret wisdom reserved for the initiated may have appealed to 

a Hindu-Buddhist society built around semisacred rulers. It offered 

continuity; Islam need not have overturned all that had come before it. 

Islam was accepted in Southeast Asia because it fit in with local norms. 

Even the pesantren system of Islamic boarding schools, a crucial 

element in Islamic society in Indonesia to the present day, may have had 

Hindu-Buddhist antecedents.14

The Chinese Footprint

The extent of Chinese influence in Southeast Asia varied considerably. Vietnam was a Chinese province until it won its independence in 

the 10th century. Subsequent Chinese military interventions were not uncommon, the latest occurring in 1979. Many Chinese cultural traits were 

adopted by Vietnam: the Confucian examination system, the institution 

of emperor, and styles of dress and architecture. These deep connections 

between China and Vietnam have led to the suggestion that the latter 

country should be more properly seen as part of a greater Chinese sphere 

(along with Korea and Japan) rather than as part of Southeast Asia.15

Archaeology has been used to emphasize the uniqueness of Vietnamese 

cultural achievement and to stress that its development was not wholly 

dependent on outside impetus. This is particularly the case in regard 

to the Dong Son culture of the first millennium BCE.16 Named after a 

site in northern Vietnam, the culture was held by European scholars to 

have originated in China. Postindependence Vietnamese archaeologists 

instead identified it as a Vietnamese culture that had emerged before the 

establishment of Han imperial hegemony.17 However, the famous bronze 

kettle drums, emblematic of this advanced culture, were in fact produced 

in northern Thailand as well as in the Chinese provinces of Guangxi and 

Yunnan; it is hard to say how “Vietnamese” the objects are. And while 

Vietnam does historically have much in common with southern China 

(and vice versa), its distinctiveness rests less on its bronze age culture 

than on the fact that it continued to have strong contacts with the rest 

of Southeast Asia, even during the centuries of Chinese control. In any 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 29

event, the Vietnamese felt confident enough to establish their own system 

of rule, although one modeled after that of imperial China.18

Evidence for a Chinese presence in island Southeast Asia before 

1000 CE is scant, consisting of a small amount of pottery found in southern Sumatra and the accounts of Buddhist pilgrims.19 Direct Chinese 

control did not take place outside of Vietnam. Instead, the Chinese tried 

to impose a form of tributary control. Southeast Asian rulers would 

make occasional visits to the Chinese capital bearing gifts. They would 

pledge allegiance to China and agree to not act in a manner detrimental 

to Chinese interests. In turn, they would be offered Chinese protection 

and would be allowed access to Chinese trade networks. Srivijaya and 

Malacca both developed into thriving commercial centers under the 

umbrella of Chinese security. China seldom actually intervened militarily and the engagement of its merchants in the region was sporadic.20

A major exception to this pattern involved the voyages of Admiral 

Zheng He. In the early 15th century, the Ming dynasty sent out a series 

of huge fleets of up to 300 ships, which traveled as far as the coast of 

Africa and made many stops in Southeast Asia.21 The fleets were meant 

to display Chinese power and to gather intelligence; the writings of the 

admiral’s secretary Ma Huan have survived to this day.22 Tribute was 

collected; Chinese gifts were left in return (the tributary system was a 

form of trade, but to the Chinese, commerce was to take place between 

equals, and as can be seen in the writings of Ma Huan, the Southeast 

Asians were deemed inferior). The voyages of Zheng He have been seen 

by historians as a great “might have been” (they took place mere decades before those of Columbus); they were shut down by the imperial 

authorities, perhaps because it was felt that they were too expensive 

and that China had little to learn from the outside world. But while 

Chinese ships did not reach the New World, contacts with Southeast 

Asia continued. The voyages may even have aided the spread of Islam; 

Zheng He was both a eunuch and a Muslim, and there is apparently 

a relationship between the Chinese presence and Islamic activity in 

northern Java in the 15th century.23 An elaborate Chinese pagoda has 

been built in Zheng He’s memory in Semarang, a seaport in northern 

Java. The shrine attracts Javanese Muslim pilgrims and is only a short 

distance from Demak and Kudus, the sites of the two oldest mosques 

in Indonesia. The cross-cultural popularity of this temple could be 

seen as emblematic of Southeast Asia’s status as a crossroads; a foreign 
30 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

visitor, representing an imperial power, remains a figure of devotion 

to a broad spectrum of local people. It is perhaps not surprising 

that Zheng He, long forgotten in China proper, is also celebrated in 

Singapore, where he is seen as an example not just of connections to 

China but also of an innate openness to trade and the outside world. 

The Chinese of Semarang cannot be traced directly to these 15thcentury voyages, but certainly by this time a Chinese immigrant presence was observable; it was to expand substantially in subsequent years. 

In the 18th century, powerful Chinese commercial communities were 

present in Spanish Manila and Dutch Batavia (Jakarta). (The latter 

community was the target of a Dutch pogrom in 1740, the survivors 

going on to take part in the dynastic struggles then convulsing Java.) 

Chinese workers were encouraged to settle in British-controlled 

Malaya and in Siam in the 19th century. The Chinese authorities had 

an ambiguous attitude toward these overseas populations; the issue 

of whether they remained Chinese citizens or had in fact lost this 

status was a complicated one that in some cases was not really resolved 

until the 20th century.24 Local reaction was sometimes hostile; ethnic 

Chinese populations, who in many cases no longer spoke Chinese or 

used Chinese names, were subject to violence in Indonesia as late as 

1998. Anti-Chinese actions were often fueled by the perception that 

the Chinese held an unfair economic advantage and were also perhaps 

more loyal to China than to their native country. While Chinese 

populations generally did better in Thailand and the Philippines, the 

government in Malaysia enforced discriminatory measures in order 

to bolster the status of the Malay majority. The justification given was 

that the Chinese were in a sense merely visitors who should not profit 

at the expense of the “indigenous Malays.” 

Voyages on the scale of those made by Zheng He were never 

attempted again. Ironically, Chinese immigrants to Southeast Asia were 

encouraged to settle by other imperial powers. From the beginning, 

Europeans acted somewhat differently than earlier visitors. The 

Portuguese had apparently heard of the great wealth and vast trade 

opportunities associated with Malacca, a port controlling the waterways 

between Sumatra and the Malay Peninsula. Rather than try to integrate 

themselves into the existing commercial routes connected to Malacca, 

they simply seized the city in 1511. This was part of a larger campaign 

to capture and maintain a network of fortified posts stretching into 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 31

the eastern parts of Indonesia in order to establish a monopoly on the 

spice trade. The Portuguese had the secondary motivation of wishing 

to spread the influence of their religion into regions that had not 

previously had much exposure to Christianity. 

The European Impact

In the long run, the ambitions of the Portuguese were not fulfilled. 

Trade simply moved away to other ports. The Portuguese by the end 

of the 16th century had to come to terms with the local trading system 

and in some cases hired out their ships to local commercial interests 

(similarly, Portuguese mercenaries operated frequently in mainland 

Southeast Asia). Although some local rulers did convert to Christianity 

in the Moluccas, no Christian kingdoms survived for more than a 

few years. But some of the population of eastern Indonesia remains 

Catholic to this day. The influence of Portuguese on the languages 

of Southeast Asia might also be seen as significant. In addition to its 

use in East Timor (Portugal’s last actual Southeast Asian possession), 

Portuguese has given many words to Malay, the language that for years 

competed with Portuguese and eventually surpassed it as the common 

tongue of the commercial ports of the region.25

If the Portuguese impact on the region was ephemeral, the same 

cannot be said of the other European powers. In 1602, the separate 

Dutch trading companies operating in the region joined together to 

form the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (VOC, or United East 

Indies Company). A joint stock company operating under a charter 

from the Dutch government, it was given a monopoly over all trade 

in the Indian Ocean basin and was granted the rights of a sovereign 

state. Although in theory a board of directors in the Netherlands was 

in charge, in reality the governor of the VOC, from 1619 resident in 

Batavia, exercised almost total freedom of action, due to difficulties in 

communications. The company’s plan was to establish a monopoly over 

the spice trade by forcing local rulers into restrictive treaties, barring 

any outside European or Asian competition, and actually going as far as 

destroying spice-producing plants and exterminating the inhabitants of 

several islands in the Moluccas in order to drive up commodity prices.26

This strategy was, in the end, a failure. Because of the vast distances involved, supply and demand could never really be controlled. 

The company was plagued by inefficiency, corruption, and low-quality 
32 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

personnel who were often more interested in their private smuggling 

activities than in the organization’s financial well-being. The VOC declared bankruptcy in 1799, its Indonesian assets being taken over by 

the Dutch government. These holdings were considerable; by the end 

of the 18th century, the VOC controlled all of the island of Java, having 

forced local rulers into the position of powerless vassals. This was 

the final result of a series of wars during which the Dutch intervened 

militarily to support various Javanese dynastic factions. The Dutch were 

initially motivated to do so by a desire to ensure their own supply of rice 

and timber; they had little interest in either the trade or the politics of 

Java itself. Later, as Java sank into chaos, they found they could get concessions from Javanese eager for their military aid.27 The net effect was 

that the Dutch government inherited territories in Java, Sulawesi, and 

Sumatra, which were later expanded upon until by 1910, all of presentday Indonesia was under colonial control. In addition to facilitating 

the colonial takeover of Indonesia, VOC activities also had an effect 

on the whole region, in that attempts to establish a spice monopoly, 

while ultimately unsuccessful, did largely drive Southeast Asians out of 

long-distance trade. With the loss of economic clout, perhaps the loss of 

political power was inevitable.28

By the mid-1500s, all of Luzon and the Visayas had been incorporated into the vast holdings of the Spanish Empire (Mindanao, 

populated by Muslim converts, resisted the Spanish advance, as it 

later did the authority of the United States and the Republic of the 

Philippines). In many ways, the Spanish ruled the Philippines in a manner similar to how they administered Latin America. At the top of the 

hierarchy was the colonial governor. Spanish soldiers and officials, many 

of the latter Catholic priests, collected taxes, dispensed justice, and kept 

order. Christianity spread rapidly through the local population; the 

Philippines are presently the only majority-Christian country in East or 

Southeast Asia. Until the 19th century, the majority of religious practitioners were foreigners, although low-level monks and nuns, along with lay 

workers, often had indigenous origins. The economy of the Philippines 

was based on large estates and peasant labor producing surpluses of rice. 

Cash crops such as sugar were not an important element of the economy until the late 18th century; much of the latter activity was developed 

by American and British investors as well as by indigenous Filipino entrepreneurs. Before this time, international commerce was conducted 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 33

on a much more basic level. Chinese merchants in Manila would 

trade Southeast Asian and Chinese products for silver brought to the 

Philippines from the mines of Mexico. Once a year, a “treasure ship” 

would return to Acapulco with the commodities purchased through 

these transactions. There was no large-scale Spanish immigration to 

the islands, although intermarriage was quite common. A mestizo elite 

eventually emerged, although real political power was always reserved 

for colonial officials sent from Spain. However, local elites adopted not 

just the religion of the Spanish, but also their language and in many 

ways their culture. Wealthy Filipinos received an education in Spain, 

and it was this Spanish-trained elite who in the final decades of the 19th

century agitated against continued Spanish rule. They demanded the 

independence of the Filipino nation, something that they were actually 

in the process of constructing from the country’s diverse ethnic groups, 

at the same time as the rest of Southeast Asia was only just falling under 

full colonial rule. 

The advances of the French and British in securing colonial 

possessions in Southeast Asia took place somewhat later, in the 19th

century. Political control followed military action, which was prompted by the desire to protect European economic interests. These differed 

in many ways from earlier Dutch commercial interests. Of prime importance were resources connected to European industrialization and 

urbanization: oil, tin, rubber, palm oil, copra, coffee, tea, as well as 

rice and tropical fruit to feed Europe’s expanding population. Colonial 

possessions were also to act as markets for European goods. Southeast Asians were important yet largely passive participants in these new 

economic arrangements: peasant farmers, small-scale traders, low-level 

functionaries, workers in the transportation sector. Southeast Asia did 

not industrialize; it was a component of an industrial transformation 

taking place elsewhere. Some Western theorists even advanced the concept of dual economies within the boundaries of colonial Southeast Asia: 

a modern one based on industrial capitalism run by and for Europeans, 

and a precapitalist one based on the village, where money was less important than traditional culture. European administrators tried to preserve 

in isolation traditional Southeast Asian ways of life. Administration and 

commerce were to be left to Europeans, and in the case of the latter, also 

to immigrant minority groups, the Chinese, Indians, and Arabs. With 

the British in Malaya, even “modern” agricultural products, such as 
34 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

rubber, were to be harvested by imported laborers. Although French 

activities in Vietnam can be viewed as a partial exception, there was 

little interest on the part of European colonial administrators in 

imposing Christianity on Southeast Asians. Such sentiments were 

probably not motivated by European sympathy toward local religious 

customs; “fanaticism” (as Europeans labeled any religious manifestation 

with political or protonationalistic undertones) was always ruthlessly 

crushed. Instead, the working principle was that religion was integral 

to an inferior local worldview, but if practiced peacefully it would be 

left alone. In devising the Dutch response to armed resistance in Aceh, 

Dutch Islamic scholar and government official Christian Snouck 

Hurgronje went so far as to divide society into “good Muslims,” associated with local chiefs to whom religion was a matter of faith, and “bad 

Muslims,” many of whom had come under the influence of foreign 

Islamic scholars who resisted Dutch rule.29 Consequently, the Dutch, 

along with the British, were very concerned over the increasing 

numbers of pilgrims, who because of improved transportation were able 

to visit Mecca for the annual hajj.

30 Such suspicions about, and sometimes open contempt toward, local custom was not, however, universal. 

Similarly, some Southeast Asians did break out of the constraints of 

the dualistic model, were able to function to a certain extent within 

European society, and did acquire a European education. It is these 

Southeast Asians who would eventually develop national identities that 

could replace the colonial models developed by the Europeans. 

It may be easy to exaggerate the impact of Western colonialism on 

Southeast Asia. Thailand was never colonized, although its national sovereignty was certainly compromised. It had to allow Western economic 

penetration and had to cultivate British diplomatic support in order to 

avoid direct foreign control. Thailand acted as a buffer zone between 

French and British spheres of influence while giving up its traditional 

hegemony in Cambodia and Laos. The Americans, who after defeating 

the Spanish turned the Philippines into a protectorate, had a marked 

impact on local culture. Systems of administration and education were 

set up, and the independent Republic of the Philippines inherited an 

American style of government and politics. To this day, a large number 

of Filipinos speak English while retaining Spanish surnames (the 

saying “the Philippines spent 300 years in a Spanish convent and 50 years 

in Hollywood” does perhaps have an element of truth to it). But it is 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 35

difficult to separate the American transformation of the Philippines 

from larger currents of globalization; if the office towers of Manila look 

like those of Los Angeles, they also look like those of Tokyo, or of Jakarta, 

for that matter. Whereas previous observers have stressed the crucial 

importance of a Western presence, the consensus among many scholars 

today is that the character of the region is the result of an “autonomous 

history.”31 Western colonialism was important (perhaps more important 

than some Southeast Asian nationalists wish to acknowledge) as 

were the previous contacts with India, China, and the Islamic world, 

but the region’s inhabitants always understood, adopted, and adapted 

to outside influences through the prism of local custom and belief. 

Southeast Asian ways proved remarkably strong in the face of foreign 

political, economic, cultural, and even military interventions.32 This process was apparent in the newly independent nation-states of Southeast 

Asia; national histories had to reflect unique national identities, while 

acknowledging age-old connections to the wider world. 

Archaeology, Modern Borders, National Histories

Independent states had the task of building new identities and 

histories; new regimes drew on a mythic past to build a future. Each 

nation-state tried to emphasize its singular character. This task often 

involved the acceptance of colonial-era differences; older transnational 

identities were discarded. Colonial borders remained largely intact. 

The British possessions of the Malay Peninsula and Borneo eventually 

coalesced into the independent countries of Malaysia, Singapore, and 

Brunei; the French colonies became Cambodia, Laos, and (after 1975) 

a unified Vietnam. The Philippines, Burma, and Thailand remained 

intact, despite regional rebellions, based at least in part on religion or 

ethnicity. After the 1962 “Act of Free Union,” Indonesia was eventually 

able to claim possession of the entirety of the Dutch East Indies and 

even for a time (1975–1999) incorporate the former Portuguese colony 

of East Timor. The continued success of the imagined borders of 

colonial Southeast Asia might seem surprising in light of how radical 

a break with the past the modern nation-state system constituted. 

Benedict Anderson points out that prior to the rise of the colonial 

system, Southeast Asia was organized in a much different way, 

whereby power decreased in both a symbolic and an actual manner the 
36 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

farther a subject was from the royal palace. Southeast Asian states could 

be pictured as a series of “concentric circles of power.”33 Countries such 

as Cambodia and Thailand were not separated by fixed borders. Instead, 

indistinct borderlands marked the space where the area of influence of 

one royal court blended into that of its neighbor. Also surprising was the 

lack of any attempt to redefine Southeast Asia in terms of more “natural” 

cultural zones. Breaking down national borders in favor of bigger regional groupings was always advanced in terms of political alliances or 

vague cultural affinities (for example, Malphindo, an abortive scheme to 

merge Malaysia, the Philippines, and Indonesia into a loose federation). 

The Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) was devised as a 

defensive measure aimed at an expansive North Vietnam, rather than 

as a coming together of nations sharing the same basic identity. While 

Singapore might stress connections with China in terms of trade, or 

even put forward a type of “neo-Confucianism” as a good developmental 

model, no one has ever suggested that all Southeast Asian Chinese 

band together as a single entity. Blueprints for a transregional Islamic 

caliphate have remained the province of marginal extremist groups; no 

politician has ever campaigned on such a platform.

Majapahit 

One of the only real exceptions to the idea that the borders of 

Southeast Asia, as unfortunately defined by Western colonialism, should 

remain unchanged comes from Indonesia, where secular nationalists 

associated with Sukarno appeared to occasionally question the national 

borders inherited from the Dutch. They did so with reference to the empire of Majapahit. According to some readings of the Nagarakertagama, 

an epic 14th-century poem that described the activities of the monarch 

Hayam Wuruk, Majapahit may have included much of the territory of 

present-day Indonesia.34 Controversy remains as to whether place names 

mentioned in the Nagarakertagama were actually part of a coherent 

empire or were simply loosely held tributaries. Dutch scholar C.C. Berg 

even argued, to largely negative reactions from Indonesian nationalists, 

that the “glory of Majapahit” was largely a fiction and that the text 

should be read as a magical exercise intended to bolster the prestige of an 

otherwise modest Javanese ruler.35 But for Indonesian nationalists, 

Majapahit provided firm borders with which to define an independent 

state. In fact, nationalist writer Muhammad Yamin went further and 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 37

claimed that Majapahit included all of the Dutch East Indies, the British 

possessions of Malaya and Borneo, and Portuguese Timor, as well as 

parts of the Philippines, Cambodia, and even northern Australia. He 

consequently demanded in the immediate run-up to the declaration of 

Indonesian independence in 1945 that all of island Southeast Asia be 

incorporated into the new nation, regardless of its current status. This 

“Greater Indonesia” idea was dropped on the insistence of such leaders 

as Muhammad Hatta, who recognized that it would in fact retard 

the granting of independence.36 Little was heard of the concept later, 

although some observers interpreted the Indonesian Konfrontasi (Confrontation) campaign against the formation of an independent Malaysia 

as evidence of Indonesian expansion or even Javanese imperialism. 

The campaign to take possession of the western part of New 

Guinea could be seen as simply making all of the Dutch East Indies 

independent. The invasion and eventual annexation of East Timor were 

apparently motivated more by immediate Cold War worries about the 

emergence of a potentially hostile, possibly communist neighbor than 

by the desire to rework colonial borders. The event is somewhat comparable to the 1979 invasion of Cambodia by Vietnam, an action prompted 

by Khmer Rouge attacks rather than part of a long-held desire to create 

a “Greater Vietnam.” Of course, some had identified North Vietnam as 

a “Southeast Asian Prussia” gleefully tumbling “dominoes” as it annexed 

South Vietnam and brought Laos and Cambodia into its sphere of 

influence. South Vietnam had existed as an independent state from 

1954 until its collapse under North Vietnamese military attack in April 

1975. Its viability and legitimacy as an independent state have been 

questioned, but it is a fact that most of northern and southern Vietnam 

has long been a single political and cultural entity. Attempts to separate 

from larger states in Burma, the Philippines, and Thailand by distinct 

ethnic groups have all been failures. While the British territories of 

Malaya and Borneo were eventually turned into three separate states, 

their borders with neighbors have been little changed.

Borobudur 

Similarly, independent Southeast Asia kept much of the history 

developed by colonial scholars. Archaeology as a discipline practiced in 

Indonesia dates back to the 18th century. The Dutch colonial administration set up museums and organizations to study the material remains of 
38 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

the Indonesian past. Before independence, the Dutch also began to train 

a few Indonesians in archaeological excavation and restoration techniques. The Dutch and the Indonesians who followed them generally 

concentrated on researching the archipelago’s pre-Islamic past, whether 

prehistoric or classical (Buddhist and/or Hindu in orientation). 

Emblematic of this interest was the attention paid to the study 

and restoration of the 9th-century Buddhist site of Borobudur, located 

in central Java. Originally revealed to the outside world by Lieutenant 

Governor Sir Thomas Raffles during the British occupation of Java, it 

was cleared, studied, and rebuilt by Dutch archaeologists.37 It became 

and remains to this day one of Indonesia’s top tourist draws. Borobudur 

was a powerful symbol for the Republic of Indonesia; Sukarno made 

a point of showing the site to foreign dignitaries, while the New 

Order Suharto regime, with help from the United Nations Educational, 

Scientific, and Cultural Organization, embarked on a massive restoration project. Almost every museum in Indonesia contains a scale model 

reproduction of Borobudur. The monument has become almost an 

icon, grouped with the wayang puppet play and gamelan music into a 

vague classical/Javanese past from which all Indonesians are to draw 

inspiration. Majapahit was also subject to a similar process of cultural 

endowment. After Dutch historians discovered the Majapahit of the 

Nagarakertagama, Dutch archaeologists such as Henri Maclaine-Pont 

excavated and restored the Majapahit capital of Trowulan. This site 

remains an important source of Indonesian national pride; the Suharto 

government spent a great deal of effort on reconstructing its gates, temples, and sacred pools, and augmenting it with modern museum facilities. 

In contrast, less attention has been paid to the material remains of 

Indonesia’s Islamic past. Dutch scholars never developed the passion for 

Islamic antiquities that they had for those of ancient Hindu Java. In fact, 

the Archaeological Service of the East Indies was specifically mandated 

to restore Hindu antiquities. Such attitudes remained strong among outside researchers. Timothy E. Behrend notes that works by Claire Holt 

and F.A. Wagner leave the impression that “monumental building, or 

any significant building of any sort, ended in Java with the 15th-century 

temples Suku and Cetha on Gunung Lawa.” He also notes that even 

foreign experts in Indonesian Islam are more familiar with Borobudur 

than with Islamic grave complexes.38
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 39

The situation is not much different among Indonesian researchers. 

The Hasil Pemugaran dan Temuan Benda Cagar Budaya (“The Results 

of the Restoration and Discovery of Cultural Heritage”) describes 

research and conservation work done on Indonesian archaeological 

sites from 1969 to 1994.39 This report, while not comprehensive, gives 

a good representation of the type of archaeological work carried out in 

the country during the New Order. The only Islamic site of note that was 

the focus of actual excavation work appears to be the mosque and palace 

complex at the West Java port of Banten. Certainly, there is no Islamic 

equivalent of the work on Trowulan or Borobudur.

Such attitudes are reflected in what Anthony Reid has described as 

the “nationalist orthodoxy.”40 This national past stressed a “golden age” 

during which Indonesia was a prosperous, unitary state, whose territory 

stretched across the archipelago. This time of power, justice, and order 

was associated with Buddhist Srivijaya (centered in Sumatra during 

the 7th to 10th centuries) and especially Majapahit. Subsequent Islamic 

kingdoms and the role of Islam in national development were downgraded in importance. Islam, it was even implied, might have been 

one of the factors that had allowed Indonesia to succumb to Dutch 

aggression. Little attention was paid to links with the worldwide Islamic 

community. The argument was made that Indonesia had a unique identity that set it apart from the larger currents of Islamic history. Indonesia’s 

national history was developed by such figures as Sukarno and 

Muhammad Yamin as part of the independence struggle.41 It drew at least 

partially on the work of Dutch historians and archaeologists, who had 

reconstructed Majapahit as a powerful empire in line with the description provided by the Nagarakertagama.

42 This orthodoxy continued 

after Indonesia won its independence. National history was reflected in 

textbooks, monuments, museums, and historical research.43

Angkor 

Ancient Cambodia, like Java, was home to a sophisticated, 

Indian-influenced civilization based on wet rice cultivation that has left 

behind many impressive ruins. The empire of Angkor, which flourished 

from around 800 to 1400 CE, for a time dominated present-day southern 

Laos, eastern Thailand, all of Cambodia, and southern Vietnam.44 Angkor 

Wat, a massive temple complex in the interior of Cambodia, has been consciously used as a symbol by every modern Cambodian regime. Political 
40 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

leaders, including Prince Norodom Sihanouk and Khmer Rouge leader 

Pol Pot, saw this Khmer society as an inspiration, if not a possible model, 

for modern Cambodia. Yet as late as the 19th century, Angkor was largely 

forgotten by Cambodians themselves; no one really knew why the monument had been built or by whom.45 In 1959, David J. Steinberg wrote 

that for most Cambodians, history was “the subjective experiences of their 

ancestors rather than the more or less factual record of events usual in 

the West.”46 The ruling Cambodian dynasty claimed direct descent from 

ancient Khmer sovereigns; this was a source of some national pride. But 

at the same time, many Cambodians rejected the Khmer as the builders 

of Angkor; popular memory and belief contained a different tradition 

involving a now-vanished group of ancients.47 Cambodians could neither 

name Angkor’s rulers nor decipher its inscriptions.48 

It was not this poorly remembered Angkor that inspired the 

likes of Sihanouk and Pol Pot, but one more recently discovered and 

popularized by the French colonial authorities. For Sihanouk, “The 

past was a recently discovered talisman, which offered an assurance that 

Cambodia and its population might have a more glorious future than 

seemed possible in the uncertain and troubled present.”49 The French 

naturalist Henri Mouhot had been shown the ruins of Angkor in 1860; 

starting in the 1870s, French scholars deciphered numerous ancient 

Khmer and Sanskrit inscriptions. Hong Lysa has noted that the recovery 

of ancient Southeast Asian civilizations like Angkor was very much a 

part of the colonial enterprise. Colonial states were interested in proving 

a noble ancestry for the space they now occupied and in demonstrating 

their own superiority in recovering the physical remains of such a past. 

The French contrasted ancient splendors with a weak Cambodian 

society that, as far as the French were concerned, had lost its capacity 

for greatness. In any event, any greatness it had enjoyed had been the 

product of “Indianization” rather than native talents. An outside force 

had transformed Cambodia a millennium earlier, and another one, the 

French, would do so again.50 The grandeur of Angkor’s rulers made the 

apparent impotence of Cambodia’s kings, who were handpicked by the 

French, even more obvious. These contradictions later proved a catalyst 

for all varieties of Cambodian nationalism.51

The resurrected symbol of Angkor was used by all Cambodian 

regimes. Cambodians responded to the mixed messages put out by the 

colonial authorities by relating the past to the present and by identifying 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 41

with Angkor.52 Educated Cambodians, while proud of their country’s 

past, were ashamed of its present condition.53 Sihanouk may have shared 

some of their doubts, although in visiting the Cambodian countryside 

he often identified the peasantry, the “little people,” with the builders 

of the great Khmer temples.54 Benedict Anderson mentions November 

1968 celebrations commemorating the 15th anniversary of Cambodian 

independence from the French. For this event Sihanouk had a garish 

wooden replica of the central tower of Angkor Wat displayed in 

the national sports stadium in Phnom Penh. This model acted as an 

immediately recognizable logo, linking current political achievements 

to an impressive medieval empire.55

The Khmer Rouge also glorified Angkor. In a September 1977 radio address, Pol Pot stated that “we all know the Angkor of past times. 

Angkor was built during the slave period. It was all slaves who built it 

under the exploiting classes, for the enjoyment of the king. If our people 

were capable of building Angkor we can do anything.”56 Despite the 

fact that Angkor might be seen as a symbol of royalist exploitation, Pol 

Pot far from condemned this period of Cambodian history; in many 

ways, the Khmer Rouge looked back to the height of the Khmer Empire 

as Cambodia’s golden age and even tried in a sense to resurrect this 

period. If the French had revived the memory of Angkor, perhaps Pol 

Pot wished to rebuild, at a terrible cost, its reality. Foreign scholarship 

had once erroneously noted that the ancient Khmer, through elaborate 

irrigation systems, had been able to cultivate rice intensively on a yearround basis. This historical misinterpretation was to have tragic results. 

The Khmer Rouge regime was convinced that they could duplicate the 

agricultural productivity of ancient times. Through a doubling of rice 

production, Cambodia could finance an industrial expansion.57 When 

these results inevitably failed to be achieved, the leadership blamed not 

themselves and their shaky grasp of past and present realities, but rather 

the treason of the Cambodian people. Under the Khmer Rouge, ill-fed 

laborers in work camps were forced to build “an ill-conceived irrigation 

system meant to propel Cambodia into a rich future by copying the 

methods of the past.”58 The Khmer Rouge leadership tried to show that 

their rule was directly descended from that of Angkor and combined 

their belief in the innate greatness of the Khmer people with a violent 

hostility toward outside powers, which were routinely blamed for economic and political disasters. Despite no longer seeing Angkor as proof 
42 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

that Cambodia really had no need for the outside world, the Vietnamesesponsored regime that succeeded the Khmer Rouge still stressed the 

importance of the ancient empire in school texts and worked to restore 

the site.59 Today, the site continues to draw tourists and remains 

emblematic of Cambodia.

Alternate Histories in Waiting 

Not all were satisfied with these new national histories. A version 

of the past not just approved by foreigners but in fact partially constructed by them was problematic for many Indonesian Muslims. National 

history tended to isolate Indonesia from larger Islamic currents; it 

also tended to ignore connections with the rest of Southeast Asia, 

India, China, and Europe (the Dutch were seen as either largely irrelevant to Indonesia’s story or cartoon villains). The emphasis on 

Majapahit clearly marks national history as Java-centric. Although 

millions of Indonesians practice Buddhism and Hinduism, the ancient 

versions of these religions have little resonance today; this is especially 

the case with the larger Muslim population. A history that underlines 

Indonesia’s past Islamic character (and possible Islamic future) might be 

more compatible with contemporary tastes. Majapahit was organized 

according to a rigid hierarchy and ruled by a semi-divine king, which 

made it particularly popular with New Order ruler Suharto. The New 

Order could be seen (and perhaps saw itself) as a “New Majapahit” 

fulfilling Gajah Mada’s goal of unifying the nation and protecting 

it from outside threats, while ensuring the prosperity of a grateful 

population. In this view of history, Suharto was an incarnation of Gajah 

Mada, and the suppression of the Indonesian Communist Party in 1965 

was a restoration of the nation to its natural state of passive obedience to 

directives issued from a Javanese kraton (royal palace). 

Archaeology might actually be a good place to start in constructing 

“counter-histories,” despite the fact that the discipline usually requires 

government support. Some Indonesian archaeologists have focused on 

the nation’s Islamic past. Of particular note are Uka Tjandrasasmita and 

Hasan Muarif Ambary. Tjandrasasmita was long the head of the Islamic 

section of the Indonesian Archaeological Service.60 Ambary received 

his training under the direction of French scholar Denys Lombard of 

the annales school of Fernand Braudel. He has published many works 

on Islam and archaeology as well as studies on Srivijaya and Banten.61
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 43

Both these scholars have put forward reconstructions of the Indonesian 

past that differ somewhat from a nationalist orthodoxy that sees the 

modern, unitary Republic of Indonesia as the direct descendant of 

Majapahit. From this viewpoint the most important event in pre-modern 

Indonesian history was Gajah Mada’s taking of the palapa oath in which 

he refused to rest until the archipelago had been unified. Such events 

as the arrival of the Islamic religion (which is practiced by at least 85 

percent of Indonesians today, although not of course by Gajah Mada) 

are considered less important. Islamic (and non-Javanese) rulers such 

as Aceh’s Iskander Muda are also less celebrated. Although many 

Islamic figures, such as Diponegoro, Iman Bonjol, and Teuku Umar, 

are celebrated for battling the Dutch (as are Christian and Hindu 

Indonesians), Gajah Mada, his patron Hayam Wuruk, and Majapahit’s 

last monarch Brawijaya are really the only personages who are venerated 

simply for their efforts in forming the nation. Other heroes contribute 

in a purely negative fashion, not by building a nation but rather by 

opposing colonial domination. The only possible exception to this 

pattern may be the wali songo. However, while they are celebrated on 

a popular level, they find little place in official nationalist narratives.62

In contrast, Tjandrasasmita and Ambary are concerned with the 

arrival and development of Islam in Indonesia as an historical phenomenon. In doing so, they continue in the tradition of a series of seminars 

held in 1963 in Medan, in 1978 and 1980 in Aceh, and in 1986 in Palembang that attempted to shift the focus of Indonesian historical research 

from Majapahit to the place of Islam in Indonesia.63 Many of the papers 

presented at these seminars debated when and where the Islamic 

religion first arrived in the archipelago. The notion is entertained that 

Islam arrived in Sumatra relatively early, perhaps within a century after 

the death of Mohammad, and directly from the Arab Middle East. This 

is in contrast to the general consensus of Western scholars that Islam 

arrived in Southeast Asia via India and was not really visible until the 

end of the 13th century. These alternate scenarios regarding Islam’s birth 

in Indonesia draw on different sources of data than Western researchers, 

who had relied on gravestone inscriptions and the accounts of European 

and Arab travelers, such as Marco Polo, Tome Pires, and Ibn Battuta.64

Evidence for the early establishment of Islamic kingdoms includes 

Malay manuscripts, archaeological remains from northern Sumatra, and 

references in Chinese texts to Arab migrants to the region. 
44 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Uka Tjandrasasmita included some of this evidence in a presentation at one of these seminars as well as in an English-language article 

he produced for a book intended for foreign visitors to Indonesia, but in 

general he treats it with some skepticism. He notes the rather mysterious 

Ta-Shih, mentioned in Tang dynasty sources as planning to attack the 

kingdom of Ho-Ling (Java) around about the year 674. Other Chinese 

sources from the 12th century, and Japanese sources from the 8th century, mention colonies of the Ta-Shih in Southeast Asia. This group might 

have been Arab Muslims who settled in the region in the 7th century; 

another group, the Po-sse, may have been local Malay converts. But 

Tjandrasasmita does not wholeheartedly embrace the theory that Islam 

arrived in Indonesia soon after the death of the Prophet Mohammad. His 

description of how Islamic kingdoms emerged on the coasts of Sumatra 

and Java in many ways aligns with that developed by Western scholars. 

He notes the late 13th-century gravestone of Sultan Malik al-Shah, 

found at Samudra, the accounts of Marco Polo, and the importance of 

economic factors in the spread of the Islamic religion. Although he does 

acknowledge that evidence for an early arrival for Islam has mostly 

been ignored, he admits that this evidence is rather sketchy. Instead, he 

outlines how Islamic polities emerged in north Sumatra. After the 13th

century, this process is more visible as a variety of Malay and foreign 

sources become available. This stage can be distinguished from an earlier 

period during which Islam may have arrived in the region.65 The debate 

over a 7th- or a 13th-century date for the arrival of Islam may simply be 

a matter of semantics. Arab Muslims may have visited, or even settled 

in, Southeast Asia at an early date, but the founding of kingdoms or the 

conversion of the local population may have taken place much later.66

In a more general article intended for a non-Indonesian audience, 

Tjanrasasmita emphasizes a process of development very similar to that 

of Western scholars. Initial contacts, perhaps as early as the 7th century, 

occurred around the Strait of Malacca; in the 14th and 15th centuries, Islam 

emerged on the north coast of Java and from there spread to the rest of 

the archipelago. This dissemination process was helped by both foreign 

Muslims and local converts.67 Conversion was facilitated by trade, 

marriage, and the activities of the local aristocracy, although Islam was 

not only an aristocratic religion but also one practiced by the population 

as a whole. Also of importance were the development of such institutions as the pesantren and the work of charismatic figures such as the 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 45

wali songo. The latter drew on the fact that Hindu-Indonesians had “a 

predilection for mysticism” and “a strong concept of God” and used 

Sufism as a means to reach potential converts. Hindu art forms such as 

the wayang and Hindu architecture could also be put to use; Tjandrasasmita sees many motifs in Indonesian Islamic structures such as mosques 

that can be traced back to earlier Hindu-Indonesian norms. 

At the center of the Islamization process appears to be the city. 

New Muslim cities arose under the impetus of foreign contact, and from 

these sites the religion spread to such distant points as the Moluccas.68

Tjandrasasmita presents a story of Islam in Indonesia that seems to be 

above all an Indonesian one. There is little hint of conquest or foreign 

domination. Instead, Indonesians are exposed to the activities of fellow 

Indonesians who happen to have converted to Islam. As the new 

religion spreads, it gains converts and absorbs earlier practices that 

remain apparent today every time a Javanese goes to mosque. An Islamic 

history thus complements a nationalist history and in a sense becomes 

a part of it. 

It should not be surprising that Tjandrasasmita was also involved 

in writing the third volume of the central nationalist history text Sejarah 

Nasional Indonesia, which describes the rise and character of Indonesia’s 

Islamic kingdoms.69 He entertains the possibility of this process starting 

at an early date, but in general comes down in favor of it not happening until the 13th century. The spread of Islam is seen as a process in 

which Indonesians fully participated. He describes it as being a peaceful 

process encouraged by trade and associated with Islamic mysticism, 

evident in both cities and the countryside. Muslim kingdoms are shown 

as the equal of any previous Hindu ones. Although the volume ends 

rather ominously by noting that Dutch power had increased considerably by the 18th century, the work is clearly “Indo-centric”; foreign 

colonialists are simply important players in a larger Indonesian game. 

In narrating the emergence of Islamic Indonesia, Tjandrasasmita 

provides a large amount of background information on warfare, the 

technology of ships and shipbuilding, navigation, trade routes, trade 

goods, harbors, customs and tolls, and ship ownership during the early 

modern era. He also discusses urban life and the governance of the 

various Islamic kingdoms in considerable detail. In general, he offers 

a strong portrait of an “Age of Commerce” world. For him, there seems 

to be no contradiction between high-quality academic analysis and a 
46 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

nationalist narrative that celebrates the contributions of Indonesian 

Muslims to their country’s history. 

Ambary’s Menemukan Peradaban: Jejak Arkeologis dan Historis 

Islam Indonesia (Discovering Culture: The Archaeological Trail of Islam 

in Indonesia), while not discounting the possibility of early Islamic 

kingdoms, does not emphasize it.70 Instead, it appears to have the more 

ambitious motive of using archaeology as a basis for writing a generally 

more Islamic history of Indonesia. It starts by describing the background 

to the rise of Islam in Southeast Asia, noting that it was through trade 

that the region first entered the age of “globalization.” Southeast Asia 

was long open to outside influences: Hindu and Buddhism in the 1st

through the 5th centuries, Islam from the 7th through the 13th centuries, 

and European colonialism from the 17th century. The Hindu-Buddhist 

tradition had a great impact on local culture, as can be seen in remains of 

monumental architecture. In a similar manner, the people of Indonesia 

became familiar with Islam. Muslim traders took up residence in the 

region, and knowledge of Islam began to intensify within the local 

population. Religious conversion was associated with political change 

and the emergence of a common, refined culture. This process can be 

followed through an examination of archaeological and textual data.71

It took place in three phases of cultural and social contact between 

outsiders and the native inhabitants of Southeast Asia. The first stage 

involved Arab traders and took place within a few centuries of the 

death of Mohammad. This phase can be documented from gravestones 

and the writings of Arab geographers. The second stage involved the 

formation of Islamic kingdoms in the 13th through the 16th centuries. 

Evidence involves the gravestone of Malik al-Saleh, Malay chronicles, 

and the writings of Marco Polo. The final stage involved a process of 

institutionalization, whereby Muslim traders spread out from Aceh, 

Demak, and Gresik to Borneo, Lombok, and elsewhere. Gravestones 

are the most important piece of evidence for this latter phase.72 This 

reconstruction of the arrival of Islam is not much different from that 

put forward by Western scholars; Ambary identifies Samudra-Pasai as 

the first city in Indonesia to accept Islam and places this development 

in the 13th century.73

Ambary pays much more attention to specific manifestations of 

Islamic culture in Indonesian history, as reflected in material evidence. 

Beyond a region-by-region description of the archaeology of Islam in 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 47

Indonesia, Ambary deals with specific elements of Islamic culture, such 

as mosque and kraton architecture, epigraphy, and gravestones.74 He 

sees archaeological research as a vital contribution to understanding 

Islam’s place in the past, present, and future of the country. He describes 

how the discipline is presently carried out by the Jakarta-based National 

Archaeological Research Center,75 which has studied migration patterns and how the local cultures of Indonesia have interacted with “great 

traditions” such as Hinduism, Islam, and Western civilization to produce 

a culturally diverse and integrated nation. In presenting a reconstruction 

of Indonesian history based on archaeological evidence, Ambary points 

to the overall purpose of his book: to counter a narrative that downplayed Islam’s importance in the nation’s development. Menemukan 

Peradaban presents a total picture of an Islamic Indonesian culture, a 

culture whose historical dynamics are as valid and important as one 

that sees the Republic of Indonesia as but the latest manifestation of 

Majapahit. The archaeological analysis presented in the book can be 

interpreted as evidence that an Islamic version of the past is as scientifically rigorous as the earlier histories developed by Western and 

nationalist-Indonesian scholars and writers. Ambary’s work can be 

placed in a larger context and viewed as an example of “ummat-oriented” history, which takes as its starting point the arrival of Islam in 

Indonesia rather than Gajah Mada. Ambary’s work offers a direct 

challenge to those who would write Islam out of Indonesia’s story. 

Both Tjandrasasmita and Ambary provide analyses that might 

present a different view of the Indonesian past than one of a “golden age” 

of Javanese domination. Tjandrasasmita describes an Indonesia open for 

trade with the rest of the world and receptive to new ideas, whether in 

regard to technology or religion. Religious innovations spread through 

the archipelago mostly through the actions of Indonesians themselves 

by means of traditional art forms and in harmony with local modes of 

social organization. Thus, local rulers adopt Islam and found trading 

centers, the wayang is used to explain and propagate Islamic doctrine, 

and mosques resemble Hindu temples. Ambary attempts a comprehensive history of Islam in Indonesia as reflected in the archaeological 

record. This is an antidote to the nationalist orthodoxy that tended to 

downplay Islam’s place in the nation’s history. He seems to be saying that 

historical inquiry of the same quality as that carried out in writing the 

Sejarah Nasional Indonesia and of the Dutch in excavating Trowulan, 
48 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

restoring Borobudur, and interpreting the Nagarakertagama will produce a version of Indonesian history that does not marginalize Islam. 

In the alternative history, offered by these two archaeologists, Indonesia 

was part of a larger Islamic world and was in fact open to many outside influences from India, China, and the West. Local genius adopted 

and adapted the best of these influences while retaining a strong local 

identity. Islam’s arrival in Southeast Asia is seen as a positive event. As 

Gajah Mada helped unify the Indonesian Archipelago politically, Islam 

helped build a unified Indonesian culture of interest to Muslims and 

non-Muslims alike. The modern Republic of Indonesia is the latest 

manifestation not necessarily of Majapahit but of a crossroads where 

trade and religious currents met and produced a vibrant society. The 

notion that an Indonesia seen as historically open to the ummat might 

also have to be open to other influences is evident in some recent 

comments of the Indonesian historian Asvi Warman Adam, who calls 

on Indonesians to acknowledge the contributions of Chinese visitors 

and residents to the nation’s development.76

The idea that Indonesia has perhaps been more “Islamic” 

than many outside observers have maintained might also lead to a 

reassessment of how isolated and unique Indonesia really has been 

historically. Indonesia as part of the ummat is also part of a wider world; 

Islam aids Indonesia in the process of globalization.77 Majapahit, an 

archipelago-wide, Java-centered, hierarchical, Hindu Empire with a 

god-king ruling over masses of obedient peasants, might be actually a 

bit of an aberration.78 But this questioning of the standard nationalist 

narrative need not lead to increased divisions and conflict among 

Indonesians. A new view of the Indonesian past does not imply that 

the traditional interpretation is obsolete and that Indonesians can 

no longer take pride in the accomplishments of Gajah Mada. There 

is no real contradiction between being a Muslim and an Indonesian. 

Indonesia can retain a national history, while taking pride of place in 

the ummat. Stressing Indonesia’s Islamic past and Islamic connections 

need not separate Indonesian Muslims from their fellow citizens, nor 

imply continued hostility to a larger non-Islamic world. In creating 

an Indonesian past that pays more attention to Islam, scholars such as 

Tjandrasasmita and Ambary might perhaps remove some of the fear 

associated with anything that is driven into involuntary exile. Observers both inside and outside of Indonesia might start to understand 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 49

that the broad historical forces that brought Islam to Indonesia are the 

same ones that continue to link this nation with Asia, the Pacific, the 

West, and, of course, the ummat. 

Conclusion

Archaeology has been used by independent Southeast Asian 

nation-states to foster national unity, establish political and cultural 

boundaries, and legitimize regimes. The problem with using archaeology to make nationalistic claims is not that it is any more scientific or any 

less biased than historical writings and thus more difficult to manipulate 

(it is not), but that it tends to show that any modern nation is in fact a 

recent construct. “Civilizations,” as defined by archaeologists, seldom 

coincide with modern nation-states in regard to borders, religions, languages, supposed ethnicities, material culture, or anything else. Instead, 

regional and transnational identities seem more apparent. The uniqueness of a regional identity (for example, Balinese over Indonesian) as 

expressed in particular artifacts (such as dress, architecture, or food) 

might indeed be corrosive of central power, although this might be 

less of a danger today than it was at the time of independence, when 

national languages and identities were in a sense foreign to much of 

the Southeast Asian population. For example, in his study of life in 

Modjokuto (Pare), Clifford Geertz describes a town where only a few 

“intellectuals” spoke the national language and where knowledge of 

political developments was largely restricted to the visits of outside 

speakers from the major political parties. Fifty years later, East Java 

is much less isolated, and the people—whatever their religious or 

ethnic backgrounds, or first language for that matter—by and large 

accept, and are indeed proud of, a national identity. In the current context of globalization, the populations of Southeast Asia are exposed to 

numerous new ideas and styles (the films of Hollywood, Bollywood, 

and Hong Kong, along with the Internet providing much of this material), while retaining a firm commitment to national cultures they have 

grown comfortable with, through standardized educational systems, 

national languages and media, as well as recently shared histories. 

Similarly, national identities coexist with loyalties to larger worldviews. 

Howard Federspeil describes the sea routes (which met in Southeast 
50 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Asia) as “the linkage between the primary civilizations of Asia—that 

is, the Islamic world, Brahman India, and Middle-Kingdom China—

when all three were at the height of their development and influence 

between the 7th and 18th centuries.”79 In later years one might add Western civilization to this Southeast Asia blend. None of these civilizations 

were or are the monopoly of a single country (even “China” consists of 

two modern polities, Taiwan and the People’s Republic; the Indic world 

consists of the Subcontinent and a much larger cultural zone; and the 

Islamic world has not been a unified political entity since the 8th century). 

However, the geographic scope of these civilizations might indicate the 

existence of substantial tensions between national borders and transnational ideological ties. A modern state might have more difficulty in 

favoring a national identity over older, larger, and more nebulous ties on 

the part of its citizens than in suppressing or at least managing loyalties 

to a village, a city, or a region, especially as the latter might lessen as populations become more urban and mobile. A pertinent question involves 

the role archaeology might have in favoring broader transnational 

identities over recently constructed national ones. Can archaeology in 

fact invalidate national borders by emphasizing transnational linkages?

The answer might indeed be yes, if such links are assumed to be 

more culturally valid than national borders, identities, and histories. 

Since the fall of Suharto in 1997, there has been some discussion of the 

desirability of a pan-Southeast Asian, or even worldwide, caliphate, a 

structure that would logically nullify the concept of an independent 

Indonesian nation-state, Islamic or secular. Jemaah Islamiyah (JI), a 

loosely structured organization deemed responsible for the 2002 Bali 

bombing and several other attacks, supposedly had the construction 

of a Southeast Asian caliphate as its goal. There may be a large constituency among Indonesian Muslims for a wholesale rejection of the 

Indonesian national project in favor of a solely Islamic mode of political organization. Instead of trying to bring Islam back into Indonesian 

history (a goal many Indonesians would feel is overdue), groups like JI 

might be aiming to take Indonesia out of Islamic history. 

First, it might be important to remember that although Indonesia 

has been an integral part of the Islamic world, it has never been part of 

any larger Islamic polity. Sultan Agung sent to Mecca for a title, numerous 

Indonesian pilgrims and scholars visited the Hijaz, and pleas were made 

at various times for military help from the Ottomans, but Indonesia was 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 51

never conquered, ruled, or colonized by any outside Muslim power. Nor 

was there ever any form of trans–Southeast Asian or even Indonesian 

polity that could be deemed Islamic. Also, though Indonesian Muslims 

have historically had some interest in the concept of a caliphate, looking with concern on the abolition of the institution by Ataturk in 1924, 

they have since at least the 1930s been more interested in Indonesian

independence and unity. 

JI members have spoken of a caliphate, but this might simply be 

the way in which their organization is set up (or even how observers 

see their group).80 Talk of caliphates might also be a way in which JI 

demonstrates its Islamist credentials, a way to distinguish a future 

Indonesian society from Western forms of knowledge and organization.81

JI does have, according to some outside reconstructions, connections, 

especially in terms of personnel, with the Darul Islam (House of Islam) 

movement, which violently challenged Indonesian national authority, 

especially in West Java, into the early 1960s.82 But while the radical 

Darul Islam rejected nationalist ideology and perhaps the republican 

form of government, it did not reject Indonesia as a separate entity. In 

fact, Darul Islam could be seen as simply a more pious version of the 

“regional rebellions” of the late 1950s. The case of JI is more complicated; it may have indeed started to question the viability of Indonesia 

as a distinct state; its transnational links—perhaps with al Qaeda, certainly with militants in Malaysia and the Philippines—have been well 

documented.83 Of course, these associations may merely be good tactics. 

On the other hand, there does not appear to be on the part of the group 

a firm rejection of an Indonesian identity. 

Local backing, or at least sympathy, for JI (and by extension any 

pro-caliphate views the group might harbor) may paradoxically be an 

issue of Indonesian nationalism. At the time of the Bali bombing in 

2002, memories were still fresh in regard to the activities of Laksar Jihad, 

an armed group with which many Indonesian Muslims, some quite 

close to the political mainstream, sympathized. The group was perceived 

as defending Muslims under attack in the Moluccas (accurate or not, 

many Muslims analyzed the complex local Christian-Muslim conflict 

in this manner); the sentiment seemed to be that Indonesian Muslims 

could not be terrorists, only victims, and that foreigners were simply 

interfering in Indonesia’s internal affairs (as they had over East Timor in 

1999 and before) in claiming that JI was an armed terrorist organization. 
52 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

The name itself simply meant “Islamic Organization,” and politicians were 

reluctant to ban or even acknowledge the existence of such an apparently 

innocuous group. Indonesians denied any domestic terrorist threat up to 

the 2002 attack, and Vice President Hamzah Haz even met with Abu Bakar 

Ba’asyir, the group’s leader. After the attack, many Indonesians refused 

to believe that Indonesians were evil or skillful enough to carry out such 

an attack and instead thought it was some form of foreign conspiracy.84

While outside observers would be wise to note the strength of ties that 

seem to cross borders, such as the sympathy exhibited by most Indonesian 

and Malaysian Muslims toward the plight of their coreligionists in Iraq, 

Afghanistan, and Palestine, such sympathies should not be exaggerated. JI 

remains tiny in terms of numbers, and while its attacks can be quite devastating, it has garnered little lasting support from the Indonesian public that 

might be converted into usable political capital.85 If it wishes to dissolve 

the national borders or even radically change national policies, it seems 

to have little immediate prospect of doing so. That being said, the group 

has deep roots; many members share close family and educational ties. 

JI remains committed to a long-term agenda of an Islamic state, and it 

will continue to take great skill and patience on the part of Indonesian 

authorities before the group can be neutralized.86 

Indonesian Muslims do sometimes feel that political and societal 

arrangements do not always acknowledge the country’s Islamic presence. 

Very occasionally, this feeling is reflected in violent activity, as was the 

case with JI and, before that, Darul Islam. However, the success of any 

group or individual in moving Indonesia in a more Islamic direction has 

more to do with adapting to local conditions and forming useful alliances 

than to constructing a narrative that does not contain Indonesia.87 In 

fact, transnational linkages, as described in the archaeological works of 

Tjandrasasmita and Ambary, may actually strengthen national identities 

by showing that historically they have not been incompatible with larger 

religious ones, nor with particular regional loyalties. There may even 

be the possibility that focusing on narratives outside of a particular 

nation-state, in favor of a larger history, might bolster the concept of 

Southeast Asia as a unified cultural zone. ASEAN is a long way from 

political integration (or even economic cooperation), but one is reminded 

of Anwar Ibrahim’s comment of feeling closer to a Buddhist Thai than to 

a Saudi Muslim.
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 53

Notes

1 Dougald J.W. O’Reilly, Early Civilizations of Southeast Asia (New York: Altamira Press, 2007), 

186–187.

2 Charles Higham, The Archaeology of Mainland Southeast Asia: From 10,000 BC to the Fall 

of Angkor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 308.

3 Ibid., 308–313.

4 There is a large body of literature on the arrival of Islam in Southeast Asia. Of note are 

S.Q. Fatimi, Islam Comes to Malaysia (Singapore: Malaysia Sociological Institute, 1963); Anthony 

Reid, “The Islamization of Southeast Asia,” in Charting the Shape of Early Modern Southeast Asia

(Bangkok: Silkworm Books, 1999), 15–34; and M.C. Ricklefs, Mystic Synthesis in Java: A History 

of Islamization from the Fourteenth to the Early Nineteenth Centuries (Norwalk, CT: East Bridge, 

2006).

5 Michael Flecker, “A Ninth Century AD Arab or Indian Shipwreck in Indonesia: First Evidence for Direct Trade with China,” World Archaeology 32, no. 3 (2001), 335–354.

6 Anthony Reid, Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce 1450–1680, Volume Two: Expansion 

and Crisis (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), chapter 3.

7 Clifford Geertz, The Religion of Java (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960). 

8 Mark Woodward, “Talking across Paradigms: Indonesia, Islam, and Orientalism,” in Toward a New Paradigm: Recent Developments in Indonesian Islamic Thought, ed. Mark Woodward 

(Tempe: Arizona State University, 1996), 25–28. 

9 Ibid., 9.

10 Mark Woodward, Islam in Java: Normative Piety and Mysticism in the Sultanate of Yogyakarta (Tuscon: The University of Arizona Press, 1989), 2, 60.

11 Ibid., 117, 264. Similarly, Benedict Anderson points out that in the worldview of the traditional pesantren (Islamic boarding school), it may be because the Koran cannot be understood by 

its readers that it is all the more powerful as a religious or even a magical text. See “The Languages 

of Indonesian Politics,” in Language and Power: Exploring Political Cultures in Indonesia (Ithaca: 

Cornell University Press, 1990), 127.

12 Marshall Hodgson, The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History in World Civilization

(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974), vol. 3, 551.

13 See A.H. Johns, “Sufism as a Category in Indonesian Literature and History,” Journal of 

Southeast Asian Studies 2, no. 2 (1960), 10–23.

14 See Koentjaraningrat, Javanese Culture (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1985).

15 Milton Osborne, Southeast Asia: An Introductory History, 9th ed. (St. Leonards, NSW: Allen 

and Unwin, 2003), chapter 1.

16 See Peter Bellwood, Prehistory of the Indo-Malaysian Archipelago (Honolulu: University of 

Hawaii, 1985), 269–271.

17 Ian C. Glover, “Some Uses of Archaeology in East and Southeast Asia,” in An Archaeology 

of Asia, ed. Mariam T. Stark (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2006), 25–26. See also “Letting the Past 

Serve the Present—Some Contemporary Uses of Archaeology in Viet Nam,” Antiquity 73, no. 

291 (1999), 598–599. 

18 David G. Marr, “Sino-Vietnamese Relations,” The Australian Journal of Chinese Affairs 6 

(1981), 46; Peter Bellwood, “Southeast Asia before History,” in The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, Volume One: From Early Times to c. 1800, ed. Nicholas Tarling (Cambridge: Cambridge 

University Press, 1992), 129–132. 

19 Bellwood, Prehistory, 275.

20 For a description of Chinese attitudes and actions toward the region, see Martin StuartFox, A Short History of China and Southeast Asia: Tribute, Trade and Influence (Sydney: Allen 

and Unwin, 2003). 
54 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

21 Louise Levathes, When China Ruled the Seas: The Treasure Fleet of the Dragon Throne, 

1405–1433 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1994).

22 Ma Huan, Ying-yai Sheng-lan: “The Overall Survey of the Ocean’s Shores” (1433), ed. and 

trans. J.V.G. Mills (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970).

23 See Chinese Muslims in Java in the 15th and 16th Century: The Malay Annals of Semerang and 

Cerbon, ed. M.C. Ricklefs, trans. H.J. Graaf and Theodore G. Th. Pigeaud (Melbourne: Monash 

Papers on Southeast Asia, 1984). The veracity of these documents has been questioned.

24 Leonard Blussé, Strange Company: Chinese Settlers, Mestizo Women, and the Dutch in VOC 

Batavia (Leiden: KITLV, 1986); Donald Willmott, The National Status of the Chinese in Indonesia, 1900–1958 (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1961); Leo Suryadinata, Chinese and 

Nation-building in Southeast Asia (Singapore: ISEAS, 1997).

25 C.R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1973).

26 M.C. Ricklefs, A History of Modern Indonesia Since c. 1200, 3d

 ed. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001).

27 M.C. Ricklefs, War, Culture, and Economy in Java, 1677–1726: Asian and European Imperialism in the Early Kartasura Period (Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1993). 

28 Reid, Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce: Volume Two, 326–330.

29 See Harry J. Benda, “Christian Snouck Hurgronje and the Foundations of Dutch Islamic 

Policy in Indonesia,” Journal of Modern History 30, no. 4 (1958), 338–347.

30 Ibid., 339.

31 See John Smail, “On the Possibility of an Autonomous History of Modern Southeast Asia,” 

Journal of Southeast Asian History 2, no. 2 (1961).

32 For a recent study of the complexity of Southeast Asian responses to colonial rule and borders, see Eric Tagliacozzo, Secret Trades, Porous Borders: Smuggling and States along a Southeast 

Asian Frontier, 1865–1915 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005). 

33 Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, rev. ed. (London: Verso, 1990), 170–173.

34 Stuart Robson, Desawarnana (Nagarakertagama) by Mpu Prapanca (Leiden: KITLV, 1995) 

or Java in the Fourteenth Century: A Study in Cultural History: The Nagara-Kertagama by Rakawi 

Prapanca of Majapahit, 5 vols., ed. and trans. Theodore G. Th. Pigeaud (The Hague: Nijhoff, 

1960–1962).

35 “Javanese Historiography: A Synopsis of its Evolution,” in Historians of Southeast Asia, ed. 

D.G.E. Hall (London: Oxford University Press, 1961), 87–117.

36 Delia Noer, “Yamin and Hamka: Two Routes to an Indonesian Identity,” in Perceptions of 

the Past in Southeast Asia, ed. Anthony Reid and David Marr (Singapore: Heinemann Educational Books, 1979), 258. There had in fact also been some minor interest in the idea outside of 

the Dutch East Indies, among Malays worried about any future independent state falling under 

Chinese domination. See Angus McIntyre, “The Greater Indonesia Idea of Nationalism in Malaya 

and Indonesia,” Modern Asian Studies 7, no. 1 (1973), 75–83.

37 See Daud Tanudirjo, “Theoretical Trends in Indonesian Archaeology,” in Theory in Archaeology: A World Perspective, ed. Peter Ucko (London: Routledge, 1995), 62–70. See also Jacques 

Dumarçay, Borobudur, ed. and trans. Michael Smithies (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 

1978).

38 Timothy E. Behrend, “Kraton, Taman, Mesjid: A Brief Survey and Bibliographic Review of 

Islamic Antiquities in Java,” Indonesia Circle 35 (1984), 29. See also Claire Holt, Art in Indonesia: 

Continuities and Change (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1967), and Theodore G. Th. Pigeaud, 

trans. and ed. F.A. Wagner, Indonesia: The Art of an Island Group (London: Methuen, 1962).

39 Hasil Pemugaran dan Temuan Benda Cagar Budaya (Jakarta: Departemen Pendidikan dan 

Kebudayaan, 1994). 

40 See Anthony Reid, “The Nationalist Quest for an Indonesian Past,” in Perceptions of the 

Past in Southeast Asia, ed. Anthony Reid and David Marr (Singapore: Heinemann Educational 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 55

Books, 1979), 298. Indonesian scholars such as Sartono Kartodirdjo prefer the term “national 

history.” See Indonesian Historiography (Yogyakarta: Kanisius, 2001), 15.

41 See especially, Sukarno, Indonesia Accuses! Sukarno’s Defence Oration in the Political Trial 

of 1930, ed., ann., and trans. Roger K. Paget (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1975), 79, 

and Muhammad Yamin, Gadjah Mada: Pahlawan Persatuan Nusantara (Gajah Mada: A Hero of 

the Unity of the Archipelago), 6th ed. (Jakarta: Dinas Penerbitan Balai Pustaka, 1960).

42 S. Supomo, “The Image of Majapahit in Later Javanese and Indonesian Writing,” in Perceptions of the Past in Southeast Asia, 180–181.

43 See Michael Wood, Official History in Modern Indonesia: New Order Perceptions and Counterviews (Leiden: Brill, 2005).

44 David Chandler, The Tragedy of Cambodian History: Politics, War, and Revolution since 

1945 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991), 6. The use of a term such as “ancient” to describe 

a civilization contemporary with Baghdad and the Magna Carta might seem odd. Colonial-era 

European scholars looking at Southeast Asia often sharply distinguished between “ancient” societies such as Angkor, which would not have had any contact with Europeans, and “degenerate” 

modern societies fit for colonization. 

45 Milton Osborne, Sihanouk: Prince of Light, Prince of Darkness (Honolulu: University of 

Hawaii Press, 1994), 42.

46 David J. Steinberg, Cambodia: Its People, Its Society, Its Culture (New Haven: HRAF Press, 1959), 7.

47 Ibid., 7.

48 Chandler, The Tragedy of Cambodian History, 6.

49 Osborne, 42; italics added.

50 Hong Lysa, “History,” in An Introduction to Southeast Asian Studies, ed. Mohammed Halib 

and Tim Huxley (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1996), 49–50.

51 David Chandler, Brother Number One: A Political Biography of Pol Pot (Boulder: Westview 

Press, 1992), 12–13. 

52 Chandler, The Tragedy, 6.

53 Ibid., 284–285.

54 Ibid., 6.

55 Anderson, Imagined Communities, 183. The original description cited by Anderson 

appeared in the Cambodian newspaper Kambuja, December 15, 1968.

56 Chandler, Brother Number One, 142. 

57 Ben Kiernan, The Pol Pot Regime: Race, Power and Genocide in Cambodia under the Khmer 

Rouge, 1975–1979 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996), 8.

58 Elizabeth Becker, When the War Was Over: Cambodia and the Khmer Rouge Revolution

(New York: PublicAffairs, 1999), 200.

59 Chandler, The Tragedy of Cambodian History, 7. Restoration of the site involved the persistent problem of landmines and continued Khmer Rouge activity; the time and money expended 

may indicate the importance of Angkor as a symbol. However, the site may simply be seen as 

a useful source of tourist dollars (echoing Silberman’s “touristic archaeology”). See Neil Asher 

Silberman, “Promised Lands and Chosen Peoples: The Politics and the Poetics of Archaeological 

Narrative,” in Nationalism, Politics and the Practice of Archaeology, ed. Philip L. Kohl and Clare 

Fawcett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 261.

60 See John N. Miksic, “Indonesian Publications on Archaeology, 1975–82,” Indonesia Circle

34 (1984), 45–50. 

61 See, for example, “Recent Archaeological Discoveries at Srivijaya Sites,” in Studies on Srivijaya, ed. Satyawati Suleiman et al. (Jakarta: Puslit Arkenas, 1980), and A Preliminary Report of the 

Excavation of the Urban Sites in Banten (West Java) (Jakarta: P4N, 1977).

62 For an analysis of how the tombs of the wali songo were treated during the late New Order, when despite regime efforts to reach out to Indonesian Muslim sentiment, the nationalist 
56 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

orthodoxy could be considered to be in full force, see Michael Wood, “The Historical Past as a 

Tool for Nation-Building in New Order Indonesia,” in Good Governance: A Workable Solution for 

Indonesia, ed. Andi Faisal Bakti (Jakarta: Logos Press, 2000), 81–83.

63 See A. Hasymy, ed., Sejarah Masuk dan Berkembangnya Islam di Indonesia (The History of 

the Entrance and Growth of Islam in Indonesia) (Jakarta: Almaarif, 1993), and K.H.O. Gadjanata 

and Sri Swasono, Masuk dan Berkembangnya Islam di Sumatera Selatan (Entrance and Growth of 

Islam in South Sumatra) (Jakarta: University of Indonesia, 1986).

64 See Ricklefs, A History of Modern Indonesia, chapter 1, and Fatimi, Islam Comes to Malaysia. See also L.F. Benedetto, Travels of Marco Polo, trans. Aldo Ricci, intro. E. Denison Ross (London: George Routledge and Sons, 1931), 281–282; Amando Cortessao, ed., The Suma Oriental of 

Tome Pires Book of Francisco Rodriques, 2 vols. (London: Hakluyt Society, 1944), 137, 143, 182, 

and Travels in Asia and Africa 1325–1354, trans. H.A.R. Gibb (London: George Routledge and 

Sons, 1929), 272–276.

65 Proses Kedatangan Islam and Munculnya Kerajaan-Karajaan Islam di Aceh (The Process 

of the Arrival of Islam and the Emergence of Islamic Kingdoms in Aceh), in Sejarah Masuk, 

360–365.

66 The reliance on textual evidence in reconstructing early Islam in Southeast Asia is problematic for many reasons. Because of the tropical climate, most manuscripts will not have survived to the present and those that have would present the biased views of a local elite (which 

might lead scholars to assume that Islamization must have been a top-down process). Foreign 

sources would have their own sets of assumptions (including simple ignorance of local culture). 

Archaeology may thus be useful in illuminating the origins of Islam in Southeast Asia. Excavations in Banda give a much earlier date for the arrival of Islam than previously thought (around 

1200 as opposed to 1450) based on a paucity of pig bones discovered at various sites. However, 

such work on sites connected to Islam is not carried out very often. See Peter Lape, “Focus on 

Islam IV: Archaeological Approaches to the Study of Islam in Island Southeast Asia,” Antiquity

79, no. 306 (205), 829–836.

67 “The Introduction of Islam and the Growth of Moslem Coastal Cities in the Archipelago,” 

in Dynamics of Indonesian History, ed. Haryati Soebadio and Carine A. du Marchie Sarvas (New 

York: North-Holland Publishing Company, 1978), 143–145, 148.

68 Ibid., 149–157.

69 See Marwati Poesponegoro and Nugroho Notosusanto, eds., Sejarah Nasional Indonesia

(National History of Indonesia), 6 vols., 4th ed. (Jakarta: Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan RI, 1990). This set of books functioned as the basis of school textbooks during the New Order 

period.

70 Hasan Muarif Ambaray, Menemukan Peradaban: Jejak Arkeologis dan Historis Islam Indonesia, ed. Jajat Burhanuddin (Jakarta: Logos, 1998).

71 Ibid., 53–54.

72 Ibid., 58–59.

73 Ibid., 128–129.

74 Ibid., 163–170, 191–202.

75 Ibid., 337–339.

76 Asvi Warman Adam, “The Chinese in the Collective Memory of the Indonesian Nation,” 

Kyoto Review 2 (March 2003), 1–12 (online edition). 

77 The writer and politician Roeslan Abdulgani refers to Islam as coming to Indonesia “bearing civilisation [or progress].” Dutch colonialism had, in his opinion, interrupted Indonesia’s 

historic path of development under the guidance of Islam. See Sejarah Pekembangan Islam di 

Indonesia (The History of the Development of Islam in Indonesia) (Jakarta: Pustaka Antara 

Kota, 1983), 7, 28. Abdulgani, who was close to Sukarno and later worked on developing government ideological training under Suharto, was considered a very secular figure, although he later 

showed a great deal of sympathy to Islam. As early as the Guided Democracy period, outside observers such as Justus M. Van der Kroef, suspicious of a “nationalist orthodoxy” that emphasized 
ARCHAEOLOGY, NATIONAL HISTORIES, AND NATIONAL BORDERS 57

an inherent Indonesian unity and an Indonesian uniqueness even in the manner of the country’s 

exposure to Islam, called for a history that paid more attention to the importance of outside influences. See “National and International Dimensions of Indonesian History,” Journal of Southeast 

Asian History 6, no. 1 (1965), 17. 

78 Anthony Reid points out that historically, centralization was unusual in Southeast Asia; 

even Majapahit, according to visitors, was quite loosely structured. See “Political ‘Tradition’ in 

Indonesia: The One and the Many,” Asian Studies Review 22, no. 1 (1998), 23–38. 

79 See Sultans, Shamans and Saints: Islam and Muslims in Southeast Asia (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2007), 7.

80 See Clinton Fernandes and Damien Kingsbury, “Terrorism in Archipelagic Southeast 

Asia,” in Violence in Between: Conflict and Security in Archipelagic Southeast Asia, ed. Damien 

Kingsbury (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2005), 21–22. See also International 

Crisis Group, “Indonesian Backgrounder: How the Jamaah Islamiyah Terrorist Network Operates,” Asia Report No. 43, December 11, 2002.

81 Fernandes and Kingsbury, 20.

82 International Crisis Group, “Recycling Militants in Indonesia: Darul Islam and the Australian Embassy Bombing,” Asia Report No. 92, February 22, 2005. See also Martin van Bruinessen, 

“Genealogies of Islamic Radicalism in Post-Suharto Indonesia,” Southeast Asia Research 10, no. 

2 (2002), 117–154.

83 Fernandes and Kingsbury, 22.

84 Dewi Anggraeni, Who Did This to Our Bali? (Victoria, Australia: Indra Publishing, 2003). 

85 International Crisis Group, “Indonesia: Jemaah Islamiyah’s Current Status,” Asia Briefing 

No. 63, May 3, 2007.

86 See International Crisis Group, “Jemaah Isalamiyah in South East Asia Damaged but Still 

Dangerous,” Asia Report No. 63, August 26, 2003, and “Terrorism in Indonesia: Noordin’s Networks,” Asia Report No. 114, May 5, 2006, for some recent assessments of how successful Southeast Asian governments have been in dismantling JI and what long-term prospects the group 

might have. 

87 Or in a more leftward direction for that matter; the Indonesian Communist Party owed 

much of its success to adapting Marxist doctrine to Indonesian norms and through an alliance 

with Sukarno, who had an uncanny ability to understand and tap into local sensibilities. Similarly, 

liberal democracy’s long-term prospects of flourishing in Indonesia are probably related to how 

well it can adapt and make itself relevant to local conditions.

59

Chapter 3

Historical Survey of Borders 

in Southeast Asia

David Lee

This chapter provides a historical account of the evolution of 

Southeast Asian borders. The first section shows how the concept of 

the territorially defined, bordered nation-state evolved gradually in Europe in the 200 years from about 1600 to 1800. From Europe, concepts 

of borders were exported to Southeast Asia from the 17th to the early 20th

century. Precolonial Southeast Asia consisted of nascent states, but the 

concept of frontiers was thought of more in terms of the allegiance of 

people than of control over fixed territory. 

The chapter next explains how the European powers, principally 

Britain, France, and the Netherlands, imposed on Southeast Asia the 

notion of the territorial state. The imperial powers agreed amongst 

themselves, and with the nominally independent Thailand, on the 

boundaries for their colonial empires. These boundaries carried 

over into the post–World War II period and have generally worked 

to strengthen regional stability. Britain’s annexations of Burma 

reconstituted the precolonial Burman kingdom, France rescued Laos 

and Cambodia from possible incorporation within other states, and 

Thailand’s borders were effectively determined by Franco-British policy. 

The Netherlands established the borders of modern-day Indonesia. 

Malaysia is the legacy of British imperialism and the Philippines of 

Spanish, and later American, colonialism.

Despite the arbitrariness of Southeast Asian boundaries, they have 

been generally accepted by the nation-states that emerged in the 20 or so 

years after World War II and by the larger states that border the region. 

Nonetheless, in the period from 1945 to the 1960s, Southeast Asian 

states were relatively weak and struggled with ethnic and other separatist or regionalist forces to maintain control over the territories bestowed 

on them by international law. The chapter concludes with a section on 

the effect of globalization and regionalization on Southeast Asian borders. The argument here is that while regionalization and globalization 
60 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

have to some extent made borders more porous, the period from the late 

1960s to the present has been one in which Southeast Asian states have 

generally grown stronger and their borders more important. 

European Origins of Southeast Asian Borders

The idea of fixed territoriality, like the state itself, developed in 

modern Europe and was exported to Southeast Asia. Surveying borders 

and drawing lines on maps that separate contemporary states are 

practices that date back only to the 17th century. Before that time, in both 

Europe and Asia, the frontiers of empires, kingdoms, city-states, and 

tribal groupings were transient and indeterminate. 

However, from the 16th century onward, monarchs in Europe 

began to centralize authority over their realms, in the process curtailing the strength of rival sources of power such as the landed aristocracy, 

towns and cities, and the church. In the 200 years from 1600 to 1800, 

Europe was transformed from a borderless world, with the pope and the 

Holy Roman Emperor sharing nominal authority over a patchwork of 

different polities, into a clearly delineated system of highly centralized, 

territorial polities that are known today as states.1 Essential attributes

that European states possessed were a fixed position in space (territoriality); supreme rule within a bordered realm (sovereignty); and 

allegiance or loyalty from the permanent inhabitants of the territory 

that superseded other loyalties.2

Distinctions were sometimes made in Europe between the terms 

boundary and frontier. A boundary can be defined as a “clear divide between sovereignties which can be marked as a line on a map.”3

 If states 

accept a boundary, even if they have not completed the task of laying it 

down on the ground, then that boundary is said to be delimited. If the 

boundary has also been marked out on the ground, it is viewed as having 

been demarcated. Frontiers were sometimes understood as zones rather 

than lines—as tracts of land separating the centers of two sovereignties.4

Precolonial Southeast Asia 

Few regions of the world are as clearly demarcated geographically 

as Southeast Asia. Its southern rim is a volcanic arc consisting of the 

Sunda Islands of Sumatra, Java, Bali, and Lombok. Its eastern perimeter 

consists of the Philippines, outside of which lies a deep trench in the 

Pacific Ocean. To the north, it is bordered by the eastern Himalayas, 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 61

where the region’s greatest rivers begin. The environment of Southeast 

Asia is characterized by water and forests. Forests were abundant 

throughout the region because of reliably high rainfalls and temperatures.5

 Today, however, forests in states like Thailand, Burma, 

Malaysia, and Indonesia are being rapidly depleted largely owing to the 

huge demand from an industrializing China.6

The region is ethnically and linguistically diverse (see map 3–1). 

This diversity was partly the result of mass migrations into the area from 

the sea and the land. It was also the result of geographic characteristics 

of the areas, such as jungles, mountains, and swamps, which have 

“assisted over time in adding to the diversities among the peoples of 

Southeast Asia by cutting them off from one another and promoting 

their distinctiveness in different parts of the region.”7 The process of 

state-building in Southeast Asia, both before and after European colonization, had an ambivalent effect on this diversity. To some extent, states 

brought people together, but they also divided the peoples of Southeast 

Asia from each other.8

Most of the people who today inhabit the archipelagic part of 

Southeast Asia, the region now covered by Malaysia, Indonesia, and 

the Philippines, are considered to be of the southern Mongoloid type, 

speaking Austronesian languages.9 The peoples who inhabit mainland 

Southeast Asia appear to have originated from the movement of tribal 

groups southward and westward from southwest China and its frontier 

region. Tibeto-Burmans seem to have descended the Irrawaddy Valley 

before the Common Era; and the Shan-Thai-Lao peoples seem to have 

moved down the Salween and Menam valleys in the early centuries of the 

Common Era (CE).10 The Burman peoples restricted the movement of 

the Shans to plateau country, but the Mon-Khmer peoples of the Menam 

basin were less effective in resisting the Thais.11 The Vietnamese 

were the most Sinicized of the peoples of mainland Southeast Asia. 

They originated from a kingdom that spanned the contemporary 

China-Vietnam frontier and later broke away from China and moved 

southward. In doing so, the Vietnamese fought with and later incorporated the Chams, an Indianized people speaking a Malayo-Polynesian 

language, and later contended also with the Khmers.12 Indian civilization had penetrated Southeast Asia by sea from at least the first centuries 

of the Common Era. It spread gradually over the coastlands of Indonesia 

and southern Annam (modern Vietnam). The main significance of the 
62 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Map 3–1. Ethnic Mosaic of Southeast Asia

Indianization of Southeast Asia was the importation of the Hindu 

and Buddhist religions and forms of political organization based on 

aristocratic concepts of monarchy and the social order.13

In the period before the European colonization of the region, 

kingdoms emerged in Southeast Asia that in some cases formed 

the nucleus of the bordered nation-states of today. These kingdoms 

ranged from local chieftaincies to “early kingdoms” that incorporated 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 63

neighboring areas through tributary patterns rather than through administrative means. From the 9th century CE, some of these kingdoms 

emerged as imperial kingdoms or super-kingdoms that unified two or 

more core areas of former kingdoms.14 Oliver Wolters describes these 

kingdoms as “mandalas” or “circles of kings” in which larger units 

formed a tributary relationship with smaller units and expanded and 

contracted like a concertina.15

In mainland Southeast Asia, an Indianized kingdom of Funan, 

founded in the 1st century CE in present-day Cambodia, gave way to 

Khmer kingdoms that appeared in the 7th and 8th centuries CE. The 

greatest of these was the Indianized kingdom based at Angkor. This 

Khmer Empire expanded westward, contending with the Mons and 

the Thais of the Menam Valley, and eastward, defeating the Chams in 

present-day Laos.16 The Mons were Indianized people closely related to 

the Khmers who inhabited the lower region of coastal Burma and the 

Menam Valley. Once a dependency of Funan, Champa had formed a 

distinct area of Indianized rule from the 2d century CE.17 For one reason 

or other, the Khmer Empire collapsed in the 14th century. 

A fairly stable Vietnamese state emerged in the 1st century CE on 

the Chinese frontier. The T’ang dynasty set up a protectorate of An-nam 

(Pacified South) in the 6th century that repelled an invasion from the 

Chinese kingdom of Nanchao in the 9th century and became increasingly independent thereafter. The Vietnamese subsequently expanded 

southward, contending with Champa and coming into more intense 

conflict with the Khmers in the 15th century.18

Thai states appeared in the upper Menam Valley in the 13th century, 

and Shan states emerged in Burma and Assam in the same timeframe.19 In 

that century, too, Chiangmai became the seat of the Thai kingdom of Lan 

Na, to the north of which lay Lao states that merged into the kingdom of 

Lan Xang in the mid-14th century.20 Lan Xang, in what is today Laos, was 

Buddhist and Indian culturally and Thai in its language and leadership.21

The Thais are an ethnic group, cognate with the Chinese and related to the 

Shans and Laos, who originated from what are now the Chinese provinces 

of Kweichow, Kwangsi, and Yunnan.22 The center of the Thai kingdom later moved to Ayudhya on an island in the Menam where the Thai king was 

crowned.23 The Burmans established a kingdom with its capital in Pagan 

in central Burma in 849 CE and sought in succeeding centuries to exercise 

hegemony over the Mons, Shans, Chins, and Karens.24 But their kingdom, 
64 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

later with its seat in Ava, fragmented in the period before British colonization in the 19th century.25

Different types of states emerged in precolonial times in archipelagic Southeast Asia. The Indianized kingdom of Sri Vijaya, based in the 

Strait of Malacca, became from the 8th century the first of a number of 

states that developed trading empires that held sway in both the archipelago and the peninsula. Sri Vijaya exercised supremacy over Kedah 

and the isthmus and islands south of the strait and east and north of 

Sumatra.26 Another important trading empire was Majapahit, which 

established itself over a large part of archipelagic Southeast Asia and the 

Malay Peninsula during the 14th century.27 These archipelagic trading 

empires tended to be weaker than mainland super-kingdoms such as 

those based in Pagan or Angkor since they lacked the resources and 

populations of the mainland kingdoms and required control of the sea 

in order to command political supremacy. 

The Muslim era in the Middle East dates from 622 CE. However, 

the new religion did not take root in Southeast Asia for another 700 

years. Islam spread throughout Southeast Asia from west to east following trade routes in the period from the 14th century to the early 

17th century. In doing so, the new religion established new frontiers 

between the nascent states of archipelagic Southeast Asia and the Malay 

Peninsula. After first lodging in Sumatra, Islam spread along the coasts 

of the islands nominally subject to Majapahit and on the coast of the 

Malay Peninsula over which Majapahit contended with the kingdom 

of Siam for suzerainty. When Muslim communities were established, 

pilgrims followed the trade routes to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, 

providing contact between Muslims in maritime Southeast Asia and 

Arabia. Islam gained its most powerful convert in the new state of 

Malacca on the Malay Peninsula. The Sultan of Malacca carried Islam 

northward to Pahang and Kedah and southward to the Sumatran river 

ports. Malacca then cultivated strong trading relationships with such 

Javanese ports as Demak, Japara, and Tuban. In 1478, the Muslim coastal 

state of Demak invaded Majapahit, reducing this once-great HinduJavanese Empire into an East Javan enclave.28

When the era of imperial rule dawned in Southeast Asia, the 

Vietnamese and Thais were continuing to expand at the expense of 

the Khmers, and no final solution had been agreed on the limits of the 

domains of the Burmans, Shans, Thais, and Laos. Alastair Lamb has 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 65

remarked that “at the moment of colonial impact, it would not have been 

easy to point to any stable delimited or demarcated boundary in mainland South-east Asia, even though the location of the centres of the power 

in the region was clear enough.”29 In the sparsely populated world of 

precolonial Southeast Asia, the allegiance of people and vassal provinces 

counted for more than the delimitation and control of territory, and 

the power of Southeast Asian kingdoms was greatest in the capital and 

weakest at the periphery. Nonetheless, in some ways the territorial and 

colonial empires that emerged in Southeast Asia in the 19th century resembled the indigenous empires and super-kingdoms that they replaced.30

Imperial Frontiers of Southeast Asia 

From about the beginning of the 16th century, Europeans began to 

establish direct contacts with the Southeast Asian region (see map 3–2). 

The Treaty of Tordesillas, signed on June 7, 1494, divided the world 

outside Europe into an exclusive duopoly between the Spanish and 

Portuguese and spurred on these Western European states to extend 

Map 3–2. Colonial Boundaries in Southeast Asia
66 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

their maritime empires into Southeast Asia. In 1511, the Portuguese 

captured Malacca, secured a share in the trade of the archipelago, 

and competed maritime empires into Southeast Asia. In 1511, the 

Portuguese captured Malacca, secured a share in the trade of the archipelago, and competed with Javanese towns and the Malayo-Muslim 

state of Aceh in northern Sumatra.31 This state had extended its control 

over pepper-producing parts of Menangkabau and parts of Bantam.32

In the 16th century, the Dutch East India Company established 

a presence in the archipelago with a base in Batavia (Jakarta) on the 

island of Java. The company could neither create a general monopoly 

nor gain overall political control of the archipelago. But it constrained 

empire-building in the Indonesian archipelago by other European powers, pursued a monopoly of the trade in fine spices that led to the decay 

of Aceh, and concentrated increasingly on Java in the 18th century.33

A Spanish expedition reached what are now the Philippines in the 16th

century and established territorial control in Luzon and the Visayas. 

The Spanish also captured Manila, which had formerly been an outpost 

of the Sultanate of Brunei.34 The seizure of the city led to a long conflict 

between the Spaniards and the Moros, their Muslim opponents in the 

south. The conflict between Islamic insurgents in the south and the 

central government based in Manila persists to this day. 

On the Southeast Asian mainland, Britain and France were the 

most important European colonists. From the 18th to the early 20th century, these two powers forced the precolonial kingdoms to “accept a new 

ordering of political space and a new regime of interstate relations built 

upon the principle of territorial sovereignty.”35 The British first came to 

Asia at the beginning of the 17th century as merchants on the subcontinent. 

While not initially inclined to get involved in Indian politics, the 

British East India Company became more interventionist in the 18th

century, acquiring Bengal in 1757, and then, by degrees, gaining power 

over the whole subcontinent. It was in order to secure stable boundaries 

for its Indian Empire that the British became an imperial power in Burma. 

When the British established their authority in Bengal, the Burmans did 

likewise in Arakan. It proved difficult for both powers to establish, accept, 

and enforce a boundary in respect of Arakan and Assam and Manipur 

on India’s northeastern frontier. British efforts to persuade Burma to 

recognize de facto British supremacy led to a war in 1824.36

Although their war aim was not initially the acquisition of 

Burman territory, the British ended up taking Arakan and Tenasserim. 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 67

Because the defeated Burman monarch could not agree to stable relations with his more powerful neighbor, war broke out again in 1852. As 

a result of this second war, Burma was forced to surrender Lower Burma 

(the Irrawaddy Delta). Then in 1884, when the French approached 

the remnant Burman Kingdom to negotiate an agreement, Britain 

instigated the third Burma war, which ended in annexation. The frontier 

of Burma, Britain insisted, had to be settled between itself and France. 

Burma became an administrative subdivision of the British Indian 

Empire until 1937, when it became a separate colonial territory, and 

then an independent Union of Burma in 1948.37

Before British colonization, the Burman state had dissolved into 

fragments. The effects of British colonization were not only to put 

Burma back together but also to endow it with territory and peoples 

over which it previously had only superficial control.38 There were many 

non-Burman tribal groups, such as Shans, Karens, Kachins, and Chins, 

that developed firmer and more precise relationships with the British 

than they had ever reached with the Burmans.39 Burma’s half-century 

as an independent state after the British departure was marked by 

recurring conflict between the central government and the non-Burman 

hill peoples. Alastair Lamb has speculated on what the consequences 

might have been if Britain had restricted itself to its annexations of 

1826 and 1852. He contended that, without a British presence in all 

of Burma, the Chinese would have penetrated deep into what are 

today Burma’s Kachin and Karen states. He concluded: “[i]t is hard to 

escape the conclusion that the boundaries of modern Burma—and their 

associated problems—are very much part of the imperial legacy.”40

The Thais, like the Burmese and the Vietnamese, had achieved 

a form of political unity well before the period of colonial domination 

of Southeast Asia. Unlike the Burmese, the Vietnamese, and the 

inhabitants of the Malay Archipelago, the Thais were never subjected to 

colonial rule. The Thai kingdom, which originated in the 14th century, 

was weakened during the early colonial period by the incursions of the 

Portuguese and Dutch, but more substantially by war with the Burmans 

that ended in the destruction of Ayudhya in 1767. Nevertheless, a 

dynasty based in Bangkok revived Thai unity during the time when the 

British were expanding their influence in India.41

Although the Tenasserim strip remained under Burmese control, 

the Thais strengthened their hold of the peninsula, bought the Lao kingdoms of the Mekong under their suzerainty, and penetrated the western 
68 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

districts of Cambodia. This expanding Thai kingdom was halted by the 

assertion of British power in Malaya and Burma and of French power in 

Indochina. The borders of Thailand were determined during the colonial period in Southeast Asian history through negotiations between the 

imperial powers.42 British policy in the late 19th century was to minimize 

the possibility of war with France by maintaining Thailand as a buffer 

state between the British Indian Empire (incorporating Burma) and the 

French Indochinese Empire. 

The end of the 18th century also saw important changes in the balance of power in archipelagic Southeast Asia and the Malay Peninsula. 

From about that time, the British East India Company began to ship vast 

quantities of tea from Canton. Britain thereby acquired a commercial and 

strategic interest in the Strait of Malacca. After the loss of its American 

colonies in the 1780s, Britain’s overseas interests shifted from North 

America to Asia. In that decade, a private British trader, Francis Light, 

persuaded the Sultan of Kedah to cede him the island of Penang in 

return for British protection against Siam and Burma. During the 1790s, 

Britain wrested control of Malacca from the Dutch, and in 1811, after 

France had formerly annexed the Netherlands, Britain invaded Java. Sir 

Thomas Stamford Raffles was appointed Lieutenant Governor of Java 

and the dependencies. He subdivided all of the former Dutch dependencies into four administrative units: Malacca, Java, the West Coast of 

Sumatra, and the Moluccas. 

At the end of the Napoleonic wars, the British occupation of Java 

and Malacca came to an end. Nonetheless, Stamford Raffles sought to 

counterbalance the reimposition of Dutch control over the Strait of Malacca by establishing a base on the then-unoccupied island of Singapore, 

an action that increased the tension between the British and Dutch in 

Southeast Asia. The situation was resolved by the Anglo-Dutch Treaty 

of 1824 that established a kind of frontier in the Strait of Malacca between the British Empire on the peninsula and Singapore and the Dutch 

Empire in the archipelago. As Tarling has put it, “Peninsula and archipelago had enjoyed a common past. States—Aceh, Johore, the Portuguese, 

the Dutch—had previously had a footing on both sides of the straits. Now 

the straits had become a kind of frontier. In Southeast Asia the sea united; 

the Europeans used it to divide.”43 By contrast with Burma, where Britain 

acquired control of a large territory, the “Straits Settlements” of Penang, 

Malacca, and Singapore were territorially circumscribed and outward 

looking. They nonetheless restricted Thailand’s southward movement 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 69

over the Malay Peninsula. In 1826, Thailand signed a treaty undertaking 

to refrain from intervention in the Malay states of Perak and Selangor, 

and in 1842, Thai troops withdrew from Kedah. 

Negotiations among France, Britain, and Thailand resulted 

in a Thai state less extensive than the Thai kingdom of Ayudhya. In 

1828, Ayudhya had claimed authority over the Shan state in Burma, 

all of the old kingdom of Lan Xang, and most of the kingdom of 

Cambodia.44 Thailand’s land boundaries consist of a Burma-Thailand 

section, a Laos-Thailand section in the Mekong valley, a ThailandCambodia section stretching from the Mekong to the Gulf of Siam, 

and a boundary between Thailand and Malaya running from the South 

China Sea to the Indian Ocean. After the first Burma War, Britain 

considered placing that territory under a Mons ruler but eventually 

decided on outright annexation. 

The subsequent evolution of Southeast Asia’s borders may have 

worked out quite differently had a separate Mons state been formed 

in Tenasserim, or had the territory been returned to Thailand (as the 

British once contemplated), or had British power on the peninsula been 

centered on Phuket Island rather than on Penang Island much farther 

to the south. In this last scenario, British Malaya may “have swallowed 

all southern Thailand.”45 The drawing of the Burma boundary cut off 

many Shan groups from the Thai city of Chiangmai, with which they 

had formed close relations. Had the British annexations in Burma not 

taken the course they did, it is possible that a forward Thai policy may 

have attempted to incorporate the Shan states.46

Just as Thailand’s Burma border was established after the British 

annexations of the 19th century, so was its Laos border determined by 

French imperial policy. Before the consolidation of French power in 

Indochina, the Thai kingdom had established political relationships 

with the Lao peoples to the east of the Mekong River. The intention of 

the French in the 1880s to expand their influence from Vietnam up the 

Mekong River threatened to bring about a state of war between France 

and Thailand. However, partly due to British influence, the Thais agreed 

with the French in 1893 to terms that ceded the Lao peoples on the east 

bank of the Mekong to France and that defined the border between 

Thailand and French Indochina by the course of the Mekong River. 

The boundary was further redefined to the disadvantage of the Thais 

in 1904 so as to give France control of the Sayaboury tract to the west of 

Luang Prabang and part of the old kingdom of Champassak on the west 
70 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

bank of the Mekong.47 In the 1860s, Cambodia became a protectorate 

of France. The boundary of Cambodia with Thailand was thereafter 

defined by a series of Franco-Thai agreements, the first of which in 1867 

left Thailand responsible for the western Cambodian province of Siem 

Reap (the site of Angkor) and Battembang. However, between 1904 and 

1907, the French compelled the Thais to surrender the territories to 

Cambodia by accepting a boundary line on the Dangrek hills that 

separate the Cambodian plain from the Korat plateau.48

The drawing of this boundary was to produce considerable 

tension after 1953 between Thailand and the independent state of 

Cambodia. The final part of the Thai border is that with Malaya. The 

Thai government claimed in the 19th century to control the whole 

Malay Peninsula, although its authority over the northern part of the 

peninsula was stronger than in the south. During the course of that 

century, however, British influence on the peninsula (concentrating 

on the Straits Settlements, Penang, Malacca, and Singapore) steadily 

increased, and in 1909, Thailand transferred to British Malaya the states 

of Kedah, Perlis, Kelantan, and Trengganu. This agreement settled the 

boundary between Thailand and the British Empire but sowed the seeds 

of future discord. Several Malay states in the Patani-Singora region, with 

close ties to Malaya, remained in Thailand.49

The boundaries of Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia were generally 

established during the period of the French Empire in Indochina from 

the late 19th century until 1954. The boundary system, established in 

the late 19th century to demarcate the borders of Vietnam and Laos with 

China, was carried over into the 20th century and would not be challenged by the People’s Republic of China after 1949. In the half-century 

or so before the French incorporated Vietnam, the country had been 

briefly administered as a unified state by the Emperor Gia-long based 

in Hue. However, from the 17th century to the late 18th century, Vietnam 

had been divided between two dynasties: the Trinh in Tonkin, and the 

Nguyen in Annam and the south. The French, while treating Vietnam 

theoretically as a unity, in practice divided the country into the colony of 

Cochin China and the protectorates of Annam and Tonkin.50

What is today the state of Laos owes its existence to French imperialism, and its modern borders are substantially those defined by French 

officials. Lan Xang, the most powerful Lao kingdom in the precolonial 

period, had broken up in the 14th century.51 By the 19th century, there were 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 71

merely minor principalities such as Luang Prabang, Vientiane, Champassak, and Xieng Khouang in the country we now call Laos.52 Under the 

mandala system, these Lao principalities offered tribute to both Thailand 

and the Annamese dynasty at Hue. France exploited these competing 

relationships and the relative weakness of Thailand. In 1888, it 

annexed Sipsung Chu Thai, the Thai tribal area that included the city of 

Dienbienphu, then all the Lao areas on the east bank of the Mekong, 

and finally, in 1904, the Sayaboury and Champassak tracts. The Sipsung 

Chu Thai area, an area affiliated with both Laos and Thailand, was 

incorporated into Tonkin in 1895 and ipso facto into Vietnam.53 The 

French did not reconstitute Lan Xang as they would Cambodia. Luang 

Prabang survived under its own dynasty, but France directly administered the other Lao principalities. But for the accidents of French 

colonialism, as Peter Lyon has argued, “Laos would now be either part of 

Thailand (or Vietnam), perhaps rather as the Shan states are tenuously a 

part of Burma.”54

By contrast with Laos, the coming of the French Empire in 

Indochina is what allowed Cambodia to preserve its national identity. 

Cambodia was the successor of the powerful Khmer Empire, which had 

been the dominant power on the Southeast Asian mainland until the 

13th century. After the collapse of the Khmer Empire, the remnant kingdom that was centered in Phnom Penh fought for several centuries with 

the Viets and the Thais, who seized the western Cambodian provinces 

of Siem Reap and Battembang in the 18th century. This process of being 

squeezed on two sides may well have ended in the extinction of a 

separate Khmer state if not for the interposition of the French and their 

establishment of a protectorate there in 1860.55 Unwilling to fight a war 

with France, Thailand acknowledged the new protectorate in return 

for French recognition that Siem Riep and Battembang were part of 

Thailand. But between 1904 and 1907, the French took from Thailand 

both Siem Riep and Battembang and the strip leading to the Gulf of 

Siam from the port of Chantaburi.56

Decolonization and the Emergence of Territorially Defined 

Nation-States

The history of Southeast Asia changed dramatically as result of 

World War II and the Japanese occupation of the region. The Japanese 

interlude in Southeast Asia from 1940 to 1945 marked the beginning 
72 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

of the end of European colonialism in the region. Nonetheless, in the 

period of decolonization that followed the war, the frontiers established in the colonial era would largely remain intact. However, the new 

nation-states that operated within colonial boundaries were generally 

politically weak. Their writ did not always run over all of the territorial 

jurisdictions conferred on them by international law. In many cases, the 

border areas of the new nation-states served more as buffer zones, contested between weak central governments and ethnic or insurrectionist 

forces, rather than as delimited boundaries. 

At the closing stages of World War II, all the European imperial 

powers were developing plans to restore their colonial regimes in 

Southeast Asia. The Dutch government-in-exile viewed the Netherlands 

East Indies (NEI) as the centerpiece of Dutch overseas interests.57 It 

established a provisional government for the NEI in Australia under H.J. 

van Mook, Minister for Colonies and Lieutenant-Governor. Van Mook 

expected to return to the NEI in the wings of the allied British-IndianAustralian occupation force. Queen Wilhelmina had announced in 

1942 that the Dutch plan for the NEI would be based on “complete 

partnership” and “self-reliance” (or “internal self-government”).58

Britain, too, planned to put Burma under the direct rule of 

officials until 1948 and to allow the Scheduled Areas of ethnic minorities to stay under British rule until they themselves decided to join 

“Burma proper.”59 It also envisaged a Malayan Union of the peninsular 

Malay States and the former Straits Settlements of Penang and Melaka 

and Crown Colony rule for Singapore, Sarawak, and North Borneo.60

The French were the most conservative of the imperial powers. Their 

Brazzaville Declaration of 1944 excluded “autonomy and all possibility 

of development outside the French Empire.”61

However, the restoration of colonial rule in Southeast Asia was 

to be short-lived. From 1945 to the mid-1960s, most of the European 

powers left Southeast Asia and nation-states replaced the European 

empires, while the boundary system drawn in the colonial period largely 

remained intact. The first Southeast Asian colony to receive its independence was the Philippines. The United States reoccupied the Philippines 

at the end of the war, passed the Bell Act ensuring free trade between 

the Philippines and the United States, and proclaimed the Philippines 

an independent republic on July 4, 1946. For Burma, the British were 

envisaging full self-government within the British Commonwealth 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 73

without spelling out a timetable. However, a police strike in 1946 

revealed the colonial authorities to be on the verge of breakdown, and the 

British thereupon wound up their imperial rule quickly. An important 

factor in this decision was that the British had always regarded 

Burma as an appendage to the Indian Raj. With the British having made 

the decision in 1946–1947 to withdraw from India, Burma had thus 

“lost its imperial raison d’être.”62

Partly because of Thailand’s alliance with Japan in World War II, 

the Thai state lost its monopoly over the use of force and only slowly 

recovered it. The Communist Party of Thailand waged an insurrection 

between the 1950s and 1980 against an increasingly militarized Thai state 

in the predominantly Lao northeast.63 In the 1960s, war in Indochina, 

the expansion of drug trafficking, and a burgeoning trade in illegal 

armaments sustained pluralities of armed force in Thailand. Consequently, by the late 1970s, Thailand was divided into two spheres: one 

controlled by the Thai army in Bangkok, and the “other by Communist 

revolutionaries in rural strongholds along Thailand’s borders with Laos, 

Cambodia, Burma, and Malaysia.”64 The Malay Muslim part of southern 

Thailand was the hardest region to integrate. It was the scene of a number 

of violent secessionist movements from the 1960s to the 1980s. 

Burma was another ethnic state that had to struggle to bring 

about unity from diversity. The first Burmese leader, Aung San, envisaged Burma as a plural nation-state that incorporated diverse political 

structures. He proposed to confer the status of Union State, Autonomous 

State, or National Area on any Burmese territory that possessed such 

characteristics as a defined geographical area, a unity of language different from Burmese, a fairly large population, and the desire to maintain 

a distinct unity as a separate entity.65 Seventy percent of Burma’s population consisted of Burmans living in the lowlands. The remaining third 

consisted of non-Burmese ethnic groups. The larger ones had had their 

own ethnically based states (as distinguished from nation-states) dating 

from the non-Burman principalities of the precolonial era. The Kachin 

state lies in the extreme northwest of the country wedged between China 

and India. The Shan state (comprising about 3 million of Burma’s 24 

million in the 1960s and 8 million of 50 million in 2005) is situated 

in the northeast and has borders with China, Laos, and Thailand. 

To the south is Kawthule, the territory of the Karens (consisting of 

about 2 million people in the 1960s and 7 million in 2005). In addition, 
74 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

other minorities reside in Burma such as Indians, Pakistanis, and 

Chinese. The overwhelming majority of Burma’s population are 

Buddhists of the Theravada variety, but parts of the Karen and Kachen 

population are Christian, and there are also Muslims in the border 

region adjacent to what is today Bangladesh.66

Aung San and the Shan, Chin, and Kachin leaders agreed to the 

formation of a Union federal government in 1947. In the Panglong 

Agreement of the same year, the frontier states and the Shan states 

pledged their loyalty to the Union. There were four states envisaged in 

the non-Burmese areas, Shan, Karenni, Kachin, and Karen, and a Chin 

Special Division. However, Aung San was assassinated and his successor, 

U Nu, was not as tolerant of ethnic diversity. The first decades of 

Burmese independence were consequently characterized by various rebellions and ethnic conflicts. In January 1948, Islamic Mujahids started 

an insurgency, and in 1949, the Karens launched a rebellion, the main 

cause of which was the refusal of U Nu to create a separate state for the 

Karens within the Union. According to U Nu, the Karens were scattered 

over the various parts of Lower Burma rather than being concentrated 

in a specific area. Two consequences of the 1949 revolt were the purging 

of Karens from the Burmese national army and the amendment of the 

Burmese constitution in 1951 to permit the setting up of a Karen state 

east of Rangoon, later to be known as Kawthule State.67

Ne Win, who succeeded U Nu in 1958, induced the hereditary 

chiefs of the semiautonomous Shan and Kayah states to bring their states 

into conformity with the rest of the Union by surrendering financial 

powers to the central government. He also settled the Burmese border 

with the People’s Republic of China, the administration of which had 

been complicated after 1949 by the retreat of Kuomintang (Chinese 

nationalist) forces into Burma. This provoked the Chinese Communists 

to establish defensive posts across the border in Burma in violation of 

Burmese sovereignty. The withdrawal of most of the Kuomintang forces 

from Burma in 1954 (some of them moving to Thailand) provided the 

precondition for the negotiation of the entire Sino-Burmese border 

between 1956 and 1960. This border essentially followed the colonial 

border based on the Anglo-Tibetan McMahon line of 1914.68 Unlike 

some of the other larger states of Southeast Asia, Burma at no time since 

independence made any expansionist territorial claims. The boundaries 

negotiated by the British represented the furthest limits to which any 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 75

Burmese government wished to lay claim. The benefit of this policy was 

stable relations with its larger neighbors, particularly India and China. 

After the 1960 border demarcation, China abandoned longstanding 

claims to Burmese territory. The tacit price for this, however, was for 

Burma to continue a policy of “nonalignment.”69

Ne Win’s policy for Burma was to forge one nation with one kind 

of citizenship and no special autonomy for the separate states. Indeed, 

Burmanization could be described as the dominant motif of actual 

Burmese policy since independence.70 By the late 1960s, most minority 

groups appeared to have accepted this policy. However, some important minorities continued to wage an armed resistance against the central 

government, including the Shan State Army, the Kachin Independence 

Army, and the Karen National Union (estimated in 1971 to have 16,000 

regular troops). The insurgency of the Karens, Shans, and Karens was 

intimately connected with the smuggling of opium and heroin, which 

were exchanged for arms.71 The threat of secession by some of these 

states, especially the Shans, at times appeared to be serious. But what 

secession meant was never entirely clear. The Shan had linguistic 

relations with the Thai, but Shan ethnic and political identity:

depended historically on the claim that the Shan system 

of principalities was connected with the Burman kingdom of Pagan. Shan Therevada Buddhism was more akin 

to the Burmese style rather than the Thai. Much of the 

Shan language was influenced by Burmese, which made 

it less understood in Thailand.72

Modern Indonesia, like Burma, became a nation-state after 1949 

despite its large population (even in colonial times), fragmentation into 

over 3,000 islands, religious variegation (Muslims, Buddhists, Catholics, 

Protestants, Hindu-Balinese, and animists), and ethno-linguistic 

diversity (over 100 distinct groups). Its predecessor Netherlands East 

Indies had, moreover, a history of intermittent ethnic strife that needed to be overcome before a cohesive nation-state could be constructed. 

Examples of such conflict included Sundanese versus Javanese, 

Javanese versus Ambonese, Batak versus Minangkabau, and Toraja 

against Bujinese. As Benedict Anderson has argued, Indonesia’s “stretch 

does not remotely correspond to any pre-colonial domain; on the contrary, at least until General Suharto’s brutal invasion of ex-Portuguese 
76 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

East Timor in 1975, its boundaries have been left behind by the last 

Dutch conquests (c. 1910).”73

After twice using force against the Indonesian Republic that 

had been declared in August 1945, the Dutch were forced by international pressure and military adversity to negotiate with the Indonesian 

Republic the transfer of sovereignty to a federal United States of 

Indonesia in 1949. The federal borders of the state were based on administrative divisions established by the Dutch colonial authorities and by the 

two military actions that had considerably reduced the territory of the 

Republic in Java and Sumatra. However, Dutch New Guinea was deliberately excluded from the territories transferred from the Netherlands.74

Because the federal structure of the new state was tarred with the 

colonialist brush, it was quickly replaced after 1950 by a unitary structure. 

In the period from 1950 to the mid-1960s, the new Indonesian Republic 

established a national unity despite rebellions such as the Darul Islam in 

West Java, South Sulawesi, and Aceh and the Revolutionary Government 

of the Republic of Indonesia–Permesta revolt in Sumatra and Sulawesi 

in 1957–1958.75 Benedict Anderson has raised the intriguing question of 

how it is that a nation was created out of such diversity. How, to take 

one example, did people on the east coast of Sumatra, who are physically, 

ethnically, and linguistically close to the people on the western littoral of 

the Malay Peninsula, come to see them as foreigners (Malaysians)? Yet at 

the same time, how did these same Sumatrans come to see Ambonese, 

living thousands of miles to the east and sharing no mother tongue, 

ethnicity, or religion, as fellow Indonesians? 

Anderson has argued that the Dutch colonial authorities created 

a uniform, highly centralized education system in the NEI of which the 

Dutch-built city of Batavia was the apex. This gave the indigenous elite 

of the archipelago common experiences, a common language (Bahasa

Indonesia) based on an ancient interinsular lingua franca, and, through 

common maps of the colony, “a territorially specific imagined reality 

which was every day confirmed by the accents and physiognomies of 

their classmates.”76 By the mid-20th century, he argues, all the major ethnolinguistic groups in Indonesia had become accustomed to the idea that 

they had a role to play on an archipelagic stage. This partly explains why 

only one of the rebellions in the 1950s and 1960s, the abortive Republic 

of the South Moluccas, had separatist ambitions. All the rest were 

“competitive within a single Indonesian political system.”77
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 77

In the 1950s and early 1960s, Indonesia waged a strong diplomatic and military campaign to incorporate Dutch-administered West New 

Guinea on the grounds that it was the legitimate successor state to all of 

the former colonies of the Netherlands in Southeast Asia. The United 

States decided to support the Indonesian case (which had been strongly 

opposed by the Netherlands and Australia) in the early 1960s. Consequently, the Netherlands placed West Irian, as it came to be described, 

under United Nations administration in 1962. In 1963, the Netherlands 

transferred the territory to Indonesia. The border between West Irian 

and the Australian-administered external territory, Papua New Guinea, 

along the 141st meridian and the western bulge of the Fly River was 

inherited from colonial times.78 After 1963, it became a relatively stable, 

delimited boundary between Indonesia and Australia and, from 1975, 

between Indonesia and Papua New Guinea. The most serious challenge 

to the administration of the border after 1975 has been posed by the 

cross-border operations of West Papuan separatists. 

The status of the British Borneo territories, which shared a border 

with Indonesian Kalimantan, proved a thornier problem for the region. 

From 1946 to 1948, the 11 states in Malaya formed a single Crown 

Colony known as the Malayan Union. However, due to opposition 

from Malay nationalists, the union was disbanded and replaced by a 

Federation of Malaya, which restored the symbolic positions of the rulers 

of the Malay states. The British accepted the federal solution because it 

gave them a unified Malaya.79 This multi-ethnic state, consisting of Malays, 

Chinese, and Indians, forged a national identity with the help of an intercommunal alliance between the United Malays National Organisation and 

the Malayan Chinese Association.80 After achieving its independence in 

1957, Malaya cooperated with Britain in the early 1960s to construct a larger federation by uniting Malaya, Singapore, and the British North Borneo 

states, Sarawak, and Sabah (North Borneo). The plan alienated Indonesia, 

which feared a British- and Chinese-influenced (through Malaysia’s large 

Chinese minority) state on its border. It also attracted the opposition of the 

Philippines, which claimed Sabah on the basis of that territory’s historic ties 

with the Sultanate of Sulu.81

From 1963 to 1966, Indonesia sponsored an insurgency, described 

as “confrontation,” that involved border crossings from Indonesian 

Kalimantan into Malaysian Borneo and even military incursions onto 

the Malay Peninsula. Indonesia’s self-proclaimed “right” to a say in the 
future of its neighbors alienated world and U.S. opinion, and tended 

to consolidate Malaysia rather than break it up. After the ouster of 

Indonesia’s President Sukarno in 1965 and Singapore’s separation 

from Malaysia in the same year, confrontation was resolved through 

Malaysian-Indonesian negotiations under Thai auspices. From 1966 

onward, the Borneo border between Indonesia and Malaysia, drawn 

in colonial times, became relatively stable.82 The mutual agreement 

between Malaysia and Singapore to allow the latter to separate and form 

a new state on Malaysia’s borders was repeated only once in the postwar 

history of Southeast Asia. In 1999, international pressure would force 

Jakarta to allow East Timor to separate from Indonesia. 

French Indochina, unlike the Dutch East Indies, was not succeeded 

by one large Indochinese state but by three separate ones, Vietnam, Laos, 

and Cambodia. After World War II, Chinese forces took the Japanesesurrendered terrority in Laos and Vietnam down to the 16th parallel, and 

the British took what was south of it.83 The latter permitted the restoration of French colonial authority in the south of Vietnam. But in the 

north the Vietnamese nationalists (Vietminh) consolidated their authority under their Communist leader Ho Chi Minh and laid a wider claim 

to be the legitimate authority in the whole of Vietnam. Between 1946 

and 1954, the Vietminh waged a war of liberation against the French. 

After defeat at Dienbienphu in 1954, the French were obliged to leave 

Indochina after having set up a pro-Western state in South Vietnam that 

claimed authority over the entire nation. An international conference 

held in Geneva in 1954 divided Vietnam at the 17th parallel leaving two 

de facto states in Vietnam and two de facto central governments. The 

Geneva agreements referred to nationwide elections that would unite the 

country, but they were never held. Between 1956 and 1959, more than 

300,000 refugees fled to the south.84

From the early 1960s, a National Liberation Front (NLF), otherwise known as Viet Cong, waged an insurgency in South Vietnam 

against the U.S.-backed government in Saigon with the help of North 

Vietnam, which infiltrated military and other supplies to South Vietnam 

via the Ho Chi Minh trail that crossed the Lao and Cambodian borders.85 The United States contributed military advisors and, after 1965, 

substantial ground forces to assist the Government of South Vietnam. 

By the late 1960s, the United States was aware it could not win the war, 

and in 1973 it signed the Paris Peace Agreements with North Vietnam. 

78 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 79

After U.S. withdrawal from Indochina, the forces of Northern Vietnam 

quickly defeated those of the South and reunited Vietnam on July 12, 1976. 

The new state of Laos that emerged after World War II meets 

Robert Jackson’s definition of a quasi-state.86 The French made it an 

independent state in the French Union in 1949, and the international 

community at large accepted it at the Geneva Conference of 1954.87 However, in its history up to the 1970s, Laos could only be considered a state 

by cartographic and diplomatic convention. For one thing, the state of 

Laos contained only a small minority of ethnic Lao. The prime minister 

of Laos, Souvannaphouma, estimated in 1967 that there were about 3 

million Lao in Laos but more than 16 million in northeast Thailand.88

After the Geneva Conference of 1954, Laos was subject to a de 

facto division in which the Royal Lao Government, with Thai and 

American support, managed to control the rice-growing area on the 

east bank of the Mekong, while the Communist Pathet Lao controlled 

the highlands and the two northern provinces, Phong Saly and Sam 

Neua.89 An international agreement in Geneva in 1962 arranged for the 

unification and neutralization of Laos. However, the arrangement 

quickly unraveled, North Vietnamese troops gave strong support to the 

Pathet Lao and infiltrated supplies to South Vietnam through Laos, and 

the United States bombed North Vietnamese–held territory inside the 

Lao border. In 1975, after the fall of Saigon, the Pathet Lao proclaimed a 

Lao Democratic Republic in all of Laos.90 

Cambodia, a small territorial remnant of the Khmer Empire, was 

granted independence by the French in 1953. One of the most pressing tasks for the new state was to persuade its neighbors to accept the 

borders that had been drawn for the protectorate in colonial times. 

Cambodia’s leader, Prince Sihanouk, saw Vietnam and Thailand as the 

biggest threats to the new state’s territorial integrity. In an effort to 

persuade China to restrain the Vietnamese and the Thai from acting to 

Cambodia’s detriment, Sihanouk adopted a strictly nonaligned policy in the Cold War. He did, however, negotiate for the United States to 

supply military assistance to the Royal Khmer Armed Forces. However, 

border incursions by South Vietnamese troops in pursuit of Viet Cong 

and U.S. overflights within Cambodian airspace precipitated a breach in 

Sihanouk’s relations with the United States and South Vietnam in 1963. 

Soon thereafter, Sihanouk tried to reach a border settlement directly 

with North Vietnam. The North Vietnamese in turn declared that the 
80 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

borders would have to be negotiated with South Vietnam’s NLF, which 

recognized the inviolability of Cambodia’s borders in 1967.91 In 1968, 

Sihanouk repaired his relationship with the United States, which in 1969 

recognized the sovereignty, neutrality, and territorial integrity of the 

Kingdom of Cambodia with its existing frontiers. The agreement was not 

respected. In the same year, U.S. President Richard Nixon authorized the 

secret bombing of border sanctuaries in Cambodia used by the North 

Vietnamese and the Viet Cong. Cambodia was consequently engulfed in 

the Indochina war; Sihanouk was replaced by right-wing General Lon 

Nol, who was himself deposed. After the fall of Saigon, the indigenous 

Cambodian Communists, the Khmer Rouge, came to power under their 

leader Pol Pot.92

Regionalism, Globalization, and the Consolidation of 

Southeast Asian Borders

The period from the late 1960s to the present has been characterized 

by increasing regionalism within Southeast Asia and by globalization. 

Regionalism involves states in a particular area associating for the purposes of security and economic liberalization. In 1967, Brunei, Indonesia, 

Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, and the Philippines formed the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) as a gesture of reconciliation 

between previously antagonistic neighbors.93 They believed that working 

toward mutual economic development would be conducive to regional 

stability. ASEAN agreed to create a Zone of Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality in 1971 and concluded a Treaty of Amity in 1971. The ASEAN states 

vociferously opposed Vietnam’s invasion of Cambodia in 1978 and its 

establishment there of a pro-Vietnamese regime. However, after ASEAN 

helped to broker a solution in Cambodia between the pro-Vietnamese 

regime and its opponents in the early 1990s, Vietnam was permitted to 

join the organization in 1995, followed by Laos and Burma in 1997 and 

Cambodia in 1999. 

Globalization entails the reduction of geographical and legal 

barriers to the movement of goods and services, capital, technology, 

ideas, and culture. According to some theorists, the interaction of globalization and regionalization, particularly from the 1980s, has meant 

that states are becoming weaker and borders less important.94 In some 

respects, the integrating effect of regionalization and globalization has 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 81

made Southeast Asian borders more porous. For example, the ease with 

which capital crossed borders in the 1980s and 1990s had as one consequence the crippling currency devaluations in Indonesia, Malaysia, 

and Thailand during the Asian financial crisis of 1997–1998. However, 

globalization and regionalization have also had the contrary effect 

that states have become stronger and borders more salient. Southeast 

Asian states that had been relatively weak from the 1940s to the 1960s 

consolidated their territoriality from the 1970s to the present. 

Thailand, for example, obtained a monopoly of force in the 1980s 

after the insurgent communist force dissolved. This allowed the Thai 

government to wind up groups that it had previously permitted to 

act as countervailing forces to the communists in its borderlands: the 

Shan army and remnants of the Kuomintang. In the 1980s and 1990s, 

the Thais saw their future economic prosperity as dependent on opening their borders to trade and investment flows and developing secure 

trade routes with the other major trading centres in the Mekong Basin. 

To achieve their objectives, they therefore commenced several infrastructure projects that extended Bangkok’s control over peripheral 

areas. These included highways from the eastern seaboard to centers in 

Laos, Vietnam, and China; a highway from the west coast across the Kra 

Isthmus, and a Thai-Burma development zone to capture a portion 

of the freight trade from Singapore and Penang. Insofar as Thailand 

became increasingly subject to international pressures in such areas 

as control of drug trafficking and prevention of the proliferation of 

HIV–AIDS, border control became more important. 

In response to international pressure, the Thais began to enforce 

their antidrug policies more strictly and consequently to regulate 

cross-border movements of people and goods more rigorously. The 

Lao state, too, has extended authority in the last quarter of a century 

in its borderlands over areas such as smuggling, illegal logging, and 

protecting its environment and wildlife.95 Laos even fought a smallscale war with Thailand in the late 1980s, provoked by the illegal teak 

logging activities of Thai generals inside Laos.96

Burma provides a similar example of a state that became stronger 

in the 1980s and 1990s. Before that time, both China and Thailand had 

derived a strategic advantage from the ethnic secessionist movements 

operating in Burma’s borderlands. However, this changed after the 1980s 

when China sought to persuade Burma’s State Law and Order Council 
82 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

(SLORC) to open a trading route through Burma from Yunnan to the 

Indian Ocean. China consequently withdrew military aid from the ethnic secessionists and encouraged the SLORC to negotiate ceasefires with 

secessionists operating on its border. Similar developments occurred 

on Burma’s Thai border when Thai opinion began to turn against the 

ethnic separatists. Fighting within Burma has led to hundreds of 

thousands of people fleeing across the border into Thailand. The Thais 

have classified some groups, such as the Karenni and Karen, as refugees. 

However, despite being regarding as the Thais’ ethnic cousins, the 

fleeing Shan are classified as illegal Burmese workers. 

Border tensions between Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge 

and Vietnam reached their height in 1978 with the massacre of ethnic 

Vietnamese and their sympathizers in eastern Cambodia. In December 

of that year, Vietnam launched an invasion of Cambodia, toppled Pol Pot, 

and installed a pro-Vietnamese government.97 Cambodia’s Chinese allies 

immediately retaliated by invading Vietnam on February 11, 1979, partly 

because of the fear that Hanoi’s close relations with Moscow would lead 

to the militarization of the Sino-Soviet border. After 3 weeks of fighting, 

China withdrew, leaving the border issues unresolved. 

In the quarter-century after the war with China, Vietnam realized 

that unsettled border issues not only posed a security threat to Vietnam 

but also negatively affected “Vietnam’s sovereignty in terms of both 

protecting its national territory and its people.”98 Accordingly, Vietnam 

reached border agreements with neighboring states through a process 

of consensual dialogue. In joining ASEAN in 1995, Vietnam accepted 

a regional framework for conflict management and a code governing 

interstate conduct. From 1992 to 2004, Vietnam completed talks on 

five land and maritime disputes with Malaysia, Thailand, China, and 

Indonesia. The final demarcation of Vietnam’s border with Laos was 

concluded in 1990. Despite its dependence on Vietnam, Laos did not 

give up substantial areas of territory to Vietnam, and the borderline 

was very close to the 1945 border between Tonkin and Annam.99 On 

December 30, 1999, Vietnam signed a treaty with China that settled the 

border dispute between the two countries. Within its borders, Vietnam 

maintains the largest army in Southeast Asia (over 400,000), which is 

deeply embedded in the economy and actively involved in construction 

projects on Vietnam’s borders and in mountainous areas where security 

is problematic.100 Since the 1990s, the central government also became 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 83

more active in strengthening border controls to counter smuggling and 

the spread of avian influenza. 

The United Nations helped to broker an end to the civil war in 

Cambodia between the pro-Vietnamese government and a coalition of 

Sihanoukists and Khmer Rouge in the early 1990s. After national elections produced a coalition government in 1992, Phnom Penh steadily 

consolidated its authority, including over western Cambodia where 

the Khmer Rouge had conducted an illicit and highly lucrative trade in 

timber, gems, and drugs. By the end of the 20th century, it was possible 

to describe Cambodia tentatively as a “territorially integrated state.”101

In the 1990s, Indonesia’s political stability and sense of national 

identity was gravely affected by the upheaval caused by the East Asian 

financial crisis of 1997–1998 and the successful effort by the peoples of 

the former Portuguese colony East Timor to wrest independence from 

Indonesia in 1999. The financial crisis ended more than 30 years of 

President Suharto’s New Order. The East Timor crisis inflicted grave 

damage on the authority of the Indonesian army. From 1949 to the 

late 1990s, Indonesia’s territorial integrity had been achieved through a 

combination of military force, political and administrative control from 

the center (inherited from colonial times), and the application of policies aimed at mitigating cultural and political differences. For example, 

throughout most of Indonesia’s history as a nation-state, political 

parties were not permitted to form on a sectional or geographic basis. 

Post-Suharto Indonesia now has to cope with the challenges of other 

genuinely separatist movements: the Free Aceh Movement and the West 

Papuan independence movement. 

Moreover, in addition to these separatist movements, there are 

other regionalist causes, whether conceived religiously, ethnically, or on 

a nationalist basis. Such movements tend to argue that politicians based 

in Java are not sharing power or resources fairly with peripheral areas. 

Examples of such regional movements include oil-rich Kalimantan, Riau, 

Maluku, and West Kalimantan, where there is significant communal disorder. However, the tendencies toward fragmentation of the Indonesian 

state are producing new kinds of state policy aimed at encouraging national unity in Indonesia’s diverse provincial borderlands. Such policies 

include President Habibie’s proposal to extend regional autonomy within 

Indonesia’s unitary constitution and the multifaceted efforts designed to 

conciliate the peoples of West Papua and Aceh.102
84 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Conclusion

The region of Southeast Asia is clearly demarcated geographically. But natural barriers within this region, such as rivers, mountains, 

and swamps, encouraged the ethnically and linguistically diverse peoples 

of the region to set up political communities separated by notional or 

natural frontiers. These polities and their frontiers waxed and waned 

according to military and economic fortune. They were also reshaped by 

the world religion of Islam, which swept over the Malay Peninsula and 

insular Southeast Asia from the 14th to the 17th century. Before European 

colonization of Southeast Asia, regional political communities thought 

more in terms of the allegiance of people rather than control over 

fixed territory. 

But from 1600 to 1800, Europe was transformed from a borderless 

continent into one of bordered nation-states, each of which claimed 

sovereignty over its territorial jurisdiction. European colonizers, particularly Britain, France, and the Netherlands, imported the notion of 

the territorial state and delimited borders to Southeast Asia. From the 

late 18th century to the early 20th century, European imperial powers 

interacted with indigenous polities to draw boundaries in Southeast 

Asia that were largely inherited by the nation-states that succeeded the 

European empires after World War II. For three decades after World 

War II, these states or quasi-states were nonetheless relatively weak and 

struggled to maintain control over the territories conferred on them by 

international law. 

Regionalization and globalization since the late 1960s have 

worked in some ways to fade the clarity of the state frontier in Southeast 

Asia by making the exercise of sovereign authority in certain domains 

difficult (for example, state control over local currencies). However, in 

other respects Southeast Asian states have strengthened their hold over 

their territorial domains in the era of globalization and regionalization. 

In general, the state boundaries drawn up by the colonial powers had no 

necessary coincidence with the divisions created by “language, community, religion, or ‘ethnicity’.”103 But it is not clear that an effort to redraw 

boundaries in a way that did coincide with language, community, religion, or ethnicity would be more conducive to regional stability than the 

existing boundaries. 
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 85

Notes

1 Charles Tilly, Coercion, Capital and European States AD 990–1990 (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 

1990). 

2 Christopher W. Morris, An Essay on the Modern State (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 

1998).

3 Alastair Lamb, Asian Frontiers: Studies in a Continuing Problem (Melbourne: F.W. Cheshire, 

1968), 4–5.

4 Ibid., 6–7. 

5 Anthony Reid, Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce 1450–1680, Volume One: The Land Below 

the Winds (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), 1. 

6 Jane Perlez, “Forests in Southeast Asia Fall to Prosperity’s Ax,” The New York Times, April 29, 

2006. 

7 Nicholas Tarling, Southeast Asia: A Modern History (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 

2001), 3. 

8 Nicholas Tarling, Nations and States in Southeast Asia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 

1998), vii–ix. 

9 Reid, Land Below the Winds, 3. 

10 Anthony Reid, Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce 1450–1680, Volume Two: Expansion and 

Crisis (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), 203–204. 

11 Tarling, Southeast Asia: A Modern History, 6. 

12 Damien Kingsbury, South-East Asia: A Political Profile (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 

232–234. 

13 Charles A. Fisher, South-east Asia: A Social, Economic and Political Geography (London: 

Methuen, 1967), 83–88. 

14 Anthony Reid and Lance Castles, eds., Pre-Colonial State Systems in Southeast Asia (Kuala Lumpur: Council of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1975). 

15 Oliver W. Wolters, History, Culture, and Region in Southeast Asian Perspectives (Singapore: Institute of South East Asian Studies, 1982), 6–8. 

16 Ian Mabbett and David Chandler, The Khmers (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1996). 

17 Brian Harrison, South-East Asia: A Short History (London: Macmillan & Co., 1954), 35. 

18 Keith W. Taylor, The Birth of Vietnam (Stanford: University of California Press, 1983). 

19 Shan is a Burmese term and Thai is the indigenous name. 

20 David K. Wyatt, Thailand: A Short History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), 67. 

21 Martin Stuart-Fox, The Lao Kingdom of Lān Xāng: Rise and Decline (Bangkok: White Lotus, 

1998). 

22 Mayoury and Pheuiphanh Ngaosyvathn, Kith and Kin Politics: The Relationship between Laos 

and Thailand (Manila: Journal of Contemporary Asia Publishers, 1994). 

23 Reid, Expansion and Crisis, 69–73. 

24 Michael Aung-Thwin, Pagan: The Origins of Modern Burma (Honolulu: University of Hawaii 

Press, 1985). 

25 William J. Koening, The Burmese Policy, 1752–1819 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 

1990). 

26 Oliver W. Wolters, The Fall of Srivijaya in Malay History (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1970). 

27 Reid, Expansion and Crisis, 173–176. 
86 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

28 Harrison, 50–60. 

29 Lamb, 42. 

30 Tarling, Southeast Asia: A Modern History, 20. 

31 Sanjay Subrahmanyam, The Portuguese Empire in Asia, 1500–1700 (London and New York: 

Longman, 1993). 

32 Reid, Expansion and Crisis, 256–259. 

33 C.R. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, 1600–1800 (London: Hutchinson, 1965). 

34 Reid, Expansion and Crisis, 272. 

35 Paul Battersby, “Border Politics and the Broader Politics of Thailand’s International Relations in 

the 1990s,” Pacific Affairs 71, no. 4 (Winter 1998/1999), 474. 

36 Oliver B. Pollak, Empires in Collision: Anglo-Burmese Relations in the Mid-Nineteenth Century

(Westport: Greenwood, 1979). 

37 Tarling, Southeast Asia: A Modern History, 80–86; Lamb, 146–156. 

38 Lamb, 146–147. 

39 John F. Cady, A History of Modern Burma (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1958). 

40 Lamb, 149. 

41 Wyatt, 158–160. 

42 Thongchai Wininchakul, Siam Mapped: A History of the Geo-Body of a Nation (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1994), 62–80. 

43 Tarling, Nations and States, 54. 

44 Kingsbury, 145. 

45 Lamb, 163. 

46 In 1943, Thailand actually invaded the Shan regions of Burma and incorporated them, although these territories were subsequently retroceded; Kingsbury, 153. 

47 Martin Stuart-Fox, A History of Laos (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 21–29. 

48 Lamb, 168–169. 

49 J.R.V. Prescott, Map of Mainland Asia by Treaty (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 

1975), 418–423. 

50 Alexander B. Woodside, Vietnam and the Chinese Model: A Comparative Study of Nguyen and 

Ch’ing Civil Government in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century (Harvard: Harvard University 

Press, 1971). 

51 Lamb, 175–176. 

52 Stuart-Fox, History of Laos, 13–19. 

53 Lamb, 177–178. 

54 Peter Lyon, War and Peace in South-East Asia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), 86. 

55 Ibid., 78–80. 

56 Lamb, 168–169. 

57 Nicholas Tarling, ed., The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia. Volume Two, Part Two, From 

World War II to the Present (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 13–18. 

58 Ibid., 17. 

59 Hugh Tinker, ed., Burma: The Struggle for Independence, 1944–1948 (London: HMSO, 1983–

1984). 

60 A.J. Stockwell, British Policy and Malay Politics during the Malayan Union Experiment, 1942–

1948 (Kuala Lumpur: Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1978). 

61 Anthony Short, The Origins of the Vietnam War (London: Longman, 1989), 40. 

62 Tarling, Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, 25. 

63 Wyatt, 287–290.
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF BORDERS IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 87

64 Battersby, 475. 

65 Tarling, Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, 80–81. 

66 Josef Silverstein, Burmese Politics: the Dilemma of National Unity (New Brunswick: Rutgers 

University Press, 1980). 

67 Kingsbury, 110–112. 

68 Lamb, 155–158; Prescott, 352–356. 

69 Robert H. Taylor, The State in Burma (London: C. Hurst & Co., 1987). 

70 Maung Maung, Burma and General Ne Win (London: Asia Publishing House, 1969). 

71 Alfred McCoy, The Politics of Heroin in Southeast Asia (New York: Harper & Row, 1972). 

72 Tarling, Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, 120. 

73 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1991), 120. 

74 George McT. Kahin, Nationalism and Revolution in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 

1952). 

75 Audrey R. Kahin and George McT. Kahin, Subversion as Foreign Policy: The Secret Eisenhower 

and Dulles Debacle in Indonesia (Seattle: Washington University Press, 1997); Clive J. Christie, “Nationalism and the ‘House of Islam’: The Acehnese Revolt and the Republic of Indonesia,” in A Modern 

History of Southeast Asia: Decolonization, Nationalism, and Separatism (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1996). 

76 Anderson, 122. 

77 Ibid., 132. 

78 Paul W. van der Veur, Search for New Guinea’s Boundaries: From Torres Strait to the Pacific (Canberra: Australian National University Press, 1966). 

79 Tarling, Nations and States, 18. 

80 Tarling, Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, 82. 

81 Michael Leifer, The Philippine Claim to Sabah (Switzerland: Inter-Documentation, 1968); Lela 

Garner Noble, Philippine Policy towards Sabah: A Claim for Independence (Tucson: Association for 

Asian Studies, 1977). 

82 J.A.C. Mackie, Konfrontasi: The Indonesian–Malaysia Dispute, 1963–1966 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1974). 

83 David Marr, Vietnam 1945: The Quest for Power (Stanford: University of California Press, 1995).

84 Stanley Karnow, Vietnam: A History (London: Penguin, 1991), 203–239.

85 Tarling, Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, 280. 

86 Robert H. Jackson, Quasi-states: Sovereignty, International Relations, and the Third World

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 21. Quasi-states “are often deficient in the political 

will, institutional authority, and organised power to protect human rights or provide socio-economic 

welfare. The concrete benefits which have historically justified the undeniable burdens of sovereign 

statehood are often limited to fairly narrow elites and not yet extended to the citizenry at large whose 

lives may be scarcely improved by independence or even adversely affected by it. These states are 

primarily juridical.” 

87 Lyon, 86. 

88 Ibid., 85. 

89 Stuart-Fox, History of Laos, 78–98. 

90 Ibid., 99–135. 

91 David Chandler, A History of Cambodia, 2d

 ed. (Boulder: Westview Press, 1983); Milton Osborne, Politics and Power in Cambodia (Melbourne: Longman, 1973). 

92 David Chandler, Brother Number One: A Political Biography of Pol Pot (Bangkok: Silkworm 
88 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Books, 1992). 

93 Michael Leifer, ASEAN and the Security of South-East Asia (London: Routledge, 1989).

94 For example, Martin van Creveld, The Rise and Decline of the State (Cambridge: Cambridge 

University Press, 1999). 

95 Stuart-Fox, History of Laos, 204–205. 

96 Ibid., 198. 

97 Stephen P. Herder, “The Kampuchean-Vietnamese Conflict,” in The Third Indochina Conflict, 

ed. David W.P. Elliott (Boulder: Westview Press, 1981), 21–67. 

98 Ramses Amer and Nguyen Hong Thao, “The Management of Vietnam’s Border Disputes: What 

Impact on its Sovereignty and Regional Integration?” Contemporary Southeast Asia 27, no. 3 (December 2005), 439. 

99 Ibid., 432. 

100 Lawrence E. Grinter, “Vietnam Pushes on 30 Years after War,” Asia Times, April 28, 2005. 

101 Battersby, 479. 

102 Grayson Lloyd, Indonesia’s Future Prospects: Separatism, Decentralisation and the Survival of 

the Unitary State, Current Issues Brief 17, Department of the Parliamentary Library, 1999–2000. 

103 Tarling, Nations and States, 55. 
Chapter 4

Borderlands, Terrorism, and Insurgency 

in Southeast Asia

Zachary Abuza

Borderlands and Militancy 

At the end of the Cold War, the greatest security threat to Southeast 

Asia appeared to be coming from China, a rising superpower whose 

insatiable thirst for oil, gas, and other natural resources led it to grab 

territory in the South China Sea in the 1990s. Yet after 9/11, an unexpected threat to the region emerged: Islamist terrorism and insurgency. 

Today, Southeast Asian states are confronted by both inter- and intrastate violence, the latter complicated by the fact that substate actors work 

across national boundaries. There are myriad militant organizations in 

Southeast Asia of varying sizes and degrees of overtness and radicalism. 

Some have purely parochial agendas and focus on the “near enemy,” such 

as Darul Islam, Gerakan Aceh Meredeka (GAM), the Pattani United 

Liberation Organization (PULO), and the Laskar Jihad, while others, 

such as Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) and Rabitatul Mujiheddin, have a panregional agenda and focus on the “far enemy.” Many organizations, such 

as the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), Kampulan Mujiheddin 

Malaysia (KMM), Laskar Mujahideen, Laskar Jundullah, Rohinga 

Solidarity Organization, Gerakan Mujiheddin Islami Pattani (GMIP), 

Barisan Revolusi Nasional–Koordinasi (BRN–C), and Abu Sayyaf Group 

(ASG), straddle that divide; while they may have a domestic agenda, such 

as a desire for a homeland, they have forged tactical alliances and operate 

transnationally to achieve their goals. These organizations are linked with 

varying degrees of cooperation that change over time. 

Traditionally, terrorism has been confined within national borders, usually on the periphery of Southeast Asian countries in areas 

such as southern Thailand or the Philippine island of Mindanao. In 

these regions, dominated by an ethnic minority, state institutions have 

been weakest, and the people have lagged behind in most measures of 

89
90 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

socioeconomic development. As such, low-level insurgencies erupted, 

but the demands were clearly parochial. If there was an “international” 

component to them, it was that they operated transnationally: that is, 

sanctuary or their key logistical operations were based in neighboring 

countries. The Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) was 

founded in 1967 as a very loose organization based on the shared 

threat of communism. But the five founding members—Indonesia, 

Singapore, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand—continued to have 

disputed borders and mutual suspicion over their neighbors’ intentions. 

The fact that governments often did not crack down on the operations 

of their neighbors’ insurgent groups only heightened the fear. For example, GAM used to engage in significant fundraising in Malaysia, where 

there was a large exile community; indeed, the head of one state government was a descendent of the Acehnese royal family. Rebels in southern 

Thailand were key arms smugglers for GAM as well as some of the 

Filipino groups. The Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) and MILF 

both used Sabah for fundraising and as a secure rear area. Likewise, the 

Malayan Communist Party (MCP) was based in southern Thailand. 

As long as these groups were not actively plotting against the “host” 

state, the government tended to look the other way, despite political 

pressure from its neighbors. In some cases, the state actively supported 

the militants. Nowhere is this more evident than with Thailand, which 

not only gave sanctuary to the Khmer Rouge from 1979 to 1991, but also 

allowed the Chinese to arm them. 

The ASEAN states became more willing to cooperate in the 1980s 

and 1990s, and they accorded the militants a less permissive operating 

environment. For the most part, security cooperation was the result of 

the region’s rapid economic growth. States saw little benefit to ongoing 

turmoil in neighboring countries, which hurt burgeoning intraregional 

trade and the development of “growth triangles” and other economic 

zones. State-state cooperation reaped more rewards. Even the Thai 

government in the 1980s saw little to be gained from the continued 

insurgency in Cambodia and declared its intention to “turn battlefields 

into marketplaces.”

Perhaps because neighboring states became less hospitable operating environments, insurgent groups began to act more transnationally. 

Beginning in the 1990s, terrorism started taking on a more international form. With the return of fighters from Afghanistan and greater 
BORDERLANDS, TERRORISM, AND INSURGENCY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 91

transnational links among Islamists vested in the creation of Islamic 

states, tied loosely to financing in the Middle East and to al Qaeda, 

the region became an incubator for a sophisticated, highly motivated 

terrorist organization known as Jemaah Islamiyah.

While this chapter cannot delve into the histories of each of 

these insurgent groups and movements, they share a number of important characteristics. First, they operate where weak states are at their 

weakest—where the authority of the state has collapsed or was always 

marginal and the provision of social services is often negligible. These 

organizations try to supplant or usurp the authority of the state. While 

most are unable to provide social services, they work assiduously to 

impose their laws and social mores on the society. 

Second, many of the Islamic movements in Southeast Asia have 

legitimate grievances. Economically speaking, in all Southeast Asian 

countries, the Muslim pribumi or bumiputera communities are less well 

off. The growth of Islamic extremism around the world since the Iranian 

revolution of 1979 has had less to do with theology than with the failure 

of the domestic political economies of the groups’ countries.

Third, they operate in border regions, where by definition cultures overlap and minorities face some degree of persecution and have 

legitimate socioeconomic grievances. Often the ethnic balance has been 

in flux because of official policies of migration and resettlement of the 

ethnic majority in an attempt to pacify the region. The ethnic minorities 

believe that their culture is under assault and chafe at national assimilation policies that discourage the use of local languages and undermine 

cultural mores.

Fourth, as these groups exist in border regions, many of their 

members are dual citizens, or the movements can rely on a large base 

of supporters, diaspora communities, or coreligionists across the 

border. These conflict areas are often the legacy of colonial empires 

and arbitrary mapmaking. The current Thai insurgency, for example, is 

being contested by Malay Muslims who had been incorporated into the 

kingdom of Siam in a 1902 border treaty with Great Britain. 

Fifth, in all of these countries, the inability of weak states to 

control all of their territories has allowed insurgents to establish 

sanctuaries to train and regroup. For example, there were seven jihadi 

training camps that the Indonesian government was unable to shut 

down until 2002–2003. In 2010, Indonesian authorities discovered a 
92 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

JI camp in Aceh. Such camps are small and easily hidden. And despite 

U.S. military exercises in Mindanao and the provision of more than 

$500 million in military aid since fiscal year 2002, JI members captured 

in Malaysia, Indonesia, and the Philippines have all confirmed that JI 

training, now occurring in conjunction with ASG, continues in MILFcontrolled territories, albeit on a smaller scale than in the 1990s. Central 

to the U.S. policy is the tenet that al Qaeda and its affiliates will never 

again be allowed to take over a country as they did in Afghanistan. The 

reality, however, is that groups like JI are able to take over portions of 

ungoverned territory in regions that are on the fringes of the state and 

often prone to sectarian and lateral conflicts. The silver lining of the Iraq 

conflict is that it seemed to have absorbed the attention of international 

jihadists. But will a region like Southeast Asia, several of whose states 

have been directly identified in al Qaeda statements, remain off their 

radar screen as Iraq winds down? 

Sixth, these organizations emerge because governments are 

usually unwilling and unable to cooperate with their counterparts. This 

mistrust and animosity are the legacy of history as most ASEAN states 

either have territorial disputes with their neighbors, or have at times 

supported substate actors challenging their neighbors. The lack of transnational cooperation in policing, military operations, and intelligencesharing is an incentive for organizations to operate transnationally, 

conducting portions of their operations across multiple jurisdictions, so 

that no security service has a clear idea of what they are doing. They rely 

on cross-border trade and smuggling to fund their activities and arm 

their movements.

This chapter looks at several different case studies, including JI, 

MILF, ASG, and several Thai insurgent groups. The MILF, ASG, and 

the Thai insurgents all represent the interests of disaffected ethnic and 

sectarian minorities and are fighting for an independent homeland. 

Their constituents lag behind the ethnic majorities in almost every 

measure of socioeconomic development. All of these groups are 

strongest on the fringes of the state, along the border, where they rely on 

diaspora communities and their coreligionists, and where government 

authority is weak, corrupt, and abusive. Even JI, which has a transnational agenda, established two different paramilitary arms in 1998–

1999 that were engaged in sectarian bloodletting in the outer islands of 

Indonesia’s sprawling archipelago. 
BORDERLANDS, TERRORISM, AND INSURGENCY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 93

The Regional Caliphate: Jemaah Islamiyah

Jemaah Islamiyah was an al Qaeda–affiliated terrorist group in 

Southeast Asia committed to establishing a pan-Islamic caliphate that 

would include Indonesia, Malaysia, southern Thailand, and Mindanao. 

The degree of its affiliation to al Qaeda is now uncertain. JI was founded 

in 1992–1993 by Abdullah Sungkar and Abu Bakar Ba’asyir, disaffected 

members of Darul Islam who had become frustrated with the organization’s dawa, or “quietest approach,” to implementing an Islamic state, and 

the gradual political emasculation of Islamists following the 1965 coup 

by Suharto.1 JI was established with the explicit intent of being a covert 

organization that would bring down the secular state through force 

and some political struggle.2 Sungkar and Ba’asyir founded the group 

while living in exile in Malaysia, and it really developed among the large 

community of exiled Indonesians. JI’s leaders sought the approval of the 

al Qaeda leadership in the group’s founding and received financial and 

materiel support from al Qaeda; several top JI leaders were concurrently 

members of al Qaeda, and its chief operatives were trained in al Qaeda’s 

Afghan camps beginning in the late 1990s. JI established two paramilitaries, the Laskar Mujahideen (in the Moluccas) and the Laskar Jundullah 

(in Central Sulawesi), that engaged in sectarian bloodshed immediately 

after Indonesia’s strongman Suharto fell in May 1998 and the subsequent 

abolishment of dwi fungsi, which gave the Indonesian armed forces a 

civil-administrative function in the provinces. JI was quick to take advantage of the collapse of the authoritarian and overly centralized secular 

state. JI began its bombing campaign in 2000 and, since the Bali attacks 

of October 2002, has perpetrated roughly one major attack a year and has 

employed seven suicide bombers, making it the most consistently lethal 

al Qaeda–affiliated group in the world.

While JI was an Indonesian-centric organization, it always 

operated transnationally and, according to its founding documents, 

it established regional command structures called mantiqis to take 

advantage of different legal jurisdictions: Mantiqi 1 covered peninsular 

Malaysia, Singapore, and southern Thailand; Mantiqi 2 covered Java and 

Sumatra Indonesia; Mantiqi 3 comprised the Philippines, Brunei, eastern 

Malaysia, Kalimantan, and Sulawesi Indonesia; and Mantiqi 4 was being 

developed to establish cells in Australia and Papua (formerly Irian Jaya). 

Each mantiqi, in turn, had subregional commands (wakalah) and, 

beneath those, cells (fiah). To a degree, there was a functional division 
94 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

of labor among the mantiqis to take advantage of the different circumstances and capabilities of each state. For example, Mantiqi 1 was the 

logistical hub for up to 100 JI operatives who were sent to Afghanistan 

for training in al Qaeda camps, in addition to running its own camp in 

southern Malaysia.3 It was responsible for establishing dozens of front 

companies that could be used to channel al Qaeda funds and procure 

weapons and bomb-making materiel. In many cases, JI members established businesses, received contracts and business from JI supporters, 

and then plowed the proceeds back into the organization. According to 

the Singapore government’s White Paper, “All JI-run businesses had to 

contribute 10% of their total earnings to the group. This money was to 

be channeled into the JI’s special fund called Infaq Fisbilillah (contributions for the Islamic cause or jihad fund).”4

 Because the socioeconomic 

conditions were better in Malaysia and Singapore, the mantiqi was a key 

fundraising arm for JI.

Mantiqi 2 provided the bulk of the membership—nearly 2,000 

members. Following the fall of Suharto in May 1998, JI developed its 

two paramilitary arms. It ran a network of training camps, including 

seven in Sulawesi and one in Kalimantan. The Indonesian cell was also 

very important in liaising with al Qaeda–linked Islamic charities, especially al Haramain and the International Islamic Relief Organization, 

and became a very important conduit for foreign funding.

Mantiqi 3 was important in terms of being a major logistics cell 

for the network responsible for acquiring explosives, guns, and other 

equipment, as well as for liaising with the MILF, which began running 

training facilities for JI members in 1996. Camp Hudaibiyah was established by Nasir bin Abbas as a sub-camp of the MILF’s headquarters, 

Camp Abu Bakar. These camps included not only top JI trainers but 

also senior al Qaeda trainers, such as Omar al-Faruq, al-Mughira alGaza’iri, and Omar al-Hadrani.5

 Cell members procured explosives and 

small arms used by the JI’s two paramilitary arms that were engaged in 

sectarian conflict in Indonesia starting in 1999. Several hundred JI 

members went through these camps. 

The sectarian conflict really is the key to understanding JI. The 

group did not start the sectarian conflicts, though it was quick to take 

advantage of them. The conflicts erupted with the collapse of the New 

Order regime whose policies of forced transmigration fundamentally 

altered the ethnic, religious, economic, and political balances in the 
BORDERLANDS, TERRORISM, AND INSURGENCY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 95

outer islands—regions where state power was always weaker and that 

were quicker to collapse following the end of the New Order regime. 

JI fomented sectarian conflict by sending seasoned operatives to lead 

the jihad, establishing its own paramilitaries, and creating a network of 

charities (often Saudi-funded) to support the conflicts. The sectarian 

fighting, which gave young men a sense of defending their religion 

and reinforcing their Manichean world view, became JI’s primary 

recruitment and indoctrination tool. 

Although the government brokered the fragile Malino Accords 

in the Moluccas and Sulawesi in 2002, there was an alarming uptick 

in attacks, including bombings, targeted assassinations, and raids on 

military/police facilities, between 2004 and 2007. State authority was 

tenuous and unable to control outbursts of violence. Attacks, including the beheadings of three schoolgirls in October 2005, were meant to 

undermine confidence in the state. In 2007, Indonesian police recovered JI documents from a central Javanese safe house that outlined JI’s 

new structure and agenda: conflict zones, particularly Poso, were front 

and center of the organization’s attempt to regroup and indoctrinate a 

new generation of militants. As such, the Indonesian security forces 

increased their capacity in these zones.

In 1999–2000, JI held three meetings in Malaysia to establish 

linkages to broaden JI’s network and forge alliances with other Islamist 

organizations in the region. Counterterrorist operations following 9/11 

prevented the Rabitatul Mujiheddin, which included Bangladeshi, Thai, 

and Indonesian organizations, from developing deeper operational ties. 

While transnational operations have always been essential for JI, 

they are also one of its greatest vulnerabilities. Since 9/11, there has been 

a dramatic improvement in interstate security cooperation, though 

it still needs to be strengthened and institutionalized. Where such 

cooperation has taken place, there have been some significant breakthroughs. In particular, the maritime triborder region of Malaysia’s 

Sabah State, Indonesia’s Kalimantan (especially around the border 

town of Nunukan), and the Sulu Archipelago—the jumping-off point 

for Mindanao—has been JI’s Achilles’ heel. Top JI operatives Zulkifli bin 

Hir and Mustaqim were arrested coming into Malaysia and Indonesia, 

respectively, from MILF camps in Mindanao.

A handful of JI leaders still at large, including Umar Patek and 

Zulkifli, are believed to be confined in Mindanao or the Sulu Archipelago, 
96 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

unable or unwilling to risk being exfiltrated back into Indonesia and 

Malaysia. The MILF uncharacteristically violated the ceasefire with 

government forces in August 2006 when two police were killed while 

moving to arrest Zulkifli, who was in a MILF-controlled region. 

After more than 500 arrests across the region, JI is organizationally 

much weaker than it was in 2001–2002. While it is still able to perpetrate 

attacks in Indonesia, it is clearly in a regrouping mode. To that end, its 

ability to lie low and train in MILF camps is essential for its survival.

An important 17-man JI cell in central Java was broken up in 

June 2005 as part of the investigations into the 2003 Marriott hotel 

and 2004 Australian embassy bombings. Among other things, the cell 

leaders, Abdullah Sunata and Encen Kurnia, had an important role in 

sending members to the Philippines for training. Between December 

2004 and mid-2005, they dispatched four separate teams to Mindanao. 

Senior JI leaders Dulmatin and Umar Patek had also called on the central 

Java cell to send operatives to Mindanao for suicide attacks.6 Likewise, the 

Malaysian government announced that they arrested 12 individuals 

between March 16 and April 3, 2006, who were part of the Darul Islam 

organization who were planning a string of bombings.7 The Malaysian 

authorities went to great lengths to insist that the 12 individuals—including 3 or 4 Indonesians, 2 Filipinos, and 6 Malaysians—were members of 

neither JI nor the KMM.8 The group arrested in Malaysia appears to have 

been playing a logistical support role for JI. They were arrested off the 

coasts of Sandakan and Tawau, on the eastern coast of Sabah, on the island 

of Borneo.9 Tawau is near the Indonesian port city of Nunukan, which has 

always been a center of smuggling and illegal immigration. Tawau and 

Nunukan are both departure points for trips across the Sulu Archipelago into Mindanao, where JI has had sanctuary in territory controlled 

by the MILF. “The role of Darul Islam Sabah was to help Indonesian 

militants transit to the southern Philippines, smuggle weapons from the 

southern Philippines to Indonesia, and obtain military training in the 

southern Philippines,” the Malaysian police chief explained.10

The maritime border has also been vulnerable to seizures of 

weapons and explosives. On October 13, 2005, Indonesian authorities 

arrested three Malaysians and an Indonesian who were caught smuggling 175 kilograms of ammonium nitrate and 900 detonators and fuses 

into Nunukan from Sabah. It is believed that these materials came from 

the southern Philippines. 
BORDERLANDS, TERRORISM, AND INSURGENCY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 97

Malaysia established a successful maritime police interdiction 

force in Sabah in 2003. The United States has a small military presence 

in the Sulu Archipelago and has shared intelligence with its Philippine 

counterparts. Roughly 500 U.S. Special Forces troops are deployed 

in Mindanao and Sulu, where several hundred Abu Sayyaf militants 

are protecting a small number of JI members. In 2006, there were 

reports that elite Australian Special Air Service units had conducted 

maritime interdiction training and operations with Philippine forces. 

The Australian government recently gave the Philippine armed forces 

some 10 riverine small craft to use to patrol the maritime border near 

Malaysia and Indonesia. 

Insurgency and Terrorism in the Philippines: The Moro Islamic 

Liberation Front and Abu Sayyaf Group 

Armed secession, led by the MNLF, began in the southern Philippines in 1972. Attempts to broker a peace in 1976 failed and war resumed, 

though the MNLF entered into a peace agreement with the government 

in 1996. In 1978, the MILF broke away from the MNLF and continues 

its struggle for an independent Islamic state for the Bangsamoro people. 

The MILF fields roughly 9,000 men and controls significant territory in 

central Mindanao and Basilan. It has been involved in a peace process 

with the government since 1997 that has been interrupted by major government offensives in 2000 and 2004. A ceasefire signed in mid-2004 

was monitored by a 60-man Malaysian-led contingent, but by 2006, the 

armistice had frayed, both due to local Muslim politics and frustration 

over the stalled peace process. Although an apparent breakthrough was 

reached in November 2007, the Philippine cabinet and supreme court 

rejected the draft autonomy agreement, prompting the MILF to return 

to war. Talks have resumed, but the MILF is awaiting the resumption of 

talks under the administration of President Benigno Aquino, who was 

elected in mid-2010. 

The MILF has legitimate grievances. Waves of government-sponsored Christian migration have greatly reduced the amount of territory 

with a Muslim majority. In 1900, 76 percent of people in Mindanao 

were Moro; in 2000, only 18 percent were. In 1976, 13 provinces had a 

Muslim majority and were eligible for a plebiscite, yet by 2006, it was 

only 6 provinces, but Muslims were still a minority within many cities 

in those provinces. Moreover, the Muslim regions of Mindanao tend 
98 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

to have the lowest levels of human development.11 The United Nations 

Development Programme’s Philippine Development Report notes that 

7 of the 10 provinces with the lowest human development index are in 

Muslim regions of Mindanao.12 The people in the five provinces of the 

Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao—Basilan, Lanao del Sur, 

Sulu, Maguindanao, and Tawi-Tawi—have the lowest life expectancy, 

some of the lowest education rates, highest instances of child mortality, 

and lowest levels of per capita income.

In addition to the MILF threat, the armed forces of the Philippines 

are confronted with operations against the Abu Sayyaf Group in the 

Sulu Archipelago and against a resurgent Communist Party of the 

Philippines–New People’s Army that has never been stronger in eastern 

and northwestern Mindanao. In June 2006, then-Philippine President 

Gloria Macapagal Arroyo ordered an offensive against the New People’s 

Army in an attempt to destroy the movement within 2 years.

The MILF control significant territory in central Mindanao, 

where they have established rudimentary government structures, 

including a three-tiered sharia court system and a limited shadow government in regions under central government control. While the MILF 

criticizes “Imperial Manila” for its lack of concern for development 

in Mindanao, the group has done very little to offer anything beyond the 

most basic educational and social services to the population in the vast 

zones under its control. 

Though the MILF has an ethno-nationalist agenda and has been 

more focused on the “near enemy,” it has forged tactical alliances with 

al Qaeda and Jemaah Islamiyah in return for funding and training, 

all at a time when state sponsorship from Libya was waning.13 Beginning in 1996, members of the al Qaeda–linked Jemaah Islamiyah 

established training camps in MILF territories. One such facility, Camp 

Hudaibiyah, was established by Nasir bin Abbas, who would go on to 

head JI’s Mantiqi 3. Several hundred JI operatives received training from 

the MILF and from a succession of al Qaeda trainers, including Omar 

al-Faruq, who, at the time of his arrest in 2003, was the top al Qaeda 

operative in the region. 

The MILF relationship with JI and al Qaeda is changing, as many 

of its first-generation leaders and field commanders who fought in 

Afghanistan have died. The MILF is led by a less ideological generation 

of leaders—in particular, its chairman Ebrahim el haj Murad, who has 

sought a negotiated settlement.
BORDERLANDS, TERRORISM, AND INSURGENCY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 99

Nonetheless, JI continues to receive sanctuary from the MILF 

in Mindanao. While the training of JI members is down from the rate 

of the 1990s, it is still going on. The arrests of Zulkifli (in Malaysia), 

Mustaqim (in Indonesia), and Taufiq Riefqi and Rohmat (Zaki) (in 

the Philippines) shed further light on the continuance of JI training in 

Mindanao. What is most interesting about these arrests is that they 

contradict the MILF’s assertions that they have “no formal ties” with 

JI and attribute any such relations to those of “lost commands” and 

“rogue commanders.” Yet all have confirmed that training took place in 

Butig, Lanao del Sur, the MILF’s largest base camp at present, and the 

seat of its vice chairman, Aleem Abdul Aziz Mimbintas. Other evidence

 of the ongoing relationship surfaced after the arrest of Dulmatin’s wife, 

Istiada Oemar Sovie, and two children on October 3, 2006, in Jolo. 

Sovie not only shed important light on how JI militants traveled from 

Java to Kelimantan, to Sabah, to Tawi-Tawi in the Philippines, but also 

confirmed that her husband had lived in MILF camps and trained their 

fighters from 2002 to late 2005.14 Like Nasir bin Abbas, she debunked 

the MILF’s claims that any ties between the MILF and JI are through 

“lost commands.” She made clear that the JI men always received 

sanctuary in MILF territory and that MILF operatives had received 

training from her husband. 

Continuing this relationship makes perfect sense for the MILF. 

For one thing, they have not been punished for it; the government of 

the Philippines has pleaded with the U.S. Government not to put the 

MILF on the Foreign Terrorist Organization list for fear of undermining the peace process. Second, most in the MILF see the JI members as 

fellow mujahideen whom they have known since Afghanistan. Third, 

there is a commitment to a global agenda, a religious obligation to help 

other jihads. Fourth, ties with the ASG, which is comprised mainly of 

ethnic Tausigs, is important for the MILF vis-à-vis its competition with 

the MNLF, which too is dominated by Tausigs. Fifth, the MILF has low 

expectations for the outcome of the peace process and the government’s 

seriousness and intentions to actually implement it. The group cannot 

afford to cut ties to JI and al Qaeda. The MILF does not like to employ terrorism but will use it when it suffers battlefield losses—usually 

to good effect in that it ends the offensives.

Although the MILF and the government established the Ad Hoc 

Joint Action Group (AHJAG) in 2004 to go after JI and Abu Sayyaf 

terrorists and other lawless elements, they have not arrested or turned 
100 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

over a single individual. They did force ASG chieftain Khadaffy 

Janjalani as well as JI leaders Dulmatin and Umar Patek out of their 

territory in late 2004 or early 2005. The AHJAG was disbanded when 

the peace process stalled in 2006.

The Abu Sayyaf Group was founded in 1991 by Afghan war veteran Abdurrajak Janjalani, who received seed money from Osama bin 

Laden. The group for the most part is an ethnic Tausig organization that 

extends throughout the Sulu Archipelago, from Zamboanga, Basilan, 

Jolo, and Tawi-Tawi, near Malaysia’s Sabah State. ASG was involved in a 

number of cross-border raids including the notorious kidnapping of 20 

foreigners and a Filipino from a dive resort on the Malaysian island of 

Sipidan in April 2000. It is a small (roughly 400 members organized in 

very loose autonomous cells) but exceptionally violent organization. 

In 2002–2003, JI forged an alliance with ASG and brought it into 

MILF camps for training. The MILF provided sanctuary for ASG members on Basilan and Jolo during Philippine-American operations in 2002 

and 2004–2006. MILF and JI operatives were blamed jointly for the Davao 

airport and Sasa Wharf bombing in Davao in 2003, which left 38 people 

dead. The 2004 bombing of a Superferry killed 116. Since 2004, terrorist 

operations in the Philippines have often included members from all three 

organizations, and it has become all but impossible to disaggregate them. 

The ASG has provided very important logistical services to JI—in particular, escorting JI operatives from Sabah and Nunukan into MILF camps. 

For example, one ASG operative, Muhair dela Merced, was arrested in 

December 2004 while escorting three JI members into the country. JI 

operatives have also trained in ASG facilities in Tawi-Tawi.

The Insurgency in Southern Thailand: GMIP, BRN–C, and PULO 

Thailand has faced an Islamist secessionist movement since January 2004, which has led to the deaths of more than 4,200 people. There 

have been thousands of bombings and over 800 arson attacks. Militants 

have assassinated more than 2,000 people and beheaded over 40. Ten of 

the 33 districts in the deep south are “plagued by violence,” according 

to the ministry of the interior, and the number is increasing. Yet little is 

actually known about the insurgents’ structure and capacity. To date, 

there has not been a single credible claim of responsibility, nor have the 

insurgents publicly stated their goals or political platform other than 

in printed pamphlets. Their unwillingness to disclose any details has 
BORDERLANDS, TERRORISM, AND INSURGENCY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 101

worked to their advantage and left Thai intelligence in a quandary. 

Unlike the insurgency from the 1960s to the 1990s, when groups were 

sharply divided over their goals and ideology and proved absolutely 

incapable of working together, today’s organizations share a common 

Islamist agenda and are demonstrating unprecedented coordination 

and cooperation. Organizations are not trying to discredit each other 

to build up their power base at others’ expense. The groups most 

responsible to date are the BRN–C, GMIP, and to a much lesser extent, 

the PULO and its splinter, New PULO.

Like the Philippines, Thailand has a Muslim minority population 

comprised of ethnic Malays in its southern regions. The Muslim population is roughly 5 million and constitutes about 7 percent of the overall 

population concentrated in the three provinces of Narathiwat, Yala, and 

Pattani, historically known as Pattani Raya (Greater Pattani), as well as 

three districts in the provinces of Songkhla and Satun. Ninety-nine percent are Sunni and most speak Bahasa Malayu, which is written in Yawi, 

an Arabic script. Approximately 360,000 Buddhists live in the three 

provinces (28 percent of the total population), primarily in urban areas. 

Insurgency is not new to southern Thailand, the borders of which 

were fixed by the 1902 Anglo-Thai agreements and Britain’s colonization of Malaysia. For most of the post–World War II era, the region has 

been plagued by insurgency, but it had died out by the mid-1990s for 

several reasons. The first was that the Thai groups were notoriously 

fractious and divided along ideological lines. Some groups supported 

autonomy, some independence, some an independent Islamic state, and 

some union with Malaysia. The MCP was at odds with the agenda of the 

Muslim and ethno-nationalist movements. In short, the groups could 

never come together and coordinate their operations, despite a few 

attempts to reconcile. Second, there was considerable cross-border 

cooperation between Malaysia and Thailand. The Thais provided 

the Malaysians with assistance in combating the MCP and even gave 

Malaysian forces the right of hot pursuit into Thai territory. In return, 

Malaysia restricted Malay separatist activities in the country. Third, the 

Thai government addressed many of the underlying grievances and 

effectively employed amnesties.

By early 2001, a new generation of insurgents emerged who had 

rejected both the peace process and amnesty in the 1990s and incubated 

in the region’s increasingly radical mosques and pondoks or madrassas. 
102 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

The insurgency has taken on decidedly sectarian and religious tones. 

More than 15 percent of the Buddhist community has fled. While some 

contend that the violence is simply about narcotics and cross-border 

smuggling routes, which is not untrue, the sheer amount of violence, 

the brutality of some acts, and the victim types suggest political and 

religious agendas, not mere criminality. To date the insurgents have 

not clearly outlined a platform, goals, or agenda. By analyzing the patterns of violence and victims, the insurgents appear to have a fourfold 

short-term agenda: they are making the region ungovernable, trying to 

force heavy-handed government responses, imposing their Islamist values and political controls over the population, and destroying secular 

institutions. To date, over half of their victims have been fellow Muslims. 

Insurgents have increasingly and systematically targeted the pillars of 

the economy. The mid-term goal is to create hijrah, a secure base of 

operations governed by sharia law. 

The transnational aspects of the conflict are essential to any 

resolution, and to date, they have served as a hindrance. An interesting 

question is why there has not yet been any violence in the Muslim 

majority province of Satun. While some observers have pointed to the 

greater prevalence of Thai language and integration into Thai society, 

others have pointed to the province’s key strategic location. The ports 

along Satun’s western coast are too important for the infiltration and 

exfiltration of militants—any attacks would bring the region under greater scrutiny. But there is also another aspect: the two bordering Malaysian 

states, Perlis and Kedah, are under firm United Malay National 

Organization/Barisan Nasional15 control and, thus, policing efforts along 

the border have been more effective. The most violence-prone province during the Thai insurgency, accounting for 42 percent of all violent 

incidents, was Kelantan, the only state currently controlled by the Islamist 

opposition party PAS. Political leaders and local policemen in Kelantan 

have been far more sympathetic to the plight of the Pattani.

Thai officials have long asserted (with scant evidence) that 

insurgents train and enjoy sanctuary in Malaysia, assertions that 

have infuriated Malaysian leaders. In the mid-1990s, the Malaysians 

arrested a key suspect and turned him over to the Thai police who, after 

interrogating him, summarily executed him. This provoked widespread condemnation from the Malaysian authorities, who expressed 

an unwillingness to provide greater cooperation. The most important 

insurgent captured to date, Jaekumae Kuteh, was arrested in Malaysia, 
BORDERLANDS, TERRORISM, AND INSURGENCY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA 103

not because of what he was orchestrating in Thailand, but because 

he was planning an attack in Kuala Lumpur to punish the Malaysian 

government for cooperating with the Thais. 

In short, there is a reason that so few insurgent leaders have been 

arrested: there is so little cooperation between the two sides. Though the 

respective militaries have increased the number of joint patrols along 

the border, the reality is that it is a long, mountainous border covered in 

places in a thick jungle canopy. The border remains highly porous and 

accommodating to the insurgents. Police cooperation and intelligence 

sharing are nascent. 

Although the Thai government claims to have made more than 

2,200 arrests of insurgents, nearly all of them were low-level members 

or youths who were merely suspected of belonging to the insurgency. 

Moreover, more than 90 percent have been freed as the government 

has been unable to garner enough evidence to convict them. To date, 

the most important arrests have been on Malaysian, not Thai, soil. 

And yet there is still little cooperation between the two states. From 

2004 to 2006, the Thaksin administration repeatedly blamed Malaysia 

in the media for coddling terrorists. This “bullhorn” diplomacy was 

disastrous and made it much more difficult for Malaysian Prime 

Minister Badawi to cooperate, as anger toward Bangkok’s handling 

of the insurgency provoked anger across the political spectrum in 

Malaysia. The Islamist opposition party PAS resolutions were quickly 

endorsed by the ruling United Malay National Organization, making 

it hard for Badawi to ensure cooperation from his ministries. In 2005, 

for example, 131 individuals from a village where two marines were 

gruesomely murdered crossed over into Malaysia asking for asylum. 

This brought intense media scrutiny and put unwanted international 

attention on Thai policies. Although Malaysian authorities returned 1 

individual of the 131, as he had a longstanding warrant for his arrest, 

they would not repatriate the rest; they refuse to extradite dual citizens.

Resolution of the insurgency was all but impossible with Thaksin’s 

botched policies and subsequent bilateral relations with Malaysia. 

Following the September 19, 2006, coup, in which Thaksin was ousted 

from power, relations with Malaysia improved markedly. The government of caretaker Prime Minister Surayud Chulanont made many 

important overtures to the Muslim community and reforms in the 

counterinsurgency policies including: publicly apologizing to the 

Muslim community for the previous government’s policies; reinstating 
104 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

key institutions for local governance and dispute resolution that Thaksin 

had scrapped in 2002; dropping charges against some 58 protestors; abolishing blacklists and death squads; and being willing to implement sharia 

law. The junta tried to put in place clear lines of command and control, 

which had been appallingly absent. Surayud made two fence-mending 

trips to Kuala Lumpur and announced that the military had entered into 

secret talks with the insurgents in late 2005. 

In short, resolving the southern crisis was the one thing that 

Prime Minister Surayud felt very comfortable doing, and he threw 

himself into it. Nonetheless, violence spiked after the coup. The rate of 

attacks and killings in the following 6 months soared; May and June 

2007 were the most violent months in the insurgency. Moreover, 

parallel secret talks in both Malaysia and Europe failed completely as 

they did not include representatives of the two leading insurgent groups, 

the GMIP and the BRN–C.16

Sadly, little came of any of Surayud’s other policy announcements. In mid-2007, the new Thai army commander, General Anupong, 

launched his own “surge” of forces in southern Thailand and ordered a 

more visible presence of security forces. When democracy was restored 

in early 2008, Thaksin’s allies were able to establish the government, to the 

military’s chagrin. Prime Minister Samak Sondaravej and his successor 

were so fearful of another military coup that they gave the military free 

rein in the south. It was simply not a priority for the government. As such, 

most of Surayud’s promises and policy proposals were not implemented. 

When the Democrat Party came to power in December 2008, 

there was once again hope that the south would be a priority, as the 

region is the Democrats’ traditional heartland. Nonetheless, violence 

escalated in 2009 to mid-2010. Between the Democrats’ assumption 

of power and September 2010, over 700 people were killed and 1,300 

wounded. Though most victims have been gunned down, there have 

been over 250 bombings. The insurgency shows no signs of abating.

Conclusion 

While a number of insurgencies have been resolved, including the 

MNLF’s agreement with the Philippines in 1996, and the 2005 agreement between the GAM and Indonesia, some continue to this day. The 

MILF is moving closer toward a peace agreement with the Philippines, 
BORDERLANDS, TERRORISM, AND INSURGENCY 105

though the devil will be in the details of implementation. Power sharing with the MNLF will further complicate any peace accord. Until that 

agreement is signed, the MILF have no incentive to cut its ties to groups 

such as JI. Despite its focus on Indonesia, JI remains a transnational 

entity, with training camps in the Philippines and operatives based in 

Southeast Asia and parts of South Asia. Sporadic sectarian conflict in 

the Indonesian provinces of the Moluccas and Central Sulawesi are part 

of JI’s attempts to rebuild its depleted ranks. The insurgency in southern 

Thailand shows little sign of abating, despite the government’s profound 

interest in reaching a durable settlement. In all of these cases, insurgency 

remains based both in the nation’s periphery, where state power is at its 

weakest, and in places such as neighboring states where the insurgents 

are capable of basing some of their operations. The threat of transnational terrorism in the region after the 2002 Bali attacks did lead to an 

increase in interstate cooperation, but much more needs to be done. 

Notes

1 Darul Islam (DI) was founded in 1947 by Sekarmadji Maridjan Kartosuwiryo with the espoused goal of establishing an Islamic state in Indonesia (Negara Islam Indonesia). To that end, 

Indonesia’s anticolonial war against the Dutch was in reality a triangular war, with Kartosuwiryo’s 

forces battling Sukarno’s nationalists as well as the Dutch. Kartosuwiryo was captured and executed 

in 1962, and the group fell into disarray and factionalized. Under Suharto’s New Order (1965–1998), 

DI in some ways paralleled the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood under Anwar Sadat. Though the organization was illegal, it had become nonviolent, and individual membership was quietly tolerated 

by the regime. Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) is a direct offshoot of Darul Islam, and many JI members are 

the children of DI members. JI has also been able to tap effectively into DI networks for operations, 

which has extended the group’s reach. In many ways, DI is the foundation upon which JI has been 

built, though it is clear that many (but not all) in DI reject the al Qaeda strategy of targeting the far 

enemy.

2 JI’s primary organizational and philosophical document, the “General Guidebook for the 

Struggle of Jemaah Islamiyah,” outlines the role of clandestine cells and describes the struggle 

using the language of guerrilla warfare.

3 Ministry of Home Affairs, White Paper: The Jemaah Islamiyah Arrests and the Threat of 

Terrorism (Singapore: Ministry of Home Affairs, 2003), 6.

4 Ibid.

5 Romesh Ratnesar, “Confessions of an al Qaeda Terrorist,” Time, September 16, 2002; BIN 

Interrogation Report of Omar al-Faruq, June 2002.

6 Eva C. Komandjaja, “Police Search for Two JI Members in Philippines,” The Jakarta 

Post, August 16, 2005; Jim Gomez, “Terror Suspect Details Training, Plots,” Associated Press, 

March 23, 2005; INP, “Interrogation of Suyatno,” Semerang, July 16, 2003; INP, “Interrogation of 

Machmudi Hariono,” Semerang, July 18, 2003; INP, “Interrogation of Joko Ardiyanto,” Semerang, 

July 19, 2003.
106 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

7 Wong Chun Wai and Lourdes Charles, “Terror Group Busted,” The Star, May 31, 2006.

8 “Track Down Remnants of Darul Islam Group–PM,” Bernama, June 1, 2006, available at 

<www.bernama.com.my/bernama/state_news/news.php?id=201272&cat=nt>.

9 Wong and Charles.

10 “Malaysian Group Helped Top Indon Terror Suspects Flee to Philippines, Police Say,” SunStar, June 1, 2006, available at <www.sunstar.com.ph/static/net/2006/06/01/malaysian.group.

helped.top.indon.terror.suspects.flee.to.philippines.police.say.html>.

11 United Nations Development Programme.

12 Ibid.

13 When Salamat Hashim broke away from the secular Moro National Liberation Front in 

1978, he moved his headquarters to the Jamaat Islamiya compound in Lahore, Pakistan. From 

there he oversaw the Moro and Southeast Asian participation in the jihad in Afghanistan in 

the 1980s. He did not return to Mindanao until 1988. His writings clearly depicted the Moro 

struggle as part of a global struggle. Moreover, they envisaged a pan–Southeast Asian Islamic 

state, of which Mindanao would be the nucleus. Links to transnational movements grew in 1991 

when Osama bin Laden’s brother-in-law, Mohammed Jamal Khalifah, moved to the Philippines 

and established branches of the Muslim World League, its sister organization, the International 

Islamic Relief Organization (IIRO), and the al Qaeda–linked Muwafaq. Through these charities 

and a host of smaller local charities, Khalifah was able to fund Ramzi Yousef and Khalid Sheikh 

Mohammad’s Bojinka Plot in 1994–1995, the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), and the 

Abu Sayyaf. Many MILF officials held key positions within the IIRO. 

14 Johna Villaviray-Giolagon, “Dulmatin, His Wife, and Her Stories,” The Manila Times, October 12, 2006.

15 The United Malay National Organization (UMNO) is the dominant political party in Malaysia, having ruled since the country’s founding in 1957. The Barisan Nasional, the ruling political party coalition of which UMNO is the primary member and controlling force, also includes 

the Malaysian Chinese Association and the Malaysian Indian Congress.

16 One channel was through former Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohammed, who 

flew to Bangkok in November 2005, where he had an audience with the king and received his 

blessing to facilitate the talks. This process represented an end-run around the Thaksin government. In fact, the crown authorized the military to hold the talks secretly and independently of 

the National Security Council’s sporadic talks in Europe. The government announced, “Core 

leaders of both the Pattani United Liberation Organisation (PULO) and Bersatu have contacted 

us through senior figures in Malaysia to propose peace talks.” Other groups represented were 

the Barisan Revolusi Nasional Kongres, the Pattani Islamic Liberation Front, and the Muslim 

Mujahideen Movement of Pattani. A number of domestic and foreign press reports added that 

these insurgent groups had not only signed on to the talks in principle but had also signed a draft 

plan titled “Joint Peace and Development Plan for South Thailand.” A military team was sent 

to Saudi Arabia to meet Tuanku Bilor Kortor Nilor, the former secretary-general of the PULO, 

whom the team hoped to enlist in contacting the separatist leaders. Yet the talks did not include 

representatives from the two groups most responsible for the violence: the Gerakan Mujiheddin Islami Pattani and the Barisan Revolusi Nasional Coordinasi, which have little incentive to 

negotiate. The government held talks primarily with the leaders of Bersatu and PULO, who have 

no effective control over the insurgency. As one official conceded, “They [separatist leaders at 

the negotiation] have told us that they have no influence over this generation of insurgents. . . . 

These village-based militants are an entirely new generation with no interest in negotiation. They 

are behind most of the violence in the region.” See “Mahathir Arranged Meetings Between Thai 

Officials, Separatist Leaders,” The Nation, October 6, 2006; “Gen Sonthi: Leaders Made Contact 

with the Authorities,” Bangkok Post, October 5, 2006; “Authorities Seek Two Key Rebel Leaders,” 

Bangkok Post, October 12, 2006; Connie Levett, “Thai Rebels Ready to Strike a Deal,” The Age,

October 7, 2006; “Separatists ‘End Call for Independence,’” The Nation, October 12, 2006.
107

Chapter 5

The Maritime Borderlands: 

Terrorism, Piracy, Pollution, and Poaching 

in the South China Sea

David Rosenberg

The South China Sea is both a borderland for the nation-states 

of Southeast Asia and China as well as a maritime superhighway 

in the world economy. The South China Sea can also be seen as an 

open-access, common-pool resource that connects states and markets 

with substantial fisheries, hydrocarbons, and biodiversity resources. 

Bordered by some of the world’s most rapidly urbanizing and industrializing countries, the South China Sea is also the hub of the industrial 

revolution of Asia. All of these factors combine to make it an area of 

growing concern over conflicting territorial claims, piracy, poaching, 

pollution, drug trafficking, illegal migration, and terrorism threats. 

The South China Sea has been seen as a borderland at least since 

1608, when Hugo Grotius formulated Mare Liberum, The Freedom of 

the Seas, or the Right Which Belongs to the Dutch to Take Part in the East 

Indian Trade.1 It remains a contested borderland with territorial disputes over the Spratly Islands, among others. This chapter examines how 

the nation-states around the South China Sea are attempting to create 

regional regimes to deal with common transboundary problems in their 

maritime borderlands. From the wide range of possible issues, four 

examples will be considered: terrorism, piracy, pollution, and poaching. 

Over 500 million people live within 100 miles of the South China 

Sea coastline. Many of them depend on it for their sustenance and 

livelihood. The South China Sea provides the habitat and spawning 

grounds for the world’s most productive source of shrimp and tuna. It 

also has a remarkable amount of biological diversity and immense 

genetic resources, including over 30 percent of the world’s coral reefs. 

The South China Sea is also one of the world’s busiest international sea lanes. More than half of the world’s oil tanker traffic passes 

through the region’s waters. Over half of the world’s merchant fleet (by 
108 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

tonnage) sails through the South China Sea every year. The port cities of 

Hong Kong and Singapore are the two busiest container shipping ports 

in the world. For the many export-oriented, energy-importing countries 

of East Asia and Southeast Asia, the South China Sea is the main artery 

of transportation for vital energy imports and commodity exports. 

Economic growth, however, has had several unintended negative 

consequences. The waters of the South China Sea have become a pool 

of pollution and an area of conflicting territorial and resource claims. 

Fish catch rates have been declining despite, or perhaps because of, intensified efforts by more numerous fishing vessels. Countries around 

the South China Sea have been more concerned about maximizing their 

national economic growth and ensuring adequate energy supplies than 

about preserving their common natural resources. 

Maritime security concerns in the South China Sea are also increasing. Foremost among these are the conflicting territorial claims to 

many of the islands and reefs in the sea. The Spratly Islands are claimed 

by six countries and occupied by three of them. These territorial claims 

are especially important as an anchor for asserting an exclusive economic zone (EEZ) around the disputed islands and the oil and natural gas 

resources they are thought to contain. Freedom of navigation through 

the strategic chokepoints of the Straits of Malacca, Lombok, and Sunda 

is another major security concern. Perhaps the most frequent source 

of low-level conflict involves fishing vessels competing for dwindling 

fish stocks. The porous borders of countries around the South China 

Sea have exacerbated other security problems of trafficking in drugs, 

refugees, and forced labor.

The large volume of shipping in the region has created opportunities for attacks on merchant shipping. Over the past 2 decades, 

more than half of the world’s reports of piracy took place in or around 

the South China Sea. As a result of piracy and the post-9/11 terrorist 

threat, there has been heightened international scrutiny of ports and 

shipping containers. Coastal states are modernizing their naval and 

coast guard forces and patrols to secure their sea lanes as well as their 

maritime resources.

The South China Sea is also the strategic maritime link between 

the Pacific Ocean and the Indian Ocean. For major naval powers, freedom of navigation through its sea lanes is of paramount importance for 

their naval fleets. The declaration of EEZs by coastal states has led to 
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 109

numerous overlapping and multiplying jurisdictional claims and legal 

confusion over the right to exercise innocent passage through territorial 

seas by warships, and the right to conduct military surveillance activities 

in the EEZ of a coastal state. One tragic result of this confusion was the 

collision between a U.S. EP–3 surveillance aircraft and a Chinese fighter jet in Chinese EEZ waters near Hainan Island on April 1, 2001, and 

the ensuing political crisis. Another example, also near Hainan Island, 

occurred in March 2009, when five Chinese ships confronted an unarmed U.S. ocean surveillance ship, the USNS Impeccable, and engaged 

in “reckless and dangerous maneuvers,” according to Pentagon reports. 

Governing the South China Sea borderlands is becoming more 

important due to the increase in shipping of energy imports and container exports. The volume of oil tanker traffic—already high—will 

increase substantially with the projected increase in Chinese oil imports. Almost all of this additional Asian oil demand, as well as Japan’s 

oil needs, will be imported from the Middle East and Africa. Most tankers pass through the strategic Strait of Malacca into the South China Sea. 

The largest supertankers going to Japan use the wider Lombok Strait 

east of Bali. Clearly, there is a growing concern among coastal states and 

user states to ensure safety and security for the vessels passing through 

these contested and congested borderland waters. 

The Stakeholders 

There are two sets of stakeholders with interests in governing 

activities in the South China Sea borderlands. Countries with extensive coastlines bordering the sea, such as Indonesia, Malaysia, Vietnam, 

and China, mainly want to protect their recently declared sovereign 

rights and resource control in their EEZs that extend up to 200 nautical 

miles beyond their coastlines, as authorized by the 1994 United Nations 

Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS).2 They want to safeguard 

their tourism, fisheries, and other environmental resources from the 

proliferating transit shipping traffic. About 80 percent of all shipping 

through Southeast Asian waters is international transit traffic. Coastal 

countries want international shippers to share the burden of providing 

safety of navigation. 

Nonregional countries with major shipping and naval interests, such as the United States and Japan, want to maintain freedom of 
110 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

navigation through the straits and sea lanes of the South China Sea for 

their oil tankers, container ships, and naval vessels. The United States 

sends its warships, including aircraft carriers from the Pacific Fleet, 

through the South China Sea in support of its military missions in the 

Arabian Sea and Persian Gulf. The sea is the vital artery that connects 

Japan with its Middle East energy suppliers. 

Some countries do not neatly fit into this dichotomy. For example, Singapore, a coastal state with very little coastline, is a major hub in 

the world economy with a vital interest in maintaining safe and secure 

shipping, and therefore it shares many concerns with the United States 

and Japan. China, a coastal state with an extensive coastline and EEZ 

resource claims, is also a major trading and ship-owning country with a 

growing dependence on vital energy imports. 

All these regional and international stakeholders have many overlapping interests—for example, promoting safe navigation through the 

sea. On other issues, such as antipiracy or antiterrorist enforcement 

measures, however, they have had conflicting views. 

From this brief overview, we can see three distinct emphases 

emerging to attempt to control the borderlands of the South China Sea. 

First, international stakeholders want to preserve freedom of the seas 

and the straits of the South China Sea and its archipelagic waterways 

for their commercial and naval vessels. Second, sovereign nations along 

the coastline want to extend and assert their EEZ claims as population 

growth, consumer demand, and technology have increased their economic and political interests in exploiting those zones. Third, there has 

been a countervailing movement, especially evident in the UNCLOS, 

to ensure environmentally sustainable resource use and to preserve the 

natural biodiversity of the sea as a public trust rather than for private 

exploitation. The following four brief case studies will show how these 

emphases emerge and how coastal and international stakeholders with 

varying capabilities are pursuing different interests and organizational 

forms of governance for the South China Sea.

Maritime Terrorism 

Maritime terrorist attacks or threats—politically or ideologically 

motivated attacks against ships—have been scarce around the South 

China Sea. Those few that have occurred were within the territorial 

waters of coastal states. For example, Singapore foiled a terrorist plot in 
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 111

2002 to hit visiting U.S. naval vessels using a smaller boat rigged with 

explosives. The most notable maritime attack to date was carried out by 

the Abu Sayyaf Group on Superferry 14 in Manila Bay in February 2004, 

with 116 people killed or missing and presumed dead. Sam Bateman 

contends that terrorists appreciate the consequences of a ferry disaster: “They know that cruise vessels and ferries might have iconic value, 

and that an attack on one of them could cause many casualties with 

maximum public impact.”3

Some notable factors militate against a successful terrorist attack 

in the South China Sea. Targets are less accessible at sea. A maritime terrorist attack would require a very complex and expensive coordination 

of efforts. An attack, even if successful, could be much less visible than 

a terrorist attack on land. So far, there have been no terrorist attacks or 

hijacking attempts in the maritime borderlands of the South China Sea, 

compared with dozens of terrorist attacks against churches, hotels, and 

other land-based targets. Overall, the probability of a maritime terrorist 

attack appears low.

The greatest concern about the threat of maritime terrorism in 

Southeast Asia was shown by the George W. Bush administration after 

the September 11, 2001, attacks on the United States. Admiral Thomas 

Fargo, then-commander of U.S. forces in the Pacific, while on a visit to 

Singapore and Malaysia warned that the threat of seaborne terrorism 

needed to be taken as seriously as attacks from the air. He was accompanied by Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, who anticipated U.S. forces 

would be hunting terrorists in the Strait of Malacca “pretty soon.”4

Three major international maritime security initiatives were 

launched by the Bush administration, all with implications for governing the territorial seas as well as the high seas of the South China 

Sea: the Container Security Initiative (CSI), the Proliferation Security 

Initiative (PSI), and the Regional Maritime Security Initiative (RMSI). 

While the first two are global in scope, the third was directed specifically at the Strait of Malacca. The CSI, first proposed by the U.S. 

Customs Service in January 2002, aims to identify high-risk containers and to use technology to screen them in the originating ports 

rather than in the destination ports in the United States. In order to 

be approved as a CSI port, a government must agree to allow U.S. 

Customs personnel to supervise the screening of U.S.-bound containers; 

purchase screening equipment to detect illicit narcotics and radiological, 
112 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

chemical, biological, or conventional weapons; submit to U.S. Customs 

an electronic manifest of the containers’ contents at least 24 hours before 

arrival; and install new container screening and security technologies.

The initiative constitutes a major change in global shipping practices by shifting inspection from the arrival port to the loading port. 

There was no significant opposition to the measure; to the contrary, it 

was implemented widely and relatively quickly and smoothly. By the 

end of 2002, 18 of the world’s top 20 container ports were in compliance. By 2006, nearly 50 ports had been certified as CSI-compliant. 

Many ports and states have complied with CSI requirements because 

the economic incentives—getting one’s goods to market as soon as possible—are high. The CSI Web site warns noncompliant ports that their 

U.S.-bound containers may be suspended or banned in the event of a 

terrorist strike or catastrophe. 

The PSI aims to seize shipments of weapons of mass destruction 

(WMD) and missile-related equipment and technologies by sea, land, or 

air before they can fall into the hands of terrorist organizations or their 

state sponsors. Participating states agree to a statement of interdiction 

principles that includes a commitment to board suspicious vessels 

sailing within their national waters and suspicious vessels flying their 

own flag in international waters, and to “seriously consider providing 

consent” to boardings of their own flagged vessels by other PSI states. 

Washington has negotiated bilateral ship boarding agreements 

with several major flag states, including Panama, Liberia, Cyprus, and 

Belize. Under the PSI, if a vessel registered in the United States or any 

partner country is suspected of carrying proliferation-related cargo, 

either one of the parties to the agreement can request authorization for 

boarding, search, and possible detention of the vessel and its cargo. 

While many countries support the PSI, Singapore and 

Thailand are the only ones from Southeast Asia that have done so 

publicly. Despite considerable pressure from Washington to fully and 

publicly participate in PSI, key maritime nations such as China, India, 

Indonesia, and Malaysia have so far not joined. A major obstacle for 

the PSI is that most of the parts for WMD are dual-use, having both 

civilian and WMD applications. The potential interdiction of dualuse materials may thus threaten legitimate commerce. It is also very 

difficult to provide assurances that decisions about interdiction will not 

be politically influenced or based on who is sending or receiving the 

shipment. China has reservations about the efficiency and legality of the 
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 113

PSI because it could be detrimental to its legitimate commercial shipping and trade interests. Indonesia and Malaysia are more concerned 

about arms smuggling, illegal migration, poaching, pollution, and piracy 

than WMDs. As Mark Valencia succinctly puts it, “WMD are simply not 

Malaysia’s or Indonesia’s chief concern.”5

The RMSI focused specifically on counterterrorism measures 

in the Strait of Malacca. Admiral Fargo introduced the initiative in a 

speech to Congress on March 31, 2004, saying that “we’re looking 

at things like . . . putting Special Operations Forces on high-speed 

vessels so that we can use boats that might be incorporated with these 

vessels to conduct effective interdiction in, once again, these sea lines of 

communications where terrorists are known to move about and transit 

throughout the region.”6

Malaysia and Indonesia immediately and vehemently rejected 

the idea of U.S. troops in the area, emphasizing their own capabilities 

in tackling any terrorist threat. Malaysian Deputy Prime Minister 

Najib, who concurrently served as defense minister, emphasized that the 

presence of foreign forces in the region or any interdiction operations in 

the strait would not be tolerated.7

Washington began to backpedal on the idea. Secretary Rumsfeld 

and Pacific Fleet Commander Admiral Walter Doran stated that Admiral Fargo’s earlier comments on the RMSI had been misreported. They 

said the plan was still very much in its early stages, and it would focus 

primarily on intelligence sharing, not a U.S. troop presence. The U.S. 

Navy has since pursued bilateral security agreements in the region. In 

June 2005, for example, it began a series of bilateral naval antiterrorism 

exercises in Southeast Asia as part of the annual Cobra Gold exercise 

regime. In the joint U.S.-Singapore training drill in the South 

China Sea, more than 15,000 troops took part along with naval aircraft, a 

submarine, and 12 ships. A major emphasis of the exercise was preventing a maritime terrorist strike on the high seas. From Singapore the 

U.S. Navy traveled to Malaysia, Thailand, Brunei, Indonesia, and the 

Philippines to continue separate bilateral exercises.

The three U.S. counterterrorism initiatives have encountered 

mixed results: CSI has been widely accepted, RMSI was initially rejected, and PSI gets mixed reviews. Most Southeast Asian nations, with the 

exception of Singapore, have resisted the strong U.S. pressure. However, 

they have been more willing to accept technical and capital assistance 

that would help them to respond to not only a terrorist threat, but 
114 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

also their own pressing maritime borderland concerns such as piracy, 

pollution, and poaching. 

The results of these bilateral and multilateral efforts can be seen 

in the improved counterterrorist response capabilities in the region. For 

example, in March 2010, Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia stepped up 

security in the Strait of Malacca following warning of possible attacks on 

oil tankers. A Thai naval attache in Singapore said the original warning 

came from Japan, which informed the International Maritime Bureau 

(IMB) that ships in the strait could be hijacked. Sea patrols and air surveillance were increased, and ships were advised to take precautions and 

stay in patrolled waters. An Indonesian official said that 13 suspects had 

been detained from a militant training camp in the province of Aceh, at 

the northern end of the strait. The swift coordinated response proved 

effective. The threat did not materialize, shipping routes did not change, 

and insurance costs were not raised. “Trade continues as normal,” 

reported the Joint War Committee at Lloyd’s Market Association.8

Piracy: Scope and Trends 

Piracy is an ancient, persistent, and elusive problem in Southeast 

Asian waterways. Since the 1990s, about half of the reported events of 

piracy in the world have taken place in and around the South China 

Sea. Following the usage of the IMB, this includes the international legal 

definition of piracy as both theft on the high seas as well as armed 

robbery or theft in the territorial waters or ports of coastal states. 

Piracy appears to be largely related to the economic conditions 

of seafarers and fishermen. For example, the big increase in piracy in 

Indonesian waters and ports around the turn of the 21st century may 

be attributed to the country’s sharp economic downturn and domestic 

instability in the wake of the 1997 currency crisis. Some piracy trends 

suggest criminal syndicate involvement: more attackers are armed, 

more vessels are being hijacked, and more crew members are injured or 

held for ransom.9

Coastal states have been under considerable pressure from 

international user states to curb piracy. Indonesia, in particular, has 

been portrayed in the media as not doing enough to suppress it. Several 

factors impede antipiracy efforts: uncertainties over legal jurisdiction, 

disputed sovereignty, and uncoordinated efforts at recovery of crew, 

cargo, or ships. Even when pirates were detected, “hot pursuit” across 

national boundaries was seldom attempted.
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 115

A closer examination of the data on piracy shows that the problem might not be as alarming as sometimes portrayed by the media, 

at least not in economic terms. For example, in 2005 over 63,000 ships 

sailed through the Straits of Malacca and Singapore. In the same year, 

the IMB reported 12 cases of actual and attempted attacks on ships in 

the straits. Hence, the probability of attack is a relatively low rate of 0.019 

percent, or 19 out of 100,000. Moreover, many of these reported piracy 

attacks were little more than cases of petty theft against ships at anchor 

in port. The IMB estimates that the average haul of an attack is under 

$10,000.10

Many ship owners are reluctant to report pirate attacks to the 

authorities or to otherwise assist in their investigation. In fact, many 

shipping companies explicitly prohibit ship masters from reporting 

pirate attacks. Apart from reflecting badly on the company’s image, 

reporting an attack may mean that the victim vessel will be detained in 

harbor for investigation, and the cost of such delays may easily exceed 

the losses incurred by a pirate attack. If suspected pirates are arrested, 

crew members of the victim ship may be unable or unwilling to bear the 

expense or risk of testifying at the trial.

Many low-cost antipiracy measures are available, such as equipping the superstructure with proper locks and providing antipiracy 

training. However, ship owners and insurance companies have little 

economic incentive to implement such measures. That reluctance, 

rather than the neglect or incompetence of coastal states, may be the 

main reason why piracy persists in the South China Sea.

Representatives of the governments of Indonesia and Malaysia 

have frequently asked shipping companies and the international community to share the costs of policing the Strait of Malacca against pirates. 

Their requests, however, are met with little enthusiasm from most international actors involved—with the notable exception of Japan, which 

has funded a number of initiatives to provide training and resources to 

the law enforcement authorities in the region. Contrary to the popular 

impression from news media reports, most ship owners have not seen 

piracy as a menace to international shipping. 

For some coastal states, any proposed international coordination 

to combat terrorism or piracy is a lesser priority than other issues such as 

maintaining control over newly acquired EEZ resources. With a coastline twice as long as the circumference of the Earth, and with no more 

than a few dozen operating vessels to patrol its territorial waters, the 
116 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Indonesian navy and marine police face a range of problems, including 

illegal fishing, illegal migration, human trafficking, drug smuggling, 

and marine pollution. The Indonesian government has estimated that 

the country loses $4 billion each year due to illegal fishing alone—several times more than the estimated cost of all pirate attacks worldwide.

Regional concerns about terrorism and piracy changed substantially after June 2005, when the Joint War Committee of the London 

marine insurance market listed the Malacca Strait and certain areas in 

the southern Philippines as “prone to hull war, strikes, terrorism and 

related perils” (together with areas such as Iraq, Lebanon, and Somalia). As a result, marine insurance premiums were increased for vessels 

transiting these areas despite very strong protests by regional governments and ship owners. The Joint War Committee removed the listing 

in August 2006 after regional governments—with the assistance of 

international organizations and user states—instituted several security 

measures. The International Piracy Control Center in Kuala Lumpur and 

the International Maritime Organization’s Piracy Reporting Centre in 

London stepped up monitoring efforts. The Association of Southeast 

Asian Nations (ASEAN) Regional Forum convened a meeting of maritime specialists to coordinate coast guard action, information exchange, 

and investigation of piracy reports. Japan’s Antipiracy Coast Guard 

Program provided additional antipiracy technologies and training. 

Singapore has taken the most forceful measures to address maritime security threats. It was the first Asian port to join the U.S.-sponsored CSI and has provided sea security teams to escort selected vessels 

transiting the Strait of Singapore. It has restricted circulation of small 

craft and ferries within the port area and increased surveillance efforts 

by installing tracking devices on all Singapore-registered small boats to 

identify their location, course, and speed. Together with Indonesia, it 

operates a radar tracking system on Batam Island to identify, track, and 

exchange intelligence on shipping in the Singapore Strait. 

In 2003, Malaysia and Thailand started coordinated naval patrols 

along their maritime frontier. Following this, in 2004, Singapore, 

Malaysia, and Indonesia began coordinated naval patrols in the Strait of 

Malacca. In September 2005, the “eyes in the sky” initiative began with 

air patrols over the strait by the three coastal states. The Philippines, 

meanwhile, has proposed building on its maritime border patrol exercises with Malaysia and Indonesia by formalizing a tripartite agreement 

to exchange information and intelligence. 
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 117

Piracy has historically been a pretext for foreign intervention, 

but coastal states are now insistent that antipiracy measures should be 

locally initiated and led. They are willing to accept external assistance—

especially to modernize their naval and coast guard capabilities—but 

they contend that ultimately they must have the capability for 

implementation. Slowly and erratically, they are acquiring that capability. As a result of these monitoring efforts and antipiracy patrols, piracy 

substantially declined in the key shipping lanes from 2004 to 2008.

However, since then, pirate attacks have been increasing worldwide, with 406 incidents recorded in 2009, the most since 2003. This 

has occurred despite high-profile patrols mounted by multinational 

navies in hotspots like the Gulf of Aden and Malacca Strait. The most 

dramatic of these were the ship hijackings by Somali pirates, including the seizures of the Ukrainian MV Faina, with its cargo of heavy 

tanks and weapons, in September 2008 and the fully laden Saudi-owned 

tanker Sirius Star 2 months later.

The international community responded quickly. The United 

Nations (UN) passed four resolutions on piracy, the European Union 

and North Atlantic Treaty Organization authorized the deployment 

of multilateral counterpiracy forces, and several countries contributed 

naval resources to antipiracy efforts off the coast of Somalia, including 

China, Denmark, France, India, Iran, the Netherlands, Pakistan, Russia, 

the United Kingdom, and the United States. 

This quick antipiracy response for the Horn of Africa had little 

effect on piracy around the South China Sea. The IMB reported 13 

attacks in the South China Sea in 2009, the highest in 5 years. There were 

nine attacks in the Singapore Straits, up from six in 2008. Thirty-two 

Singapore-flagged vessels were set upon by pirates in 2009—a 5-year 

high. Maritime piracy remains a global criminal activity.11

Many shippers have improved their onboard deterrents. Many 

states have collaborated to dispatch naval warships to those regions most 

affected by piracy. The UN has applied pressure through the Convention 

for the Suppression of Unlawful Acts against the Safety of Maritime 

Navigation (SUA Convention). In addition, UN Security Council resolutions reaffirmed the power of navies to pursue pirates. In the case of 

Somalia, they expanded these powers by authorizing pursuit on land. 

Through these efforts, hundreds of pirates have been captured 

over the last 2 years. However, few of the captured pirates have been 

brought to trial, and many have been released without prosecution. The 
118 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

dilemma led participants in one workshop to conclude that despite more 

than 400 years of experience with pirates, nation-states have not found a 

viable and sustainable solution to this crime. Ultimately, what is needed 

is the integration of three vital components: better operational definitions 

of piracy in international law, criminalization of piracy and enforcement 

in national jurisdictions, and coordinated naval operations.12

Transboundary Pollution: Lessons of the 1997 Smoke Haze Crisis 

Transboundary air pollution over the South China Sea takes 

many forms, including carbon and sulfur emissions from the smokestacks of coal-fired power stations, aluminum smelters, and cement 

and steel factories, along with motor vehicle emissions of additional 

particulate and aerosol pollution. However, the relatively sudden and 

costly smoke pollution from Indonesian forest fires in 1997 precipitated 

a highly publicized transboundary air pollution crisis. The 1998 State of 

the World Report noted that:

[a] plume of smoke larger than the continental United States 

has spread across Southeast Asia, turning the skies dark and 

leaving at least 20 million people choking on air that has 

become a toxic soup, killing hundreds outright. The areas 

affected include Brunei, Indonesia, Malaysia, Papua New 

Guinea, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam. 

The massive forest and peat fires swept Borneo and Sumatra 

in the fall of 1997 and sent life-threatening pollution to cities 

more than 1,000 kilometers away.13

Forest fires are not normal in tropical rainforests, but the immediate cause was clear: the fires were started by pulp, palm oil, and rubber 

plantation owners to clear natural forest in Indonesia. Then they spread 

to at least 2 million hectares of forest and underground peat deposits. 

Tens of millions of people were sickened, hundreds died, and schools, 

transportation, and businesses were shut down. Enormous amounts of 

carbon dioxide were added to the atmosphere. 

ASEAN has discussed and passed resolutions on regional environment issues for several years. In 1995, ASEAN ministers agreed 

on a landmark plan specifically related to the South China Sea to 

combat air and marine pollution and control hazardous wastes. 

The accord outlined measures for preventing and controlling forest 

fires, including an early warning system; however, there were few 
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 119

concrete changes in the underlying cause: the practices of domestic and 

multinational commercial loggers, corporate traders, and state forest 

management agencies in Indonesia. 

There was broad agreement that the smoke haze problem originated in Indonesia and therefore was Indonesia’s responsibility to 

resolve, not ASEAN’s. However, not until the 1997 forest fires did ASEAN 

overcome its longstanding custom of noninterference and begin movement toward a framework convention on regional air pollution. ASEAN 

environment ministers met in December 1997 to devise a Regional 

Haze Action Plan (RHAP). They met again in early 1998 to coordinate 

firefighting efforts. Malaysia would concentrate on fire prevention, 

Singapore on satellite monitoring, and Indonesia on fire-fighting. 

Detailed satellite data on smoke haze is now accessible to all ASEAN 

countries. The Asian Development Bank supported the plan with a $1 

million grant to Indonesia for an advisory technical assistance program 

and another $1 million grant to ASEAN for a regional technical assistance 

program for strengthening ASEAN’s capacity in preventing and mitigating transboundary atmospheric pollution resulting from the forest fires.

A genuine regional effort has emerged to deal with a problem that 

transcends national boundaries. As a result of the RHAP, the tackling 

and controlling of forest fires and the resulting smoke haze are no 

longer an individual undertaking of the affected countries, but rather a 

coordinated response by the ASEAN member countries. If this initiative 

continues to enjoy strong leadership, it could become an important 

precedent in formulating a collective response to other regional 

environmental problems. Unfortunately, there has not been continuous 

strong leadership for the RHAP. The 1997–1998 currency crises 

and subsequent political instabilities disrupted the full institutionalization of the RHAP. Pervasive smoke haze reoccurred in 2006 

despite widespread satellite monitoring efforts and warnings about 

rising economic and health costs. So far, the RHAP has not been able 

to compel compliance and enforcement; it has limited effectiveness. 

Poaching 

For centuries, the South China Sea has been an abundant source 

of fish for food security and employment opportunities for coastal countries. However, as coastal urban populations have grown and as fishing 

technology has improved, competition for the shared fish stocks of the 

China seas has intensified considerably. Poaching, or illegal, unreported, or 
120 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

unregulated fishing, has become widespread. Fish catch rates began to decline in the 1970s, with sharper declines registered in the mid-1980s. As a 

result of bottom trawlers coming into widespread use in the 1990s, many 

species are now on the brink of extinction. Clearly, the coastal countries 

have good reason to cooperate to avoid a tragedy of the commons. 

Given the migratory pattern of many species and the common 

pool nature of the South China Sea, no single country would be able 

to manage or conserve the common migratory fish stocks. Where EEZ 

claims overlap, UNCLOS calls for establishing joint resource management areas and provides guidelines for doing so, even where conflicting 

territorial claims are unresolved. 

Several joint resource management areas have been established 

that straddle the borderlands of maritime Southeast Asia, such as the 

1979 Malaysia-Thailand Joint Authority for the Gulf of Thailand (see 

map 5–1). One recent area merits examination as it incorporates the 

key components of successful regional resource management, the joint 

resource management agreements between China and Vietnam in 

the Beibu or Tonkin Gulf. The agreements took effect in 2004, have a 

term of 15 years, and address three key issues. First, they reaffirm each 

country’s exclusive rights over fishery resources and fishing activities 

in its own EEZ. Second, they establish general principles for reciprocal 

fishing access in each other’s EEZ. Third, the agreements create a 

cooperative management regime for their shared fishery resources.14

The agreements established a Joint Fishery Committee (JFC) with 

representatives from each country to conduct research on the status of 

fisheries, consult with fishing industry interests, and make recommendations on access to fishing zones, fishing quotas, types of species to be 

caught, and other conditions for fishing. 

The JFC establishes areas for joint fisheries management in the 

common sea between the coastal countries. In addition, the agreement 

also includes a buffer zone for fishing boats. This attempts to regulate the 

many small-sized fishing boats with limited communications and navigation equipment near the China-Vietnam shoreline. Some are not even 

motorized. Illegal entry by mistake is inevitable and understandable. 

Hence, Chinese and Vietnamese negotiators established this buffer zone 

to avoid unnecessary disputes by unintentional illegal entry.

The JFC has the power to decide on conservation and management measures, including the allocation of fishing quotas and the
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 121

Map 5–1. South China Sea Maritime Claims

maintenance of fishing order. Its major responsibility is to determine 

each year how many fishing vessels of each country to permit in the 

joint resource management areas. Fishing vessels of one country need 

to apply for a license to fish in the other country’s EEZ. They have to 

comply with the terms of the joint fisheries agreement as well as the 

domestic laws and regulations of that country. Any violation is subject 

to legal procedures of the country controlling the EEZ where the fishing 

takes place. In the case of seizure or detention, the fishing vessels 

and crew must be promptly released upon posting a bond or other 

form of security. 
122 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

The Sino-Vietnamese agreement for the Beibu/Tonkin Gulf is 

distinctive in that it establishes a cooperative fisheries management program within demarcated maritime zones. It is a permanent body with 

full operational authority, including a dispute settlement mechanism.15

The contracting parties have made an effort to carry out periodic joint 

patrols to prevent illegal fishing. They have also conducted monitoring, 

surveillance, and control of fishing vessels, including boarding and 

inspection. However, few workable enforcement mechanisms have been 

established. Many fishermen find it difficult to accept that they cannot 

fish in waters where they have done so for years. Hence, monitoring and 

enforcement efforts need to be strengthened to improve the effectiveness of the agreements.

From a resource management perspective, the main limitation of 

these agreements is that they focus on managing fishing activity in designated areas that only comprise part of the fishery ecosystem. Many 

fish stocks migrate seasonally from the management zones to unrestricted fishing waters, which remain open for unrestricted exploitation 

of fish stocks. 

Another limitation is that the JFCs have little transparency or accountability. They make their decisions behind closed doors with no 

public participation or dispute settlement mechanisms for redress of 

grievances. The JFCs generally do not publish their deliberations, the 

data upon which their decisions are based, or the results of scientific 

findings. Hence, it is difficult to fully understand the rationale for the 

regulations.

Notwithstanding these limitations, the agreements are important 

pioneering efforts. The key ingredients to the success of these agreements are a clear maritime boundary delimitation agreement, specific 

rights and responsibilities for the contracting parties, and compelling 

reasons for cooperative fisheries management. As long as ecosystems 

do not match political jurisdictions, cooperation is imperative for 

sustainable fisheries.

Conclusion 

The number and intensity of regional maritime problems in the 

South China Sea are increasing. However, there are few effective multilateral regimes there. With the notable exception of managing shipping 
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 123

traffic, there have only been a few ad hoc, issue-specific agreements with 

varying degrees of effectiveness. What explains this limited progress?

One reason is that the international user states themselves have 

divergent priorities. For example, U.S. policy in the region has often 

been driven primarily by its global war on terrorism. Japan is primarily 

interested in antipiracy measures, reflecting its acute vulnerability to 

any disruption to its trade and raw materials flows. 

A second reason for limited progress is that many coastal states 

give top priority to protecting national sovereignty and controlling their 

recently acquired ocean resources. In cases where EEZ claims overlap, 

joint resource development agreements have been negotiated, as in the 

Tonkin Gulf. Other conflicting territorial claims, as in the Spratly Islands, 

remain unresolved but have been deferred for future consideration.

A third reason for limited cooperation is that military and intelligence-gathering activities are becoming more intensive, intrusive, 

controversial, and dangerous. There is general agreement that the exercise of freedom of navigation and overflight in and above EEZs should 

not interfere with the rights of the coastal state. However, there is still 

disagreement about when overflights become intrusive eavesdropping 

missions to scout the defenses of potential rivals. 

A fourth reason is that many governments in the region have 

limited enthusiasm about America’s antiterrorism efforts. They remain 

sensitive to any infringement of sovereignty, especially by the naval 

forces of user states. This was clearly evident in the initial rejection by 

Indonesia and Malaysia of the U.S. proposal for RMSI and in the wider 

regional opposition to Japan’s early and ambitious proposal for a regional Ocean Peace Keeping arrangement. 

A fifth reason is the divergence between unilateral and multilateral methods of regime building. CSI and PSI “not only change 

the rules by which the high seas are governed, but they change the 

way in which those rules are determined.”16 The Bush administration 

introduced CSI and PSI unilaterally and then negotiated a network of 

formal bilateral agreements to include other countries. They represent 

a sea change, a substantial departure from the multilateral, negotiated 

consensus process that characterized development of UNCLOS. 

Kerry Lynn Nankivell asserts that CSI and PSI indicate a new form of 

regime formation—“cooperative unilateralism”—that represents “the 
124 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

gradual movement away from the Westphalian to a hegemonic system 

of states.” Some were concerned about “American praetorian unilateralism.”17 Valencia finds that: 

most of the PSI’s shortcomings stem from its ad-hoc, 

extra-UN, U.S. driven nature. Bringing it into the UN 

system would rectify many of these shortcomings by 

loosening U.S. control, enhancing its legitimacy, and 

engendering near universal support. Whether or not the 

PSI is formally brought into the UN system, its reach and 

effectiveness could be improved by eliminating doublestandards . . . and increasing transparency.18

Despite the many factors inhibiting regional cooperation, coastal 

state governments and user states recognize they have shared interests 

in ensuring that the resources and sea lanes of the South China Sea are 

used effectively and sustainably. But they differ markedly on the means 

for achieving them. 

The most promising recent areas for regional cooperation 

concern safety, security, and environmental protection in the Straits 

of Malacca and Singapore. In September 2006, Malaysia and the 

International Maritime Organization (IMO) organized a meeting in 

Kuala Lumpur of coastal states, major shipping nations, and shipping 

companies. Working groups on safety of navigation and maritime security were established to undertake projects on issues such as the removal 

of shipwrecks, the establishment of a hazardous and noxious substance 

response center, the installation of automatic identification system 

transponders for small ships, and the placement of tide, current, and 

wind measurement systems. 

Substantial voluntary contributions have been made by China 

and Japan for these projects. Some have advocated a toll-road or user-pays system to help fund pollution cleanup and navigational aids. 

The United States and many shippers, however, strongly oppose the 

introduction of any fees. They prefer to see greater transparency and 

accountability in any use of funds for maritime safety and security. 

They would also like to see Malaysia and Indonesia ratify the 1979 

Convention on Maritime Search and Rescue, the SUA Convention, 

and the Regional Cooperation Agreement on Combating Piracy and 

Armed Robbery against Ships in Asia. Given the limited funding and 
THE MARITIME BORDERLANDS 125

compliance with international conventions, there is still no effective 

governance of the sea lanes of the South China Sea. The current situation is far from the most ambitious proposal by the World Bank, UN 

Development Programme, and IMO to construct a Marine Electronic 

Highway, a shipping traffic control system similar to the global air 

traffic control arrangement, with comprehensive, integrated electronic 

information, navigation, and control systems. 

Whatever their conflicting claims and mutual suspicions may be, 

political leaders in the coastal states are beginning to understand that 

they must cooperate in order to manage the increase in shipping traffic, to address maritime security threats, and to use the resources of the 

South China Sea sustainably. While some progress has been made, there 

is as yet no durable agreement on how to share the burden for providing 

safety and security in the region. 

Regional problems require regional solutions, but they are taking many different forms, including cooperative unilateralism as in the 

case of the U.S.-initiated Container Security Initiative, multilateral institutionalization as in the case of the UNCLOS, or through a network of 

similar bilateral and regional agreements on specific issues such as joint 

fisheries committees and coordinated naval patrols. Clearly, there are 

many ways for coastal and international stakeholders with varying capabilities and diverse interests to manage the common transboundary 

issues in their maritime borderlands. The nation-states of Southeast Asia 

that have only recently extended their sovereignty and resource claims 

to EEZs in the South China Sea are in no rush to negotiate them away.

Notes

1 Hugo Grotius, Mare Liberum, The Freedom of the Seas, or the Right Which Belongs to the Dutch 

to Take Part in the East Indian Trade (1608), trans. Ralph Van Deman Magoffin (New York: Oxford 

University Press, 1916).

2 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, 2006. Full text, related agreements, and 

ratifications are available from the United Nations Web site at <www.un.org/Depts/los/index.

htm>.

3 Sam Bateman, “Ferry Safety: A Neglected Aspect of Maritime Security?” Institute of Defence and Strategic Studies Commentaries 31 (2006).

4 “U.S. to Hunt Malacca Terrorists,” Channel News Asia, June 23, 2004.

5 Mark J. Valencia, “The Proliferation Security Initiative: Making Waves in Asia,” Adelphi 

Paper 376 (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2005), 59.
126 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

6 “Crack U.S. Troops May be Used to Flush Out Terrorists in Key Southeast Asian Waterway,” 

Channel News Asia, April 5, 2004.

7 John Burton, “Countries Oppose U.S. Offer to Patrol Malacca,” Financial Times, April 5, 

2004.

8 Neil Chatterjee, “Security Raised in Malacca Strait after Terror Warning,” Reuters, March 4, 

2010, available at <www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE62335120100304>.

9 Catherine Zara Raymond, “Piracy in Southeast Asia: New Trends, Issues, and Responses,” 

Harvard Asia Quarterly, May 24, 2006.

10 International Maritime Bureau, Piracy Reporting Centre, 2005, 5.

11 “World Pirate Attacks Soar,” Straits Times, January 14, 2010, available at <www.straitstimes.

com/BreakingNews/SEAsia/Story/STIStory_477258.html>.

12 Elizabeth Andersen, Benjamin Brockman-Hawe, and Patricia Goff, “Suppressing Maritime 

Piracy: Exploring the Options in International Law,” workshop report, One Earth Future, 2009, 

available at <www.oneearthfuture.org>.

13 Lester Brown, State of the World 1998, WorldWatch Institute (New York: Norton, 1998), 

xvii.

14 Zou Keyuan, “The Sino-Vietnamese Agreement on Maritime Boundary Delimitation in 

the Gulf of Tonkin,” Ocean Development and International Law 36 (2005), 13–24.

15 Nguyen Hong Thao, “Maritime Delimitation and Fishery Cooperation in the Tonkin Gulf,” 

Ocean Development and International Law 36 (2005), 25–44.

16 Kerry Lynn Nankivell, “The Container and Security Initiatives: A First Look,” CANCAPS 

Bulletin 41 (May 2004).

17 R. Ramakrishna, “9/11, American Praetorian Unilateralism and the Impact on State-Society Relations in Southeast Asia,” IDSS Working Paper 26 (Singapore: Institute of Defence and 

Strategic Studies, June 2002). 

18 Mark J. Valencia, “The Proliferation Security Initiative in Perspective,” Policy Forum Online 06-41A, Nautilus Institute (May 25, 2006), accessed at <www.nautilus.org/fora/

security/0641Valencia.html>.
Chapter 6

Bilateral and Multilateral Trade 

Arrangements in Southeast Asia: 

Forces for Integration? 

Dick K. Nanto

A tangled web of regional and bilateral trade agreements within 

Southeast Asia and between the Association of Southeast Asian Nations 

(ASEAN) and countries outside the region is causing national borders 

to ripple as their restraining effects on trade flows are pushed from 

inside to outside the ASEAN states (see map 6–1). While intra-ASEAN 

boundaries are fading, those that separate ASEAN from non-ASEAN 

states are both becoming more distinct and stretching to include 

several other trading partners. The driving force behind these trends is 

globalization and the free trade agreements that follow. This is causing 

a fundamental shift in economic relationships among countries in 

this part of Asia and how they view the cartographic delineations that 

surround them.

As bureaucratic resistance to the international spread of manufacturing and consumption dissipates, the economic constraints of country 

borders also are becoming less binding. Supply chains now resemble 

botanical diagrams of trees. Their roots cross national boundaries as they 

seek to pull in components for assembly from multiple sources. Their 

branches reach toward the sunshine of demand and carry the finished 

products to be sold into any country with marketing space. Markets once 

local have become national, markets once national have become regional, 

and markets once regional have become global.

Nearly absent from this push for globalization has been ideology. 

For much of the post–World War II period, ideological battles pushed 

some nations apart and pulled others together. East Asia was divided 

into blocs with communist countries on one side confronting the United 

States and its allies on the other. The ideological clash often manifested 

itself in struggles for political ascendency, and, in the cases of Vietnam

127
128 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Map 6–1. Trade Arrangements in Southeast Asia

and Korea, the great power rivalry led to open warfare. During this time, 

international trade flows tended to be channeled by political alliances. The 

American market served both as the anchor of the Asia Pacific economy 

and the preferred export destination for many of the noncommunist 

countries. China and the Soviet Union also maintained trading blocs. 

Some businesses danced around the limits set by the ideological propensities of their respective governments, but by and large, trade flows 

settled into channels of least political, as well as economic, resistance.

Governments also used trade policy, particularly the protection of 

certain industries, as a tool of development. The export-led industrialization practiced by Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan called for protection of 

infant industries while promoting industrial competitiveness by inducing 

them to venture into international export markets. For Southeast Asian 

nations, this often meant that selling certain manufactures in relatively 

open though distant markets, such as those in the United States, became 

easier than exporting them to a neighboring country. The revolutions in 

communications and shipping exacerbated this trend.
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 129

Currently, Southeast Asia is riding the crest of a third wave of 

industrialization. The first was more of a wake than a wave as Japan 

quadrupled its national income over the 1960s. Then came the Asian 

tigers of South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore as they 

emulated the Japanese model and crashed through markets around 

the world. Now, Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia are joining with 

China in a new wave of industrialization that is establishing Asia as a 

preferred manufacturing platform for industries across the globe. These 

waves of industrialization, combined with a revolution in information 

technology and communications, have created ideal conditions for the 

countries of Southeast Asia to rethink their economic relationships with 

each other, to reduce border barriers, and to join together in regional 

trade arrangements. 

U.S. Trade Policy and Challenges 

As U.S. policy toward economic arrangements in East Asia evolves, 

it is turning on matters of intensity, inclusiveness, and final structure. 

Should the United States intensify its efforts to either hinder or support the architecture? Who should be included in the arrangements? 

Should the groupings be exclusively Asian? The current U.S. policy appears to be to hedge by not trying to block attempts to create exclusive 

Asian free trade agreements (FTAs) but doing deals to keep from being 

cut out from their benefits. On the security side, U.S. interest in stability, 

counterterrorism, and nonproliferation in East Asia is so great that the 

United States has sought a seat at the table when Asians meet to address 

security issues. An American presence is not as crucial in trade because 

most transactions are done by private entities on a win-win basis. FTAs 

can lower barriers for participants but not raise them to outsiders.

At the core of U.S. concern over the developing regional architecture in East Asia is the growing influence of China. A danger exists that 

if China comes to dominate regional institutions in East Asia, it could 

steer them down a path inimical to U.S. interests. Some Asian nations, 

however, are wary of excessive Chinese influence and are hedging and 

maneuvering against possible Chinese dominance.

The Obama administration was late in addressing issues of international trade because of the urgency of dealing with the global financial 

crisis and the push for health care legislation. In 2009, most U.S. trade 
130 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

policy relied on existing mechanisms to protect American industries 

from unfair trade and from surges in imports (such as increased tariffs 

on imports of tires from China) and on taking no action on pending free 

trade agreements with Colombia, Panama, and South Korea. During the 

debate on health care, the Obama administration could scarcely afford 

to offend constituencies, such as the labor unions, by pursuing measures 

to liberalize trade. In March 2010, following the passage of the health 

care legislation, the administration was able to turn its attention to other 

pressing issues, including international trade policy.

In Congress, the Democratic majority still was wary of additional 

free trade agreements. This generally reflected public opinion. In November 2009, the Pew Research Center found that 85 percent of survey 

respondents said that protecting jobs should be a top foreign policy 

priority and that economic issues were the greatest international 

problem confronting the United States, followed closely by the wars in 

Afghanistan and Iraq. As for FTAs, 43 percent said that they were good 

for the country, while 32 percent said that they were bad. According to 

the Pew survey, 53 percent thought FTAs lead to job losses, 49 percent to 

lower wages, and 42 percent to slower economic growth.1

Members of Congress have cited specific arguments against 

approving the three pending free trade agreements (anti-labor activities in Colombia, potential tax havens in Panama, and the protected 

automobile market in South Korea), but the inaction seems to reflect 

a general reluctance to approve any FTAs at all unless they are likely 

to create, rather than destroy, U.S. jobs. Other trade policy issues in 

Congress have been China’s undervalued currency, trade enforcement, 

consumer safety for imported goods, and environmental protection as 

it relates to trade. 

A majority of Representatives had signed on to the proposed 

Trade Act of 2009 (H.R. 3012). This bill would require biennial reviews 

of certain free trade agreements and would provide that implementing 

bills of new agreements not be subject to expedited consideration unless 

such agreements included certain standards with respect to aspects such 

as labor, human rights, the environment and public safety, and food and 

product safety. The bill also would require the President to submit a plan 

to Congress for the renegotiation of existing trade agreements to bring 

them into compliance with such standards.
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 131

The Obama administration’s 2010 Trade Policy Agenda has 

included the following: doubling U.S. exports over the next 5 years (National Export Initiative); maintaining a commitment to a rules-based 

global trading system (including a balanced Doha Round agreement); 

enforcing trade rights (including intellectual property rights and trade 

rules); opening markets abroad to enhance U.S. job growth and innovation; working to resolve outstanding issues in pending FTAs and build 

on existing trade and investment arrangements; facilitating progress on 

national energy and environmental goals; and fostering stronger partnerships with developing and poor nations. The administration also is 

exploring the possibility of negotiating a multilateral agreement providing for free trade in environmental goods and for removing nontariff 

barriers to environmentally friendly services.

With respect to the Asia Pacific region, the 2010 Obama Trade 

Agenda states:

The Asia-Pacific region, encompassing Asia and the 

Americas, already constitutes the largest share of the 

world economy, and that share will continue to grow in 

the coming decade. If the United States is to benefit from 

more exports, job expansion, and accelerated innovation 

through trade, the Asia-Pacific must take a central place 

in our trade agenda. And countries in that region must 

see the United States as a committed and engaged trading 

partner if we are to remain similarly at the center of its 

network of intensifying trade relationships.2

With respect to regional trade arrangements, the Obama administration is pursuing two initiatives. On March 15, 2010, the United 

States entered negotiations to join a regional Asia Pacific trade agreement known as the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) agreement. The 

United States, Australia, Peru, and Vietnam are seeking to join the 

four existing members of the pact: Singapore, Chile, Brunei, and New 

Zealand. The administration believes that the TPP is the strongest 

vehicle for achieving economic integration across the Asia Pacific region 

and advancing U.S. economic interests there. It intends to build on the 

most forward-looking aspects of existing FTAs to shape a broad, deep, 

and high-quality 21st-century regional trade agreement. A new focus is 
132 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

on the efficiency of regional business supply chains and the concerns of 

small- and medium-sized businesses. The supply chain focus initially 

will attempt to harmonize regulations dealing with product safety and 

other such aspects of transnational manufacturing. 

The administration also holds out the prospect that other countries (such as South Korea) will join the TPP negotiations and that, over 

the long term, the TPP will become the basis for a Free Trade Area of 

the Asia Pacific (FTAAP), which is the second regional trade initiative 

of the Obama administration. This would span the 21 economies of 

the Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) forum and is the only 

regional trade proposal that includes Taiwan. The administration said 

that it intends to work with trading partners in the region to build 

consensus and advance work on critical trade and investment issues 

leading up to 2011 when the United States will host the APEC Leaders’ 

Meeting in Honolulu. 

In addition, the Obama administration supports ASEAN integration and intends to continue working with ASEAN to build economic 

relationships in the region.3 U.S. policy has been to conclude bilateral 

FTAs with individual Asian countries and work toward a U.S.-ASEAN 

FTA that would serve as a counterweight to the China-ASEAN FTA. In 

August 2006, ASEAN and the United States signed a Trade and Investment Framework Agreement that may serve as a precursor to an FTA.

A question for the United States is whether the development of regional free trade arrangements in Asia represents a shift in power, a shift 

in problems, or a shift in paradigm.4 The rise of China along with Japan 

and South Korea’s economic power already has caused a shift in the 

manufacturing activity toward Asia. While the United States still is the 

largest economy in the world, the combination of ASEAN plus China, 

Japan, South Korea, Australia, and India would form a trading bloc 

that would be roughly equal in size to North America or the European 

Union. It is not clear, however, if China’s participation in regional trading 

arrangements would increase or blunt its ability to exercise power. 

Does the rise of an Asian trading bloc based on ASEAN or one 

spanning the Pacific Ocean provide an opportunity to shift problems 

from ad hoc or single-nation solutions toward multilateral resolution? 

In the 21st century, more and more problems are international in nature 

and can be resolved only through international cooperation and coordination. Financial crises, climate change, nonstate terrorism, contagious 
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 133

diseases, and product safety are as much global as national problems. 

Regional groupings of countries, whether as formal economic communities or merely publicity and social venues, may provide impetus for 

greater cooperation on and awareness of such issues. Even though the 

ultimate resolution of such problems depends on national responses, 

international coordination helps to ensure that each country adopts the 

best practices and that burdens are borne equally among countries.

Even though pre–World War II empires often had free trade and 

easy movement of labor, the nation-state remained the focus of most 

economic policy. International trade was conceptualized as country A 

exchanging goods with country B according to each country’s comparative advantage. The paradigm began to shift in the postwar period 

with the formation of the European Community, the North American 

Free Trade Agreement, the Eurozone, and other economic groupings of 

countries. This coincided with the development of global supply chains 

by businesses, cheap telecommunications, reliable and low-cost shipping, 

and the fracturing of the manufacturing processes into segments that 

could be located almost anywhere in the world. The shift in paradigm 

is that while sovereign governments may view trade as between nations, companies view much of it as within their supply chain. They 

seek regulatory structures that are harmonized from country to country 

and that allow them to focus on the development, production, and sales 

of products rather than on border barriers, certificates of origin, and 

differing regulatory regimes. Businesses seek trading arrangements that 

are inclusive (more members) and extensive (cover more aspects of the 

economy). 

Why Join Together?

The role of nations in legitimate economic activity is to provide 

the conduit for it to occur, to facilitate it, to regulate it, and in some cases to own it. In the case of international trade, however, the problem for 

nations is that the space above national borders tends to be anarchic 

and without order or standards of behavior. In facilitating trade in this 

anarchic space, governments establish trading rules, cede preferential 

benefits to other nations through formal mechanisms, and establish neutral institutions as umbrellas for supranational rulemaking and dispute 

settlement, or they may intervene to impair the trade of certain countries for political purposes (such as by imposing economic sanctions). 
134 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

After the retreat from trade during the Great Depression and World 

War II, nations sought to fill the anarchic void by first establishing the 

General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade and then, in 1995, the 

153-member World Trade Organization (WTO). 

Unlike international political interaction, international economic 

transactions tend to be self-generating and positive-sum because they 

provide benefits to both buyers and sellers (each side gains from the 

exchanges). Otherwise, the transactions would not occur. In cases, 

however, private parties may gain from trades but impose losses on 

nations (such as in illicit weapons or drug trade). In this sense, economic 

transactions differ from zero-sum security exchanges, such as war, in 

which one side’s gain is the other side’s loss.

Countries join in free trade and other economic agreements to 

gain certain advantages. The benefits of FTAs for exports, imports, or 

investments usually go beyond those available through global concessions agreed to multilaterally under the WTO. The organization’s rules 

allow for FTAs, but they can only lower barriers between signatory 

countries. They cannot raise them for other nations.

As with the European Union or the North American Free Trade 

Agreement, preferential trade arrangements usually follow existing 

trade patterns. FTAs do not spring into existence ex nihilo, although in 

some cases, they are pursued for strategic rather than purely economic 

reasons.

Trading arrangements and economic institutions also provide 

a platform for countries to take leadership roles and to spread their 

influence. The end of the Cold War brought unipolarity, with the United 

States as the sole remaining superpower. Asian nations recognize 

that the United States will continue to exercise major influence in the 

region, but ASEAN and China both are using their leadership in trade 

negotiations to climb the international diplomatic ladder. Beijing, in 

particular, sees regional trade and other economic arrangements as a 

vehicle to promote economic interaction with countries that may be 

wary of its growing strategic and political reach. For China, leadership of 

exclusive Asian organizations, including regional trading blocs, may 

help it reclaim what it considers to be its historical position as the “center 

kingdom of the world” and leader of Asia.

The economic effects of trade agreements are manifested in both 

trade diversion and trade creation. FTAs divert existing trade toward 
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 135

the signatory countries but may also create more trade overall. In addition, free trade and other trade agreements may lock in market access or 

other benefits provided by one government that are under risk of being 

withdrawn by successive governments. They also may induce governments to take politically difficult actions, such as opening agricultural 

markets or providing labor rights or protection for the environment, 

that may be too risky for politicians to undertake without external 

pressure and a scapegoat to blame.

Any change in the rules of trade creates winners and losers—

those who can take advantage of the new trading regime and those who 

will be harmed by it. Those hurt tend to be in industries previously 

protected by tariffs, regulations, or other government action. Under a 

theoretical cost-benefit calculus, a government should pursue an FTA if 

the gains exceed the losses by a sufficiently large margin that even if the 

gainers compensate the losers, society still emerges with a net gain. In 

real life, however, governments that enter into FTAs rarely compensate 

losers sufficiently. The problem is that gains under a liberalized trading 

regime tend to be incremental and diffuse and usually are manifest 

in the form of lower prices for imports that also force down prices of 

competing products made domestically. Those benefitting tend to 

be consumers, retailers, and buyers of foreign-made equipment and 

supplies. Those losing tend to be in import-competing industries or 

those traditionally protected from imports. These typically include 

textiles, unionized industrial sectors (such as steel and automobiles), 

and agriculture. Transferring some of the benefits of liberalized trade 

from the gainers to the losers is difficult indeed.

FTAs typically proceed through evolutionary stages with respect 

to intensity (greater liberalization) and expansiveness (more members). 

International trading relationships begin with unorganized trade and 

investment flows based on comparative economic advantage. As shown 

in figure 6–1, trade then can be brought under broad international 

trading rules such as those stemming from normal trade relations 

(most favored nation status) or from the WTO. Trade furthermore can 

be placed under a preferential arrangement with special access privileges or reduced barriers but not necessarily free trade. As a precursor 

to a preferential trading arrangement, the United States uses Trade and 

Investment Framework Agreements to strengthen bilateral trade 

and support economic reform in partner countries through regular 
136 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

senior-level discussions on commercial and economic issues. Other 

countries use Framework Agreements that may provide for an “early 

harvest” of trade concessions and launch discussions on a future FTA.

Japan and several ASEAN countries have negotiated partial FTAs 

called Economic Partnership Agreements, which have established free 

trade in most manufactured goods but have usually excluded sensitive 

sectors, such as agriculture. In some cases, these agreements are long 

on promise but short on actual trade concessions. They also may map a 

path toward a full FTA. An FTA usually provides for elimination of tariffs on goods, liberalized access to services and investment flows, as well 

as other provisions. The FTA member nations, however, usually do not 

have common external barriers (a customs union). The most extensive 

trading arrangement is a common market, which goes beyond an 

FTA. Its members have free trade among themselves plus common 

external barriers, and the arrangement allows for the free movement of 

labor and capital among member states. As trade arrangements become 

more intensive, they also can become more expansive by including 

other countries.

In Southeast Asia, most trade agreements have been driven by the 

market. They also have been competitive. The benefits available under 

a preferential trade agreement usually induce competing demands as 

other countries seek the same trade advantages or risk losing business 

for their exporters or investors. In some cases, countries have negotiated 

bilateral FTAs for political and security as well as economic purposes. 

The United States, for example, has sought FTAs with countries 

with large Muslim populations (Malaysia, Jordan, Morocco, Oman), 

with strategic locations (Singapore, Thailand, Mexico, Canada, and 

Central American countries), or with sensitive military considerations 

(South Korea, Israel).

Trade specialists debate whether FTAs complement or compete 

with multilateral trade negotiations under the WTO. While some see 

FTAs as centrifugal forces working against global trade liberalization, 

others see them as centripetal forces that will lead eventually to global 

free trade. One argument is that WTO agreements tend to result in 

“lowest common denominator” outcomes, whereas FTAs can go beyond 

multilateral agreements by providing deeper concessions between likeminded nations. Rather than lowering barriers somewhat for many 

countries under a WTO agreement, through FTAs, nations can slash
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 137

Figure 6–1. Types of Trading Arrangements by Intensity of Economic 

Integration

barriers or eliminate them for a select number of their major trading 

partners. In 2010, as WTO multilateral negotiations under the Doha 

Development Agenda stalled, many view the proliferation of FTAs as 

providing a fallback position for countries should the negotiations fail 

completely. The FTAs have provided a secondary strategy that leads to 

trade liberalization even without the multilateral negotiations. In that 

sense, FTAs have detracted from the WTO negotiations.

The complex web of free trade agreements in the world is becoming denser each year. In February 2010, the WTO reported that it had 

been notified of more than 465 regional trade agreements and that 267 

were in force. Many others were being negotiated. The complexity of rules 

for overlapping FTAs may increase transaction costs for businesses as 

they, for example, have to cope with increasing paperwork to meet the 

rules-of-origin requirements to qualify for free trade status. In some cases, 

businesses are opting out of taking advantage of lower FTA tariffs because 

the documentation required to show country of origin is too onerous.

Trade 

under

World Trade

Organization 

rules

Framework

Agreement.

Some lower

tariffs,timetable 

to negotiate 

Free Trade

Agreement

(FTA)

Economic 

Partnership

Agreement. 

Removes most 

internal trade barriers 

but includes 

services, etc.

Free Trade Area.

Removes 

internal trade 

(and investment)

barriers 

but retains

external barriers

Common Market.

FTA plus 

common external 

barriers and 

free

movement of

labor and capital
138 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

ASEAN and Bilateral FTAs in East Asia5

The Southeast Asian economies are dwarfed by those of Japan and 

China to the north and North America and the European Union across 

the oceans. ASEAN’s combined gross domestic product of $1.45 trillion 

in 2009 was less than 10 percent that of the European Union ($16.42 trillion) or North America ($16.47 trillion for NAFTA). Still, the region is 

growing quickly. To put the region into perspective, the ASEAN combined gross domestic product in 2009 was only about half again as large 

as that of South Korea. This is a major reason for forming a free trade 

area. ASEAN manufacturers need markets of a size sufficient to generate 

economies of large-scale production. Taking into account ASEAN’s FTAs 

(although they have only partial coverage) with China, Japan, South 

Korea, Australia, New Zealand, and India, however, the ASEAN-centric, 

hub-and-spoke FTA configuration of an ASEAN + 6 is nearly the same 

size ($14.58 trillion) as the other two economic centers of the world.

In 1992, ASEAN created an ASEAN FTA (AFTA) among its member nations. Under this arrangement, tariffs on the products covered by 

the FTA for the ASEAN 6 (Brunei Darussalam, Indonesia, Malaysia, the 

Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand) dropped below 5 percent or were 

eliminated in 2010, while the newer members (Burma, Cambodia, Laos, 

and Vietnam) have until 2020 to do the same. In 2005, this deadline 

was moved up 5 years to 2015. The AFTA covers all manufactured and 

agricultural products traded within ASEAN and includes services. 

However, 734 tariff lines in the General Exception List, representing 

about 1.09 percent of all tariff lines in ASEAN, are permanently excluded from the free trade area for reasons of national security, protection 

of health and human, animal, or plant life, or for artistic, historic, or 

archaeological reasons.6

The ASEAN FTA has made significant progress in lowering barriers to trade within the region. ASEAN implemented the FTA through 

a series of agreements. The most significant was a Common Effective 

Preferential Tariff (CEPT) Scheme for AFTA, an agreement that defines 

the trade categories to be included and sets deadlines for member countries to reduce tariffs to below 5 percent. As of January 1, 2010, 99.5 

percent of the tariff lines in the ASEAN inclusion lists under the CEPT 

for ASEAN Free Trade Area (CEPT–AFTA) stood at 0 to 5 percent. 

Intra-ASEAN trade almost tripled to $458.1 billion in 2008 as compared 

to 2000, when all 10 member states joined the CEPT–AFTA.
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 139

AFTA is a work in progress. The member nations are expanding the coverage of the FTA to include more services, such as mutual 

recognition of nursing qualifications. They also have established 11 

priority sectors to be liberalized. These include automobiles, electronics, information technology, health care, wood-based products, 

rubber-based products, textiles and apparel, agriculture-based 

products, fisheries, air travel, and tourism. In December 2006, the 

ASEAN leaders signed an agreement that crafted a road map for action 

on liberalizing these prioritized sectors.

While ASEAN has been fostering closer economic, political, and 

cultural relations among its member states, the organization also has 

concluded various agreements with other nations that provide some 

immediate trade liberalization and contain provisions for negotiations 

that are to lead to formal FTAs. Since ASEAN is not a common market, 

it may negotiate an FTA agreement with a non-ASEAN country, but 

each individual member must sign it and implement it as if it were a bilateral agreement. ASEAN does not have common external tariff rates. 

Individual ASEAN countries also may pursue bilateral FTAs on their 

own. ASEAN views itself as the core of a regional FTA in East Asia. Currently, there are various proposals for membership, such as ASEAN + 

3 (the addition of Japan, China, and South Korea) and ASEAN + 6 

(ASEAN + 3 and Australia, New Zealand, and India). 

In November 2002, ASEAN and China signed a Framework 

Agreement on Comprehensive Economic Co-operation. This provided 

for an ASEAN–China Free Trade Area (ACFTA) that took effect on 

January 1, 2010, between China and the more industrialized ASEAN 6. 

By 2015, Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam are to follow. ASEAN 

also has concluded an FTA with Australia and New Zealand that is in 

force (but has not yet been ratified by Cambodia, Indonesia, and Laos).

In November 2007, Japan and ASEAN endorsed a free trade 

agreement under which tariffs would be eliminated on 90 percent 

of imports by both sides, but key items such as rice and beef would 

remain protected. ASEAN has a similar agreement with India that currently covers goods but may be widened to include services and investment.7

 With South Korea, ASEAN has signed an FTA pact that covers 

goods trade only. In December 2005, Thailand refused to sign the 

agreement because South Korea excluded rice from the 4,000 items that 

are to have import tariffs cut to below 20 percent and then to 0 by 2009 
140 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

(with an additional 5 years for the newer ASEAN member nations).8

In 2008, Thailand and South Korea concluded negotiations that 

brought Thailand into the ASEAN–Korea FTA and gave Thailand more 

flexibility than other ASEAN nations in cutting or waiving its tariffs 

or both.9 Services and investment have also been added to the original 

agreement. In 2010, the India-ASEAN FTA came into force. 

Table 6–1 shows the extent to which the ASEAN and other Asian 

nations have been linking their economies through free trade and other 

economic agreements. Almost all of the countries in the region have 

either concluded FTAs or are negotiating or discussing the possibility 

of negotiating them with each other. The glaring exception is Taiwan, 

which because of pressure from Beijing has been unable to conclude 

FTAs with countries of the region. Taiwan, however, is a member of the 

WTO and has FTAs with some Central American nations. 

The two-tiered nature of ASEAN membership manifests itself in 

the various FTAs. The more developed ASEAN 6 countries generally 

have more FTAs and quicker timetables for liberalization than the new 

ASEAN members (Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam).

Among individual ASEAN countries, Singapore has been most 

aggressive in seeking FTA deals. As a city-state, it has long served as an 

entrepot for the region with virtually free trade and a hospitable environment for foreign businesses. In addition to being a part of the ASEAN 

Economic Community, it has concluded free trade agreements with the 

United States, China, Japan, South Korea, Australia, New Zealand, India, 

Jordan, Panama, and the European Free Trade Association. Singapore 

also is a member of the Trans-Pacific Strategic Economic Partnership 

Organization (an FTA among Singapore, New Zealand, Chile, and 

Brunei) that is seeking to expand membership to include the United 

States, Australia, Peru, and Vietnam. It has ongoing negotiations with 

Mexico, Canada, Pakistan, Costa Rica, Ukraine, and the European Union. 

Likewise, Thailand, the Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia have 

been initiating talks and signing various types of trade agreements. Negotiations for FTAs between the United States and Malaysia and Thailand 

have hit snags and currently are on hold. Cambodia and Laos are far 

behind in the FTA process. They barely have been able to sign trade agreements, let alone free trade or other types of preferential trade arrangements. Laos is not a member of the WTO, but Cambodia joined in 2004. 
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 141

Table 6–1. Free Trade Agreements, Negotiations, and Discussions by 

ASEAN Members and Selected Other Nations, 2010 China Japan South Korea Taiwan ASEAN Singapore Indonesia Thailand Malaysia United States Australia

New Zealand

Chinaa D D D FTA FTA PF FTA FTA N FTA

Japanb D N FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA D

South Koreac D N FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA–U N

Taiwand D

ASEANe FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA

Singaporef FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA

Indonesia g PF FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA D FTA FTA

Thailandh FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA N FTA FTA

Malaysiai FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA D FTA FTA

Philippinesj FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA D FTA FTA

Vietnamk FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA N FTA FTA

Australial N N D FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA

New Zealandm FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA FTA N FTA

Source: Country trade ministries, news articles, and bilaterals.org.

Notes: FTA = existing Free Trade Agreement (may not be fully implemented); FTA–U = unratified FTA; PF = partial FTA (many sectors not included 

or plan for future FTA implementation); N = FTA negotiations; D = FTA discussions.

a China also has FTAs with Hong Kong, Macao, and New Zealand; partial FTA with Chile; negotiations with Pakistan, the Southern Africa Customs Union, the Gulf Cooperation Council, Iceland, Norway, and Costa Rica; discussions with India. 

b Japan also has FTAs with Mexico, Chile, Switzerland, and Brunei; negotiations with India and Peru; discussions with Canada and Mongolia. 

c South Korea also has FTAs with Chile, European Free Trade Association (EFTA), India, and European Union (EU) (unratified); negotiations with 

Canada, Japan, Mexico, Peru, Australia, and New Zealand. 

d Taiwan or Chinese Taipei also has FTAs with Panama, Guatemala, Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Honduras; negotiations with Dominican Republic. 

e ASEAN also has an FTA with India; negotiations with EU. 

f Singapore also has FTAs with India, EFTA, Jordan, Panama, Peru, Gulf Cooperation Council, Brunei, Chile, and New Zealand; negotiations with 

Mexico, Canada, Pakistan, Costa Rica, Ukraine, and EU. 

g Indonesia also has an FTA with India waiting approval; discussions with Egypt. 

h Thailand also has an FTA with Bahrain, a partial FTA with India, is a member of The Bay of Bengal Initiative for Multi-Sectoral Technical and 

Economic Cooperation with Bangladesh, Bhutan, Burma, India, Nepal, Sri Lanka, and Thailand that aims for an FTA by 2017; negotiations with 

Peru, Chile, EFTA, and Papua New Guinea; discussions with EU. 

i Malaysia also has an FTA with Chile and Brunei, negotiations with New Zealand; discussions with India. 

j Philippines also has an FTA with EFTA; discussions with Chile and Israel. 

k Vietnam has an FTA with the Andean Community; negotiations with New Zealand, EFTA, and the UAE. It also is joining the negotiations on a 

Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP).

l Australia also has an FTA with the United States, with the Pacific Island Countries Trade Agreement (14 members), and Chile; negotiations with 

China, the Gulf Cooperation Council, Japan, South Korea, and the TPP. 

m New Zealand also is a member of the TPP; negotiations with the Gulf Cooperation Council, Hong Kong, South Korea, and India.
142 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Among the less industrialized members of ASEAN, Vietnam has 

been the most active in pursuing FTAs. It has been trying to catch up 

with its more market-oriented neighbors in Southeast Asia. In 2009, 

it approved and began implementing the Vietnam-Japan Economic 

Partnership Agreement. Also, along with the United States, Australia, 

and Peru, Vietnam has entered into negotiations to join the TransPacific Partnership (TPP). For Vietnam, however, joining the TPP would 

be a huge policy leap that would require a large number of concessions 

and new laws. The negotiation, moreover, is likely to take a considerable 

period of time, and Vietnam could drop out once it sees what actually 

will be required. Congressional consideration of any such agreement 

would be still further into the future, and how Congress would view an 

FTA with Vietnam is a large question. Just the possibility of such a transPacific FTA, however, may induce other countries, such as South Korea, 

to join the negotiations. If so, the TPP could become the foundation 

for a free trade area of the Asia Pacific as envisaged by APEC and its 21 

member economies.

“ASEAN Plus” and Other Regional FTA Proposals 

ASEAN has played a major role in the effort to form regional 

organizations in Asia. It has an advantage in exercising leadership in 

this respect because, compared with China or Japan, it carries less 

political and historical baggage. ASEAN tends to be a more neutral 

party in both the big power rivalry and in the wrangling over history 

often indulged in by China and South Korea against Japan. ASEAN 

initiatives engender less suspicion even though some ASEAN countries also have territorial disputes with China and bitter memories of 

Japanese military actions during World War II. Several of the proposals for free trade areas in the region, including ASEAN + 3 (APT) and 

ASEAN + 6, have ASEAN at the center. The association also views itself 

as a fulcrum in relations between Australia/New Zealand and Northeast 

Asian countries, and it houses the headquarters for the APEC forum 

and Asian Development Bank.

Regional FTAs can address what is called the “spaghetti (or noodle) 

bowl problem” resulting from the proliferation of FTAs and similar 

preferential trade agreements in Asia. Businesses face a plethora of trade 

rules under the various agreements that may or may not coincide with 
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 143

each other. A regional FTA that harmonizes the rules and tariff rates 

contained in the various bilateral FTAs of the countries covered can 

resolve this problem. Figure 6–2 shows the major configurations of 

Asian trading arrangements that include the nations of ASEAN.

ASEAN + 3 

Since ASEAN already has bilateral FTAs with China, Japan, and 

South Korea, many in the region have been advocating an ASEAN + 

3 free trade area, which would be called an East Asia Economic Community.10 This would require that the stalled negotiations on the JapanSouth Korea FTA be completed and that FTA agreements be concluded 

between China and Japan as well as between China and South Korea. 

Figure 6–2. Major Regional Trade Arrangements in the Asia Pacific

APEC

FTA of Asia Pacific*

Mexico Russia

Hong Kong Canada

Taiwan Papua New Guinea

Trans-Pacific

Partnership*

United States Chile

Peru

ASEAN + 6

East Asia Summit

East Asia FTA*

Australia

N. Zealand

India

ASEAN ASEAN FTA

Indonesia Singapore

Malaysia Brunei

Philippines Vietnam

Thailand

Cambodia

Burma

Laos

ASEAN + 3

East Asia Economic

Community*

China Japan S. Korea

*Proposed
144 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

China has been a major force in promoting the ASEAN + 3 process. This apparently has become China’s preferred regional forum 

in which both political/security and economic issues are addressed. The 

APT provides China with an Asian organization that does not include 

the United States and gives it opportunities to marginalize U.S. power. 

The ASEAN + 3 also addresses a major political deficiency of 

Asia. The concentration of power in the European Union and in North 

America allows them to be dominant political forces on the world stage. 

No comparable trading bloc exists for Asia even though China and Japan 

have the second- and third-largest national economies in the world. In 

East Asia, China, Japan, ASEAN, and the United States all are vying for 

leadership of the region. Traditionally, Japan has led in economics and 

finance, ASEAN in coordinating regional institutions, and the United 

States and China in security issues. With China’s rise and its increasing 

clout in political, economic, and security matters, Beijing apparently 

sees ASEAN + 3 as an institution in which it can take the lead without 

competition from the United States or Europe or the dilution of East 

Asian interests by India or Australia. 

Currently, the APT is nearly as disjointed and rife with historical 

rivalries as Europe was before it formed the European Economic Community and then the European Union. However, many hold out the possibility that European-type integration beginning with economics could 

likewise transform East Asia and bring the countries there closer together.

The APT nations have already established certain cooperative financial arrangements.11 These have resulted primarily from the adverse 

effects of the 1997–1998 Asian financial crisis. In particular, in May 2000, 

the ASEAN + 3 finance ministers agreed to what is called the Chiang 

Mai initiative (named after the city in Thailand where the meeting 

took place). The initiative has created a network of bilateral swap 

arrangements by which short-term liquidity can be provided to support participating ASEAN + 3 countries in need of foreign exchange. 

The idea is that in times of currency crises, China, Japan, and South 

Korea would swap their foreign exchange reserves for the currencies 

of ASEAN countries in need of foreign currencies. This would lessen 

the need to go to the International Monetary Fund or other lenders to 

obtain funds in a crisis. This network of bilateral swap arrangements 

has been formalized among China, Indonesia, Japan, Korea, Malaysia, 

the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand—the major countries in 
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 145

ASEAN + 3. In February 2009, the ASEAN + 3 nations agreed to increase 

the size of the Chiang Mai initiative from $80 billion to $120 billion and 

to develop a more robust and effective surveillance mechanism to support its operation. During the 2008–2009 global financial crisis, however, 

the Chiang Mai initiative arrangements were not used. The APT also has 

an Asian bond market initiative. 12

ASEAN + 6 

The growing influence of China looms so large over the ASEAN 

+ 3 configuration that Japan and Australia, in particular, worked to expand the core membership of the regional grouping dubbed ASEAN + 

6, which brings Australia, India, and New Zealand into ASEAN + 3. The 

way is open for countries such as the United States, Russia, and Papua 

New Guinea to join in the future. 

In 2006, Japan proposed that the ASEAN + 6 grouping be 

formalized into an East Asian FTA that would be coordinated by an 

organization similar to the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and 

Development.13 ASEAN and India welcomed the concept, but China and 

South Korea indicated that their first priority would be the ASEAN + 3 

FTA proposal.14

The ASEAN + 6 members are not in agreement on whether it or 

the ASEAN + 3 should take the lead in building an East Asian community. What is evolving is a concentric circle approach that extends the 

ASEAN FTA to ASEAN + 3 and then to ASEAN + 6. 

The ASEAN + 6 configuration coincides with the East Asia 

Summit, a forum that has been held annually since 2005 by leaders of 

ASEAN + 6. It mirrors the configuration of the East Asian Economic 

Caucus proposed in 1991 by former Malaysian Prime Minister 

Mahathir bin Mohamad. At the time, the summit did not come to 

fruition partly because it was opposed by the United States for fear that 

it would develop into an exclusive trading bloc.

Some Americans still argue that American interests in Asia are 

so deeply ingrained and the American presence so large that U.S. interests need to be represented whenever Asians meet. If the United States is 

not there, China could assume the leadership mantle and work at cross 

purposes to American interests. This concern is shared by Japan. In 

addition, economic interaction among Asia Pacific economies, 

particularly the United States, China, Japan, and South Korea, has 
146 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

become so extensive that any regional free trade agreement should 

include countries on both sides of the Pacific Ocean. This has placed emphasis on the Trans-Pacific Partnership and the FTA of the Asia Pacific. 

Trans-Pacific Partnership 

The TPP was formed by Singapore, New Zealand, Chile, and 

Brunei in 2006 as a vehicle to liberalize trade in the Asia Pacific region. 

In March 2008, the United States joined the negotiations to conclude the 

investment and financial services provisions. On September 22, 2008, 

President George W. Bush notified Congress of his intention to join 

with Australia, Peru, and Vietnam in negotiations to gain accession to 

the agreement, and on December 14, 2009, the U.S. trade representative 

formally notified Congress of the Obama administration’s intent to 

enter into the TPP negotiations. The goal would be to shape a regional 

agreement that will have “broad-based membership and the high 

standards worthy of a 21st-century trade agreement.”15

The United States already has free trade agreements with TPP 

members Singapore and Chile and with potential TPP partners 

Australia and Peru. The inclusion of Vietnam, a socialist country 

in transition, could be problematic. Given the extent of market 

liberalization that would be required of Vietnam, it is unclear at this 

point whether the country will be able to clear hurdles required for 

its primarily nonmarket economy to come into compliance with free 

trade requirements or whether the U.S. Congress would approve 

free trade with it. 

It is expected that the Group of 8 countries in the TPP negotiations will aim for an agreement that can be expanded to include other 

nations. Canada initially refused to join the TPP negotiations because 

of its dairy interests; in 2010, when the new government in Ottawa 

sought to join the negotiations, it was told that it was too late.16

Malaysia also has expressed interest in joining the TPP. Currently, none 

of the three Northeast Asian economic powerhouses—China, Japan, or 

South Korea—is a TPP member.

Another aim of the TPP negotiations is to craft a high-standard 

FTA that can streamline trade and override the profusion of bilateral 

trade deals that has sprung up in recent years. It could be a way to 

untangle the spaghetti bowl of bilateral FTAs, each with its different 

provisions and requirements. The negotiations on a U.S.-Malaysia FTA, 
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 147

for example, have been shelved in favor of Malaysia eventually joining 

the TPP.17 As the TPP is enlarged, it could lead to the APEC vision of a 

Free Trade Area of the Asia Pacific (FTAAP).

Free Trade Area of the Asia Pacific 

At the 2006 leaders’ meeting of the APEC forum, the members 

decided to study the possibility of a Free Trade Area of the Asia Pacific. 

This trans-Pacific FTA was promoted by the United States and 

Australia, in particular, and would encompass the 21 economies that are 

in APEC. It would include the ASEAN 6 plus Vietnam, China, Taiwan, 

Hong Kong, Japan, and South Korea in Asia; the United States, Canada, 

Mexico, Peru, and Chile in the Americas; Australia, New Zealand, and 

Papua New Guinea in the Pacific; and Russia.18 India, a member of the 

East Asia Summit and the ASEAN 6, is not a member of APEC.

In 1994, APEC declared the so-called Bogor Goal of free and 

open trade and investment in the Asia Pacific by 2010 for industrialized 

member economies and 2020 for the rest. The FTAAP would realize the 

Bogor Goal, but since the possibility of such a large FTA seems remote, 

the Bogor Goal has become more of a future target than a specific policy 

end with a timetable for implementation. 

Japan hosted the 2010 APEC leaders’ meeting in Yokohama, 

and the United States will do so the following year in Honolulu. Japan 

has indicated that it hoped to lay the foundation for the FTAAP at the 

Yokohama meeting and also to push for a shared vision that would 

allow both industrialized and developing members of APEC to growth 

together. The Obama administration has not yet laid out its agenda for 

the 2011 APEC meetings. It is clear, however, that with Japan and the 

United States leading APEC, in the short term, an opportunity exists for 

the two countries to use their leadership to establish a new consensus on 

whether the Bogor goals are to be achieved.

U.S. Interests and China 

The creation of a trading bloc based on ASEAN poses little threat 

to U.S. commercial interests. U.S. companies are well established in 

ASEAN member economies, particularly in Singapore, the Philippines, 

Thailand, and Indonesia, and lowered trade barriers within ASEAN tend 

to benefit both U.S. companies there and U.S. exporters to the region. 
148 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

The People’s Republic of China, however, looms as the large imponderable in the development of the new trade architecture in East 

Asia. The PRC has taken an aggressive stance toward establishing FTAs 

with trading partners. In addition to the 2002 FTA (Framework Agreement) with ASEAN, China has FTAs with Hong Kong and Macao and 

an FTA in cargo trade with Chile. It has discussed FTAs with 27 countries and is negotiating with Canada, Pakistan, Australia, New Zealand, 

Iceland, and Chile. The PRC also has held discussions on possible FTAs 

with Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, and India. China also has signed a 

framework agreement on economic cooperation with the countries of 

the Gulf Cooperation Council that may lead to FTA negotiations.

FTAs follow trade, and the Chinese economy is beginning to 

dominate trade in Asia. As shown in table 6–2, China has become the 

top trading partner for Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, and Australia. It is 

the second largest trading partner for Singapore and Thailand, and the 

third largest for Indonesia and the Philippines. With the exception of the 

Philippines, a former U.S. territory, and Malaysia, the United States 

ranks below China in the trade rankings for most of East Asia. While 

the United States still is a major trader there, it is being eclipsed increasingly by China. For China, itself, however, the United States is the top 

trading partner.

Table 6–2. Major Trading Partners of East Asian Nations and the United 

States Ranked by Total Exports Plus Imports

Country Top Partner Second Third Fourth Fifth 

Japan China United States South Korea Taiwan Australia

South Korea China Japan United States Saudi Arabia Singapore

Taiwan China Japan United States Hong Kong South Korea

Australia China Japan United States South Korea India

Singapore Malaysia China United States Indonesia Japan

Thailand Japan China United States Malaysia Singapore

Indonesia Japan Singapore China United States South Korea

Philippines United States Japan China Singapore Hong Kong

Malaysia Singapore United States Japan China Thailand

China United States Japan Hong Kong South Korea Taiwan

United States Canada China Mexico Japan Germany

Source: Global Trade Atlas.
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 149

While the United States does not oppose the creation of regional 

trading arrangements in Asia, U.S. commercial interests there are huge. 

Therefore, it seems important for U.S. policy to ensure that any such 

trading blocs do not work to the disadvantage of exports from the 

United States or of American companies with a presence there, particularly when competing with China. The danger also exists that security 

considerations will follow trade and investments. Once China becomes 

the dominant regional economy, governments may turn to China first 

in seeking solutions to problems. China then may be able to spread its 

influence in political, security, and socio-cultural arenas in ways that 

may or may not be consonant with U.S. interests and values. 

The rise of China is posing a dual problem for ASEAN. Many in 

Southeast Asia fear that the rapidly expanding Chinese economy will 

draw foreign capital away from their economies. Exports from China 

also are placing increased competitive pressures on industries throughout the region.

China, moreover, has pursued a “charm offensive” in which it 

has downplayed traditional areas of dispute, such as territorial claims, 

and has combined formal trading arrangements with diplomatic initiatives, foreign assistance, and active participation in international organizations to assuage fears of its rising economic and security strength. 

Beijing increasingly is using soft power and has emphasized the “winwin” aspects of increased economic and political interaction in its 

relations with Southeast Asian nations. In this respect, it has attempted 

to create an image as a nonthreatening partner and a stakeholder in 

regional peace, economic growth, and stability. As compared with 

the situation several years ago, few Southeast Asian leaders now are 

heard to question China’s rise, although complaints concerning import 

competition from Chinese goods are common. Chinese businesspeople 

and policymakers are increasingly given the type of welcome and 

access in Southeast Asia that once were reserved for American and 

Japanese elites.19

China’s quick recovery from the 2008–2009 global financial crisis and vast accumulation of foreign exchange reserves appear to have 

given Beijing somewhat of a triumphalist attitude. Chinese leaders have 

become more assertive in diplomatic relations and more confident that 

their market-oriented socialism is superior to Western free-market 

capitalism. At some point, China may ride the tide of this national 
150 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

exuberance and attempt to assert control over what it considers to 

be its sovereign territory—as long as such actions do not threaten its 

economic growth rate. 

China’s recent successes, however, should not be overemphasized. 

The United States still is the world’s preeminent economic and military 

power, and while many global supply chains run through China, many 

also begin and end in the United States—particularly in product design, 

technology development, and marketing. Although Southeast Asian nations seek to broaden international options with major powers, they also 

engage in a continuing round of hedging and maneuvering for advantage and against possible Chinese dominance. In this process, they also 

are seeking closer ties with each other and also with the United States 

and Europe.20

Effects of the ASEAN FTA 

The immediate effects of free trade agreements are to lower the 

cost of goods originating in member countries and to divert trade toward them (trade diversion). They also may create more opportunities 

for industries (trade creation) within the free trade area.

For the ASEAN FTA, the trade diversion effect is scarcely apparent. Figure 6–3 shows ASEAN trade (exports plus imports) to other 

ASEAN countries and to the rest of the world. The data do not include 

exports from Laos and Burma inasmuch as such data are not reported 

to the United Nations. The share of trade among ASEAN countries increased from 21 percent in the mid-1990s to around 25 percent in 2003 

and has remained at about that level even though total trade is surging. 

World demand for ASEAN exports apparently is growing as fast as 

demand within the ASEAN area, and lower internal trade barriers do 

not appear to be drawing sales away from non-ASEAN export markets.

One cause of the lack of a trade diversion effect is that ASEAN still 

is far from being a unified free trade area. Countries still compete with 

each other for foreign direct investment funds and for key industries. 

Much of the foreign investment in manufacturing in ASEAN countries, 

moreover, is intended to serve markets primarily in the country where 

it is located and in non-ASEAN regions of the world. Multinational 

corporations also are still adjusting their production and marketing 

plans to account for the various FTAs in the region.

The story is evolving differently, however, for the automobile 

industry. ASEAN members undertook special measures to rationalize
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 151

Figure 6–3. ASEAN Trade within ASEAN and with Rest of World

and regionalize this sector. Motor vehicle manufacturing is a key sector 

in the industrial strategies of several ASEAN countries. In Thailand, 

Malaysia, and Indonesia, the industry has been nurtured and protected 

through local content requirements (40–60 percent of the value contained in the vehicles had to be procured locally in order to escape 

certain duties or taxes) and high import duties. Under the ASEAN FTA, 

duties initially dropped to 5 percent or less in the more industrialized 

ASEAN countries and then to 0 as of January 1, 2010. This has provided 

a huge advantage to those cars assembled within ASEAN countries 

when compared with imports. For example, in Thailand, non-ASEAN 

imports face duties of up to 80 percent for passenger cars and 10–30 

percent for auto parts. In Malaysia, non-ASEAN passenger cars are 

assessed duties of 30 percent plus excise taxes of 80–200 percent.21

Japanese automakers, in particular, have been reorienting 

their automobile parts and assembly plants to take advantage of the 

liberalized intra-ASEAN automotive trade. Japanese automakers have 

established production bases for both motor vehicles and parts in 

Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia, and Vietnam. Toyota, for example, 

2,000

1,500

1,000

500

0

30

25

20

15

10

5

0

1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008

Source: United Nations Comtrade Database.

Asian Financial Crisis Recession

ASEAN

Share (Right Axis)

ASEAN

Rest of World

Year

$Millions Percent
152 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

makes engines in Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia and manufactures 

transmissions and continuous velocity joints in the Philippines for its 

various assembly plants in the region.22

These reductions in tariffs for intra-ASEAN trade in automobiles 

and parts have begun to divert trade toward other ASEAN countries. 

Figure 6–4 shows ASEAN exports of automobiles and parts to other 

ASEAN countries and to the rest of the world. The value of such exports 

to ASEAN has risen from $1.4 billion in 1996 to $8.6 billion in 2008, but 

such exports to the rest of the world also have increased from $1.7 billion in 1996 to $19.1 billion in 2008. The share of intra-ASEAN exports 

of automobiles and parts initially declined from 46 percent in 1996 to 22 

percent in 1998, then rose to 36 percent in 2004, but declined somewhat 

to 31 percent in 2008. What appears to have happened is that the reduction in import restrictions as the ASEAN FTA was implemented caused 

a surge in intra-ASEAN shipments of automobiles and parts, but as the 

producers there became more competitive internationally, such exports 

to the rest of the world also have risen. 

Five centers for automotive manufacturing are developing in East 

Asia: Japan, South Korea, China, the ASEAN countries, and India. In 

2008, Japan produced 11.6 million vehicles; South Korea, 3.8 million; 

China, 9.5 million; ASEAN, 2.4 million; and India, 2.3 million.23 The auto 

industry in Japan and South Korea already is mature and depends on exports for additional sales. The competition for new capacity in the region, 

therefore, tends to be among China, ASEAN, and India. Given that both 

China and India have populations more than twice the size of ASEAN, 

and each has unified internal markets, the development of an integrated 

motor vehicle market in ASEAN becomes all the more imperative.

The ASEAN FTA effect on the automobile industry in ASEAN 

can be seen more clearly in the exports of motor vehicles and parts from 

Thailand as shown in figure 6–5. In 2000, Thailand exported more to 

both the United States and Japan than it did to neighboring Malaysia, 

Indonesia, or the Philippines. By 2005, it was exporting twice as much 

to Indonesia as to Japan and nearly four times as much to Indonesia 

as to the United States. Exports to both the Philippines and Malaysia 

were roughly comparable to those to Japan and far exceeded those to the 

United States. Although Thai exports to China are rising, they still were 

less than those to Laos or Vietnam.
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 153

Figure 6–4. ASEAN Country Exports of Automobiles and Parts to 

ASEAN and to Rest of World

The crucible of economic interaction for ASEAN nations once 

circumscribed by their own borders and national tariff barriers now is 

being enlarged to span fellow ASEAN countries. This larger market not 

only is creating more sales within ASEAN but also is enhancing the ability of ASEAN nations to compete in global export markets. In exports of 

motor vehicles and parts, Thailand is exporting more not only to fellow 

ASEAN countries but also to Japan and the United States.

Multiple forces are enabling this process. First, the larger internal 

market helps ASEAN national champion companies to become more 

efficient and more competitive both in their own countries and ASEAN 

and in world markets. Second, the larger internal market makes 

ASEAN more attractive for foreign direct investors who plan to export 

some of the output from their factories in ASEAN to home or other world 

markets. Third, the larger internal market makes ASEAN more attractive 

as a hedge against instability in China. ASEAN suppliers can provide 

an alternative source for products currently made in China. Fourth, 

the larger internal market increases the incentive for other countries to

30

25

20

15

10

5

0

50

40

30

20

10

0

1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008

Source: United Nations Comtrade Database.

Asian Financial Crisis Recession

ASEAN

Share (Right Axis)

ASEAN

Rest of World

Year

$ Billions Percent
154 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Figure 6–5. Exports of Automobiles and Parts from Thailand

link in free trade relationships with ASEAN. This enlarges the market 

even further.

The proliferation of FTAs and regional trade groupings centered 

on ASEAN also is having a profound effect on the emerging architecture 

of East and Southeast Asia. The FTA boundaries coincide with groups 

of countries joining for political and security purposes. ASEAN forms 

the center of the various overlapping trade and diplomatic groupings 

in East Asia. 

The final form of the economic and political structure in the 

anarchic space above the Asian nations is yet to be determined. 

Whether the ASEAN FTA will morph into an East Asia Community 

(ASEAN + 3), an East Asia FTA (ASEAN + 6), or extend further into an 

APEC-based, 21-nation FTA for the Asia Pacific is not yet clear. 

These economic configurations, however, already are the basis for 

formal political and security groupings. As has been the experience 

with the European Union, the economic imperative that drives countries to form an economic community combines with the need for 

stability and security to invite similar unions to deal with other aspects 

2,000

1,500

1,000

500

0

Source: United Nations for HS 87.

2000

2005

2008

$ Millions

 Vietnam 

Laos

Singapore

Philippines

Malaysia

Indonesia 

Japan

United States

China

Korea

Importing Country
BILATERAL AND MULTILATERAL TRADE ARRANGEMENTS 155

of international interaction. The end result is a process by which the 

borders between countries of a community fade while those that 

separate the community from other states become more distinct. The 

community also produces interdependence by which the economy 

of one country becomes intertwined with conditions in another. The 

integration process among nations begins with trade, and in Asia, the 

plethora of FTAs clearly are operating as forces for integration. Not only 

are they drawing those within the groups closer together but also the 

borders of the groups are stretching to encompass other nations. 

Notes

1 Pew Research Center for the People and the Press, “U.S. Seen as Less Important, China as 

More Powerful, Isolationist Sentiment Surges to Four-Decade High,” Survey Reports, December 3, 

2009, available at < http://people-press.org/report/569/americas-place-in-the-world>. 

2 U.S. Trade Representative, 2010 Trade Policy Agenda and 2009 Annual Report (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, March 2010), 7, available at <www.ustr.gov/webfm_

send/1673>.

3 Ibid., 8–9.

4 Men Honghua, “East Asian Order Formation and Sino-Japanese Relations,” Indiana Journal 

of Global Legal Studies 17, no. 1 (Winter 2010), 4. 

5 For details on Asian FTAs, see the Asian Development Bank’s Regional Integration Center 

at <http://aric.adb.org/FTAbyCountryAll.php>.

6 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), “Trade/The ASEAN Free Trade Area 

(AFTA),” available at <www.aseansec.org/12021.htm>.

7 ASEAN, Ministerial Declaration on the AFTA–CER Closer Economic Partnership, September 14, 2002; Framework for Comprehensive Economic Partnership between the Association 

of Southeast Asian Nations and Japan, October 8, 2003; Framework Agreement on Comprehensive Economic Cooperation between the Association of Southeast Asian Nations and the Republic of India, October 8, 2003.

8 “South Korea Signs Free Trade Pact with ASEAN, Excludes Thailand,” Jakarta Post, December 13, 2005; ASEAN, “Joint Media Statement of the Third ASEAN Economic Ministers–Republic of Korea Consultations,” Makati City, Philippines, May 16, 2006.

9 Washington Trade Daily 17, January 1–4, 2008, 4.

10 ASEAN, “ASEAN Plus Three Cooperation,” available at <www.aseansec.org/16580.htm>.

11 See David Cowen et al., “Financial Integration in Asia: Recent Developments and Next 

Steps,” International Monetary Fund Working Paper, WP/06/196, August 2006. 

12 See UNESCAP, “Regional Financial Cooperation in East Asia: The Chiang Mai Initiative 

and Beyond,” Bulletin on Asia-Pacific Perspectives 2002/03. 

13 “Japan Aims to Launch East Asia FTA Talks in ‘08: Nikai,” Jiji Press English News Service, 

April 4, 2006.
156 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

14 “S. Korea, China Snub Japan’s 16-nation FTA Plan,” Organisation of Asia-Pacific News 

Agencies, August 24, 2006.

15 Office of the United States Trade Representative, “TPP Statements and Actions to Date,” 

available at <www.ustr.gov/about-us/press-office/fact-sheets/2009/december/tpp-statementsand-actions-date>.

16 John Ibbitson, “Canada Misses its Chance to Join Major Pacific Free-trade Deal,” Toronto 

Globe and Mail, April 11, 2010. 

17 Hong Kong AFP, “Malaysia Studying New Regional Trade Pact with U.S.,” March 11, 2010. 

18 “14th APEC Economic Leaders’ Meeting, Ha Noi Declaration,” Hanoi, Vietnam, November 

18–19, 2006. 

19 Men, 36. 

20 Robert Sutter, China’s Rise: Implications for U.S. Leadership in Asia, East-West Center Policy Studies 21 (Washington, DC: East-West Center Washington, 2006), vii–ix.

21 U.S. Trade Representative, 2006 National Trade Estimate Report on Foreign Trade Barriers, 

2006 (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 2006).

22 Japan Automobile Manufacturers’ Association, Inc., The Motor Industry of Japan 2006 (Tokyo: Japan Automobile Manufacturers’ Association, 2006).

23 Alan K. Binder, ed., Ward’s Automotive Yearbook 2009 (Detroit: Ward’s Reports, Inc., 

2009), 6.
Chapter 7

The Environment and Development: 

Greater Mekong Subregion Dynamics 

Considered

Richard P. Cronin

In no part of the world are the tensions between the transboundary 

impacts of globalization and national borders, and between development 

and the environment, more evident than in the 795,000-square-kilometer basin drained by the Mekong River and its tributaries. The Greater 

Mekong Subregion (GMS), one of the world’s most biologically diverse 

and productive areas, is comprised of five Southeast Asian countries—

Burma, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam—and China’s Yunnan 

Province and Guangxi Autonomous Zone. The latter technically is not 

part of the Mekong Basin but has an overland trade relationship with 

neighboring Vietnam. 

After decades of bitter conflict, the people of the Mekong River 

Basin of Southeast Asia live in peace. The combination of peace and 

stability and the commitment of governments to bilateral and regional 

economic cooperation have made the GMS a main destination for global capital and direct investment. However, the people now face new and 

more fundamental threats to their land, forest, and fishery resources 

and their traditional livelihoods. The once-war-ravaged Mekong 

River Basin is under new assault by the powerful economic forces of 

development and globalization.

Paradoxically, deepening global and regional economic integration have both transcended and reinforced national boundaries. The 

rapid monetization and integration of natural resources into global 

markets and production chains have given states new incentives to 

strengthen their borders and control of their natural resources, but these 

efforts often are undermined by inadequate local governance, corruption, and the power of well-organized transnational resources cartels.

Globalization in particular has broken down barriers to trade 

and investment and opened the flow of ideas and people across national 

157
158 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

boundaries, even to the doorstep of the most remote peasant’s hut. It 

would be bitterly ironic if the peace that followed four decades of ideologically based conflict were to be imperiled by a new kind of conflict 

based on the unrestrained competition for the region’s vast but finite 

natural resources.1

The most serious threats to the environment and ecology of the 

GMS and the human security of some 70 million people stem from the 

short-term and unsustainable pursuit of rapid economic development. 

Specific actors in this process include state ministries involved in the 

promotion of economic development, trade and foreign investment, 

the multilateral development banks (especially the Asian Development 

Bank (ADB) and the World Bank), aid donor countries, private 

companies and investors, corrupt officials, and, in some countries, 

unsustainable population growth. 

The process of development at all costs also has been strongly influenced by China, Japan, and Thailand. Japan has long been the single 

largest investor in infrastructure and manufacturing investment, while 

China’s fast-growing economy has generated a seemingly insatiable 

demand for the Mekong Basin’s energy, natural resources, and other 

industrial inputs. China has greatly stepped up its aid and investment in 

the poorest countries in the Mekong Basin and has become the largest 

source of infrastructure development in Cambodia.2 

Large swathes of primary hardwood forests that once covered 

most of Asia’s “last frontier” have fallen to the axe and saw. Overfishing 

and habitat destruction have pushed local fish populations into severe 

decline. The Mekong River system itself is being choked, canalized, and 

polluted in the rush by China and the five Southeast Asian countries 

that comprise its watershed to capitalize on it to support industrialization and ostensibly lift remote areas out of poverty. 

As in other parts of the developing world, the fast-rising global 

demand for energy, natural resources, and other industrial inputs has 

both created new state-building opportunities—assuming adequate 

governance capacity—and potentially destabilizing socioeconomic 

dislocations. In the least developed parts of the Mekong Basin, the 

ability of the state to capture growing revenues to make needed social 

investment and reduce poverty has been undermined by poor planning, corruption, and, in some cases, exploitation by unscrupulous 

foreign economic interests, often under the rubric of public-private 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 159

“partnerships.” Laws aimed at protecting the environment and the 

interests of those whose human security depends on access to forests 

and fisheries are often undercut by close ties between large timber and 

mining companies. These effects are exacerbated by corrupt dispensers 

of state licenses and concessions and a weak legal system.

The price of natural resources exploitation generally has been 

paid by those who historically had used those resources communally or 

privately to carry out traditional subsistence livelihoods. The alienation 

of millions of people from their land, forests, and traditional fisheries 

to make way for hydropower dams, rubber and palm oil plantations, 

and other forms of commercialized agriculture has swollen the ranks of 

landless laborers already suffering from scant financial resources, low 

levels of state capacity, and concomitant high levels of corruption. 

Two specific major transboundary development projects have 

paved the path for the unsustainable exploitation of what some call 

Asia’s last frontier. The first is the multi-billion-dollar GMS cooperative 

infrastructure development project, conceived and largely financed 

by the Japanese-led ADB, which has played a key role in opening up 

the region to the global economy. However well intended, the bank’s 

support of infrastructure development, including an extensive road 

network and regional electric power grid, has had serious negative environmental and social impacts. These include the expansion of illegal 

logging, a swelling tide of economic migrants to urban centers, expanded narcotics trade, human trafficking, and the spread of HIV/AIDS and 

pandemic diseases. 

The unconstrained, uncoordinated, and unsustainable development of the region’s immense hydroelectric power potential has created 

another transboundary threat of even more serious proportions. China 

has completed four dams in a massive cascade of eight dams it is constructing on the upper reaches of the Mekong. These dams will alter 

the core hydrology of the river that is the key to its almost unequaled 

bounty of fish and other aquatic life and will destroy valuable wetlands. 

China’s dams will also threaten the viability of Vietnam’s Mekong Delta 

by capturing in their reservoirs a large proportion of the flood-borne 

silt needed to keep the South China Sea at bay. Meanwhile, Laos and 

Cambodia have signed agreements with Chinese and other foreign 

hydropower developers for 11 dams and one non-dam hydroelectric 

project on the middle and lower reaches of the river between Yunnan 
160 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

and the South China Sea. Together, these dams will threaten the essential hydrological functions and decimate the rich fisheries of the world’s 

most productive and biologically diverse river basins after the Amazon.

The Mekong: An International River That Knows No Boundary 

The approximately 4,880-kilometer-long Mekong is the world’s 

11th or 12th longest river. Its average discharge of 475,000 billion cubic 

meters into the South China Sea also ranks it among the world’s largest rivers, but in full monsoon flood the river’s discharge is second only 

to that of the Amazon, which drains into the Atlantic Ocean and the 

Brahmaputra River, which debouches into the Bay of Bengal.3

Like two other great Asian rivers, the Yangtze and the Salween, 

the Mekong rises in the snow-capped Tibetan Plateau and cuts its way 

through China’s mountainous Yunnan Province on its way to the sea. 

In the “Three Parallel Rivers” area of central Yunnan, a breathtakingly 

beautiful United Nations World Heritage Site, the rivers follow a 

north-south axis where they are 18 and 66 kilometers apart at their 

closest point. After running parallel for about 300 kilometers, the rivers 

diverge. The Yangtze strikes eastward across the center of China to the 

East China Sea at Shanghai. The Salween turns southwestward to travel 

the length of Burma to the Andaman Sea of the Bay of Bengal. The 

Mekong, on the other hand, continues southward from Yunnan and 

forms the joint borders of or traverses five downstream Southeast Asian 

countries—Burma, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam—on its 

way to the South China Sea.4

Among these great Asian rivers, only the Mekong crosses more 

than one international boundary. The Brahmaputra flows from Tibet/

China into India, where it merges with the Ganges and flows into the 

Bay of Bengal. The Yangtze never leaves Chinese territory, while the Salween remains wholly in Burma after it crosses the border with Yunnan. 

The local names for the river reflect its changing character. In 

Tibet, where it originates, the Mekong is known as Dza Chu, or “River 

of Rock.” In Yunnan, the Chinese call it the Lancang Jiang, or “Turbulent 

River.” Its biological productivity greatly increases in the middle 

stretches, where the Thai and Lao call it Mae Nam Kong, or “Mother 

River.” The Vietnamese call it the Song Cuu Long, or “Nine Dragon 

River,” as it fans out into nine main channels to form the Mekong Delta 

and disappears into the South China Sea. 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 161

The character of the river changes dramatically through upper, 

middle, and lower segments. In its first segment, wholly in China, the 

river plunges 4,500 meters from the Tibetan Plateau through Yunnan’s 

high mountain gorges. In its middle reaches, beginning at Yunnan’s border with Burma, Laos, and Thailand, the river slows noticeably, and 

drops less than 500 feet over the next 1,600 kilometers to the foot of the 

Khone Falls, on the Lao-Cambodian border. From Phnom Penh to the 

South China Sea, a distance of about 300 kilometers, the river becomes 

broad and tidal. 

The extremes of flood and drought play a major role in making 

the Mekong second only to the Amazon in its production of fish and 

other aquatic life. The maximum monsoon flow of the river can be more 

than 50 times its dry season flow. In comparison, the seasonal differential in the Nile is 30 to 1 and anywhere from 3 to 21 times in the case of 

the Mississippi River.5 The annual floods create vast seasonal wetlands 

in low-lying areas, especially Cambodia’s Tonle Sap (“Great Lake”) and 

the river by the same name and the Mekong Delta. The Tonle Sap and 

flooded wetlands of the Lower Mekong serve as the nursery of fish 

whose spawning grounds are upstream on the main stem of the river 

and its tributaries.

The Mekong’s fisheries directly support tens of millions who depend directly on fishing and in some places aquaculture for their food 

and livelihoods. The flood plains of Cambodia and the Mekong Delta are 

some of the most productive rice-growing areas in the world. The delta, 

which produces 40 to 50 percent of Vietnam’s rice crop, makes the country the world’s second largest rice producer after Thailand.6

 During the 

dry season, villagers extensively farm its banks and islands, producing 

large bounties of vegetables that sustain them when fish are less available.

The river system’s high volume of flood-borne suspended silt also 

plays a key role in annually renewing the fertility of the basin’s laterite 

soil, which is rich in iron but low in essential nutrients, and keeping the 

sea at bay in the Mekong Delta. While its drainage basin is only about 

24 percent of that of the Mississippi, 41 percent of the Yangtze, and 12 

percent of the Amazon, the Mekong River’s sediment load is about 

equal to that of the Mississippi, 85 percent of the Yangtze, and 12 

percent greater than that of the Amazon.7

The violence of the flood-drought cycle is both a boon and a 

bane. The same annual floods that wash away villages carry with them a 
162 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

heavy burden of silt that plays a critical role in the production of rice, 

especially in Cambodia and Vietnam’s Mekong Delta. The biologically 

rich silt restores the fertility of the soil for lowland rice production and 

rebuilds the Mekong Delta to hold back the sea.

Not all countries are equally dependent on the river system. While 

the river defines the borders between Burma, Thailand, and Laos in the 

“Golden Triangle” region, it remains a remote frontier for Burma, which 

contributes only 2 percent of its annual flow. Thailand regards the Chao 

Phraya as the Thai River and the Mekong as the “minorities’ river,” albeit one that Bangkok depends heavily upon for electric power imports 

from impoverished but mountainous Laos. The slow-flowing Red River 

is the principal river in Northern Vietnam, but the rivers of the Central 

Highlands supply the power for the region’s industrialization. Vietnam 

is only just beginning to realize that it is both an upstream and a 

downstream country, and that the hydropower dams in the Central 

Highlands have an important negative impact on the delta, which is 

rapidly being inundated by rising sea levels and salt water intrusion.

The Mekong is the cradle of mainland Southeast Asian civilization and its defining geographical feature. Its morphology and seasonal 

hydrological changes have shaped the region’s cultures and ways of life. 

Even in the face of accelerating gross domestic product (GDP) growth 

and modernization, the river system still constitutes the economic life 

blood of the vast majority of its inhabitants, who live in a symbiotic 

relationship with its seasonal variations. 

This cycle has shaped the nature of economic activity and fostered a connectedness that transcends national borders. The life ways 

and cultural differences between the many indigenous minority peoples 

who live along the higher reaches of the river and its main tributaries, 

including the Dai (Tai), Khmu, and the Hmong, are much less marked 

than the differences between themselves and their lowland countrymen.

Historically Contested Territory 

A millennium or more of struggle for political control of the region’s resources has shaped ethnic, religious, and linguistic patterns 

of settlement. At one time or another, the ancestors of the Burmese, 

Khmer, Thai, Viet, and Chinese ethnic groups have controlled significant parts of the Mekong Basin. The modern political boundaries of 

the five countries and Yunnan Province are largely aligned with the 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 163

major lowland ethnic groups, but the Hmong and other ethnic minorities predominate in adjacent parts of Burma, Laos, northern Thailand, 

and Vietnam’s Central Highlands. 

The natural resources of the Mekong Basin have long beckoned 

to those with the means to extract them. Historical changes in political 

boundaries have reflected the ebb and flow of the power of various 

indigenous kingdoms. The European colonial powers and their chartered companies in the 19th century, and the Japanese Empire in the 

third decade of the 20th century, carried out resource exploitation on an 

industrial scale. 

From the victory of Mao’s Communist forces in China in 1949 

to the 1991 Paris Accord on Cambodia, the core of the Mekong region 

remained largely engulfed by conflict and off limits for development. 

The United States and its Cold War allies sought to carry out a vast 

dam-building scheme to turn the Lower Mekong Basin in Cambodia, 

Laos, Thailand, and then–South Vietnam into a vastly larger version of 

the Great Depression–era Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) project. 

Fortunately, because of the ecological and environmental damage it 

would have caused, the scheme was cut short by the Vietnam War, but 

at a high cost.8

The damage of more than four decades of conflict remains an 

obstacle to development. During the Vietnam War, American aircraft 

dropped 2 million tons of bombs on Laos’s Plain of Jars—more than 

the number dropped on Germany during World War II—in a vain 

effort to cut North Vietnam’s “Ho Chi Minh” supply line to its fighters in 

the south. The employment of the defoliant Agent Orange in Vietnam, 

Laos, and Cambodia by American forces created lasting human and 

ecological damage. The xenophobic and merciless Khmer Rouge killed 

a generation of Cambodia’s urban and educated citizens. The Chinesebacked Khmer Rouge and, to a lesser extent their enemy, Soviet-tilting 

Vietnam, sowed millions of landmines that continue to kill and maim. 

Rise of Important Transboundary Issues 

Both the Mekong’s status as an international river with six riparians and its unique “flood pulse” hydrology make the river basin an 

archetype for the clash of national and transboundary interests within 

the larger context of globalization and regional economic integration. 

First, while the forces behind rapidly expanding trade, investment, and 
164 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

tourism are largely external, governments continue to view the coveted timber, minerals, fisheries, and hydroelectric power potential as 

national resources. The control of those resources is essential to 

promoting rapid economic growth and reinforcing the legitimacy of 

regimes that are mostly nondemocratic. 

Second, traditional rules governing upstream and downstream 

riparian rights are not appropriate to a river system whose enormous 

biodiversity and bounty depend as much on the timing of water availability as the quantity of water available for cooperative management. 

In other words, the value of the river to each downstream country 

depends on the maintenance of the natural hydrology of the river 

system as a whole. 

Dividing the water resources into shares creates an environmental and ecological “tragedy of the commons” that leaves most countries 

worse off. While river basin agreements based on international watercourse law “have been effective in avoiding conflict between states in 

the short-term, success at the international scale can, paradoxically, 

undermine the foundations of ecological and social sustainability at the 

local scale, thereby threatening long-term stability.”9

The stakes are very high. The lower Mekong is home to an estimated 1,300 species of fish, about 70 percent of which migrate up and 

down the river and into tributaries to spawn.10 Cambodia’s Tonle Sap 

and the river that connects it to the mainstream alone are the world’s 

most productive inland fishery per hectare of surface.11

The life-giving role of the river is particularly critical to the 

alluvial lowlands of Cambodia and the Mekong Delta. Fish, most of 

it wild-caught, annually provides as much as 80 percent of the animal 

protein consumed by about 70 million people, mainly in southern Laos, 

Cambodia, and Vietnam’s Mekong Delta. The economic importance of 

migratory fisheries in Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam is huge and not 

replaceable in the short to medium term. 

The river system’s rich fisheries also play a significant role in 

global fish production. Its stocks suffer from the same ills of overfishing, 

the destruction of mangrove forests and other wetlands, and pollution. 

Research carried out for the Mekong River Commission (MRC) 

conservatively estimated the first-sale value of the catch throughout the 

Lower Mekong Basin at U.S. $2 billion. Estimates of the total annual 

economic contribution of the wild fish catch to the national income of 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 165

Mekong countries—including resale, processing, and other value-added 

activities—range as high as U.S. $9 billion. Wild-caught fish contribute 

about 12 percent of Cambodia’s GDP and 7 percent of Laos, with 

smaller but still important proportions in Thailand and Vietnam.12 In 

Cambodia, whose Tonle Sap River and Great Lake are the nursery of 

major fish populations in the lower Mekong, the value of the fish catch 

is greater than that of the rice harvest.13

External and Internal Drivers of Change 

Beyond globalization, several more specific forces have been at 

play in the unsustainable rush to develop the Mekong region’s natural 

resources. Rising global demand and prices for natural resources–

based commodities and the free flow of capital across national borders 

have overwhelmed the human and governance capacity of weak 

governments. States have had a particularly difficult time coping with a 

fast-growing cast of nonstate actors, including regional and even global 

cartels. Some unique features of the development environment 

include the adoption by the former socialist bloc countries, which remain 

governed by authoritarian communist parties, of market-oriented 

economic policy reforms.

The main actors include foreign investors, hydropower developers, public-private partnerships backed by the multilateral development 

banks, corrupt local officials, entrepreneurial migrants—mainly 

from China—and criminal syndicates. In addition, resources-based 

economic liberalization has not only pitted development against the 

environment, but has also strained relations between those who 

depend on the region’s rivers for their livelihoods and the urbanites who 

benefit from industrialization and market opening. In fact, resourcesbased economic development in the Mekong Basin has caused massive 

transfer of resources from the countryside to the cities. 

Finally, gross imbalances of national power within the Mekong 

Basin challenge the ability of the less developed Mekong states to 

determine their own development paths. China now holds half the 

voting power of the United States and Japan in the Asian Development 

Bank and can influence regional development projects that support 

Beijing’s objectives. At the same time, China has emerged as the 

largest donor of infrastructure development lending in the basin. Its 

state-owned companies are the leading actors in the illegal destruction 
166 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

of forests for the purposes of establishing rubber, oil palm, and other 

monoculture plantations.

The State as a Threat to Human Security and Livelihoods 

Poor governance and the assumption of state control over land 

and natural resources have become the two greatest threats to human 

security in the region. Especially in Laos, Vietnam, and Indonesia, 

the unscientific and unconstrained exploitation of natural resources, 

usually by foreign private contractors under the auspices of the state, 

have displaced tens of millions of people from their lands and traditional sources of livelihood. Many of those have been displaced by forest 

clearing, the construction of hydroelectric power dams, and mining that 

has polluted their land and water.

Development in the Mekong region involves the exploitation of 

rural resources such as timber, minerals, and water to serve the interests of the politically important urban areas. Satisfying the economic 

aspirations of the growing middle classes, however, is being achieved 

by a massive rural-urban shift of resources. Because 50 to 80 percent 

of the populations of Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam still depend primarily on agriculture for their livelihoods, the imbalance of costs and 

benefits may become destabilizing, especially if people driven from their 

villages add to the swelling ranks of underemployed and unemployed 

urban migrants. 

Pinkaew Laungaramsri underscores the inevitability of this 

process when he writes that “commodifying nature goes hand in 

hand with the growth of urban middle-class society and its increasingly intense lifestyle in big cities.”14 Despite the rationale that the 

exploitation of natural resources will give governments more money 

for antipoverty programs, rural villagers displaced by hydropower projects and other large-scale uses of natural resources are inevitably net 

losers. However poor their subsistence livelihoods, they almost always 

end up with insufficient compensation and lands and fisheries that are 

less productive than those from which they were evicted. 

The urban bias of development in the Mekong is also creating the 

conditions for transborder labor migration, human trafficking, narcotics, and other criminal activity often organized by transborder criminal 

syndicates. These syndicates in some cases enjoy the support of locally 

powerful people, indicating that certain areas are returning to a more 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 167

traditional form of warlordism. In many cases these syndicates and their 

local political allies are vying with the central governments for control of 

provinces and districts that lie astride important transportation routes.

Likewise, the race to exploit water resources in the Mekong River 

Basin threatens in time to create the potential for water conflict. 

Lower Mekong countries lack the power to challenge China, but their 

own dams and irrigation projects are creating serious problems for 

downstream neighbors that may eventually poison relations.

The GMS Cooperative Development Project 

The current focal point of development in the Mekong Basin is 

the GMS cooperative development project led and largely financed by 

the Manila-based Asian Development Bank. Initiated in 1992 following 

the end of conflict in Cambodia, the goal of the GMS project is to deepen the economic integration of the Mekong countries with each other 

and with the global economy.

The core goal of the GMS has been to connect the Southeast Asian 

countries with each other with navigable roads and with Kunming, 

the capital of Yunnan, which is a key transportation nodal point from 

Beijing to its southwest region. The GMS has facilitated China’s emergence as the regional core economy with an insatiable appetite for its 

neighbors’ agricultural products, industrial inputs, and energy resources. 

The emergence of efficient transportation links in the Mekong Basin 

and beyond to Malaysia and Singapore has also given impetus to the 

so-called China-ASEAN Free Trade Area. 

Initially, the GMS consisted of 11 flagship programs focused on 

three main economic corridors. More recently, the ADB has revamped 

the program into nine sector programs—transport, energy, telecommunications, environment, human resource development, tourism, 

trade, private sector investment, and agriculture—and one multisector initiative.15 

By far the highest priority has been given to the development of 

three economic corridors: north-south, east-west, and southern. The 

corridors include the construction of an all-weather regional transportation network and electric power grid. These measures are also 

designed to facilitate increased trade and tourism, environmental 

protection, and assistance to health and human resources development. Many of these projects have associated telecommunications 
168 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

components, and border crossings eventually are to be jointly operated 

to minimize customs delays. 

In 2005, the ADB and the GMS countries agreed to expand the 

number of corridors to nine, but the original three still form the backbone of the regional transportation program. A new feature of the 

GMS has been the development of subcorridors, a development that 

appears to be connected to the growing assumption of financing responsibility by China, Japan, and Thailand, the three most important actors 

in the GMS.16

The North-South Economic Corridor includes the construction 

of a modern, all-weather road linking Kunming to Bangkok, via southern Yunnan, Laos, Burma, and northern Thailand. The project will 

include a new bridge over the Mae Sai River between Thailand and 

Burma. The main north-south road between Kunming and Bangkok 

was completed in 2008, with China assuming responsibility for the 

last stretch in northern Laos. The lack of a bridge over the river between Chiang Rai Province in northern Thailand and Ban Huoayxay in 

northern Laos remains a bottleneck. Traffic must still cross the river by 

ferry.17 China and Thailand reached an agreement in principle to share 

the estimated $33 million cost of constructing the bridge, which would 

be the third international bridge across the Mekong. The North-South 

road will be Route AH3 of the visionary 141,204-kilometer Asian Highway network connecting 32 countries from Europe to Asia (see map 

7–1).18 A spur from this corridor will connect Kunming to Hanoi and 

Haiphong. Except for one section, the project will involve limited access 

roads of four to six lanes. This project will also include a network of 

urban expressways in and around Hanoi.

The East-West Economic Corridor will link the port of Da 

Nang, Vietnam, on the South China Sea, to Burma’s deep-water port of 

Mawlamiyne (Moulmein) on the Bay of Bengal, some 1,400 kilometers across the entire width of the GMS. Mawlamiyne, the capital of 

British Burma from 1827–1852, was made famous in the West by Rudyard 

Kipling’s poem Road to Mandalay.

19 Shipping containers overland via 

this route would take 3,000 miles off the current 4,000-mile sea voyage 

from Northeast Asia through the Strait of Malacca. The improvement of 

port facilities and deepening of harbors at the seaward ends of the corridors, when the East-West road link is completed, likely will significantly 

increase seaborne trade and transit of the region. The cost benefits of
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 169

Map 7–1. Greater Mekong Subregion Economic Corridors

this corridor have been questioned, however, and currently there are 

major political obstacles to completing the sections in Burma. The 

Second Mekong International Bridge at Mukdahan-Savannakhet 
170 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

opened in December 2006. Substantial progress has been made on road 

work in the entire corridor from Da Nang to Mawlamyine. 

The Southern Economic Corridor will link the Vietnamese port 

of Vung Tao to Bangkok, via Ho Chi Minh City and Phnom Penh. Much 

of this road has been completed. Japan has been active in developing a 

southern coastal subcorridor to the Southern Corridor, which includes 

both road and port improvements.20

The GMS has wider East Asian implications. For instance, in 

2002, the Korean International Cooperation Agency offered to conduct 

a feasibility study for the Thailand-Burma link of an envisioned 

Singapore-Kunming railway. The agency’s Thailand office and the Thai 

State Railway signed a memo of record of discussions concerning the 

proposed study in December 2004.

There are huge issues associated with these projects—environmental degradation, adverse impact on local cultures, the potential for 

human rights abuses (especially in Burma), an almost certain increase 

in HIV/AIDS, and actual economic payoff and feasibility. Most of these 

are being addressed by the ADB with some participation of the World 

Bank as well, but whether planned countermeasures will prove adequate 

remains highly questionable. 

The GMS has already made significant progress toward transforming the subregion, but its principles of cooperative, environmentally 

sustainable, and equitable development are being honored mainly 

in the breach. Major deficiencies include a structural framework that 

is inadequate to reconcile conflicting national interest perceptions, 

particularly concerning dam construction by China on the Mekong’s 

upper reaches; insufficient political will and governmental capacity; and 

disparity of economic power among the GMS countries. 

These projects have the potential for fundamentally changing 

the geoeconomic and geopolitical balance of the Mekong Basin. For instance, when the East-West Corridor is completed, trucks will be able to 

carry cargo containers across the entire Mekong region, thereby cutting 

3,000 miles off the 4,000-mile sea route between Northeast Asia and the 

Indian Ocean. When the third bridge over the river connecting northern Laos and northern Thailand is completed, the road journey from 

Kunming to Singapore, via Bangkok, is expected to take 20 hours. Trade 

and tourism facilitation agreements will deeply integrate mainland 

Southeast Asia with China, reinforcing the effect of a China-ASEAN 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 171

agreement to achieve regional free trade by 2010 in the case of the more 

developed economies, and 2015 in the less developed ones.

Limitations of the GMS Framework 

On paper, the GMS project is based on the principles of cooperative, sustainable, and equitable development. In practice, the structure 

of the GMS does not include an effective mechanism for multinational coordination or decisionmaking. Most enabling agreements on 

transportation, navigation, and other matters are in fact bilateral ones 

involving China and its weaker neighbors. 

A Basin Development Plan without the River 

Most importantly, as a result of Chinese objections, the GMS 

framework does not include the water of the Mekong Basin. China 

clearly did not want any constraints placed on its plans to exploit the hydropower potential of the upper Mekong in Yunnan Province. In terms 

of its national power and international water law, China is free to do almost anything it wants as the upstream riparian. Bringing the Mekong’s 

water under the cooperative, sustainable, and equitable principles of the 

GMS would unacceptably compromise Beijing’s freedom of action.

Thus, China carries on its dam-building and river-deepening 

operations entirely outside the framework of the GMS without regard 

for the environment or the interests of its downstream neighbors. China 

has completed three of at least eight planned dams, which already have 

interfered with the natural flow of the Mekong. 

China’s smaller downstream neighbors also make unilateral decisions about building dams on the tributaries of the Mekong that run 

through their territory. Vietnam’s dam on the Se San River at Yali Falls 

has caused considerable downstream damage, including loss of life 

and livestock, to Cambodian villages. As a result of negotiations with 

Cambodia, Vietnam is now constructing a dam and reservoir at the lower end of the Se San cascade whose primary purpose is to “re-regulate” 

the flow of the river by evening out the frequent rise and fall caused by 

the responses of upstream dams to changing power load requirements.

Unbalanced Effects 

On paper, the concept and principles underlying the GMS are 

a logical alternative to the unregulated and uncontrolled exploitation 
172 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

of the resources of the Mekong Basin. Certainly, the GMS project and 

increasing economic regionalism could have a positive impact in the 

reduction of rural poverty. The project includes considerable funding 

for technical assistance, human development, and governmental capacity-building, funding that is being supplemented by the World Bank, 

Japan, and other donors (but not directly, at least, by the United States). 

Critics of the GMS, however, maintain that the project is overly focused on linking major urban areas with too few projects designed to 

benefit farmers, such as building feeder roads for getting crops to 

market. Moreover, the potential negative effects of the GMS, especially 

the destruction of forests and wildlife habitat, will be largely irreversible. 

Current GMS programs to counter these consequences are unlikely to 

achieve the desired results. 

In many ways, the GMS constitutes a microcosm of all the most 

important sources of tension between globalization and its associated 

transboundary effects in nation-states. These include:

■ unsustainable transborder extraction and processing of natural 

resources, including illegal logging and other environmentally 

destructive activities

■ a dramatic shift of resources and wealth from the rural areas, 

where the vast majority of the region’s people live, to the urban 

middle classes

■ economically driven transborder labor migration, overly rapid 

rural-urban migration within individual states, and human and 

drug trafficking

■ pandemic diseases

■ recent history of conflict, formerly with ideological overtones

■ potential for future state-state conflict over scarce resources, 

especially water.

Geopolitical Consequences of the GMS 

The evolution of the GMS is rich in historical irony. The project 

was launched by the ADB in 1992—the same year that Chinese leader 

Deng Xiaoping traveled south to Shanghai and proclaimed that to 

get rich was “glorious.” By the mid-1990s, China was a fast-rising 

economic power, growing at double-digit rates, while post–economic 

bubble Japan was sinking into its financial and economic “lost decade.” 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 173

Essentially, a project pushed by Japan with the goal of expanding its 

regional production network and an economic vector northward into 

southwest China has become a vector for the southward expansion of 

Chinese power and influence into an area regarded by Japan as its most 

important economic hinterland—its “backyard,” so to speak. 

Upgraded transboundary highways being built with ADB assistance and China’s separate blasting of rapids and shoals in the middle 

reaches of the Mekong will give Yunnan Province and its capital, 

Kunming, vastly increased access to the global economy. China’s own 

road construction activities will link Kunming to Beijing, while GMS 

projects will link Yunnan’s capital as far as Singapore via Vientiane, 

Bangkok, and onward. The GMS emphasizes a holistic approach to 

development that combines measures inherently threatening to more 

rapid legal and illegal exploitation of the basin’s natural resources 

with programs supporting environmental protection and sustainable 

development.21 Unfortunately, the environmental programs receive 

only a small fraction of the total GMS budget, and most countries lack 

the institutional infrastructure, capacity, and political will to enforce 

their own environmental regulations, let alone participate effectively 

in regional cooperation.22

China Takes the Lead in Lower Mekong Hydropower 

Development 

Since about 2005, China increasingly has emerged as the dominant force of hydropower development in the lower Mekong, especially 

in Burma, Laos, and Cambodia, thereby seriously undercutting the role 

and influence of the ADB, World Bank, and the MRC. The growing role 

of China and Chinese banks and companies in numerous downstream 

projects has both geoeconomic and geopolitical objectives. 

China considers the upper Mekong—which it calls the Lancang— 

in the country’s remote and mountainous Yunnan Province to be its 

national river. A massive project to build a cascade of eight dams on the 

Lancang is well under way, and the first two moderately sized dams on 

the main stream have had adverse impacts. Since China began filling 

the Manwan Dam in 1993, the annual loads of floodborne silt have been 

reduced and villages downstream have experienced erratic changes in 

the level of the river. Circumstantial evidence also suggests that China’s 

dams have exacerbated the effects of the multiyear drought. 
174 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

China’s fourth dam in the Lancang cascade, the 4,200-megawatt 

Xiaowan Dam, will create a quantum increase in the potential for downstream environmental and hydrological damage. The 292-meter-high 

compound arch dam, the world’s highest, would tower 100 meters 

above the Hoover Dam. The dam’s 15-billion-cubic-meter reservoir is 

designed to allow the cascade’s smaller dams to operate in dry weather 

and also provide power to its six 700-megawatt turbines.

China plans to store and then release 40 to 70 percent more water 

into the river during the dry season to keep its three lowermost dams 

operating and to support navigation. The unannounced releases will 

cause the river to rise and fall between 4 and 10 meters, jeopardizing 

the lives and property of anyone near it in northern Laos, Thailand, 

and Burma. Erratic water releases by the first three Chinese dams have 

already caused serious damage to property and some loss of life far 

downstream in northern Laos and Thailand. 

The increased dry season flow will significantly affect the productivity of Cambodia’s Tonle Sap (Great Lake) and river of the same 

name. Called the “nursery” of the Mekong fishery, the productivity of 

the Tonle Sap depends on the extremes of flood and drought. Increased 

dry season flows into the Tonle Sap from China’s reservoirs will narrow 

the band of seasonal wetlands by 5 to 10 percent, which in theory could 

reduce the productivity of the Tonle Sap comparably.23

Chinese dams may capture as much of 80 percent of the sediment flowing from Yunnan, which contributes 40 to 60 percent of the 

total load. The estimated capture of fine sediment by large storage dams 

in China and on major tributaries in Southeast Asia could reduce sediment flow to the Mekong Delta by 20 percent and accelerate the already 

serious loss of land to the sea.24

In late 2009, China completed and began filling the Xiaowan 

Dam, just before the onset of the worst drought to hit the Mekong 

Basin in half a century. Rightly or wrongly—it cannot be determined 

because China does not release the necessary data about the operations 

of its dams—a public outcry ensued in downstream Southeast Asian 

countries that blamed China for the dire lack of fresh water. Beijing 

would do well to see this outcry as a harbinger of the future, when its 

ability to regulate the flow of the river will lead to serious downstream 

anomalies. A continuation of the pattern of lower than normal rainfall 

that now has lasted for over a decade could provide insufficient water to 

make the system work as planned. 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 175

Planned Southeast Asian Dams 

China’s cascade of eight dams in Yunnan will create the most 

immediate but by no means the only threat to the river. Three had been 

completed as of mid-2010. Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia also have 

revealed plans to build up to 11 dams on the lower half of the river, plus 

one non-dam hydro project. Vietnam itself has no dammable stretch 

of the river, but Petro Vietnam Power Corporation, a state-owned 

enterprise, will finance one of the Lao dams. 

Both the Yunnan and Lower Mekong dams will have similarly 

consequential impact, but of differing character. China’s eight-dam 

cascade in Yunnan will fundamentally alter the timing and volume of 

the river’s seasonal changes and capture a significant amount of the silt 

that normally provides nutrients for the downstream agriculture that is 

critical to food security. The river’s natural rhythm will be significantly 

altered, narrowing the difference between the peaks of the wet and dry 

seasons. The Tonle Sap and other wetlands will be affected sufficiently 

to substantially reduce their productivity of fish and other aquatic life.25

Environmental nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), hydrologists, and fisheries experts have singled out the proposed 240-

megawatt Don Sahong Dam on the mainstream at Khone Falls, just 

above the Cambodian border, and the proposed Sambor Dam downstream in Cambodia as the projects most threatening to the lower 

Mekong fisheries. The Don Sahong dam, which will be undertaken 

by Malaysia’s Mega First Corporation Berhad, would block the single 

channel (out of 18) that can be traversed by migrating fish during the 

dry season. At risk are hundreds of species of food fish that migrate 

between the Cambodian and Lao parts of the river, not to mention the 

endangered freshwater dolphin and giant Mekong catfish.26

In October 2007, the China Southern Power Grid Company and 

the Cambodian government signed a memorandum of understanding 

for a feasibility study of a dam at Sambor, just below a major stretch of 

rapids in Kratie Province. This dam, like the Don Sahong dam, would 

decimate the lower Mekong fish population.27

Geopolitical Implications of Hydropower in the GMS 

All of the Mekong countries are determined to exploit their 

hydropower resources to support economic development. To date, 

China’s highly ambitious program to develop a massive eight-dam 
176 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

cascade in Yunnan and related blasting of the Mekong river floor as far 

downstream as northern Laos has posed the single greatest threat to the 

river. Soon, however, scores of large dams planned by Laos, Vietnam, 

and Cambodia could pose as great a threat to the river’s hydrology and 

ecology as China’s, but in different ways.

Most important, if the Lower Mekong countries build the 

proposed mainstream dams, they will become dependent on China to 

release the right amount of water at the right time to keep the dams 

operating through the dry season. Even if China has no desire to harm 

its neighbors’ interests, many variables could affect the operations 

of its dams in the Yunnan Cascade. Among these are changing power 

demand, rainfall patterns, and the amount of water behind the Xiaowan 

Dam at the beginning of the dry season.

Vietnam and Laos are also building smaller dams that are having 

impacts beyond their borders, but in comparison, the output of the 

Xiaowan will be three times the combined capacity of all of the dams 

currently operating or under construction in the lower Mekong. As an 

example of water usage impacts, filling the reservoir for the Xiaowan will 

likely consume one-half of the upper Mekong’s total flow for 5 to 10 years.

Other Environmental Threats 

All of the resources of the Mekong Basin are under severe threat 

of environmentally destructive exploitation. In most cases, these threats 

are linked. For instance, exploiting the Lower Mekong’s rich mineral 

deposits, including copper, bauxite, gold, and titanium, requires large 

amounts of energy. Many of the proposed dams in Laos and Cambodia 

are intended to generate the power needed for mining and for raising the value of the minerals (such as by smelting copper and turning 

bauxite into aluminum). The destruction of forests is an unavoidable 

consequence of dam building and mining. Finally, while global demand 

is the main driver of unsustainable resources extraction, relatively high 

population growth rates are a continuing factor, especially among 

minority groups who occupy the most vulnerable land.

Illegal and Environmentally Unsustainable Logging 

The Mekong Basin’s large but fast-diminishing stands of tropical 

hardwoods and other timber are not only a major source of income 

but also an integral part of the global climate system. The basin’s trees 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 177

remove carbon dioxide, while its wetlands and peat bogs sequester 

huge amounts of carbon. Because of the largely uncontrolled cutting 

of timber, the Mekong Basin has lost more than 70 percent of its 

pre-industrial tree cover, most of that in the last 20 years. The destruction of tree cover has been associated with increased flooding and the 

degradation of fresh water resources.28

In fact, not much primary forest remains. Because primary forests 

developed over hundreds or even thousands of years, the once-dominant tree species such as teak, mahogany, and other valued hardwoods 

cannot regenerate in the changed conditions of full sunlight. Secondary 

forests are dominated by new tree species, usually softer woods that are 

of lower value even when they reach commercially useful size. 

In a very real sense, the current destruction of remaining primary 

forests and their replacement with rubber, palm oil, and other monoculture plantations is simply completing a process that began during 

the Western colonial era but that was interrupted by several decades 

of armed conflict. Extensive commercial-scale logging in Thailand and 

adjacent areas of Burma started under that pioneer of modern globalization, the British Empire. Commercial-scale logging by British 

companies began in northwestern Thailand and the ethnic Mon areas 

of Burma in the late 19th century. Thailand’s first railways were built by 

British and other European interests in the early 20th century to bring 

teak to Bangkok for milling or to facilitate export of logs. 

Efforts by the Kingdom of Siam to regulate logging in the 

interest of the state began with the establishment of the Royal Forestry 

Department in 1896, which drew on British and German experience 

in sustainable harvesting. The British advisors conceptualized the 

forest as the kingdom’s “capital” and the harvested trees as the “interest.” 

For the first three decades, the administrators of the Royal Forestry 

Department—the conservators of the forest—were British. 

The Thai royal government saw several concrete benefits of the 

foreign logging concessions, especially the collection of taxes on logs 

and the expansion of central political authority to the farthest extent of 

the kingdom. Eventually, the goal of sustainable harvesting was overwhelmed by political corruption and a philosophical departure from 

the original idea of conservation that involved a broader concept of 

exploiting resources under strict official management for the benefit 

of the people. Population pressure also resulted in the conversion of 
178 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

clear-cut land from replanting to agriculture. Beginning in the 1960s, 

authorities began establishing national parks and other protected 

areas to save some of what was left of Thai forests, especially those that 

had an alternate economic value for urban middle-class recreation 

and tourism. At the same time, opposition to cutting in remaining 

unprotected areas by ethnic highland minority groups and their NGO 

advocates continued to grow. In 1989, a century after the beginning of 

large-scale logging, the government banned the cutting of timber. 

The loss of tree cover accelerated after the Vietnam War as a result of the rapid growth in the market-oriented industrializing countries 

in Southeast Asia beginning in the 1970s. Since that period, logging, the 

expansion of agriculture, dam building, and mining have caused a rapid 

acceleration of forest loss. The process has slowed down only when most 

of the easily accessible timber has been cut and/or when governments 

have become sufficiently alarmed to adopt effective protective measures. 

Variables in estimates of deforestation include the survey period, 

criteria for categorizing tree cover, and completeness of data. These limitations notwithstanding, the studies generally agree that the Mekong 

Basin has lost about 70 percent of the tree cover that it once had and that 

remaining natural forest continues to disappear fast. The loss of primary 

forest has been much greater. As a result, most tree cover is already 

second-growth timber.

The area of rapid deforestation has moved from Thailand and 

Vietnam to Cambodia, Laos, and Burma largely because the first two 

countries have cut so much of their forests in the past. By one account, 

the countries of the lower Mekong have lost half of their remaining 

primary forests in the past three decades. Primary old growth forest 

has been replaced by a mixture of shrubs, grasses, and young trees.29

Vietnam had 14 million hectares of natural forest in 1955 and only 9.4 

million in 1999.30 Another source gives 12.9 million hectares of forest in 

2005, only 85,000 of which is primary forest. In fact, by 2005, Vietnam 

had lost 77.9 percent of the primary forest standing in 1990, which 

accounts now for only 0.3 percent of the total land area. Thailand, by comparison, has 12.6 percent of its land still under primary forest. Thailand 

had lost 17.7 percent of its total forest cover between 1990 and 2005, but 

belated measures have protected the last stands of primary forest. 

Cambodia lost 19.3 percent of total forest cover and 58 percent of 

primary forest during the same period (1990–2005).31 While Thailand had 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 179

taken steps to halt cutting of its primary forests, Thai companies connected 

to the army had been paying the Khmer Rouge, who had retreated to western Cambodia on the border with Thailand, for the right to cut timber.32

Currently, the most serious assault on the remaining timber in 

Cambodia is being carried out by politically connected timber companies such as the giant Pheapimex Group, which operates joint 

venture logging concessions, pulp mills, and eucalyptus plantations with 

Chinese and Taiwanese partner companies. Critics in Cambodia charge 

that Pheapimex’s basic modus operandi is to work with highly placed 

officials in order to gain concessions for establishing plantations on 

protected forest land. Environmentalists and other supporters of affected villages claim that the operators first cut the larger trees without 

permits and then have the forests declared “degraded” or “spare forest” 

so that the rights to develop industrial plantations can be sold without 

technically violating forest protection laws.33

Apart from destroying forests and the livelihoods of Cambodians 

who depend on them, plantations and pulp mills pollute rivers and pose 

a special threat to the Tonle Sap. The Great Lake and Tonle Sap River are 

already being seriously degraded by overfishing and the destruction of 

wetlands by encroaching farms.

Currently, rubber plantations being established by Chinese companies are transforming northern Laos, destroying remaining stands of 

timber and polluting the rivers through the destruction of natural watersheds and fertilizer runoff. Chinese commercial operators either gain 

concessions from local governments or engage Lao farmers in contract 

production, providing seed, fertilizer, and training. Because the huge 

demand for latex rubber from China has caused world prices to soar, 

rubber is far more lucrative than subsistence farming, but the plantations impose a severe environmental cost, and in many cases they have 

encroached on protected forest land.34

Involvement of Regional Militaries in Illegal Logging 

Global demand drives illegal logging but only in conjunction with 

local corruption. One major problem throughout Southeast Asia is that 

regional militaries generally depend on commercial activities to fully fund 

themselves, which makes it easy for them to circumvent logging laws. 

In the ethnic Shan area, Burma’s expanding military presence has 

had a major impact on river blasting in support of the China, Thailand, 
180 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

and Laos Mekong Navigational Improvement Project. Overall, the end 

of fighting between the army and the Shan State army has opened the 

region to exploitation by “the regime, [Shan] ceasefire leaders and other business elites who have profited from unbridled exploitation of the 

area’s natural resources, with disastrous effects on the environment.” It 

is estimated that eastern Shan State has lost 50 percent of its forest cover 

since 1988. Wildlife and forest products are also diminishing rapidly.35

In Burma in particular, the military’s involvement in the drug trade has 

also led to the development of lavish casinos and golf courses.36

Reportedly, some Laotian army units are also deeply involved 

in the illegal timber trade, partly because the Laotian government, like 

that in Indonesia and some other regional countries, does not fully fund 

the military’s budget. Instead, the military is given timber allotments, 

allegedly determined by sustainability analysis. By selling the timber, 

military leaders enrich themselves while the Army supplements its 

inadequate budget. Although the allotments themselves may be legally 

assigned, the military can declare timber from any source as coming 

from the officially allotted tracts.37

Mining 

The Mekong region’s mineral resources have long been an important source of export earnings. Until recently, mining for industrially 

important minerals has largely been a small-scale activity. This pattern is rapidly changing in concert with the development of numerous 

hydropower dams, many of them built specifically to provide power 

for large-scale mining operations. As a consequence, mining has become one of the main sources of water pollution and a major threat to 

fisheries and human health. To date, mining has been carried out with 

little or no environmental consideration, and often illegally.

Mining has become a major industry in Vietnam, Laos, and presumably in Burma, and it is taking off in Cambodia as well. Foreign 

companies—including some of the biggest, such as Oxiana Limited and 

Rio Tinto in copper and Anglo Gold in that metal—have emerged as 

the main players in copper, gold, lead, and zinc mining.38  A number 

of joint-ventures operations are also involved in mining gemstones, 

limestone, tin, zinc, and gypsum. Others are making cement to meet 

the demands of construction activities, including roads, dams, and 

buildings. In contrast, most domestically operated mines, quarries, and 
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 181

sand dredging operations remain small in scale. Australian companies 

are by far the biggest operators in Laos, with China in second place. 

The rapid and largely unregulated expansion of mining in the Mekong 

region has led to considerable runoff and tailings that pollute the rivers, 

as well as causing increased deforestation of adjacent land.

Chinese involvement in bauxite mining in Vietnam has become 

a contentious domestic political issue. A nationalistic outcry followed 

revelations in 2009 that subsidiaries of the Aluminum Corporation of 

China had entered into a partnership with Vietnamese companies for 

extensive bauxite mining in the Central Highlands. Before his death, 

celebrated Vietnamese military hero General Vo Nguyen Giap raised 

an unprecedented public outcry against the joint venture over environmental destruction and the presence of Chinese workers at the mine. 

As evidence of both Vietnam’s desire for foreign investment from all 

quarters as well as the public’s neuralgia about China, the presence of 

Alcoa and other foreign mining companies barely received notice.39

Population Growth 

Finally, population growth remains a significant threat to the environment and to political stability in some parts of the Mekong Basin, 

especially in the upland areas, which already are suffering from excessive exploitation. Population growth rates have fallen sharply in much of 

Mekong Southeast Asia, but high rates continue in some of the poorest 

countries. Moreover, the comparatively youthful populations in most 

of the Mekong countries will ensure considerable growth momentum, 

even after fertility rates have fallen below the natural replacement level.

The population of Laos was growing at an estimated 2.73 percent 

per year as of 2007, with a very young age structure of 41.2 percent of the 

population at 14 years and younger. Cambodia is growing more slowly 

at 1.73 percent per year, and Cambodians 14 and under account for 34 

percent of the population. The relevant figures for Vietnam are 1.04 

percent growth and 26.3 percent of the population at 14 or under. The 

Thai population is growing at well under 1 percent per year, and only 21 

percent of the population is 14 years or younger.40 Burma’s growth rate 

has fallen from 2.5 percent in the mid-1970s to below 1 percent in 2008. 41

Still, demographers estimate that the population of the Mekong 

Basin will increase from 73 million at present to about 120 million by 

2025, an increase of 65 percent.42 Moreover, some areas are growing far 
182 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

more rapidly and unsustainably. For instance, the population around 

the Tonle Sap Great Lake is growing 3 percent more quickly than the 

rest of the Cambodian population.43

Expanding populations take their toll on forests, fisheries, and 

water quality, but small farmers generally are less of a threat than 

commercial logging interests. Forestry experts have increasingly concluded that swidden agriculture, which involves clear-cutting for crops 

and then letting the land lie fallow for several years, can be environmentally sustainable. Unfortunately, policies adopted by governments to 

limit the area of land under swidden agriculture have had the unexpected consequence of forcing communities to reduce the amount of time 

when the land lies fallow, with negative environmental consequences.44

The main damage caused by small farmers comes when they migrate 

into land that has been clear-cut for timber. This pattern prevails whenever the pressure of rising populations coincides with the decimation 

of the forest by commercial loggers, whether in the Amazon region of 

Brazil, sub-Saharan Africa, or Southeast Asia.45

Prospects 

The development juggernaut in the Mekong is unstoppable, but 

three critical questions remain to be answered. First, will the six GMS 

countries commit to cooperative and coordinated development, including both water management and other aspects of sustainable development, and if so, will they do it in time to avoid a catastrophe? Second, 

can regionalism take root without being dominated by China? Finally, 

will diminishing resources and rising competition for water and energy 

cause the renewal of regional conflict—not against China but among 

the lower Mekong countries themselves, which will be competing in an 

environment of scarcity?

There seems little reason for optimism at present. Most cooperation within the GMS continues to take place on a bilateral or trilateral 

basis. Many of these agreements now have China at their core. 

The GMS has been highly successful in respect to the construction of its transportation corridors and the facilitation of expanded trade 

and tourism, but it is fighting a losing battle to correct the initial failure 

to carry out adequate environmental studies. Moreover, improvements 

in governance and human capacity have lagged far behind the development of economic infrastructure.
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 183

The efforts of the ADB and World Bank to promote environmental sustainability have been compromised by at least three 

developments that are substantially out of their control so long as 

sustaining themselves as relevant actors remains their foremost 

interest. First, governments remain suspicious of each other and 

adamantly opposed to giving up any measure of their sovereignty for 

the sake of cooperative and sustainable development. Despite the 1995 

agreement by Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam to uphold 

cooperative development of the water resources through the Mekong 

River Commission, the studies and plans developed by the experts 

in the commission secretariat are gathering dust. A major problem 

for the MRC and the banks is that national political leaders and 

bureaucratic decisionmakers lack the ability to understand the 

science underlying these studies, even if they were prepared to spend 

the necessary political capital. 

Second, the borrowing countries themselves are shareholders in 

the banks. China, which gains far more from the banks’ infrastructure 

loans and grant aid for technical studies, now has half the voting power 

of Japan and the United States on the ADB governing board. China 

has the ability to mobilize support from other Mekong countries for its 

projects in return for their support for Chinese projects.

Third, the banks’ successful promotion of the concept of privatepublic partnerships has left them largely in the position of providing 

risk guarantees for private investors. Moreover, they are offering assistance with environmental mitigation and relocation of those displaced 

by the projects. Essentially, the multilateral development banks find 

themselves in a seemingly losing struggle to remain relevant. 

Only recognition by the governments themselves that the pursuit 

of short-term objectives undermines the longer term stability of the 

region can prevent an environmental and human catastrophe. Unfortunately, the situation will have to get far worse before the dangers are 

recognized by regional governments. Under current trends, China is 

fast becoming the dominant economic and political force in the region, 

but increasingly Beijing will face the prospect of choosing between its 

“smile” diplomacy and the current narrow calculation of its national 

interests. There are too many unpredictable forces at work to calculate 

how and when resistance will grow, thereby forcing China to reconsider 

its efforts to incorporate the region into its economy, if at all. 
184 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Notes

1 See Richard P. Cronin, “Mekong Dams and the Perils of Peace,” Survival: Global Politics and 

Strategy 51, no. 6 (December 2009–January 2010), 147–160.

2 “Hun Sen Praises China’s Aid in Infrastructure Development,” People’s Daily Online, January 

27, 2010, available at <http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/90001/90776/90883/6880789.html>.

3 Fred Pearce, When the Rivers Run Dry: Water, the Defining Crisis of the 21st Century (Boston: 

Beacon Street, 2006), 96.

4 Two other great Asian rivers rise in Yunnan: the Pearl River, whose delta is the lifeblood 

of China’s dynamic Guangdong Province, on the South China Sea, and the Red River (Yuan Jiang), whose flood plain and delta on the Gulf of Tonkin form the densely populated heartland 

of northern Vietnam.

5 Hiroshi Hori, The Mekong: Environment and Development (Tokyo, New York, Paris: United 

Nations University Press, 2000), 31.

6 Jason Folkmanis and Van Nguyen, “Thailand May Lose Status as World’s Top Rice Exporter 

by 2015, Group Says,” Bloomberg.com, available at <www.bloomberg.com/news/2010-06-29/

thailand-may-lose-status-as-world-s-top-rice-exporter-by-2015-group-says.html>. 

7 Eric Wolanski and Nguyen Huu Nhan, “Oceanography of the Mekong River Estuary,” paper 

presented at the International Conference on Deltas (Mekong venue): Geological Modeling and 

Management, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, January 10–16, 2005, available at <www.megadelta.

ecnu.edu.cn/main/upload/Eric%20WolanskiExtendedabstract.pdf>. 

8 “Southeast Asia: The Muddied Mekong,” Time, December 26, 1969; David A. Biggs, “Reclamation Nations: The U.S. Bureau of Reclamation’s Role in Water Management and Nation 

Building in the Mekong Valley, 1945–1975,” Comparative Technology Transfer and Society 4, no. 

3 (December 2006), 225–242. 

9 Colleen Fox and Chris Sneddon, “Flood Pulses, International Watercourse Law, and Common Pool Resources,” United Nations University, World Institute for Development Economics 

Research and Expert Group on Development Issues Research Paper No. 2005/20, April 2005, 

available at <www.wider.unu.edu/stc/repec/pdfs/rp2005/rp2005-20.pdf>. 

10 David Coates, “Fisheries in the Mekong River,” <www.unep.org/bpsp/Fisheries/Fisheries%20Case%20Study%20Summaries/Coates(Summary).pdf>; Chris Barlow et al., “How Much 

of the Mekong Fish Catch is at Risk from Mainstream Dam Development?” Catch and Culture

14, no. 3 (December 2008), available at <www.mrcmekong.org/catch-culture/vol14_3dec08/

Mekong-fish-catch.htm>.

11 “Cambodia,” Worldfishing.net, May 1, 2008, available at <www.worldfishing.net/features/

new-horizons/Cambodia>. 

12 Mekong River Commission, “The Mekong Fisheries Today,” available at <www.mrcmekong.org/programmes/fisheries/fish_ann03.htm>.

13 Ibid. 

14 Pinkaew Laungaramsri, “On the Politics of Nature Conservation in Thailand,” Kyoto Review of Southeast Asia, October 2002, available at <http://kyotoreview.cseas.kyoto-u.ac.jp/issue/

issue1/article_168.html>. 

15 Asian Development Bank (ADB), “The GMS Program,” available at <www.adb.org/GMS/

Program/default.asp>.

16 ADB, summary of proceedings, Greater Mekong Subregion Ninth Meeting of the Subregional Transport Forum, Beijing, June 2005, available at <www.adb.org/Documents/Events/

Mekong/Proceedings/STF9-SUMMARY.pdf>. 

17 ADB–Greater Mekong Subregion, Technical Assistance Completion Report, TA 6227–

REG: Coordinating the Greater Mekong Subregion North-South Economic Corridor Bridge 

Project, available at <www.adb.org/Documents/TACRs/REG/37763-02-reg-tcr.pdf>.
THE ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 185

18 Raja M, “Asian Highway Network Gathers Speed,” Asia Times Online, June 14, 2006, available at <www.atimes.com/atimes/Asian_Economy/HF14Dk01.html>; “Asia Highway Network: 

Mainland Southeast Asia,” available at <www.atimes.com/atimes/Asian_Economy/images/highways.html>. 

19 The poem begins, “By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin’ eastward to the sea,” which is geographically incorrect or poetic license, as “the sea” would be to the west. Nor would the dawn come 

up “like thunder outer China ,crost the Bay.” But if Kipling had mentally moved Moulmein to the 

Rangoon side of the Gulf of Martaban, then the rest would make sense, as “China” would likely have 

been viewed broadly by an illiterate British soldier.

20 Masami Ishida, “Special Economic Zones and Economic Corridors,” Economic Research 

Institute for ASEAN and East Asia (ERIA) Discussion Paper Series ERIA DP–2009–16, June 

2009, available at <www.eria.org/pdf/ERIA-DP-2009-16.pdf>. 

21 Marwaan Macan-Marker, “ADB urges cooperation in Mekong Region, Asia Times Online, 

April 24, 2004, available at <www.atimes.com/atimes/Southeast_Asia/FD23Ae01.html>. 

22 Jorn Dosch, “Environmental Issues in Trade and Investment Policy Deliberations in the 

Mekong Subregion,” in Balancing Trade Growth and Environmental Protection in ASEAN, Policy 

Report 2, 2010, available at <www.tradeknowledgenetwork.net/pdf/balancing_trade_growth_

asean.pdf>. 

23 Discussion Draft, Impacts Assessment, MRC Strategic Environmental Assessment, May 

14, 2010, 80. The draft notes that more research is required to reliably estimate the impact. The 

theoretical projection is based on the extrapolation of other research, not the discussion draft; 

available at <www.mrcmekong.org/ISH/SEA-Baseline/SEA_impacts_assessment_report_Discussion_Draft-15May.pdf>.

24 Ibid., 24.

25 Richard Cronin and Timothy Hamlin, “Mekong Tipping Point: Hydropower Dams, Human Security and Regional Stability,” Henry L. Stimson Center, 2010, 4. 

26 Eric Baran and Blake Ratner, “The Don Sahong Dam and Mekong Fisheries,” World Fish 

Center, June 2007, available at <www.worldfishcenter.org/resource_centre/DonSahong-final.

pdf>. 

27 “Sambor Dam, Kratie Province, Cambodia,” Terrapaper, September 2007, available at 

<www.terraper.org/articles/Sambor-TERRA%20Sept07.pdf>.

28 “Asian/Indomalayan Realm,” Mongabay.com, available at <http://rainforests.mongabay.

com/20asian.htm>.

29 Andrew J. Mittelman, “Secondary Forests in the Lower Mekong Subregion: An Overview 

of their Extent, Roles and Importance,” Journal of Tropical Forest Science 13, no. 4 (2001), 691–

690, available at <www.cifor.cgiar.org/publications/pdf_files/SecondaryForest/Andrew.pdf>. 

30 Center for International Forestry Research, “Vietnam,” available at <www.cifor.cgiar.org/

rehab/_ref/countries/Vietnam/Brief.htm>.

31 “Asian/Indomalayan Realm.” 

32 “Sustainable development and Environmental Awareness: Unsustainable Practices in the 

Mekong River Basin,” MRCS Environment Training Program Case Studies, available at <www.

mrcmekong.org/envir_training_kit/English/Course%20A%20-%20Sustainable%20Development%20and%20Environmental%20Awareness/Operational/Readings/PDF/Reading%20

02-Unsustainable%20Practices%20in%20the%20MRB.pdf >.

33 Chris Lang, “Cambodia: Eucalyptus Plantations and Pulp Production Threaten Forests and 

Rivers,” World Rainforest Movement Bulletin 44 (March 2001), available at <www.wrm.org.uy/

bulletin/44/Cambodia.html>.

34 Brian McCartan, “China Rubber Demand Stretches Laos,” Asia Times Online, December 

19, 2007, available at <www.atimes.com/atimes/China_Business/IL19Cb01.html>.

35 “Aftershocks along Burma’s Mekong, The Lahu National Development Organization,” 

available at <www.ibiblio.org/obl/docs/Aftershocks.html>. 

36 Ibid.
186 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

37 Conversation with a part-time timber dealer in Laos, 2005.

38 Florence Chong, “Laos Hits Gold in Copper Exports—Buyers Are Virtually Standing at the 

Front Gate,” Asia Today Online, March 21, 2005, available at <www.asiatoday.com.au/feature_reports.php?id=163>. 

39 Martha Ann Overland, “In Vietnam, New Fears of a Chinese ‘Invasion,’” Time Online, 

April 16, 2009, available at <www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1891668,00.html>. 

40 Central Intelligence Agency World Factbook, available at <https://www.cia.gov/library/

publications/the-world-factbook/geos/vm.html>. 

41 World Bank, World Development Indicators, last updated June 15, 2010, available at 

<www.google.com/publicdata?ds=wb-wdi&met=sp_pop_grow&idim=country:MMR&dl=en&

hl=en&q=burma+population+growth>.

42 J. Christenson, “Food Security and Development in the Lower Mekong River Basin: A 

Challenge for the Mekong River Commission,” conference paper, Asian Development Bank, February 2001. 

43 Ulla Heinonen, “Environmental Impact on Migration in Cambodia: Water-related Migration from the Tonle Sap Lake Region,” Water Resources Development 22, no. 3 (September 2006), 

449–462.

44 Mittelman. 

45 Ibid. 
Chapter 8

Displaced Populations in Burma’s 

Borderlands: When Are Borders a 

Significant Barrier or Means of 

Protection?

Rhoda Margesson

The changes brought about by globalization—in particular, the 

flow of goods and money—raise the possibility that borders are becoming less relevant. While this may hold true for certain shifts taking 

place in the global economy, borders remain critical in the relationships 

between states—particularly with regard to the movement of people, 

where they often serve as either a barrier or a means of protection for 

those who are forced to leave their homes or flee their country. 

The impact of globalization on population movements, the links 

between globalization and migration, and the implications of mixed migratory patterns that may include migrants, refugees and asylum seekers 

traveling together (yet having very different assistance and protection 

needs) are topics of growing interest and study. The issue is made more 

pressing by the increasing numbers of people on the move, and the 

degree to which crossing borders has become more rather than less 

critical in terms of protection and the expected opportunities on the 

other side. Furthermore, modern borders do not always coincide with 

historical links of culture and identity, daily working patterns, and the 

network of relationships that may exist between people living in communities on either side of what to them is an otherwise artificial line. 

Borders do not necessarily allow the free movement of people. 

The problem of human displacement, which often occurs involuntarily 

during international disasters and conflicts, presents many challenges 

for the international community. Often, those in flight will cluster at the 

border of their own country or cross over into neighboring countries, 

which then become hosts to the displaced, sometimes for long periods. 

Difficult operating environments often accompany these situations. 

Some of the global challenges created by displacement at borders 

187
188 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

include asylum-migration questions, the problem of long-term refugees, and increasing numbers of internally displaced persons (IDPs). 

In the case of Burma, the drivers of its population displacement 

have been primarily conflict, human rights violations, and oppression.1

Globalization may have exacerbated the contrast between Burma’s elite 

and its citizens, and between the economic growth within Burma and 

regional development outside its borders. It may also have contributed 

to the opportunities for other criminal activities, such as human trafficking, illicit trade in timber, wildlife, and gems, money laundering, 

arms dealing, and a robust drug trade.2 But globalization did not cause 

the longstanding political situation in Burma or create the reasons 

Burmese continue to flee the country. It remains to be seen if the broad 

reach of globalization may eventually have a positive impact on Burma 

and, in time, help bring about part of a solution to its current crisis.3

Amid an atmosphere of continuing tensions over the Burmese 

military’s suppression of antiregime protests in August and September 

2007, the potential for worsening humanitarian conditions and a possible increase in Burmese fleeing the country became clearly evident. 

The situation raised questions about what more, if anything, could and 

should be done by members of the international community not only 

to focus attention on the abuses of the regime, but also to alleviate the 

suffering of the people. Increasingly, some argue it is the suffering of 

ordinary Burmese that brings into sharp relief the continuing violation 

of fundamental rights—rights pertaining to food security, refugee and 

IDP status, and individual freedoms—and raises questions about how 

those rights should be protected and by whom. State sovereignty, defined in part by the borders of a country, remains critical to the answer.

To illustrate the complex issues surrounding displaced populations, this chapter focuses on refugees who have fled the eastern part of 

Burma for Thailand and those who have been displaced within Burma. 

It does not address other issues, such as Burmese refugees in Bangladesh 

(or elsewhere in the region) or the religious and ethnic identities of 

certain populations, such as the Rohingyas, many of whom are not recognized by Burma as Burmese nationals and are considered stateless.4

This chapter was written before Cyclone Nargis struck Burma in May 

2008 and examines the situation for refugees and IDPs prior to the 

impact of this natural disaster. 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 189

Overview: Humanitarian Crises, Population 

Displacement, and Borders 

Humanitarian emergencies occur worldwide and stem mainly from natural disasters or conflicts. Each year, they affect millions of 

people who often require prolonged urgent assistance. Natural disasters 

(like the 2004 tsunami, 2005 earthquake in South Asia, and 2010 earthquake in Haiti) typically require a multilateral response and are less 

likely to be hindered by the politics of the situation. In many political 

crises, such as war or civil conflicts—where groups within a country 

are fighting and a political solution is not forthcoming—the response 

often cannot be separated from broader foreign policy developments. 

Factors that may impact outside states’ decision to intervene include the 

severity of the situation, the type of humanitarian assistance required, 

the impact of conflict and refugee flows on stability in the region, and 

the role of neighboring countries in contributing to the relief effort. The 

broader international response—coordination of assistance, sharing 

the cost of an international recovery effort, and donor fatigue—are 

significant issues and may impact levels of funding and support available. 

Assistance may last for many years and can require delivery of supplies 

in areas of open conflict. In cases like these, refugees may be stranded in 

camps for decades, and those displaced within their own country may be 

separated from their homes for long periods. 

As a result of different types of crises, forced population movements often occur within the affected country or flow across borders to 

countries in close proximity. Definitions of status are assigned to various 

groups and may include refugees, IDPs, stateless persons, asylum seekers, 

returnees, and other vulnerable populations (those who might have 

difficulty moving, such as women, children, and the elderly). 

A refugee is a person fleeing across the border from his or her 

country. Unlike refugees who seek asylum outside their country of citizenship, IDPs have not crossed an international border but are displaced 

inside their own country. Asylum seekers are people who flee their home 

country and seek sanctuary in another state where they apply for asylum—which is the right to be recognized as a refugee—and may receive 

legal protection and material assistance until their formal status has 

been determined. Stateless persons are individuals who are not considered as citizens of any state under national laws. Returnees are refugees 
190 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

who return to their home countries. All can emerge as groups requiring 

particular protection, the basis of which for some may be found in international humanitarian law, and needing emergency assistance, which is 

typically provided by a host of national and international actors.

International Protection Mechanisms for Refugees 

The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) 

is the UN agency dedicated to the protection of refugees and other populations displaced by conflict and natural disasters, and it is mandated to 

lead and coordinate international action to protect refugees and resolve 

refugee problems worldwide.5 It is also the institutional mechanism 

for the implementation of the 1951 UN Convention Relating to the 

Status of Refugees (Refugee Convention) and the 1967 protocol to that 

convention.6 A refugee is defined as a person who has fled his or her 

country because of persecution or “owing to well-founded fear of being 

persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of 

a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country 

of his nationality and is unable or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to 

avail himself of the protection of that country.”7 Parties to the Refugee 

Convention have an obligation to abide by the principle of “non-refoulement,” which means that “no contracting State shall expel or return 

(refouler) a refugee in any manner whatsoever to the frontiers of territories where his life or freedom would be threatened on account of his race, 

religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion.”8

 Refugees are granted special status under international law. 

Once someone is considered a refugee, that individual automatically has 

certain rights, and states that are parties to the Refugee Convention and 

its 1967 protocol are obligated to provide certain resources and protection. UNHCR ensures those rights, works to find permanent, long-term 

solutions for refugees, and helps coordinate emergency humanitarian 

assistance for refugees. Increasingly, UNHCR assists other persons of 

concern, including IDPs.9 

Under UNHCR’s mandate, refugees may have several solutions 

available—voluntary repatriation, local integration in the country 

of first asylum, or resettlement in a third country. Finding durable 

solutions for refugees is receiving renewed interest, particularly in the 

context of Development Assistance for Refugees.10 The so-called 4Rs—

repatriation, reintegration, rehabilitation, and reconstruction—in 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 191

addition to resettlement, focus on ways that the burden of sustainability 

can be shared with the state involved and the actors providing assistance 

on the ground. 

Protection and Assistance for Internally Displaced Persons 

The plight of the IDP has gained international recognition as a 

critical challenge to be addressed.11 In 1992, the UN Secretary General 

defined IDPs as “persons who have been forced to flee their homes 

suddenly or unexpectedly in large numbers as a result of armed conflict, 

internal strife, systematic violation of human rights or natural or manmade disasters, and also who are within the territory of their country.” 

By the end of 2009, there were an estimated 27.1 million IDPs worldwide 

in more than 40 countries. Most were displaced as a result of conflict or 

human rights violations. The number of IDPs grew dramatically with the 

outbreak of low-intensity internal conflict at the end of the Cold War. As 

those displaced in past conflicts return to their places of origin, emerging conflicts often create newly displaced populations. Access to those 

displaced within the borders of a particular country often is not possible, thus denying them provision of protection and assistance. IDPs face 

some issues and problems similar to those that challenge refugees, but 

they face other unique problems as well. For example, if displacement is 

a result of conflict, IDPs often flee to areas near or around the conflict, 

which makes protection and vulnerability an issue.12

The international community is not under the same obligation 

to protect and assist IDPs, who, unlike refugees, have not crossed an 

international border.13 National governments have the primary responsibility for all displaced people in their territory. In many cases, however, 

they are unable or unwilling to fulfill this obligation. Moreover, 

governments themselves may be the primary perpetrators of violence 

and persecution and may not allow aid organizations access to displaced populations. Donors often lack the political will to fund projects 

that may be interpreted by national governments as intervening in 

internal affairs or where assistance provided may not reach the 

persons for whom it was originally intended. Lack of security often 

poses a threat to humanitarian staff.14

In the 1990s, the international community began to recognize the 

complexity of the IDP issue and to grapple with its responsibilities in 

situations where governments do not fulfill their obligations to protect 
192 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

their citizens. In 1992, the UN Commission on Human Rights asked 

the UN Secretary-General to appoint a representative on IDPs. A 1998 

collaborative effort produced the UN Guiding Principles on Internal 

Displacement, which have since gained recognition and international 

support.15 In the absence of a single agency dedicated to helping IDPs, 

the international community tries to work together with governments 

to address the needs of the internally displaced on a case-by-case basis. 

But the numbers are staggering. And even when a political agreement is 

reached, it can take a long time for IDPs to be able to return home.

Why Displacement Occurs 

People cross borders for many different reasons—some do so voluntarily, while others are forced to flee as a matter of life or death. A key 

consideration is whether the movement is voluntary or involuntary. On 

the one hand, the impact of globalization influences the movement of 

people. For example, migrants often seek better opportunities—and do 

this legally or illegally, for the long term or on a temporary basis. There 

are many potential risks for migrants, such as falling victim to trafficking, smuggling, abuse, and discrimination. Migrants present both 

potential benefits (usually in the form of labor) and burdens (security, 

impact on social services, local neighborhoods, and so forth) to host 

countries. Although migrants seeking opportunities elsewhere face 

great hardship, many are seeking a new life, not fleeing their existing 

one. In theory, should they decide to return to their country, they would 

continue to receive the protection of their government. According to 

UNHCR, there were approximately 407,000 refugees and over 22,000 

asylum seekers from Burma as of the end of 2009. Most of Burma’s refugees are from one of the country’s ethnic minorities that have been 

subjected to discriminatory and repressive treatment by the State Peace 

and Development Council (SPDC) and the Burmese military. Following a military offensive against separatist militias in 1984, an estimated 

140,000 Karen, Karenni, and Mon people from eastern Burma fled into 

Thailand. Many of these refugees are now living in nine camps along the 

Burma-Thailand border. In 1991 and again in 2000, military assaults in 

southwestern Burma pushed about 250,000 Rohingyas into Bangladesh 

and to a lesser degree into India to escape the violence. In August 2009, 

an estimated 37,000 Kokang, the Burmese term for ethnic Chinese, 

crossed the border into Yunnan Province in China due to a military 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 193

attack on the Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army and the 

United Wa State Army. According to UNHCR, there are over 150,000 

Burmese refugees and asylum seekers in Thailand, over 80,000 in 

Malaysia, approximately 200,000 in Bangladesh (mostly living outside 

the camps), up to 100,000 in India, and an unknown number in China.16

On the other hand, refugees and others displaced involuntarily 

face a different set of circumstances. Instead of choosing to leave and 

cross borders, they may be forced to leave their place of origin for a host 

of reasons, such as conflict, ethnic strife, human rights violations, large 

development projects, environmental hazards, or natural disasters.17

The terms push factor and pull factor are often used to explain why 

people move. As in many refugee situations, there are push and pull 

factors that influence certain people to leave their country. The 

reasons Burmese seek refuge in Thailand (or elsewhere in the region) may vary based on individual circumstances, but despite limited 

access and information, it is clear that two key elements driving Burmese 

across the border into Thailand or out of their homes include deteriorating humanitarian conditions/increasing human rights violations and 

abuses perpetrated against minorities and ethnic groups. 

But transborder movements are highly complex. Some also argue 

that political economic conditions within Burma and the economic opportunities in Thailand benefit the local Burmese military commanders, 

many of whom are poor and ill equipped. Furthermore, the migrants 

send money home to their families, bribes may keep local officers in 

power, and goods exported from Thailand support not only local economies but the military as well. While border crossing is considered illegal, 

as is cross-border illicit trade by the Thai and Burmese authorities, “it is 

the illegal border crossing that keeps the Burmese people from starvation and the Burmese officers from poverty or in fact staying in power.”18

An emerging trend involves mixed migration where different 

groups are on the move together or where a person may change his 

or her status en route. Here, issues of protection and determination 

of status may overlap and be more problematic and complicated. In 

recent years, the lines of distinction between and among refugees, 

asylum seekers, and migrants have caused confusion and raised 

questions about the principles of protection for those seeking assistance and the degree of impartiality in the provision of that assistance. 

UNHCR describes this as a gray zone, where “people . . . are leaving a 
194 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

country where persecution and discrimination are unquestionably occurring and the economy is also dire. Are people leaving such countries 

for refugee reasons, or economic ones—or do both sets of reason fuse into 

one that is, in many cases, almost impossible to unravel?”19 States concerned about the economic burden of those seeking help and the potential 

security issues resulting from uncontrolled migration (and raised in 

part because of the threat of terrorism) insist on stricter enforcement of 

asylum and immigration policies. Human trafficking is another means 

individuals may use to enter another country, either as a refugee or 

migrant, and could increase the risk of detention, exclusion, and lack of 

due process. In some instances, these problems lead to a more restrictive 

interpretation of the Refugee Convention and its 1967 protocol.

As populations are displaced, the issue of borders becomes hugely 

significant. Host countries may accommodate up to a certain threshold, 

and then set limits. This “push-down” effect may create a “pop-up” effect 

elsewhere, unless the flow eases. With no resolution to some of these 

situations, the displaced may end up in temporary residences for a long 

time. Warehousing has become a term of reference to describe the plight 

of refugees forced to remain in camps over decades. Reportedly, more 

than half the world’s refugees have been in camps for 10 years or more. 

Advocates argue that for refugees, “situations of restricted mobility, 

enforced idleness, and dependency—their lives on indefinite hold—[are] 

in violation of their basic rights under the 1951 UN Refugee Convention.”20

Although UNHCR and others want to find durable solutions, protracted 

situations do not necessarily create the conditions for this to happen. The 

movement of people is therefore very much a product of conditions in the 

country of origin and protections available on either side of the border.

Global Displacement 

UNHCR reports that by the end of 2009, the total number of forcibly displaced people worldwide was the highest since the mid-1990s: 43.3 

million, which included 15.2 million refugees, 983,000 asylum seekers, 

and 27.1 million IDPs. About 26 million of these people (10.4 million 

refugees and 15.6 million IDPs) were receiving some form of protection 

or assistance from UNHCR. In addition, UNHCR identified 6.6 

million stateless persons, although it is estimated that the overall 

number worldwide may be closer to 12 million. The number of new 

claims for asylum and refugee status registered in 2009 totaled 922,000.21

Approximately 251,500 refugees voluntarily repatriated in 2009, which is 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 195

the lowest number since 1990, whereas 2.2 million IDPs returned to their 

homes, representing the highest number of IDP returns in a decade. 

Humanitarian crises are numerous and as varied in profile as in 

the causes that bring them about—some gain attention that is sustained 

for a period of time in the eyes of the international community; others 

remain the so-called forgotten crises and never reach the world stage. 

Still others mediate between the two, rising and falling with a spike 

in events or deteriorating conditions, but usually becoming victim to 

fatigue in world attention. 

Displacement Trends in Southern Asia 

Migration has historically been significant in South and Southeast 

Asia and remains a complex issue. As practically all regional states 

became independent after 1947, millions of people moved to avoid 

persecution, escape war, or meet basic needs through opportunities 

for work. In South Asia alone, the number in the past half-century is 

thought to be about 30 million people.22 With well-established networks 

in the region, people have continued to move out of economic necessity, 

because of natural disasters, or to escape conflict and civil unrest either 

within their country or internationally across borders. Some move for 

temporary, seasonal migration, while others move for more long-term, 

permanent settlement. Recent trends have been influenced by globalization and trade, growth in communication technology, and other 

factors related to economic need and employment opportunities, and 

increasingly, environmental degradation, land scarcity, and population growth. Trafficking in persons has become a significant problem, 

although underreporting makes it difficult to assess the full extent 

and impact:

The emergence of nation-states in 1947 also resulted in the 

beginning of impositions of various procedures on people’s 

mobility in South Asia for the first time. However, these 

could not altogether stop the flow of people within and 

outside the sub-continent. The “natural integrated labour 

market” of South Asia on the one hand, and limited, state 

capacity to monitor and control borders effectively on the 

other, remained as major factors in the management of 

population movement in the region, with far-reaching 

consequences on the economies and societies.23
196 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Irregular migration, in the absence of policies that allow regular 

temporary migration for work, such as seasonal employment, has also 

become a significant issue. Forced migration due to natural disasters, 

large-scale development projects, and conflict remains a problem. 

Newly emerging trends see more women joining those on the move and 

more circular migration, where people who leave eventually return to 

their countries, often with new skills. Internal displacement in South 

Asia in general is an enormous problem.24 Francis Deng, Representative 

of the UN Secretary-General on Internally Displaced Persons from 1992 

to 2004, stated that: 

Asia’s list of problems calling for urgent attention must place 

internal conflicts highest in the order of priorities, followed 

by human rights violations, dictatorial or authoritarian 

systems of governance, and flawed economic policies, all 

of which are closely interconnected in a chain of cause and 

effect. These factors and the related issues of responsibility 

are all germane to the crisis of internal displacement. . . . 

overwhelmingly, the main cause of displacement is civil 

wars or armed insurgencies, which force large numbers to 

leave their homes or areas of residence.25

It is estimated that more than half of the 4 to 5 million internally 

displaced in Asia are displaced in Southeast Asia.

Southwest China, northern Burma, Thailand, and northeast India 

and Bangladesh all have borderland communities that impact and define the identity, culture, economy, and status of the people living there. 

With the fixed and well-defined boundaries captured in modern lines 

of delineation, the communities that existed within the borderlands 

for centuries are now divided among different states. But borderland 

communities continue to thrive; in some places, borders remain fluid 

or at least permeable, and transnational linkages continue. For the 

populations on the borders between Burma and Thailand, a complex 

web of interrelationships is also at play.

Burma’s Displaced Populations 

Conflict and migration among the many diverse peoples in 

Burma have punctuated the country’s history. Multiparty elections to 

the National Assembly in 1990 resulted in a decisive victory for the main 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 197

opposition party, the National League for Democracy (NLD). However, 

the SPDC, which had been in power since 1988, refused to accept the 

results of the election. The opposition leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, was under house arrest for much of the time since the elections. Throughout the 

reign of the SPDC, hundreds of her supporters were arrested. According 

to a range of sources, including the U.S. Government, human rights 

groups, relief organizations, and news reports, the SPDC has conducted 

a campaign of persecution against Burmese minorities, causing many 

to flee its acts of repression and persecution. Violations include acts of 

religious persecution, sexual violence against women, human trafficking, forced labor, development-induced relocation, and forced relocation 

as an instrument of control. Military expenditures have continued to 

be a priority, with little support given to public services. According to 

the World Health Organization, one-third of children under 5 suffer 

from malnutrition. Armed opposition is confined to the three ethnic 

groups that operate along Burma’s border with Thailand: the Shan State 

Army, the Karen National Union, and the Karenni National Progressive 

Party. The situation in Burma has triggered a flow of refugees over the 

eastern border into Thailand and elsewhere in the region. According to 

UNHCR, in 2009 Burma produced one of the largest numbers of 

refugees (206,650) and people in refugee-like situations (200,019) in 

Southeast Asia, but the actual number could be much higher.26 This 

chapter looks at two aspects of Burma’s displaced population prior to 

Cyclone Nargis: Burmese refugees in Thailand and Burmese IDPs.

Profile of Burmese Refugees in Thailand 

Representing one of the largest groups of refugees in East Asia, 

refugees of Burmese origin in Thailand (as well as in Bangladesh) come 

from a variety of ethnic groups that have fled attacks on their villages 

by Burma’s army and warlords. These ethnic groups have reportedly 

been subjected to forced labor, use as human mine sweepers and 

bullet shields, forced relocation, conscription into the army as porters 

or soldiers, rape, mass killing, extortion, and denial of basic human 

needs, which has led to a large internally displaced population as well. 

Although some experts estimated that there are more than 100 ethnic 

groups in Burma, 7 groups—the Shan, Karen, Karenni, Mon, Chin, 

Arakan, and Kachin—have been reportedly targeted by SPDC troops, in 

part because they continue to seek a measure of autonomy.27
198 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

In a move to consolidate power, the SPDC periodically has signed 

ceasefire agreements with armed insurgent groups associated with 

several of the ethnic groups demanding some autonomy, creating a 

mini-border within a border. The homelands of non-Burman ethnic 

groups are mostly along Burma’s borders, described as forming a horseshoe around the central part of the country. This idea of a center and 

periphery within a country, which may be more of an Asian concept 

(compared with the Western idea of a frontier), also translates into 

social and economic status. Poverty exists throughout the country, but 

those in the border areas are most vulnerable. Ongoing Burmese military offensives against Karen insurgents highlight the ongoing struggle 

within and across Burma’s internal borders. Burma’s population is estimated to be 52 million.28 It is believed that there are possibly 500,000 to 

1 million IDPs within Burma, mostly as result of ethnic fighting, poor 

economic policies, deteriorating economic conditions, or forced relocation. These people can be thought of as crossing internal “frontiers” that 

may have greater significance to them than international borders.29

UNHCR estimates that around 3 million asylum seekers have 

sought refuge in Thailand in the past three decades. Burma presents 

the largest source: Based on official registration numbers compiled 

in 2007, 140,000 to 155,000 refugees were estimated to be in the nine 

refugee camps recognized by the Thai government on the Thai-Burma 

border, which extends for 2,401 kilometers (see map 8–1).30 Approximately 128,500 were registered as refugees, and the rest were pending 

a decision on their status by Thailand’s Provincial Admissions Boards. 

Some refugees have been in camps for 20 years.31 Other asylum seekers are thought to be in urban areas. In addition, refugees and asylum 

seekers representing groups (mostly from other bordering states) live 

elsewhere in the country.32

The Thailand Burma Border Consortium (TBBC), a registered 

charity in the United Kingdom, is a nonprofit nongovernmental organization (NGO) that is the umbrella for nine international NGOs that provide 

humanitarian relief. TBBC estimates that the Burmese state of origin 

of the registered refugee population breaks down as follows: 62 percent 

Karen, 13 percent Karenni, 9 percent Tenasserim, 5 percent Mon, 5 percent 

Pegu, 4 percent unknown, and 2 percent other (including Chin, Kachin, 

Irrawaddy, Magwe, Mandalay, Rakhine, Rangoon, Sagaing, and Shan).
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 199

Map 8–1. Refugee and Resettlement Sites along Thai-Burma Border
200 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

In addition to the registered refugees, another 1 million or more 

Burmese may be illegal migrants in Thailand.33 It is unclear how many 

from this group may have valid claims to asylum. Other Burmese are 

thought to have become illegal migrant workers in Bangladesh, India, 

China, and Malaysia. It is also unclear how many may have valid claims 

to asylum. Humanitarian needs include food, water, sanitation, basic 

household assistance, and public health programs. According to the 

European Commission’s Humanitarian Office, the situation for refugees 

fleeing outside Burma and those displaced within Burma itself is a 

“silent crisis” that demonstrates increasing humanitarian needs.34

Urban versus Border Refugees 

In addition to questions of autonomy and displacement within 

Burma, distinctions about status must be made in Thailand as well, 

which again points to the question of boundaries within borders that 

can directly impact the degree of protection and assistance available. 

There are two distinct refugee groups: border refugees and urban 

refugees. The border refugees are typically permitted to stay in camps 

for humanitarian reasons. The urban refugees are thought by the government of Thailand to include many political dissidents, although this 

group also has refugees who did not feel safe at the border. For a number 

of years, Thailand has been tightening the restrictions on urban refugees 

and defining anyone living outside the camps as an illegal immigrant. 

The Thai government has also wanted to control the number of refugees 

in Bangkok and their involvement in illegal political activities or crimes 

such as drug dealing. With the support of UNHCR, an agreement was 

worked out to move some urban refugees to the camps. If considered a 

“person of concern” by UNHCR, then the refugee is supposed to return 

to and register at one of the refugee camps. UNHCR divides this urban 

group into two subcategories: those refugees who would have protection 

at the border and those refugees who flee because of a secondary fear of 

persecution from Thai security forces at the border itself. 

Thailand’s Response to Burmese Refugees 

Countries that host refugee populations over an extended period 

of time argue that refugees must be contained in order to limit the negative impact they may have on the local economy. Governments of developing countries are increasingly worried that they are burdened with 

a disproportionate share of refugees, which they view as flooding the 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 201

labor market and placing pressure on already strained social services. 

Critics contend that confining refugees to camps leads to increased 

crime and illicit market activities. Still others suggest that allowing refugees to participate in local markets is advantageous to local economies.

Thailand has long been a “pull” for economic and political refugees, particularly from the neighboring countries of Laos, Cambodia, 

and, most prominently, Burma. Displaced populations of ethnic minorities from Southeast Asia have sought refuge across Thailand’s long 

borders, often attracted by relatively loose immigration controls and 

lenient treatment by Thai authorities. Thailand is not a signatory to the 

1951 UN Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees or the 1967 

protocol, and the term refugee and the protection mandates recognized 

under international law are therefore not formally recognized in 

Thailand. A strong network of international humanitarian organizations 

exists in Thailand to assist these populations.

Thailand has responded to the population flows in different 

ways over time, with give and take occurring between the government, 

UNHCR, and human rights organizations over the criteria for determining refugee status, areas of protection, and provision of services. 

Successive Thai governments have expressed frustration with this 

continuing presence and periodically have clamped down on the incoming asylum seekers. Often, this response relates to Bangkok’s wish to 

maintain strong political relationships with other regional governments. 

Asylum seekers are technically viewed as illegal immigrants, although 

the legal issues are often circumvented through the use of informal 

references—temporary shelters instead of refugee camps or displaced 

persons fleeing fighting rather than refugees.

With no access to Burma, UNHCR is limited in its repatriation efforts. It has three field offices in Thailand and has worked with the Thai 

government since 1998 to register and protect those in refugee camps 

along the Burmese border, which were first established in Thailand 

in 1984. The camps were intended for temporary use and are not 

considered suitable for permanent habitation. According to UNHCR, 

refugee status in the camps is regulated by ad hoc administrative 

procedures, although the Thai government maintains ultimate authority. Provincial Admission Boards administer admission to the camps 

using criteria similar to the 1951 Refugee Convention. 

Thailand has been generally cooperative in helping refugees, 

but does not want to become an indefinite host, nor does it want to 
202 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

absorb those Burmese who do not qualify as refugees. The Thai government views Burma as presenting the most immediate source of refugee 

problems and at different times has cooperated with the resettlement 

of large numbers of Burmese in third countries.35 Until an agreement 

can be reached with Burma and it is safe for the Burmese to return, 

Thailand has basically accepted the influx of refugees on humanitarian 

grounds. Reportedly, the Thai government takes pride in its humanitarian response to refugees fleeing neighboring countries. However, it 

is also feeling the strain from the increasing numbers of refugees and 

migrants, which raises concerns about whether it has the capacity to 

continue to accommodate new arrivals. The United States has been 

encouraging the Thai government to permit UNHCR to continue its 

work with refugees or to establish a Thai-managed screening mechanism in consultation with UNHCR.

Internally Displaced Persons in Burma 

In Asia, the problem of IDPs is considered an internal, domestic 

matter. In most cases, states are committed to the principle of sovereignty, and thus IDPs are not thought to be a matter of regional 

concern.36 There is much that is not known about the plight of IDPs 

in Burma, but the situation is apparently one of the worst in Asia. 

Lack of access has been a barrier to adequate information on needs 

and a barrier to the delivery of assistance. It is believed the situation 

continues to worsen. While humanitarian needs of the displaced vary, 

most people in Burma live in poverty and lack adequate health care 

and education. Many struggle to meet their daily needs. The Internal 

Displacement Monitoring Centre and others report that the largest 

group of IDPs is found in eastern Burma in the border states with 

Thailand, primarily among the Karen, but also including the Karenni, 

Shan, and Mon. Total numbers of displaced range from 500,000 to 1 

million, but an accurate figure is not known. IDPs live in temporary 

sites, in hiding, or in relocation sites. The government’s strategy of 

social control is to use forced assimilation and repression of movements of autonomy and independence through displacement of 

populations, burning of fields and crops, destruction of villages, and 

perpetration of human rights abuses and atrocities. Displacement 

by development is also increasingly a factor. Lack of food, shelter, and 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 203

medical care is common, while protection and assistance are inadequate or not available. And the military junta continues to deny there 

is any sort of humanitarian crisis or need.

Present Outlook on International Assistance 

When responding to humanitarian crises, international assistance efforts vary in size but are typically complex because they require 

coordination among different actors. Those responding to humanitarian 

crises include UN agencies, international organizations, intergovernmental entities, NGOs, private voluntary organizations, and bilateral 

donors. The operational environment is another critical factor that 

greatly affects the provision and effectiveness of humanitarian assistance. Lack of security and political instability often pose challenges 

in the response to these crises. When conditions on the ground limit 

access, the delivery of humanitarian assistance and protection monitoring is also substantially reduced. Difficult conditions also considerably 

increase the safety risk and expense of a relief operation. In addition to 

situations involving escalating conflicts, border disputes, and heightened tensions, natural disasters also contribute to major population 

movements. These same conditions may hamper the sustainable return 

and reintegration of returnees where inadequate services and poor 

development options limit the number who can be repatriated. 

In cases such as Burma, without consideration of the response 

to Cyclone Nargis, international assistance has maintained certain 

services over time, many informally, but this by itself cannot create 

conditions for a long-term solution.37 For example, the United States 

has been providing assistance for refugees along the Burmese border 

since the 1990s. It does not provide any bilateral assistance to Burma, 

and sanctions against the junta continue. U.S. contributions to assist 

with the Burmese refugee situation come from both the U.S. Agency for 

International Development and the State Department’s Bureau for 

Population, Refugees and Migration. This U.S. Government funding 

provides support for programs such as humanitarian assistance, food 

security, health care (including support to combat infectious disease), 

and education to Burmese refugees, refugees not in camps, migrants, 

IDPs along the border but within Burma, and ethnic minorities. U.S. 
204 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

funding is also provided to international organizations, principally 

UNHCR and the International Committee of the Red Cross, to support 

their programs in East Asia, some of which include activities focused on 

Burmese refugees and IDPs. In the past, its activities in Thailand have 

included helping to provide access to asylum seekers in border camps 

and ensuring that procedures of admittance and registration by the 

Thai government comply with international standards. Other activities 

are related to antitrafficking in persons, migrant rights, HIV/AIDS 

prevention, and democracy-building.

Some have called for increasing aid to those providing emergency 

relief for both IDPs and refugees, despite hesitation by governments 

and donors over the actions of the Burmese government. A number of 

experts have articulated concerns that once aid agencies are operating 

in Burma, they will be reluctant to criticize the government in order 

to protect access. Others are concerned that humanitarian assistance 

could improve living conditions and mask the Burmese government’s 

policies or enable it to take credit for improvements in living conditions. 

Still others fear that without adequate monitoring and enforcement, 

resources could be diverted (perhaps to the military) and not provided 

to those for whom they were intended. Discussions with the Burmese 

government ebb and flow. In late December 2007, Charles Petrie, the 

former UN resident and humanitarian coordinator, was asked by the 

Burmese government to leave his post, in part because he publicly 

linked the September 2007 protests with frustration of deteriorating 

daily living conditions.

Formulating policy toward Burma that goes beyond the band-aid 

of humanitarian assistance can be characterized as deciding among 

a range of poor options. Future policies will likely have to integrate a 

combination of approaches—from the role of intergovernmental organizations such as the European Union and a call for a clearer common 

position on Burma with particular sanctions on investment, to the role 

of the Security Council and its potential impact on humanitarian and 

human rights crisis in Burma, to the part the UN Human Rights Special 

Envoy could play.38 Regional frameworks, such as initiatives to address 

migration management, trafficking, and forced displacement, and 

international agreements such as the Refugee Convention, Guidelines 

on IDPs, Trafficking Convention, and Human Rights Conventions, all 

can play a part when productive communication is possible and when 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 205

the international community is prepared to stand together to denounce 

the policies of a particular government or to enforce the consequences. 

But political will has not stood the test of time so far on Burma, and 

the citizens caught within its borders have little recourse but the one 

millions have already tried: move or flee.

Borders and the Responsibility to Protect 

While the UN Charter obligates members to promote respect 

for human rights and asserts as a primary purpose the promotion of 

human rights and fundamental freedoms for all, it also recognizes 

the doctrine of nonintervention. Thus, article 2, paragraph 7, of the 

UN Charter states that “nothing in the Charter authorizes the United 

Nations to interfere in matters which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of any state.” Because of the traditional approach toward 

human rights as a matter exclusively within the domestic jurisdiction of 

sovereign states, Article 2 (7) has been viewed by some as an obstacle to 

the implementation of the human rights provisions of the charter. States 

accused of human rights violations frequently cite this provision in 

response to criticisms by other states (or international organizations) 

relating to human rights conditions within their borders.

However, many advocates argue that there is substantial 

justification for state responsibility for the protection of the human 

rights of individuals and for some level of “interference” by the international community on behalf of those whose rights have been infringed. 

Activity for the protection of human rights has been constantly subjected to tension between state sovereignty as protected by the doctrine 

of nonintervention and state obligations to protect human rights and 

fundamental freedoms. Increasingly, protection of populations affected 

by conflict within a country is seen as partly the responsibility of the 

international community. For example, some might argue that the 

Burmese government is a threat to its own people and that Burma has 

violated its responsibility to protect its own citizens, thus warranting 

action by the international community and the UN Security Council.

At the 2005 UN World Summit, the “Responsibility to Protect” 

concept was introduced, putting forward the idea that each state 

has a responsibility to protect its people from genocide, war crimes, 

ethnic cleansing, and crimes against humanity, and that human rights 
206 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

violations committed in one state are the concern of all states.39 It is an 

agreement in principle that speaks to the obligations of a state to protect its own people and the obligations of all states when that fails, but it 

does not make action easy or even probable. Lee Feinstein, senior fellow 

for U.S. foreign policy and international law at the Council on Foreign 

Relations, observed that:

Adoption of the responsibility to protect begins to resolve 

the historic tension between human rights and states’ rights 

in favor of the individual. Where the state had been erected 

to protect the individual from outsiders, the responsibility 

to protect erects a fallback where individuals have a claim to 

seek assistance from outsiders in order to substitute for or 

protect them from the state.40

Still, translating principle into action remains an enormous challenge, as 

the case of Burma so aptly demonstrates.

Conclusion 

In a discussion paper on dealing with Burma’s sovereignty, Jack 

Dunford, director of the Thailand Burmese Border Consortium, stated:

It is all too little and too slow in terms of the immediate 

situation. There are enormous unmet humanitarian needs. 

Hundreds of thousands of people are suffering. Social fabric 

is being destroyed. Hatred is being fueled. Land is being laid 

waste. People are becoming refugees. The damage being 

done today will take years to undo and will cost an enormous 

amount of money even when change comes. The Guiding 

Principles seem to offer no guidance for emergency humanitarian situations such as this where the Sovereign State refuses 

to cooperate and is seemingly impervious to all pressure.41

It remains the case that the feasibility of any sustainable and voluntary 

return of Burmese refugees and IDPs must be based on the reality of 

conditions on the ground, which so far have not changed.

In an increasingly globalized world, some have argued that borders are becoming less significant, and that in the future, they may be 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 207

irrelevant. But this view denies the plight and the often critical circumstances of those who are displaced. For individuals or groups who are 

fleeing their country of origin and trying to cross borders to potentially 

safer surroundings, nothing is further from the truth. Globalization has 

not changed the significance of borders when it comes to the movement 

of people. Borders may provide protection if the host country is willing 

or the protection of a refugee camp offers safe haven. But as the Burma 

case demonstrates, borders can also be a barrier—to protection, to 

escape, often to life. Those caught within the boundaries of conflict or 

at the hands of a repressive regime with no means of crossing into another country may face a rigid, unforgiving, perilous journey, and many 

go into hiding to avoid a worse outcome. Internal displacement in these 

circumstances offers no protection, only barriers. And the very walls of 

protection in safe havens such as refugee camps may over time feel like 

barriers of a different kind—barriers to acceptance in a new country 

and the possibility of a better life. Refugee camps are not meant to be 

permanent solutions, but when they become that by default—as in the 

case of Burmese living in Thailand—they can also be seen as temporary 

barriers that cannot be changed until the countries that control the 

borders provide options to ensure protection and freedom. 

Movement of people is a complex issue with many implications. 

Those who are forced to move face unique challenges. Borders by definition are significant because they so clearly mark the place where 

one country ends and another begins. As is the case for hundreds of 

thousands of Burmese, borders mark the place that for some may be a 

barrier, and for others, a possible step toward protection.42

Notes

1 In July 1989, the State Law and Order Restoration Council changed Burma’s name to 

Myanmar. The United Nations and others recognized the change, while the United States, 

Australia, and some European countries did not. The opposition boycotts the name change as a 

form of protest against human rights abuses. 

2Burma is the largest producer of methamphetamines in the world and also trades opium, 

the production of which jumped almost 50 percent in 2007 over previous years.

3There are some experts who hold the view that globalization will only continue to benefit 

and strengthen the ruling junta. China, for example, invests in Burma’s natural resources and 

reportedly supplies the regime with arms and international political protection. 
208 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

4United Nations High Commissioner on Refugees (UNHCR), “Refugee or Migrant? Why 

it Matters,” Refugees 4, no. 148 (2007), 31. The Rohingyas are a largely Muslim minority from 

Burma’s Arakan state (now renamed Bakhine state) and have been considered stateless since 

1948, when the Burmese government claimed this group of people were recent migrants from 

the Indian subcontinent and did not qualify for citizenship under the constitution. Many have 

fled to Bangladesh in different cycles of mass departures over the past several decades. As of 2007, 

in Bangladesh there were 27,000 Rohingyas in two UNHCR-run camps and an estimated 200,000 

more Rohingyas of undetermined status living among the local population.

5UNHCR was established by UN General Assembly Resolution 428 (V) of December 14, 

1950, and made operational in 1951.

6UNHCR was established to help resettle European refugees after World War II. The 1951 

convention limits the definition of refugees to those created by events occurring prior to 1951. In 

response to the emergence of large refugee movements since 1951, the 1967 protocol incorporates the measures included in the 1951 convention but imposes no time or geographical limits. 

For texts, see <www.unhcr.org/protect/3c0762ea4.html>.

7Text of the 1951 United Nations Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, chapter 1, 

article 1 (A) 2.

8 Ibid., article 33.1. The issue of non-refoulement is also considered part of customary international law. 

9Enforcement of the Refugee Convention can present challenges. For example, the national 

laws of a state may not be developed sufficiently to allow full implementation of its provisions. 

Often, becoming a party to the convention is a first step, and UNHCR serves as an important 

resource. Sometimes, the convention may contradict bilateral agreements between states. From 

UNHCR’s point of view, international law overrides other bilateral agreements, but governments 

may not agree. UNHCR may try to assist in creating a solution, or states may use ad hoc procedures to determine whether an individual has a well-grounded fear of persecution and thus is 

protected from deportation. UNHCR often works with governments behind the scenes in asylum 

cases to push for application of the principles of the Refugee Convention and protection of the 

rights of the individual, even though there may not be agreement on legal jurisdiction.

10This UNHCR concept is discussed in “Rethinking Durable Solutions,” in The State of the 

World’s Refugees 2006: Human Displacement in the New Millennium, April 19, 2006, available at 

<www.unhcr.org/4444afcc0.html>.

11 Francis M. Deng and Roberta Cohen, Masses in Flight: The Global Crisis of Internal Displacement (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 1998). 

12 For more information, see Khalid Koser, “Addressing Internally Displaced Persons in a 

Peace Process: Why and How?” Brookings Institution, December 14, 2007, available at <www.

brookings.edu/speeches/2007/1214_peace_koser.aspx?rssid=koserk>.

13UN agencies and the UN Secretary-General have looked to UNHCR to provide assistance to certain displaced populations, though they do not fall within UNHCR’s original 

mandate. By default, UNHCR has provided assistance and some protection to internally displaced persons (IDPs), but it has argued that it lacks the capacity and resources to cope systematically with the needs of IDPs in addition to its refugee caseload. As of 2009, UNHCR offered 

assistance to more than 15 million IDPs throughout the world. Already under critical budgetary 

pressure in providing assistance and protection to refugees, UNHCR and other international 

entities face a significant challenge in addressing the global IDP situation. For background, see 

“Internally Displaced Persons: Questions and Answers,” UNHCR, 2005.

14 Ibid.

15How the global IDP situation will be addressed remains to be seen. Even as states reportedly accept broader interpretations of international law, such as the 1951 convention and the 

1967 protocol, through an interagency collaborative approach, UNHCR will likely play a leading 

role in addressing the plight of this large and vulnerable population, along with other UN agencies that will be assigned specific sectoral responsibilities. See “Internally Displaced Persons: 

Institutional Arrangements: the ‘collaborative approach,’” in State of the World’s Refugees 2006. 
DISPLACED POPULATIONS IN BURMA’S BORDERLANDS 209

16Refugee statistics are from conversation with UNHCR officials and UNHCR’s Web site, 

available at <www.unhcr.org>.

17 It should be noted that some individuals may be uprooted and move due to severe hardship 

and lack of resources and for this reason are perhaps considered migrants, but could technically 

be IDPs.

18Niti Pawakapan, “Crossing is Illegal, Money is Not: Intertwined Linkage of Burmese Migrants, Burmese Military Officers and Thai Traders,” Social Science Research Council, accessed 

at <http://programs.ssrc.org/southasia/researchnetworks/borderlands/pawakapan/printable.html>.

19 “Refugee or Migrant? Why it Matters,” 2. See also UNHCR’s Ten Point Plan of Action that 

addresses some of the difficulties that emerge with overlaps in migration and refugee movements 

at <www.unhcr.org>.

20Reportedly, more than half of the world’s refugees fell into the warehousing category and 

are being denied what some argue are the basic rights afforded them by the 1951 Convention 

Relating to the Status of Refugees. Such rights include freedom to be gainfully employed, freedom 

of movement, due process, and access to certain public services, such as health and education. See 

for example, Merrill Smith, “Warehousing Refugees: A Denial of Rights, a Waste of Humanity,” 

World Refugee Survey, 2004, 38–56.

21UNHCR, Division of Programme Support and Management, 2009 Global Trends, Refugees, Asylum-seekers, Returnees, Internally Displaced and Stateless Persons, June 15, 2010.

22 For information on UNHCR’s role in relief operations in Asia, see “Rupture in South Asia,” 

in the State of the World’s Refugees 2006. See also “Refugee or Migrant? Why it Matters.” 

23Md. Shahidul Haque, “Migration Trends and Patterns in South Asia and Management Approaches and Initiatives,” Regional Seminar on the Social Implications of International Migration, August 24–26, 2005, Bangkok, Thailand, 3.

24 See Paula Banerjee et al., eds., Internal Displacement in South Asia (New Delhi: Sage Publications, 2005). 

25 Francis M. Deng, “Internal Displacement: A Global Overview,” Refugee Survey Quarterly

19, no. 2 (2000).

26 “Refugee or Migrant? Why It Matters,” 31. 

27According to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre, many ethnic groups originally 

fought for independence but now want autonomy under a new federal structure. 

28Estimates of Burma’s population range from 47 million to 53 million. The figure cited was 

used by the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs in December 

2007. According to Refugees International, no census has been taken since 1983. All displacement figures must be taken as estimates due to poor security, lack of access, and ongoing movement of people. The exact numbers cannot be verified as independent monitoring has not been 

authorized.

29 In many cases, internal displacement may also have other impacts on the populations affected. For example, in Burma, crossing from one ethnic, linguistic, cultural, or religious region 

to another within the state may seem more significant than crossing an international border. 

Conversely, physically crossing an international border, if groups on either side share ethnicity, 

language, culture, or religion and have more in common, may have less of an impact in terms of 

group identity and sense of belonging.

30Based on registration completed by UNHCR in 2007. This range draws on estimates from 

UNHCR’s registration and figures provided by the Thailand Burma Border Consortium, July 

2007. In 2010, the number of refugees is still estimated to be approximately 140,000.

31This chapter does not address the issues that arise in protracted refugee situations, such as 

the citizenship status of children born in camps.

32UNHCR, “Analysis of Gaps in Protection Capacity: Thailand,” November 2006.

33 In 2010, it is estimated that 2 million vulnerable Burmese may be residing elsewhere in 

Thailand.
210 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

34European Commission’s Humanitarian Aid Department, “Burma-Myanmar: A Silent 

Crisis,” 2004, available at <ec.europa.eu/echo/pdf_files/leaflets/burma_en.pdf>.

35Approximately 5,000 Burmese from camps were resettled in 2006, mainly to the United 

States, Canada, Australia, Sweden, the Netherlands, or Finland. 

36 For useful background information, see UNHCR, Centre for Documentation and 

Research, “Internal Displacement in Asia,” Refugee Survey Quarterly 19, no. 2 (2000). 

37UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, “Myanmar: Aid in a Tight Space,” 

December 18, 2007.

38On December 16, 2005, the UN Security Council had its first briefing on the situation in 

Burma and the impact of the situation on the region. 

39General Assembly Resolution 60/1 and confirmed by the Security Council Resolution 1674 

(2006).

40Lee Feinstein, “Darfur and Beyond: What is Needed to Prevent Mass Atrocities,” Council 

on Foreign Relations Special Report, No. 22, January 2007.

41 Jack Dunford, “Principles Relating to Humanitarian Assistance: Dealing with Sovereignty: 

Burma,” Refugee Survey Quarterly 19, no. 2 (2000), 163.
Chapter 9

Center-Periphery Relations and Borders 

in Western New Guinea 

Patricia O’Brien and Bruce Vaughn

Border dynamics both within the region of Western New 

Guinea and between this peripheral region and its center in Jakarta 

are particularly interesting for several reasons. Borders drawn by 

the Dutch and the Republic of Indonesia have defined the region of 

Western New Guinea as part of larger political units of very different 

ethnic/linguistic/social and political character. Internal borders have 

been created within Western New Guinea to facilitate rule from 

Jakarta, and further subdivisions of the territory are being contemplated. Many in Western New Guinea continue to prefer greater 

autonomy despite efforts by Indonesia to integrate the territory more 

closely into the Republic of Indonesia, while a minority has fought 

for secession from Indonesia. An assessment of the importance of 

borders to the people of Western New Guinea as well as to the political powers that have asserted their control over the territory concludes 

that the borders, which delineate political and military control, have 

been, and remain, extremely important in this peripheral region. The 

peripheral nature, both geographically and politically, of the territory’s 

position relative to Jakarta is also instrumental to understanding 

its relative underdevelopment and the condition of its people.

Introduction 

The region of Western New Guinea exists on the eastern periphery of the state of Indonesia. It is inhabited by a Melanesian people 

similar to the people of Papua New Guinea (PNG) and is situated on 

the western half of the island of New Guinea. New Guinea’s tribal groups 

are thought to speak some 15 percent of the world’s languages. The 

indigenous Melanesian people have a culture dating back, by some 

estimates, 40,000 years. This background differs significantly from the 

Malay character found on the rest of the Indonesian archipelago. 

211
212 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Western New Guinea at a Glance

Population: 2.3 million people, or approximately 1 percent of the total population of Indonesia

Racial/ethnic backgrounds: Approximately 1.2 million people are Melanesian with the balance having transmigrated from Malay and parts of Indonesia

Religion: Christian, Muslim, and Animist

Languages: With over 245 different tribal peoples, the inhabitants of the island of New Guinea speak approximately 15 percent of the world’s languages

Area: Some 422,000 square kilometers, which represents 21 percent of the 

land mass of Indonesia

Location: Between the Equator and 10 degrees south latitude

Topography: Coastal forests and swamps, central mountains, and highlands

Key resources: Gold, silver, copper, natural gas, oil, timber, and marine resources

Administrative units: Currently divided into the two main provinces of Papua 

and West Papua, with plans contemplated to further divide the province of Papua into two additional provinces, establishing a total of four provinces

Western New Guinea has wide-ranging topography. A central 

mountain chain contains peaks as high as 4,884 meters as well as permanent glaciers, though these are melting because of climate change. The 

region also has vast northern and southern coastal lowlands consisting 

of rainforests and wetlands that contain some of the world’s largest mangrove forests. Research has shown that coastal West Papua was incorporated into a pre-European world of archipelagic East Indies. In addition 

to significant trade relationships, “wars, depopulation, migration and 

the exchange of great numbers of prisoners of war and slaves by eastern 

Indonesian and local traders and dignitaries” took place, as well as the 

transmittance of a wide variety of trade goods into the interior of Papua.1

A discussion of the region of Western New Guinea necessitates a 

definition of how this term is used.2 It is used here in a geographic sense 
to refer to the western half of the island of New Guinea, which is the 

world’s second largest island. This term for the region is less commonly used than the Republic of Indonesia’s former name for the territory, 

Irian Jaya, or West Papua. West Papua has generally become the 

preferred term used by activists sympathetic to the condition of Papuans 

inhabiting Western New Guinea, many of whom are thought to seek 

increased autonomy from central rule from Jakarta. To further complicate the issue, the government of Indonesia has divided the territory 

into two provinces now known as Papua and West Papua.3 This chapter employs the term Western New Guinea because it is geographically 

neutral and is not associated with either the government or advocate 

positions regarding the territory. 

The Borders of Western New Guinea

Cartographic representations of the borders of Western New 

Guinea have gone through several phases. The Dutch extended their 

political and economic influence over much of what was to be known 

as Netherlands New Guinea during the period 1895 to 1962. During 

a brief United Nations (UN) transition period from 1962 to 1963, it 

was known as West New Guinea. The area was known as West Irian 

and was initially under Indonesian control from 1963 to 1973 and later 

was known as Irian Jaya from 1973 to 2000. In 2003, then-President 

Megawati Sukarnoputri directed that the province be subdivided into 

Papua, Central Irian Jaya, and West Irian Jaya provinces. A government 

for West Irian Jaya, the name of which was changed to West Papua on 

April 18, 2007, was installed in 2003, but the Indonesian courts stopped 

any further subdivision of the Papua province into Papua and Central 

Irian Jaya at that time due to the controversial nature of the proposal 

and its contravention of the Special Autonomy Law for the region. The 

creation of West Irian Jaya, now known as West Papua, by Megawati’s 

government was allowed to stand. Manokwari is the provincial capital 

of West Papua, while Jayapura is the capital of Papua.

The change in name for the territory and increasing attempts to 

subdivide the region are likely due to a combination of factors. Some 

are motivated by a desire to more firmly assert Indonesia’s political 

control over this vast and diverse area. To others, it represents a peripheral region rich in natural resources with few people, most of whom are 

not viewed in the same light as the majority Malay populations who 

CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 213
214 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

inhabit the rest of the Indonesian archipelago. The fact that this mineraland timber-rich region constitutes 21 percent of the land mass and 

approximately 1 percent of the population of Indonesia demonstrates the 

potential development opportunities of Western New Guinea for the 

state of Indonesia.

Internal borders now divide the territory of Western New Guinea 

into smaller administrative units to facilitate rule from the center in 

Jakarta. Many indigenous Papuans reportedly view the division of 

Western New Guinea as a divide-and-rule tactic aimed at thwarting 

efforts by Papuan separatists. The split also casts doubt over whether the 

Special Autonomy Law would pertain to West Papua.4

The Indonesian house of representatives initiated legislation in 

early 2008 to divide Papua into South Papua, Central Papua, and Barat 

Daya provinces and to recognize West Papua. This would have divided 

the region into four administrative provinces as opposed to the 

current two provinces. Such moves would cost the state money and have 

yet to demonstrate a benefit to the people. They have reportedly been 

opposed by President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono for these reasons. 

Governor Barnabas Suebu was thought to oppose such initiatives on the 

basis that Western New Guinea does not have the resources to staff new 

administrative units.5 The recently proposed administrative units would 

appear to separate the central highlands—the area of greatest concern 

for security forces—from other parts of Western New Guinea where 

lucrative mining and hydrocarbon projects are under way.

Maintaining the territorial integrity of the Republic of Indonesia 

as the successor state of the Dutch East Indies is of considerable importance, and Jakarta has been sensitive to any move that might encourage 

the secession of Western New Guinea. Secession might lead to a further 

breakup of the Indonesian state, a diverse nation comprising thousands 

of islands and much ethnic and linguistic diversity. The Indonesian 

archipelago has over 17,000 islands, spans an area of ocean 5,000 

kilometers across, and is strategically located between the Indian Ocean 

and the Southwest Pacific. Concerns about secession and state instability were heightened in the period after the financial crisis of 1997. 

The successful breakaway of East Timor beginning in 1999, a former 

Portuguese colony that had been incorporated into Indonesia in 1975, 

made this issue even more sensitive. The relative weakness of the 

center in the period of Reformasi (reform) following former President 
Suharto’s rule also added to fears of secession. The growing strength 

of the increasingly democratic state of Indonesia, particularly after the 

elections of 2004, could provide the basis for a more inclusive approach 

to Western New Guinea.

While most border concerns relative to Western New Guinea 

pertain to assertions of control over the territory by either the Dutch 

or the Indonesians, there are some international dimensions to the 

region’s external frontier as well. The region shares a land border only 

with Papua New Guinea to the east. In the mid-1980s, Australian 

Defence Minister Kim Beazley was reportedly concerned that 

Indonesia would launch an invasion across the PNG border.6 At times, 

the Organisasi Papua Merdeka (OPM), or Free Papua Movement, was 

thought to have operated out of sanctuaries on the PNG side of the 

border with Indonesia.7 Problems remain over the disposition of 

Indonesian Papuan refugees living in and around Papua New Guinea’s 

national capital, Port Moresby, some of whom arrived in PNG over 

30 years ago.8 There have also been claims that forces in Jakarta have 

sponsored Islamic militia groups in Papua and that they have been 

placed along the border of PNG.9 This could be destabilizing to intercommunal harmony between the largely Muslim Malay transmigrants 

and the indigenous Melanesian Christians and animists.10

Dutch New Guinea Colonial Borders 

The division of the island of New Guinea into separate colonial 

entities dates to the early 19th century. In 1828, the Netherlands 

expanded its colonial entity of the Dutch East Indies to encompass the 

western half of the imperially unclaimed island of New Guinea, though 

its eastern boundary was not fixed by the Dutch at the 141st meridian 

until the entry of imperial competitors in the 1880s.11 The colonial presence in Dutch New Guinea remained limited to missionary work and 

small-scale commercial relations until the end of the 19th century. The 

Dutch presence was formalized by the establishment of administrative 

posts in Fak Fak and Manokwari in 1898 as a result of European claims 

over eastern New Guinea.12

Britain laid claim to southeastern New Guinea in 1884 as a British 

protectorate, and 4 years later the area was annexed as British New 

Guinea. In 1906, the territory was handed over to Australian control,

CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 215
216 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

1545 Spanish sail to the north coast of New Guinea and claim the 

territory for the Spanish Crown, naming it Nueva Guinea.

1828 The Dutch claim the southwest coast of New Guinea.

1848 Dutch claims extend to the northwest coast.

1898 The Dutch assert control over what becomes the Netherlands 

New Guinea.

1945 Sukarno declares independence for Indonesia following the 

surrender of Japan.

1947 The Dutch launch a police action with 100,000 troops to 

reassert their authority.

1948 International opposition to a second Dutch police action mounts.

1949 The Dutch cede sovereignty over Netherlands East Indies to the 

new Indonesian Republic but retain control over Western New 

Guinea.

1961 Armed Indonesian infiltrators are captured by the Dutch.

1962 The Dutch agree to transfer authority over Netherlands New 

Guinea to the United Nations Temporary Executive Authority 

(UNTEA).

1962 Indonesian and Dutch naval forces clash. The United States facilitates discussions between the Netherlands and Indonesia. 

Indonesia drops paratroopers into Western New Guinea. In 

August, the New York Agreement is signed by Indonesia and 

the Netherlands and a ceasefire is enforced. The UNTEA 

begins in October and the last Dutch troops leave in November. 

Indonesian security forces assert control over the territory.

1963 In May, the UNTEA transfers administration of the territory to 

Indonesia.

1965 OPM established. The first counterinsurgency operation against 

the OPM is conducted by Indonesian military forces.

1965–1998 Indonesia led by President Suharto.

Table 9–1. Chronology of Key Events in Western New Guinea
and with the passage of the Papua Act it was thereafter known as the 

Territory of Papua.13 This initial British claim was followed within weeks 

by the German claim to the northeast quarter of the island and the 

Bismarck Archipelago. The main part of German New Guinea, established as a German protectorate from 1884 until 1914, was known as 

Kaiser Wilhelmsland. The borders of these territories were solidified to 

ensure “equitable divisions” between Britain and Germany.14

German New Guinea fell to Australia in 1914, and until the outbreak of World War II the northeast quarter of the island continued to be 

administered by Australia, passing from military occupation to the League 

of Nations Mandated Territory of New Guinea in 1921. During World 

War II, when the northern half of New Guinea was occupied by Japanese 

forces, the two eastern regions were administered together and were 

CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 217

1967–1969 Armed rebellion by Papuans against Indonesian rule occurs 

across the region.

1969 Indonesian troops cross the Papua New Guinea frontier in 

pursuit of rebels.

1969 “Act of Free Choice” leads to Indonesia’s annexation of 

Western New Guinea.

1980s Transmigration program leads to large numbers of nonMelanesian Indonesians moving to Western New Guinea from 

elsewhere in Indonesia.

1998–2001 Reformasi period begins in Indonesia.

2001 Special Autonomy Law grants special provisions to Western 

New Guinea, but the provisions are not fully implemented.

2003 A plan by President Megawati Sukarnoputri divides Western 

New Guinea into two provinces—Papua and West Irian Jaya. 

Her plan to further divide Papua in two does not go forward.

2004 Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono becomes Indonesia’s first directly 

elected president in free and fair elections.

2007 West Irian Jaya becomes known as West Papua. Legislation to 

divide Papua into three separate provinces is put forward.
218 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

combined in 1949 by Australia as the Territory of Papua and New Guinea. 

After the war they were administered as a UN trusteeship until both territories were granted full independence by Australia in 1975 and named 

Papua New Guinea. Despite the shifts in administrative control and the 

political flux caused by World War II, the borders of the eastern regions 

of Papua and New Guinea were roughly reestablished, though smaller 

administrative units were created within them, as was the division of the 

island into its eastern and western halves at the 141st meridian. These 

borders have had more meaning as administrative units than as barriers 

to traditional human currents until more recent, contested times.15

The United Nations, the New York Agreement, and Handover to 

Indonesian Control 

Through the 1950s, former President Sukarno agitated for the 

“reunification” of Dutch New Guinea with the Republic of Indonesia. In 

1959, Sukarno bedeviled the Dutch with small military incursions into 

Western New Guinea that resulted in skirmishes between Dutch and 

Indonesian forces. Diplomatically, Sukarno’s call for the incorporation 

of Western New Guinea into Indonesia, as opposed to Dutch pledges 

to guide the territory toward its own independence, rested upon the 

doctrine of uti possidetis juris, or the belief that the “territorial boundaries of a postcolonial state should match those of the colonial territories 

they replaced.”16 Ironically, this doctrine swayed numerous newly 

independent African nations more than Dutch and Australian calls for 

Papuan self-determination. This support for Sukarno was solidified in 

1960 when a border dispute erupted within days of the independence of 

the Congo. The secession of the resource-rich Katanga province, believed 

to be supported by Belgium and other Western interests, provided a 

mirror for Sukarno’s West New Guinea scenario that not only swayed the 

United Nations against independence for West New Guinea but also 

convinced the newly elected U.S. President John F. Kennedy.17

Kennedy differed on this issue from Dwight D. Eisenhower, 

whose policy had been to keep out of a negotiated settlement. By the 

beginning of 1962, the United States and Australia no longer supported 

the Dutch plan and instead shifted policy toward a handover of 

Papua to Indonesia. Australia’s sudden shift away from the Dutch 

reflected the absence of any international support, most notably from 

the United States, in the event of armed conflict with Indonesia over 
CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 219

the territory.18 With this drastically altered international climate, talks 

ensued throughout 1962 without any Papuan representation at them, 

though they were suspended in August following the dropping of large 

contingents of Indonesian paratroopers into Western New Guinea.19

The New York Agreement, signed on August 15, 1962, included a ceasefire agreement as well as an arrangement in which the 

Netherlands would transfer control of West New Guinea to the United 

Nations Temporary Executive Authority (UNTEA) that administered 

the area from October 1, 1962 to May 1, 1963. From May 1, 1963, control 

of Western New Guinea was transferred to Indonesia; the UN was 

supposed to continue to monitor the area and ensure compliance with the 

New York Agreement. 

Dissenting Papuan political organizations were banned by 

Indonesia, and the OPM was founded in the mid-1960s. Indonesian 

military presence was stepped up by President Suharto to meet the 

rising number of Papuan rebellions as well as to assure success in the 

“Indonesian-organized act of Papuan self-determination” known as the 

“Act of Free Choice,” a staged plebiscite scheduled for 1969 in which 1,022 

tribal elders (or fewer than 1 percent of the population) were selected to 

vote on the question of independence or integration into Indonesia.20 The 

predetermined result—to integrate with Indonesia—was endorsed by the 

UN and has served as the basis for conflict in the region.21

The years that succeeded the “Act of Free Choice” have been characterized by increased rebel activity, an Indonesian military presence, 

the Indonesian government–sponsored program of transmigration 

of non-Papuans to the region, urbanization, and a considerable 

number of Papuan refugees fleeing across the border to the Australianadministered territory of Papua and New Guinea and then-independent Papua New Guinea because of Indonesian army (Tentara Nasional 

Indonesia, or TNI) violence.22 Some estimates put the numbers of 

Papuans killed since the beginning of Indonesian rule at over 100,000.23

Others claim this number to be greatly exaggerated. Accurate data are 

very difficult to come by, in part because of the relative inaccessibility 

of the region to foreign journalists and researchers. The increased repression of Papuans from 1969 has also been exacerbated by the dramatic 

upsurge in the exploitation of Papuan resources. In 1973, the Freeport 

McMoRan–run Grasberg mine near Timika commenced operating 

what would become the biggest gold mine in the world, and it became 
220 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

a leading player in the politics of the territory.24 Along with Freeport 

McMoRan, other multinational operations likewise significantly 

contributed to the litany of grievances of indigenous Papuans since 1969, 

particularly the gross disparity between the massive revenues being 

generated by Papuan resources and the grinding poverty experienced by 

the Papuan people. 

Special Autonomy Law 

Poor relations between Papuans, the Indonesian government, 

and the TNI made Western New Guinea one of the three main “troubled” areas of Indonesia—along with East Timor and Aceh—that 

became a focal point of world attention after the fall of President 

Suharto in 1998 and the accompanying democratization of Indonesia 

promping the transitional Reformasi era from 1998 to 2001. For Western 

New Guinea, post-Suharto Reformasi resulted in a recognition for “the 

need for special autonomy” for the region “given the diversity of Papua 

and the dictates of participatory democracy in the newly emerging 

Indonesia.”25 Despite this, the benefits of the Special Autonomy Law 

have not reached the average Papuan. Some observers feel that “the 

Papuan political elite are too distracted by the fight over resources to 

implement real changes in the standard of living for Papuans.”26

Others assert that “while the Special Autonomy process has been 

marred by long delays and wavering commitment on the part of the 

Indonesian government, the latter cannot be blamed for all of Papua’s 

continuing problems, and an increasing portion of responsibility must 

rest with Papuan maladministration.”27

Law No. 21 on the Special Autonomy of Papua granting greater 

autonomy to the Papuan Province of 2001 acknowledged, among other 

things, that development in the Papuan Province: 

[has] not completely fulfilled the sense of justice, enabled 

the attainment of prosperity for the people, supported the 

upholding of the law, nor shown respect for human rights 

in the Papuan Province, in particular those of the Papuan 

community . . . [and] that the management and utilization 

of the natural wealth of the Papuan Province have not been 

optimally utilized for improving the standards of living 

of the native community, thereby causing the formation 

of the gap between the Papuan Province and the other 
CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 221

regions, and constituting a neglect of the fundamental 

human rights of the native inhabitants of Papua.28

Given these premises, the Law on Special Autonomy made generous concessions in terms of governance; political, religious, and cultural 

protections; freedoms and human rights for Papuans; as well as an 

immense redistribution of Papua’s wealth generated from exploitation 

of natural resources back into the province. For instance, it allowed for 

80 percent of forestry, fishing, and general mining and 70 percent of oil 

and gas revenue to be channeled back into provincial revenues.29

Papuan living standards continue to lag well behind the rest of 

Indonesia. According to a 2007 World Bank report, “Forty percent of 

Papuans still live below the poverty line, more than double the national 

average . . . one third of Papua’s children do not go to school . . . [and] nine 

out of ten villages do not have basic health services with a health center, 

doctor or midwife.”30 President Yudhoyono has acknowledged the continuing problems in Papua despite the new autonomy legal framework. 

In February 2007, he stated, “the improvement of peoples’ [sic] prosperity in the two Papua provinces is slow. Special autonomy has not been implemented in a good way.” He undertook to “issue a presidential decree to 

accelerate the development in the two Papuan provinces. Funds will come 

from the region and the central government.”31 The division of Western 

New Guinea into two provinces—West Papua and Papua—has been widely perceived as contravening the freedoms and protections dimensions 

of the new law. This division is symptomatic of the continuing abuses 

of Papuan human rights despite recognition of the problem by the 

Indonesian government. 

The announcement by President Yudhoyono in May 2010 

that Indonesia would institute a moratorium on logging of natural 

forests may have positive implications for Western New Guinea. 

Yudhoyono’s efforts are part of a larger commitment to reduce 

Indonesia’s carbon emissions by 26 percent by the year 2020. Norway 

signed a $1 billion deal with Indonesia to help Indonesia preserve its 

forests. Indonesia is the world’s third largest emitter of greenhouse 

gases, 85 percent of which come from deforestation. This commitment 

with Norway places the massive food development estate in Merauke, 

Papua, in question. In 2008, the government had released over a million 

hectares of land for agricultural development near Merauke. Much of this 

land is peat swamp, which when burned releases even more carbon. It 
222 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

was thought that such a massive project would prove to be alienating for 

local Papuans, as such projects can lead to the migration of non–Papuan 

Indonesians to the area to take up new jobs. 

TNI and Conflict in Western New Guinea 

The Indonesian military continues to exert considerable influence in Western New Guinea. There was reportedly a plan in 2006 to 

deploy 35,000 additional troops along Indonesia’s border with Papua 

New Guinea. These would be in addition to the 6,000 to 7,000 troops 

who were already thought to be stationed in Papua. At the end of 2007, it 

was estimated that there were some 12,000 Indonesian troops and 2,000 

to 2,500 paramilitary police in the region.32 While this level of deployment is low when one considers the length of the land border with PNG, 

and that Papua and West Papua constitute 21 percent of the land area 

of Indonesia, it does raise questions given the poor state of relations between the TNI and indigenous Melanesian peoples in Papua and West 

Papua. There is concern as to what effect this will have on illegal logging 

and intercommunal harmony in these two eastern provinces.33

Some officers who have been sent to Western New Guinea played 

a role in events in East Timor in the leadup to and wake of the 1999 

referendum on independence.34 Colonel Burhanuddin Siagan, who was 

indicted in 2003 by UN investigators for murder and torture in East 

Timor and who was based in Papua in 2007, has stated, “In the interests 

of the Republic of Indonesia we are not afraid of human rights. . . . [A]

nyone who tends towards separatism will be crushed.”35 In August 2007, 

there were reports that Indonesian military operations had destroyed 

houses and crops in the remote Jamo Valley in Puncak Jaya. This led 

to the starvation of local inhabitants who had fled the security forces 

operations.36

An International Crisis Group report on Radicalization and Dialogue in Papua, released in March 2010, found that there was an increase 

in political violence in 2009 and 2010 that was leading to increased radicalization of militants and formerly peaceful activists. Apparently, some 

activists have taken the view that dialogue with the Indonesian government should only take place within an international context. Such an 

internationalization of the conflict is not what the government in Jakarta 

wishes. Some militants have been increasingly drawn to the view that 

the East Timor experience has lessons on how the internationalization 
CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 223

of the conflict can help their cause. A 2010 book by John Braithwaite 

and others at the Australian National University, Anomie and Violence: 

Non-Truth and Reconciliation in Indonesian Peace Building, has 

concluded that Papua is a “case with both high risks of escalation to 

more serious conflict and prospects for harnessing” peace initiatives. 

Human Rights in Western New Guinea 

In this era of globalized media, Western New Guinea remains one 

of the most remote areas of the planet, one where information is not 

easily disseminated and journalists have limited and controlled access 

to media. The region’s remoteness means that the operations of security 

forces there are not subject to the scrutiny they would experience were 

they closer to the core of Indonesia on Java. As a result, the increased 

openness of the media elsewhere in Indonesia that has occurred since 

the period of Reformasi has not similarly constrained security forces’ 

abuses in remote areas. Security operations in Papua and West Papua 

are viewed by human rights advocates as operating with a large degree 

with impunity. Some go so far as describing the operations as genocide. 

Others characterize the situation as one where “chronic low level abuse 

on the part of security forces [is a] fact.”37

The catalyst for human rights abuses of the indigenous Papuan 

people of the Indonesian provinces of Papua and West Papua, and particularly in the central highlands, is apparently related to security sweeps 

by police and security forces. These sweep operations have the objective 

of capturing or destroying cells of the pro-independence OPM. Other key 

political actors include the Papuan Presidium Council and the Papuan 

People’s Council. These operations “typically involve looting, destruction 

of property, and in some cases harm to civilians and displacement” and 

are probably related to perceptions by security forces of popular support 

by Papuans for OPM groups. Human Rights Watch has found that 

security forces “continue to engage in largely indiscriminate sweeping 

operations in pursuit of suspected militants, using excessive, often brutal, 

and at sometimes lethal force against civilians.” According to one OPM 

fighter interviewed in April 2010, OPM is now seeking to provoke a Santa 

Cruz–type response by the TNI to mounting violence by the OPM. Santa 

Cruz was the site of a massacre by the TNI in East Timor in 1991. It has 

been reported that at least some OPM fighters are considering expelling 

transmigrants and seeking a merger with Papua New Guinea.38
224 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

This problem of human rights abuses came to wider international 

attention in March 2006 when 42 refugees from Western New Guinea 

were granted temporary protection visas by the Australian government. Indonesia responded by withdrawing its ambassador from 

Canberra. President Yudhoyono also made direct calls to then–Prime 

Minister John Howard to return the asylum-seekers to Indonesia. 

Australia responded by passing a new migration bill “that would deter 

Papuan asylum seekers from coming to Australia.”39

Mineral, Natural Gas, and Timber Extraction in 

Western New Guinea

The Indonesian military and political elites have vested interests in reaping benefits from resource extraction industries. The wealth 

generated from these projects flows overwhelmingly to foreign multinational companies, the central government in Jakarta, and allegedly 

to Indonesian individuals in government and in the military who are 

in a position to gain financially from the process of production. Local 

communities that overwhelmingly bear the costs of production, such as 

environmental degradation, increased rates of HIV/AIDS transmission, 

and radical changes to their traditional way of life, reap little relative 

long-term economic advantage for their people. In many cases, these 

communities become politically and/or economically marginalized 

either from direct rule from the center or through the transmigration of 

Indonesians from other parts of the archipelago. 

In Western New Guinea, the nexus between conflict, corruption, and environmental exploitation is clear. The struggle for control of 

Papua’s abundant natural resources has contributed significantly to the 

conflict. Concessions given to mining companies without consideration 

for the rights of local people, and the involvement of state security forces 

in guarding mining sites, have provided fertile ground for conflict. The 

direct involvement of senior members of the police and army in resource 

extraction—such as where members of the military hold logging concessions themselves or receive payment from mining companies for security 

services—combined with the lucrative taxes that flow to the Indonesian 

state provides powerful motives for the state to retain tight control.40

One of the most exploited natural resources of Western 

New Guinea is its forests. Deforestation is threatening to eliminate 

Indonesia’s remaining forests, which are to a large extent found in 
CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 225

Western New Guinea. About 10 percent of the world’s remaining tropical forests, a total forested area of some 225 million acres, are found in 

Indonesia, a country that has already lost over 72 percent of its forests. 

This process of deforestation has made Indonesia the world’s third largest emitter of greenhouse gases, which contribute to global warming. 

Illegal logging in Indonesia is estimated to fell some 5.2 million acres of 

forest each year with an estimated value of $4 billion.41 Ironically, rainforest clearing is also being carried out to establish palm plantations for 

biofuel projects ostensibly aimed at cleaner sources of energy. Such projects, which can displace local people, have been associated with human 

rights abuses.42 Palm oil projects are also associated with the influx of 

transmigrants who take the jobs the projects create away from the locals.43

Global initiatives to address climate change may lead to increased 

international attention regarding the forests of Western New Guinea 

that could help end illegal logging and mitigate intercommunal strife. 

Such plans could also lead to payments to help protect the forests. There 

were negotiations under way in late 2007 to implement a Reduced 

Emissions from Deforestation scheme as part of the Kyoto Protocol 

that could earn Indonesia $10 billion a year for preserving its forests by 

selling carbon credits.44

The vast mineral riches of Western Papua were suspected by the 

Dutch as early as the 1930s, but their exploitation did not commence 

in earnest until after World War II. By 1961, some 7.4 million guilders’ 

worth of oil was exported but the more inaccessibly located mineral 

resources of the region were not tapped. The economy of Dutch New 

Guinea was primarily structured around agricultural products. Under 

Indonesian rule, interest in tapping the natural wealth of the region 

grew exponentially as did the revenues from oil and mineral extraction, 

particularly from the 1970s.45

Extracting the immense natural resources of Western New 

Guinea is intimately intertwined with the expansion of Indonesian 

control, secured by the TNI, and the accompanying upsurge in human 

rights abuses. This history is also shaped by the significant roles 

played by multinational companies, though only one of a number of 

corporate players in Papua—U.S.-based Freeport McMoRan Copper 

and Gold, Inc.—has had a colossal impact on the history of Papua since 

it began investing in mining operations in 1967. Its main operation, the 

Grasberg deposit, became the “largest gold and most profitable copper 
226 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

mine in the world” in the 1990s, thereby making the company the largest 

taxpayer in Indonesia. Freeport McMoRan has paid the TNI to provide 

security for the mine. The military’s large presence around the mine has 

reportedly exacerbated conflict with local populations. The relationship 

between Freeport McMoRan and the TNI gained international attention 

in August 2002 when two U.S. citizens and an Indonesian employee of 

the mine were killed in an ambush near Timika. While many suspected 

TNI involvement, Anthonius Wamang, who is believed to have been an 

OPM operational commander as well as an informant for the TNI, was 

arrested for the crime in January 2006 along with 11 others.46

The excessive costs borne by local Papuans for Freeport’s mining 

operations can also be measured in company employment practices, 

where only 20 to 26 percent of workers are Papuan, and even fewer 

come from the Amungme and Kamoro groups, the traditional land 

owners in the area. The mine has been a major driver of transmigration to Papua, mostly from Java. In addition to the disruptive impact of 

this transmigration for Papuan rights, the Grasberg mine has also had 

a fundamental impact on the spread of HIV/AIDS. The nearby town of 

Timika is the service town and residence for approximately 12,000 male 

employees of the mine. Timika also has the second highest rate of HIV/

AIDS in West Papua, the province with the highest rate in the nation of 

Indonesia. Along with the social and political dimensions of Freeport 

McMoRan’s operations, the mine has led to a massive degradation of 

the ecosystem of the highlands, river systems, and distant coastal areas 

where tailings are piped. The company’s favored status with the TNI and 

the Indonesian government has resulted in widespread accusations that 

it circumvents the existing environmental protection laws of Indonesia, 

which are far weaker than those enforced in the United States, the 

company’s home country.47

International Support for Independence or Autonomy 

in Western New Guinea 

Respect for the borders and territorial integrity of Indonesia has 

been a key objective of Indonesian foreign relations, particularly with 

Australia and the United States. Indonesia’s sensitivity on the issue is 

understandable given the pivotal role that Australia played in assisting 

East Timor achieve its independence, and because of the support by 
CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 227

Australia for the Papuan people. Support by some Members of Congress 

for the plight of the people of Western New Guinea as well as past 

U.S. Government support for secession elsewhere in the Indonesian 

archipelago may also contribute to Indonesian concerns.48 Indonesian 

sensitivities over Western New Guinea are strong, as is their sense that it 

is an integral part of Indonesia because of the territory’s common control 

under the Dutch. This differs somewhat from Indonesia’s perceptions of 

East Timor, which was controlled by the Portuguese until 1975. 

In 2006, Indonesian Foreign Minister Hassan Wirajuda and 

Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer signed a security treaty 

on the island of Lombok that replaced a previous treaty between Prime 

Minister Paul Keating and Indonesian President Suharto that was 

abandoned as a result of Australia’s support of East Timor’s independence. The new treaty binds both states in an agreement not to support 

separatists in each country. The clause was reportedly included at the 

urging of Indonesia following the previously mentioned diplomatic 

controversy surrounding Australia’s granting of temporary protection 

visas to the group of 42 Western New Guinean asylum seekers who 

entered Australia in January 2006. The new security treaty addresses 

border protection, defense, counterterror cooperation, law enforcement, 

and other issues.49 Critics of the treaty in Australia have felt that the 

document will facilitate the suppression of the Papuan independence 

movement.50 There is a tendency in strategic circles in Australia to focus 

first on establishing and maintaining good bilateral relations with 

Indonesia. Many who hold this view would argue that it is the most effective 

way to help positively influence the situation in Western New Guinea.51

Australia has been a center of support for Western New Guinean 

human rights activists. This is not surprising, given that some 77 percent 

of Australians support an act of self-determination for Western New 

Guinea52 and that Australia has a long historical relationship with 

Western New Guinea’s eastern neighbor, Papua New Guinea. In March 

2007, the University of Sydney’s Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies 

produced a report prepared by the Western New Guinea Project that 

describes Western New Guinea as a “humanitarian emergency,” where 

the “outlook for the Western New Guinean People is worsening.” The 

report, authored by Jim Elmslie, Peter King, and Jake Lynch, was critical 

of the security treaty between Australia and Indonesia and viewed that 
228 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

document as tantamount to a decision by Australia “to take sides with 

the corrupt Indonesian military against the Western New Guinean people.”53 While some have criticized this conclusion on the basis of a lack 

of evidence of deliberate intent, there is a general view that a “systematic 

pattern of rights violations by Indonesian security forces” has occurred.54

Attention to Papua and West Papua by the U.S. Congress has 

caused concern for the government of Indonesia. It has perceived 

congressional attention in the form of proposed legislation as a 

challenge to Indonesian sovereignty over the area. Such sensitivity 

is understandable on the part of the Indonesians, given past Central 

Intelligence Agency covert operations in Indonesia that sought to 

destabilize or overthrow the regime of former President Sukarno by 

providing support to separatist military elements in the outer islands 

of Sumatra and Sulawezi.55 Congressman Eni Faleomavaega, who was 

born on American Samoa and is chairman of the House Foreign Affairs 

Subcommittee on Asia, the Pacific, and the Global Environment, spoke 

out on behalf of the Papuan people at a time when the administration of 

President George W. Bush had focused on establishing closer relations 

with Indonesia.56 Other Members of Congress have taken the view 

that Indonesia’s importance to the United States in the struggle against 

violent Islamist militants and its increasing geopolitical importance in 

the region outweigh concerns over Papua and West Papua. Following 

a brief visit to the region in November 2007, Faleomavaega stated, 

“Clearly the Papuans in these two provinces are still being intimidated, 

harassed, and abused by the TNI.”57

At the request of President Yudhoyono, Congressman Faleomavaega and Congressman Donald Payne reportedly suspended their 

support for Papua’s and West Papua’s right to self-determination in 

2005 in order to give President Yudhoyono time to implement Special 

Autonomy legislation for the two provinces. After 3 years, they wrote to 

President Yudhoyono to say that “continued refusal by your military to 

allow our access to Jayapura and other parts of Indonesia will inevitably 

call into question the seriousness of your government’s assurances to 

us regarding your intent to implement Special Autonomy and to end 

unreasonable restrictions on international access to West Papua.”58

The development of a Comprehensive Partnership between 

the United States and Indonesia, which was expected when President 

Obama visited Indonesia in November 2010, may provide a dialogue 

framework within which the two nations can develop confidence in 
CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 229

their dealings with one another. This could potentially provide a venue 

to discuss constructive ways for the United States and the international 

community to assist Indonesia in fostering peaceful and sustainable 

development in Western New Guinea. Such development could defuse 

mounting conflict by bringing together various stakeholders to focus on 

forest preservation and the empowerment of indigenous people while 

reaffirming Indonesian sovereignty and developing intercommunal 

dialogue between Papuans, transmigrants, the TNI, police, and other 

state actors.

Conclusion and Recommendations 

Based on an analysis of the history of borders in Western New 

Guinea, one can conclude that the salience of national and subnational 

borders remains central to the course of political, cultural, demographic, 

and economic developments in the territory. Borders have become 

the focus of those seeking greater autonomy, or independence, as well 

as those from the center who seek to more firmly extend central state 

control, whether for reasons of national sovereignty or less noble aims. 

The situation of the people of Western New Guinea is very much dependent on the manner in which the extension of central government 

control takes place. If it is simply to install a new tier of elites who will be 

better positioned to exploit the people and the ample natural resources 

of the region, then these new borders will work to the detriment of the 

people. If they can bring new levels of government that can provide new 

services, such as health and education, then they could be a positive 

factor. The extreme power differential between the Papuan people and 

the Malay people of the rest of the Indonesian Archipelago means that 

the course of political development of Western New Guinea depends 

principally on the larger democratic development of Indonesia. If graft 

and corruption can be minimized and the rule of law and respect for 

minority peoples can be extended, the plight of the Papuan people 

may be alleviated by increased political involvement by Jakarta in the 

affairs of Papua. That said, there is the very real fear that the region 

will be used by elites and the military for little more than exploitation 

for personal gain. Such an outcome would be to the detriment of the 

people, the environment of Western New Guinea in particular, and to 

the world at large because of the role that the world’s great forests play in 

carbon sequestration.
230 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

The following recommendations are put forward based on the 

above analysis. They are made with the knowledge that the general 

trend in Indonesian governance since the democratic elections of 2004, 

which brought President Yudhoyono to power, is positive. That said, 

abuses continue, and much remains to be done to improve the condition of the Melanesian Papuan people living in Western New Guinea.59

■ Continue to encourage a peaceful resolution of the 

conflict with respect for the territorial integrity of Indonesia 

and understanding of the plight of the Papuan people.

■ Stop the transmigration of people from elsewhere in 

Indonesia to Western New Guinea.

■ Continue the positive trend of increasing openness of the 

media in Indonesia to include Papua and West Papua by 

allowing unrestricted access to Western New Guinea by 

Indonesian and foreign journalists and academics. 

■ Continue the positive trend of getting the military and 

police out of the business of protecting businesses, including 

multinational corporations.

■ Fully implement the Special Autonomy Law of 2001.

■ Place special emphasis on improving local health, job 

training, and education opportunities.

■ Continue the positive current trend toward increasingly 

democratic government at the national level in Indonesia to 

the local level in Papua and West Papua.

■ Place renewed emphasis on local customs and culture and 

observe past commitments to do so.

■ Work to minimize the negative impact of corrupt practices 

at the national, provincial, and local levels.

■ Ensure that a reasonable amount of wealth generated by 

mineral and other resource extraction industries remains in 

Western New Guinea and flows to local communities.

■ Implement programs to mitigate detrimental effects of 

resource extraction industries and move quickly to preserve 

intact forests and fisheries and to develop sustainable 

development strategies.

■ Partner with the international community to preserve 

Western New Guinea forests.
CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 231

Notes

1 Jan Pouwer, “The Colonisation, Decolonisation and Recolonisation of West New Guinea,” 

Journal of Pacific History 34, no. 2 (1999), 160–161.

2 John McBeth, “Two Papuas Too Many,” The Straits Times, February 14, 2007.

3Bruce Vaughn, “Papua, Indonesia: Issues for Congress,” Congressional Research Service 

Report RL33260, January 19, 2006.

4 For a text of the law and the Indonesian government’s view on Papua, see Questioning the 

Unquestionable: An Overview of the Restoration of Papua into the Republic of Indonesia (New 

York: Permanent Mission of the Republic of Indonesia to the United Nations, 2004).

5 John McBeth, “The Slicing and Dicing of Indonesia,” The Straits Times, February 16, 2008.

6Geoffrey Barker, “Revealed: The Day Australia Planned to Bomb Indonesia,” Australian 

Financial Review, December 1, 2007. 

7Hall Greenland, “Rumble in the Jungle,” The Bulletin, November 13, 2007. 

8Maureen Gerawa, “Refugees Neglected,” PNG Post Courier, January 3, 2008. 

9 “Indonesian Papuan Students ‘Terrorized’ by Islamic Militia,” BBC News, July 11, 2007. 

10 “PNG to Partner with Indonesian Province to Prevent the Spread of HIV Along Border,” 

Kaiser Network, April 3, 2008. 

11Clive Moore, New Guinea: Crossing Boundaries and History (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2003), 150. See also Paul W. Van der Veur, Search for New Guinea’s Boundaries (Canberra: Australian National University Press, 1966).

12Pouwer, 161.

13Donald Craigie Gordon, The Australian Frontier in New Guinea 1870–1885 (New York: 

Columbia University Press, 1951).

14Moore, 151.

15 Ibid., 152, 196; Ben Scott, Re-Imagining Papua: Culture Democracy and Australia’s Role

(Sydney: Lowy Institute for International Policy, 2005), 10. 

16 John Saltford, The United Nations and the Indonesian Takeover of West Papua, 1962–1969: 

The Anatomy of Betrayal (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), 8.

17 Ibid., 9; United Nations Security Council Resolution (S/5002) of November 24, 1961.

18 Ibid., 14; David Palmer, “Between a Rock and a Hard Place: The Case of Papuan AsylumSeekers,” Australian Journal of Politics and History 52, no. 4 (2006), 577–578.

19 Saltford, xix; “Autonomy for Papua: Opportunity or Illusion?” (Berlin: Friedrich Ebert 

Foundation et al., 2003), 122.

20 Saltford, 2; Moore, 200. Moore cites the number of 1,025 “representatives.”

21Rodd McGibbon, Pitfalls of Papua: Understanding the Conflict and Its Place in AustraliaIndonesia Relations (Sydney: The Lowy Institute, 2006), 1–12; Jason Macleod, “Gagged,” Arena 

Magazine 68 (December 2003–January 2004), 30.

22 “PNG Currently Hosts up to 10,000 Papuan Refugees Although the Overall Number to 

Have Sought Asylum in PNG since 1973 May Number 20,000,” Palmer, 597. 

23Palmer, 584; McGibbon, 95.

24Peter King, West Papua and Indonesia Since Suharto: Independence, Autonomy or Chaos?

(Sydney: University of New South Wales Press, 2004), 22–23; Denise Leith, Politics of Power: 

Freeport in Suharto’s Indonesia (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2003).

25Questioning the Unquestionable: An Overview of the Restoration of Papua into the Republic 

of Indonesia, Permanent Mission of the Republic of Indonesia to the United Nations (New York, 

2004), 70.

26Erica Vowles, “West Papua: Special Treatment,” New Matilda, August 22, 2007.
232 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

27 “West Papua’s Cultural Identity,” BBC News, available at <www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/

people/features/ihavearightto/four_b/casestudy_art27.shtml>; Human Rights Watch, “Out of 

Sight: Endemic Abuse and Impunity in Papua’s Central Highlands,” New York, July 2007.

28Annex VIII, Law No. 21 on the Special Autonomy of Papua granting greater autonomy to 

the Papuan Province, “considering” points f and g in Questioning the Unquestionable, 105.

29Article 34 b and c, Law No. 21 on the Special Autonomy of Papua granting greater autonomy to the Papuan Province in Questioning the Unquestionable, 119.

30World Bank, “Spending for Development: Making the Most of Indonesia’s New Opportunities: Indonesia Public Expenditure Review 2007,” Jakarta, 2007.

31 “Indonesian President Urges Faster Papua Development,” Reuters, February 16, 2007.

32 “Papua: Answers to Frequently Asked Questions,” Crisis Group Asia Briefing No. 53, International Crisis Group, September 5, 2006; “Indonesia Exploiting Prejudices to Stay in Papua—

Academic,” Australian Associated Press, December 3, 2007. 

33Evi Mariani, “Alternatives Sought to Papua Border Militarization,” The Jakarta Post, November 22, 2006. 

34 “Lack of Support Helped in Cover-up of Indonesian Atrocities,” The Canberra Times, July 

23, 2007.

35Tom Hyland, “Mysterious Killings Seek to Silence Papuan Voices,” The Sunday Age, August 

26, 2007. 

36 “Indonesian Military Operation Causes Starvation,” Institute for Papuan Advocacy, August 

29, 2007. 

37 “Papua: Answers to Frequently Asked Questions,” Crisis Group Asia Briefing No. 53, International Crisis Group, September 5, 2006. 

38Tom Allard, “Papua Ready to Explode,” The Age, April 11, 2010; “Indonesia’s Last Frontier,” 

The Economist, June 5, 2010; Human Rights Watch. 

39Tom Allard and Craig Skehan, “Visa Ruling Puts Jakarta Ties at Risk,” Sydney Morning 

Herald, March 24, 2006; “Jakarta Rage Over Visas,” The Age, March 24, 2006; McGibbon, 85.

40 “Indonesia: Resources and Conflict in Papua,” International Crisis Group, September 2002; 

“Out of Sight,” BBC, July 2007, 13.

41 “Indonesia’s Aceh, Papua Pledge to Protect Forests,” Reuters, April 26, 2007.

42 “Man Dying After Kostrad Beating and Torture,” Scoop News, July 31, 2007. 

43 “West Papua Rainforests on Fragile Edge,” The Canberra Times, December 8, 2007; Juliet 

Eilperin and Steven Mufson, “Trees Are at Heart of Talks on Climate,” The Washington Post,

December 9, 2007.

44 “Cutting to the Real Root of the Problem,” Asiamoney, December 28, 2007. 

45Pouwer, 177–178; Denise Leith, “Freeport and the Suharto Regime 1965–1998,” The Contemporary Pacific 14, no. 1 (Spring 2002), 69–70.

46 In 1995, Anglo-Australian mining giant Rio Tinto began a joint venture with Freeport 

McMoRan. King, 22–23; Leith, Politics of Power; and Damien Kingsbury, Power, Politics and the 

Indonesian Military (New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), 195.

47WALHI—Indonesian Forum for Environment, “The Environmental Impacts of Freeport–

Rio Tinto’s Copper and Gold Mining Operation in Papua,” Jakarta, 2006; “Indonesia Commission: Peace and Progress in Papua” (New York: Council on Foreign Relations, Inc., 2003), 52–53; 

Nurlan Silitonga, A. Ruddick, and F.S. Wignall, “Mining, HIV/AIDS, and Women: Timika, Papua 

Province, Indonesia,” in Tunnel Vision: Women, Mining and Communities, ed. Ingrid MacDonald 

and Claire Rowland (Melbourne: Oxfam Community Aid Abroad, 2002), available at <www.caa.

org.au/campaigns/mining>.

48Audrey R. Kahin and George McT. Kahin, Subversion as Foreign Policy: The Secret Eisenhower and Dulles Debacle in Indonesia (New York: The New Press, 1995). 

49 “Treaty Will Not Silence Western New Guinean Activists,” The Canberra Times, November 

13, 2006. 
CENTER-PERIPHERY RELATIONS AND BORDERS IN WESTERN NEW GUINEA 233

50Ross Peake, “New Treaty Won’t Affect Human Rights,” The Canberra Times, November 9, 

2006.

51McGibbon.

52Noel Pearson, “Uses of Layered Identity,” The Australian, November 18, 2006.

53 Jim Elmslie, Peter King, and Jake Lynch, Blundering In? The Australia-Indonesia Security 

Treaty and the Humanitarian Crisis in Western New Guinea, Western New Guinea Project at the 

Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies, The University of Sydney, March 2007. 

54Rodd McGibbon as quoted in Paul Kelly, “A New Diplomacy over Papua,” The Australian,

October 7, 2006.

55Robert McMahon, review of Kenneth Conboy and James Morrison, Feet to the Fire: CIA 

Covert Operations in Indonesia, 1957–1958 (Annapolis, MD: U.S. Naval Institute Press, 1999), in 

The Journal of Military History 64, no. 3, 903.

56M. Taufiqurrahman, “Papuan Movement Part of Democracy,” The Jakarta Post, July 6, 

2007. 

57 “Faleomavaega Disappointed with Visit to Biak and Manokwari Papua,” States News Service, December 17, 2007.

58 “House Foreign Affairs Subcommittee Chairman Call Upon Indonesia to End Unreasonable Restrictions on International Access to West Papua,” US Fed News, March 10, 2008; Abdul 

Khalik, “U.S. Congressman in Papua to Assess Condition,” The Jakarta Post, November 28, 2007; 

“DPR Considers U.S. Congressman Insult RI,” Kompass, March 25, 2008. 

59 For an additional and more detailed list of recommendations, see Blair King, Peace in 

Papua: Widening a Window of Opportunity, Council on Foreign Relations Special Report No. 

14, March 2006.

235

Chapter 10

China and Southeast Asia: A Shifting 

Zone of Interaction

Carlyle A. Thayer

China’s relations with Southeast Asia may be viewed historically 

as a shifting zone of interaction. One constant that has governed interstate relations throughout history has been the adjustment and 

accommodation of smaller and weaker states to China’s preeminent 

power. As Southeast Asian states gradually developed a regional 

identity, this zone took on a more structured and institutional nature. 

The formation of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) 

and the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) provided a multilateral framework for structuring interstate relations. Nonetheless, Southeast Asia 

remains a shifting zone of interaction due to contestation over sovereignty claims in the South China Sea between China and littoral states 

and also because of pressures to expand the boundaries beyond the 

region to a wider East Asian setting. 

Beijing views Southeast Asia—particularly the South China Sea—

as China’s traditional sphere of influence and has worked hard to develop bilateral ties with all regional states across the spectrum of economic, 

social, political, security, and military relations. China’s reliance on 

imported energy resources has given it a strategic interest in promoting 

political stability in those countries where these resources are found. In 

addition, China also has a strategic interest in maintaining the security 

of sea lines of communications, especially through Southeast Asia.1

Therefore, China has sought to bolster a stable and secure region in order 

to maintain access to regional energy resources and raw materials, protect maritime trade routes across the region, and develop wide-ranging 

relations for economic, defense, and political purposes, including 

isolating Taiwan and countering U.S. influence. In sum, the shifting zone 

of interaction between China and the ASEAN states has been expanded 

to the entire Southeast Asia region through the development of bilateral 

and multilateral relations. As this zone of interaction is consolidated, it 

will become a permanent feature of the regional security architecture.
236 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

There can be no doubt that the most significant future development over the next two decades that will reshape Southeast Asia as 

a zone of interaction will be the rise of China and its influence in all 

spheres—economic, political-diplomatic, social-cultural, and military.2

China’s “peaceful development” has already stimulated trade and investment with its neighbors and become a catalyst for their growth.3

Its early rebound from the current global financial crisis is also assisting Southeast Asia to recover. China’s economic rise will continue to 

spur increased demand for energy resources and other raw materials. 

Its energy needs already have been a boon to Indonesia’s oil, gas, and 

mining sectors.

Evolution of China’s Shifting Zone of Interaction 

During the precolonial era, China interacted with the states of 

Southeast Asia through the framework of the “tributary system.”4 This 

was a hierarchical pattern of interaction that placed China at the center 

of regional affairs. China’s role as paramount power was displaced 

during the colonial era when the countries of Southeast Asia (with 

the exception of Thailand) lost their independence and relations with 

China were conducted by the major European powers.

The rise of Japan and World War II fatally weakened the colonial 

system and ushered in the era of decolonization that followed. On 

October 1, 1949, the Chinese Communist Party declared the founding 

of the People’s Republic of China (PRC). China then breached the 

partition erected during the colonial period and opened diplomatic 

relations in 1950 with the Democratic Republic of Vietnam and the 

newly independent states of Indonesia and Burma. 

China’s attempt to regain some semblance of its prewar regional 

preeminence was stalled by the outbreak of conflict on the Korean 

Peninsula (1950–1953) and the U.S.-led policy of containment. 

Nonetheless, China’s regional importance was acknowledged by the 

major European powers when they sought Beijing’s assistance in ending 

the first Indochina War (1946–1954). China played a major diplomatic 

role at the 1954 Geneva Conference and made its debut on the 

Southeast Asian stage at the Bandung Conference of Afro-Asian countries in April 1955. 

As a result of Beijing’s support for regional communist parties 

and a U.S. strategy of containment, China’s zone of interaction with 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 237

Southeast Asia was largely restricted for the next two decades. The 

boundary demarcating it shifted twice during this period. China expanded its zone of interaction when it established diplomatic relations 

with two regional states that adopted a policy of neutrality, Cambodia 

(1958) and Laos (1961). However, these gains were offset in 1967 when 

Indonesia severed diplomatic relations in response to China’s support 

for the Indonesian communist party. 

In the late 1960s, the structure of international relations began 

to alter as the United States extricated itself from the Vietnam conflict. 

In 1971–1972, the United States and China began a phase of strategic 

collaboration to contain the Soviet Union. In January 1973, a peace 

settlement ended America’s military involvement in Vietnam. This set 

the stage for a dramatic enlargement of China’s zone of interaction with 

Southeast Asia as Beijing terminated its support for regional communist 

parties. On May 31, 1974, China and Malaysia formally established 

diplomatic relations; the following year, China opened diplomatic 

relations with two staunch U.S. allies, the Philippines and Thailand.

The pattern of China’s interaction with Southeast Asia was 

again transformed by the emergence of rival communist regimes in 

Cambodia (Khmer Rouge) and a reunified Vietnam. As tensions 

mounted, China sided with Cambodia, and the Soviet Union backed 

Vietnam. When Vietnam invaded Cambodia, China responded by 

punitively attacking Vietnam’s northern border provinces. Overnight, 

Thailand became a frontline state and therefore forged an alliance of 

convenience with China to resist Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia. 

This alignment lasted for a decade until a comprehensive settlement of 

the Cambodian conflict was reached at the end of the Cold War. After 

Vietnam withdrew from Cambodia in September 1989, the stage was 

set for the enlargement of China’s zone of interaction to embrace all of 

Southeast Asia. In 1990, Beijing and Jakarta restored their ties and for 

the first time diplomatic relations were opened between China and 

Singapore and Brunei. The following year, Beijing and Hanoi normalized their relations. China was the first country to recognize the newly 

independent state of Timor-Leste in 2002.

In the early 1990s, China’s ability to expand its zone of interaction with Southeast Asia beyond formal diplomatic relations into more 

substantial forms of cooperation was constrained by latent fears of 

“the China threat.”5 This chapter examines how China overcame these 
238 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

concerns by developing a series of policies that resulted in close

diplomatic and political relations, economic interdependence and 

nascent integration, and, most recently, international security and 

defense cooperation.6 Next, the chapter considers the mechanisms 

that structure China’s relations with Southeast Asia. Then, it highlights 

China’s bilateral security and defense cooperation with individual states 

of Southeast Asia. The chapter concludes with an assessment of China’s 

“peaceful development” and its implications for regional security.

China’s “New Security Concept” 

Chinese security thinking underwent a change with the end of 

the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union. According to Wu 

Baiyi, China’s policy planners and academics began to revise the country’s national security strategy in 1993.7

 This resulted in an expanded 

definition of security to include political, defense, diplomatic, and economic considerations. Two major changes were especially significant: 

economic security was elevated on a par with “high politics,” and greater 

emphasis was given to the interrelationship between internal and 

external security challenges. 

The result of Chinese rethinking of its security policy was embodied in what Beijing called its “new security concept.”8

 Significantly, this 

new orientation was first introduced by Chinese officials at a conference on confidence-building measures hosted by the ASEAN Regional 

Forum held in Beijing in March 1997. In July of that year, Chinese 

Foreign Minister Qian Qichen formally presented the new security 

concept to the fourth ARF meeting in Malaysia.9

An authoritative exposition of China’s new security concept 

appeared in its Defence White Paper released in July 1998.10 This document stressed China’s support for “regional-security dialogue and 

cooperation at different levels, through various channels and in 

different forms” including the ARF and the Council for Security 

Cooperation in Asia and the Pacific.11 The white paper also endorsed 

“the ARF’s creative explorations for the promotion of confidence-building measures” in such nonsensitive areas as military medicine and law, 

and multilateral cooperation on conversion of military technologies and 

facilities for civilian use.
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 239

China’s emphasis on regional multilateral institutions and confidence-building measures was two-pronged. First, China sought to win 

support in Southeast Asia by “talking the talk” by endorsing proposals 

that already had widespread support among ASEAN members. Second, 

China sought to undermine support for the U.S. alliance structure. For 

example, President Jiang Zemin asserted in a major speech delivered in 

Bangkok in September 1999:

Hegemonism and power politics still exist and have even 

developed in the international political, economic, and 

security fields. The new “Gunboat Policy” and the economic neo-colonialism pursued by some big powers have 

severely undermined the sovereign independence and the 

development interests of many small- and medium-sized 

countries, and have threatened world peace and international security.12

A similar theme was presented by Vice President Hu Jintao in 

July 2000 in a speech delivered in Jakarta to the Indonesian Council on 

World Affairs. Hu argued: 

A new security concept that embraces the principles of 

equality, dialogue, trust and cooperation, and a new security order should be established to ensure genuine mutual 

respect, mutual cooperation, consensus through consultation and peaceful settlement of disputes, rather than 

bullying, confrontation, and imposition of one’s own will 

upon others. Only in that way can countries coexist in 

amity and secure their development.13

Two close observers of Southeast Asia’s security scene concluded 

their assessment of China’s new security concept with these observations:

China has made it official policy to gain influence in 

Southeast Asia by contrasting its behavior in the region 

with that of the U.S. The implication was clear: Not only 

can China be a good neighbor, but Southeast Asia would 

benefit from partnering with Beijing rather than the U.S., 
240 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

which typically sees political and economic reform as 

prerequisites for amicable relations. While China has long 

inferred as much, Hu’s speech marked the first time that 

the message was framed as a formal policy.14

Two years later, Foreign Minister Tang Jiaxuan asserted that 

China’s new security concept should supplant Cold War bilateral 

alliances as the basis of regional security order.15 However, in light of 

the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in New York and the 

Pentagon in Washington, DC, in September 2001, China’s criticism of the 

U.S. alliance system fell on deaf ears. But China’s advocacy of cooperative 

security through regional multilateral institutions slowly gained traction. 

The China threat of the early 1990s dissipated as Beijing repackaged its 

new security concept with such expressions as peaceful rise (2003), peaceful development (2004), and most recently, harmonious world (2005).16

China’s Multilateral Relations with Southeast Asia 

ASEAN 

China’s relations with Southeast Asia are structured on both 

a bilateral basis, through long-term cooperative framework agreements with each of ASEAN’s 10 members (Brunei, Burma, Cambodia, 

Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and 

Vietnam) and a multilateral basis between ASEAN and China. Formal 

linkages between China and ASEAN date to 1991 when Qian Qichen 

attended the 24th ASEAN ministerial meeting in Kuala Lumpur as a 

guest of the Malaysian government. Qian expressed China’s interest in 

developing cooperation with ASEAN in the field of science and technology. ASEAN responded positively. 

In September 1993, ASEAN Secretary General Dato Ajit Singh 

led a delegation to China for talks with Vice Foreign Minister Tang 

Jiaxuan to follow up on Qian’s proposal. This resulted in a formal agreement in July 1994 to establish two joint committees—one on science 

and technology cooperation and the other on economic and trade 

cooperation. China and ASEAN also agreed to open consultations on 

political and security issues at the senior official level. The firstChinaASEAN senior officials meeting was held in Hangzhou in April 1995.
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 241

In 1996, China was accorded official dialogue partner status by 

ASEAN, and in February of the following year, ASEAN and China 

formalized their cooperation by establishing the ASEAN-China Joint 

Cooperation Committee. The committee first met in Beijing where it 

was agreed that it would “act as the coordinator for all the ASEANChina mechanisms at the working level.”17 As an ASEAN dialogue 

partner, China regularly participates in the annual ASEAN postministerial conference consultation process. This takes the form of a meeting 

between ASEAN and its 10 dialogue partners (ASEAN 10 + 10), and a 

separate meeting between ASEAN members and each of its dialogue 

partners (ASEAN 10 + 1). 

China-ASEAN relations advanced in November 2002 with the 

signing of three major documents: the Framework Agreement on Comprehensive Economic Cooperation between ASEAN Nations and the 

People’s Republic of China, the Joint Declaration between China and 

ASEAN on Cooperation in Non-Traditional Security Fields, and the 

Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea (DOC). 

The first agreement laid the foundations for the China-ASEAN Free 

Trade Area. A major advance toward the free trade area was made in 

January 2007 when China and ASEAN signed the Agreement on Trade 

in Services at their tenth summit in Cebu, the Philippines. The free trade 

agreement came into force in January 2010 for the original five founding 

members of ASEAN and Brunei. It will come into effect for the newer, 

less-developed ASEAN members in 2015.

In April 2003, ASEAN and China convened a special meeting 

to discuss joint responses to deal with the Severe Acute Respiratory 

Syndrome epidemic.18 Cooperation in this area led to a memorandum 

of understanding (MOU) in January 2004 to implement the ASEANChina joint declaration on nontraditional security. In 2005 and 2007, 

China was invited to attend informal ministerial consultations with 

ASEAN on transitional crime held in Vietnam and Brunei respectively. 

In November 2009, the informal meeting was upgraded when the First

ASEAN Ministerial Meeting on Transnational Crime Plus China was 

held in Phnom Penh.

Originally, ASEAN sought to negotiate a code of conduct for the 

South China Sea. China resisted ASEAN diplomatic pressure to agree 

to a formal, legally binding code. Early in 2004, 13 months after the 

DOC was signed, China and ASEAN agreed to set up a joint working 
242 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

group to consider ways to implement the DOC and to submit its recommendations to the first ASEAN-China senior officials meeting on the 

implementation of the DOC, which was held in Kuala Lumpur in 

December. ASEAN implementation meetings have since been held in 

May 2006 in Cambodia and in April 2010 in Hanoi.

Strategic Partnership for Peace and Prosperity 

In October 2003, China’s zone of interaction with ASEAN was 

enhanced when China acceded to the ASEAN Treaty of Amity and 

Cooperation, and China issued a joint declaration with ASEAN establishing a strategic partnership. The joint declaration was the first formal 

agreement of this type between China and a regional organization, as 

well as a first for ASEAN itself. The joint declaration was wide-ranging 

and included a provision for the initiation of a new security dialogue as 

well as general cooperation in political matters.19

In July of the following year, state councilor Tang Jiaxuan raised 

the prospect of developing “enhanced strategic relations” with ASEAN 

in his discussions with Secretary General Ong Keng Yong in Beijing. 

As a result, China and ASEAN drafted a 5-year plan of action (2005–

2010) in late 2004. This plan included, inter alia, a joint commitment 

to increase regular high-level bilateral visits, cooperation in the field of 

nontraditional security, security dialogue, and military exchanges and 

cooperation.20 The plan set out the following objectives:

■ promote mutual confidence and trust in defense and military 

fields with a view to maintaining peace and stability in the 

region

■ conduct dialogues, consultations, and seminars on security 

and defense issues

■ strengthen cooperation on military personnel training

■ consider observing each other’s military exercises and 

explore the possibility of conducting bilateral or multilateral 

joint military exercises

■ explore and enhance cooperation in the field of peacekeeping.

ASEAN has been reluctant to advance military cooperation 

with China too quickly. In May 2004, during the course of a visit to 

Beijing by Malaysia’s newly installed Prime Minister, Abdullah Badawi, 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 243

his Chinese counterpart, Premier Wen Jiabao, suggested they consider 

a joint undertaking to maintain the security of sea lines of communication through the Malacca Strait. This proposal was pressed the 

following month by Senior Colonel Wang Zhongchun from the 

People’s Liberation Army (PLA) National Defense University. In a paper 

presented to the China-ASEAN forum in Singapore, Wang proposed 

joint naval exercises and patrols as well as intelligence exchanges on 

terrorism. According to one analyst, Wang’s proposal was received 

coolly and with considerable skepticism by the audience.21

In 2004, China and the ASEAN states became charter members of 

the Regional Cooperation Agreement on Combating Piracy and Armed 

Robbery against Ships in Asia, a Japanese initiative that also included 

South Korea, India, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka. China later offered 

modest assistance to build antipiracy capacity among states bordering 

the Malacca Strait.

In September 2003, Wu Bangguo, chairman of the Standing 

Committee of the National People’s Congress, proposed joint oil 

exploration and development in areas of overlapping claims in the 

South China Sea. A year later, premier Wen Jiabao reiterated this proposal 

at the eighth China-ASEAN summit. Wen called for shelving of disputes 

“while going for joint development.” This led to a major breakthrough in 

March 2004, when the national oil companies of China, the Philippines, 

and Vietnam signed a 3-year agreement to conduct joint seismic testing 

in the South China Sea.22 The agreement was not renewed in 2008 when 

it expired.

In July 2005, Hu Jintao reiterated China’s call for joint development during the course of state visits to Brunei, Indonesia, and the 

Philippines.23 That month, China and ASEAN set up a joint working 

group on the Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South China 

Sea to recommend measures to implement the agreement. The working 

group held its second meeting in Hainan in February 2006. In light of 

deadly pirate attacks on Chinese fishing vessels, in May 2006, China, the 

Philippines, and Vietnam agreed to strengthen security cooperation in 

the South China Sea.24 But few tangible results appeared to follow.

As a measure of the progress in consolidating the China-ASEAN 

strategic partnership, the first workshop on regional security between 

officials representing their respective defense departments was held in 

Beijing in July 2006. China and ASEAN also held a heads of government 
244 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

commemorative summit in Nanning in 2006 to mark the 15th anniversary of China’s status as a dialogue partner. By the end of 2006, China 

and ASEAN had concluded 28 “cooperation framework mechanisms,” 

including regular consultations between senior officials on strategic 

and political security cooperation, a yearly conference of foreign ministers, and an annual summit meeting of government leaders.25 These 

developments provided a foundation for the development of security 

and defense cooperation.

ASEAN Regional Forum 

When China first joined the ARF, it was suspicious of multilateral 

activities that might curtail its national sovereignty. Over time, however, 

China has come to embrace multilateral security cooperation under the 

forum’s auspices.26 China has taken a particularly active role in the ARF’s 

intersessional work program related to confidence-building measures, 

hosting the group’s meetings in March 1997 and November 2003. 

In 1997, China sent representatives to the ARF meeting of heads 

of defense colleges and hosted the meeting in September 2000. The 

meeting was opened by Defense Minister Chi Haotian, who argued that 

the ARF’s stress on dialogue and consultation represented a “new security concept” and the trend of “multi-polarization” in the region. Chi 

noted that regional flashpoints still existed, “hegemonism and power 

politics have shown new traces of development,” “democracy and 

human rights” were being used as pretexts for intervention, and “separatism was gaining ground. All these will endanger or jeopardize the 

security and stability of the region. That’s why we advocate that all 

countries adopt the new security concept built upon equality, dialogue, 

mutual confidence and cooperation.”27 In 2000, China also contributed 

for the first time to the ARF’s Annual Security Outlook and began 

providing voluntary briefings on regional security.

While China’s participation in the ARF’s program of confidencebuilding measures has evolved over time, its endorsement of preventive 

diplomacy has been more circumscribed. In a defense white paper 

issued in late 2000, China provided this cautious assessment: 

China holds that the ARF should continue to focus on 

confidence-building measures, explore new security concepts and methods, and discuss the question of preventive 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 245

diplomacy. At the same time, it believes that the parties 

concerned should have a full discussion first on the concept, 

definition, principles and scope of preventive diplomacy in 

the Asia-Pacific region and reach consensus in this regard.28

According to one China analyst, “Two of the defining features 

of that document [the 2000 Defence White Paper] were the emphasis 

on the dominance of peace and development as forces driving global 

development and a corollary imperative toward implementing external 

policies based upon multilateral cooperative approaches.”29 Since 

2000, China has consistently promoted its new security concept as the 

preferred framework for multilateral cooperation. For example, in July 

2002, China presented a position paper outlining its new security concept to the annual ARF ministerial meeting. And in August 2007, at the 

14th ARF meeting, China once again pressed its new security concept.

In 2003, China launched a major initiative to further its new concept of security. At the annual ARF ministerial meeting in Phnom Penh, 

China proposed the creation of a security policy conference comprised 

of senior military and civilian officials (at vice ministerial level) drawn 

from all ARF members. The objective of this new security mechanism 

would be to draft a treaty to promote “peace, stability and prosperity” 

in the region. Chinese officials said the new treaty would give equal 

attention to the concerns of all ARF members and guarantee security 

through united action rather than seeking “absolute security for oneself 

and threaten[ing] other parties’ security.”30 China drafted and circulated 

a concept paper prior to hosting the first ARF Security Policy 

Conference in November 2004.31 Due to reservations by some ASEAN 

members, no security treaty has been approved.

At the 11th ARF ministerial meeting in 2004, China tabled a series 

of proposals for the future development of the ARF. These were later 

summarized as follows:

To maintain its forum nature and adhere to the basic 

principles of decision-making through consensus, taking 

an incremental approach, and moving at a pace comfortable to all member so as to encourage the initiative 

and active participation of all members; to continuously 

strengthen and consolidate confidence-building measures 
246 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

(CBMs) while actively addressing the issue of preventive 

diplomacy, so as to gradually find out cooperative methods 

and approaches for preventive diplomacy that are suitable 

to the region and fitting the current needs; to increase 

participation of defense officials, promote exchanges and 

cooperation among militaries of the countries concerned, 

and give full play to the important role of the militaries 

in enhancing mutual trust; to highlight cooperation in 

non-traditional security fields such as counter-terrorism 

and combating transnational crimes.32

China’s 2004 defense white paper identified five main areas of 

international security cooperation: strategic consultation and dialogue, 

regional security cooperation, cooperation in nontraditional security 

fields, participation in United Nations peacekeeping operations, 

and military exchanges. The white paper also set out Beijing’s policy 

on international cooperation in the area of defense-related science, 

technology, and industry, including the export of military products 

and related technologies. According to this document, China’s exports 

in this sensitive area were governed by three principles: “It should only 

serve the purpose of helping the recipient state enhance its capability for 

legitimate self-defense; it must not impair peace, security, and stability 

of the relevant region and the world as a whole; and it must not be used 

to interfere in the recipient state’s internal affairs.”33

The 2008 defense white paper declared, “China attaches great importance to the ASEAN Regional Forum” and noted that in 2007 and 

2008, China co-hosted with Indonesia and Thailand, respectively, the 

ARF roundtable discussion on stocktaking on maritime security issues 

and the ARF seminar on narcotics control.34 The white paper also noted 

with pride that China’s draft of the general guidelines for disaster relief 

cooperation had been adopted by the 14th ARF ministerial meeting. 

In March 2008, China hosted the first China-ASEAN dialogue between 

senior defense scholars.

China has also expanded its zone of interaction with Southeast 

Asia through the ASEAN + 3 (China, Japan, and South Korea) process. In June 2007, China, ASEAN member countries, Japan, and South 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 247

Korea held a 5-day workshop on disaster relief by their armed forces in 

Shijazhuang, capital of Hubei Province. 

At the ASEAN + 3 summit in November 2007, China proposed 

a number of initiatives in the field of nontraditional security cooperation and pressed for institutionalized defense cooperation and military 

exchanges among its members. In June 2008, China hosted the second 

ASEAN + 3 workshop on the role of armed forces in disaster relief.

Bilateral Security Cooperation with Southeast Asia 

Between February 1999 and December 2000, China negotiated longterm cooperative framework arrangements, generally in the form of joint 

statements signed by foreign ministers or vice premiers, with all 10 ASEAN 

members.35 In the case of Vietnam, an additional agreement was signed 

between the leaders of the Chinese and Vietnamese communist parties. 

Subsequently, several of these long-term cooperative framework 

agreements have been enhanced through additional joint declarations 

and/or memoranda of understanding. For example, in April 2005, 

bilateral relations between China and Indonesia took a dramatic step 

forward when Presidents Sisilo Bambang Yudhoyono and Hu Jintao 

issued a joint declaration on building a strategic partnership in Jakarta.36

At a summit meeting in Kuala Lumpur at the end of the year, China 

and Malaysia issued a joint communiqué pledging to expand strategic 

cooperation by promoting the exchange of information in nontraditional 

security areas, consultation and cooperation in defense and security 

areas, and military exchanges between the two countries.37 In April 

2006, China and Cambodia issued an agreement on comprehensive 

partnership for cooperation. In May 2007, China and Thailand signed 

a joint action plan for strategic cooperation to flesh out their 1999 

cooperation agreement. In June 2007, Wen Jiabao told visiting 

Indonesian Vice President Yusuf Kalla that he hoped the two countries 

would adopt an action plan on their strategic partnership “at an early 

date.”38 But it was not until January 2010 that China and Indonesia 

finally agreed to sign a plan of action.

Key Aspects of China’s Security and Defense Arrangements 

The following section reviews key aspects of China’s bilateral security and defense cooperation arrangements with individual members 
248 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

of ASEAN, including high-level visits, naval port calls, defense MOU, 

and weapons and technology sales.

Cooperative framework arrangements. Seven of China’s longterm cooperative framework agreements (with Thailand, Malaysia, 

Vietnam, Brunei, Singapore, the Philippines, and Laos) include a reference to security cooperation. The Sino-Thai agreement declared:

The two sides agree to strengthen security cooperation 

through confidence-building measures. This will include 

enhanced cooperation between their strategic and security research institutes, strengthened consultations 

between their military personnel and diplomatic officials 

on security issues, exchange between their armed forces 

of experience in humanitarian rescue and assistance and 

disaster reduction and exchanges of military science and 

technology as well as information of all kinds.39

In 2004, China dispatched a team of landmine clearance specialists to give a 6-week training course to Thai military personnel and 

then jointly work with the Thai military in mine clearance along the 

Thai-Cambodia border.40

Security and defense cooperation between China and Malaysia 

included an exchange program of high-level visits, study tours, seminars, and ship visits. In addition, the two sides pledged to cooperate in 

training, research and development, and intelligence sharing. Finally, 

the joint statement made provision for cooperation between national 

defense industries to include reciprocal visits, exhibitions, and seminars and workshops “to explore the possibility of identifying joint or 

co-production projects.”41 China and Singapore agreed that “both sides 

will promote security cooperation by facilitating exchange of high-level 

visits, dialogue between defense institutions, cooperation between their 

strategic security research institutes, exchanges between professional 

groups of their armed forces and exchange of port calls.”42

The joint statement between China and the Philippines pledged 

that:

The two sides agree to make further exchanges and cooperation in the defense and military fields, strengthen 

consultations between their military and defense personnel 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 249

and diplomatic officials on security issues, to include 

exchanges between their military establishments on matters relating to humanitarian rescue and assistance, disaster 

relief and mitigation, and enhance cooperation between 

their respective strategic and security research institutes.43

China also offered to fund a Chinese language center in the 

Philippines and provide five places for Filipino military officers in 

courses run by the PLA. In September 2002, during the course of a visit 

by Defense Minister Chi Haotian, China offered to cooperate with the 

Philippines in “all fields of defense and the armed forces which facilitate stability and development of the region and the world at large.”44

General Chi specifically proposed bilateral military cooperation in 

training, personnel exchanges, information sharing on counterterrorism, and the provision of military equipment.

The relatively detailed programs of security and defense cooperation just discussed contrast with the Sino-Brunei joint statement that 

merely expressed “mutual interest in exploring possible cooperation in 

science and technology and defense.”45 The Sino-Vietnamese joint statement provided for multilevel military exchanges. The 2000 Sino-Lao 

statement declared that both sides would “further strengthen the 

friendly exchange and cooperation between the defense institutions 

and armed forces of the two countries through maintaining high-level 

exchange of visits and expanding exchanges of experts.”46 In furtherance 

of the China-Indonesia strategic partnership, in February 2007, China 

provided Indonesia’s Sea Security Coordinating Agency technical 

assistance (computers, laptops, and printers) for a satellite-linked 

information early warning system.

High-level visits. China and the 10 ASEAN members conducted 

124 high-level defense visits from 2002 to 2008, including 25 at ministerial level. Reciprocal visits by defense ministers were conducted by 

China with Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, 

and Vietnam. China also hosted defense ministers from Cambodia and 

Laos, while Brunei hosted a visit by the Chinese defense minister. 

China conducted its most intense high-level contacts with 

Thailand. Defense ministers made 3 reciprocal visits in addition to 15 

other high-level exchanges for a total of 21. Vietnam ranked second 

with 18 two-way high-level visits, including 3 ministerial exchanges. 

Indonesia and the Philippines both exchanged 14 high-level delegations 
250 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

with China, followed by Cambodia with 12. Laos, Singapore, and Burma 

each exchanged 10 delegations with China, followed by Malaysia (8) and 

Brunei (7).

Classifying the exchange of high-level military delegations between China and Burma is problematic because members of Burma’s 

government, the State Peace and Development Council, are also fieldgrade military officers. Their visits have been included in the total. In 

August 2003, during the visit of army commander Senior General Maung 

Aye, Guo Boxiong, vice chairman of the central military commission, 

stated that China viewed military-to-military relations with Burma as 

a major component of the bilateral relationship.47 Both Cambodia and 

Singapore have a marked imbalance in high-level exchanges with China. 

Cambodia sent three times as many delegations as it received; Singapore 

sent twice as many high-level officials to China as it received (Chinese 

participants at the Shangri-la Dialogue were not included in the total). It 

will be recalled that the joint China-Cambodia statement on long-term 

relations omitted any reference to security cooperation.48 Cambodia’s 

exchanges with China picked up markedly after 2006 when the two 

countries signed an agreement on Comprehensive Partnership for 

Cooperation. 

Naval ship visits and combined exercises. Between 2001 and 

2009, China and 9 of the 10 ASEAN states (Laos is landlocked) conducted 21 naval goodwill visits. Chinese warships visited Vietnam (on 

three occasions), Singapore and Thailand (twice each), and Brunei, 

Cambodia, Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines. In turn, China 

hosted port visits from Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand (twice each), 

and Indonesia, the Philippines, and Vietnam.

In a new development, China has begun to conduct joint exercises with regional states and has participated in multilateral naval 

exercises in Southeast Asia. As early as 2002, China invited the 

Philippines to participate in a naval exercise. This suggestion was reiterated in May 2005 at the first China-Philippines defense and security 

dialogue. China proposed that the Philippines conduct joint maritime 

security exercises with the PLA Navy (PLAN) focusing on search and 

rescue. As of May 2010, Manila had not taken up the offer.

At the invitation of Thailand, in 2002 PLA observers began 

attending the annual Cobra Gold exercise co-hosted by Thailand and 

the United States. In June 2005, China proposed extending PLAN port 

visits to include bilateral exercises. Thailand responded by suggesting it 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 251

would prefer to participate in a multilateral exercise that included other 

ASEAN states. Nevertheless, in December of that year, the Royal Thai 

Navy conducted its first combined exercise with the PLAN involving 

search and rescue and escort. In July 2007, Thailand and China initiated an annual combined small-scale antiterrorism training exercise 

involving Special Forces.49 China and Thailand alternate as hosts. The 

first Strike 2007 Special Forces exercise was held in Guangzhou.

In April 2006, China and Vietnam commenced biannual joint naval patrols in the Gulf of Tonkin. This was a first for the Chinese navy. 

In August 2006, after party leaders Nong Duc Manh and Hu Jintao 

met in Beijing, they issued a joint communiqué noting that “both sides 

spoke positively of . . . the joint patrol conducted by the navies of the two 

countries in the Tonkin Gulf.”50 Seven additional joint naval patrols were 

conducted in the Gulf of Tonkin by late 2009. After a gap of 17 years, 

PLAN vessels resumed goodwill port visits to Vietnam in November 

2008 and December 2009. Vietnam made its first port call to China in 

June 2009.

In late 2006, China approached individual ASEAN states to 

suggest combined multilateral naval exercises. In April 2007, defense 

circles reported that this proposal was under “active consideration.”51

The following month, the PLAN participated in the second multilateral 

maritime combined exercise under the sponsorship of the Western 

Pacific Naval Symposium in waters off Singapore. 

Southeast Asian attitudes toward Chinese involvement in antipiracy have begun to thaw. In October 2005, for example, during a visit to 

Beijing, Singapore’s Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong and Premier Wen 

Jiabao agreed to work closely to meet the threat of terrorism and piracy 

in the Strait of Malacca.52 At the China-Malaysia summit held later that 

year, Malaysia welcomed China’s role in enhancing the security of the 

strait.53 China offered support in the form of training opportunities, 

equipment, and information exchanges to build capacity to fight 

piracy. For example, in July 2007, Indonesia and China announced that 

they would conduct joint maritime navigation and security operations 

aimed at security of the Malacca Strait.54 China later donated computer 

equipment to Indonesia’s Maritime Security Coordinating Agency and 

invited Indonesian naval personnel to undertake training in China.

Security consultations. China has initiated defense and security consultations with 6 of ASEAN’s 10 members. The Sino-Thai 

defense security consultations are the oldest, having commenced in 
252 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

December 2001. In November 2004, China and the Philippines 

inaugurated an annual dialogue in Beijing on defense and security. In 

2005, China expanded its circle of defense dialogue partners, beginning 

defense and security consultations with Vietnam in April and inaugurating a consultative mechanism for defense and security officials with 

Indonesia in July.55 China-Malaysia defense consultations commenced 

in April 2006. At the end of 2005, China reached agreement with 

Singapore to hold an annual defense policy dialogue at permanent secretary level. However, the first meeting was not held until January 2008.

MOUs on defense cooperation. Between 2002 and 2009, China 

signed five memoranda of understanding with individual ASEAN 

members: Cambodia (November 2003), the Philippines (November 

2004), Thailand (May 2005), Indonesia (July 2005), and Malaysia 

(September 2005). 

China provided Cambodia with a $10 million loan in late 1997 

after Western nations imposed sanctions following the violent political upheaval in July. Cambodia drew on U.S. $2.8 million to purchase 

Chinese military vehicles. Under the Sino-Cambodian MOU, China 

agreed to provide military training and equipment for the Royal 

Cambodian Armed Forces. China also financed the upgrade of an 

airfield and construction of barracks and officers’ quarters. Between 

2005 and 2007, Cambodia took delivery of 15 Chinese patrol boats for 

use by Cambodia’s interior ministry in maritime security operations. 

In a major development, in May 2010 Prime Minister Hun Sen held 

discussions with President Hu Jintao at the Shanghai World Expo and 

elicited a Chinese pledge to provide 255 military trucks and 50,000 

military uniforms in a package valued at U.S. $14 million.56 Earlier, in 

April, the United States suspended its offer to provide Cambodia with 

200 military vehicles in protest of Phnom Penh’s decision to deport 

Uygur asylum seekers back to China.

In September 2005, China and Malaysia signed an MOU on 

defense cooperation covering personnel exchanges and training and 

an annual security dialogue. Under the terms of the Sino-Filipino 

MOU, China proposed stepping up military exchanges and cooperation against terrorism, creating a consultation mechanism, and 

conducting joint military exercises.57 Members of the armed forces of 

the Philippines subsequently attended a variety of courses in China 

including language training, military security management, command, 

and special operations. 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 253

In November 2007, the Chinese and Indonesian defense ministers signed a defense cooperation agreement that included provisions 

on defense technology sharing, exchange of military students, and arms 

sales. China also offered billets for Indonesian military personnel in 

over 20 training courses.

Weapons sales and technology transfer. China’s most substantial 

military relations in the region have been with Burma. In the 1990s, 

China provided U.S. $1.6 billion in military assistance and trained 

substantial numbers of military personnel. In particular, China assisted with the modernization of Burma’s navy, provided assistance for the 

construction of naval facilities in Hainggik and Great Cocos Islands, 

and helped to upgrade the Mergui naval base.58

In September 2003, China offered Thailand a loan valued 

at U.S. $600 million for the purchase of weapons and spare parts. In 

2004, it was announced that China would supply Thailand with 96 

Chinese armored vehicles in exchange for agricultural produce.59 In 

May 2005, the two sides signed an MOU formally outlining the terms of 

a 3-year barter exchange.60 In May 2007, China and Thailand signed a 

joint action plan on strategic cooperation in 15 areas, including defense 

industry cooperation. In September, Thailand placed an order valued at 

U.S. $48 million for Chinese C–802 antiship cruise missiles. During the 

November visit by China’s defense minister, discussions were held on 

the joint missile production. 

Under the terms of the 2005 Sino-Filipino MOU, China offered 

to provide U.S. $1.2 million worth of military engineering equipment to 

the Philippines.61 In 2007, China offered the Philippines an additional 

$1.8 million in military assistance and $6.6 million in grant aid for the 

purchase of military equipment. 

In July 2004, Malaysia and China signed a technology transfer 

agreement. According to Defense Minister Najib Razak, Malaysia 

agreed in principle to purchase medium-range missiles from China, 

which would transfer short-range air defense technology to Malaysia.62

In furtherance of cooperation in defense technology, the deputy political commissar of the general armaments department visited Malaysia 

in late 2007. 

Security and defense cooperation between China and Indonesia 

only became possible with the collapse of the New Order in 1998. Diplomatic relations between Jakarta and Beijing, which were severed in 

1967, were not restored until 1990. In 2002, Indonesia’s defense minister 
254 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

announced he was considering buying military equipment from China. 

In September of the following year, the secretary general of Indonesia’s 

defense department met with senior Chinese defense technology officials to discuss the sale of military equipment and future cooperation 

in research and production. Later, Defense Minister Juwono Sudarsono 

revealed that China initiated an assessment of Indonesia’s defenseindustrial enterprises at that time, but Indonesia resisted China’s request 

for access to documentation on defense capability development.63

In May 2005, Indonesia’s state minister for research and technology, 

Kusmayanto Kadiman, revealed that China and Indonesia would sign an 

agreement on the development of short-, medium- and long-range missiles during President Yudhoyono’s visit to China in mid-2005. According 

to Kusmayanto, “We are a maritime country, so state defense should start 

from there. . . . the long-range missile for example could be stationed 

on small islands or vessels.”64 The minister also indicated that cooperation would take the form of technology transfer under which China 

would provide one of its missiles for research and study in Indonesia.

In July 2005, during the course of President Yudhoyono’s state visit to Beijing, China and Indonesia signed a bilateral MOU on defense 

technology cooperation. China agreed to provide technical assistance to 

Indonesia’s aircraft and ship-building defense industries and engage in 

co-production of ammunition, arms, and locally produced missiles with 

a range of up to 150 kilometers.65 Cooperation in defense technology 

was discussed at the first China-Indonesia defense and security consultations in May 2006.

In April 2007, just after China and Indonesia initialed their draft 

defense cooperation agreement, Chinese ambassador to Indonesia Lan 

Lijun declared that “China is ready to offer Indonesia military hardware without any political strings.”66 Later that year, China’s state-owned 

armed supplier, NORINCO, and Indonesia’s PT Pindad signed an agreement to jointly develop rocket launchers and rockets. After the signing 

of the China-Indonesia defense cooperation agreement, China’s defense 

minister visited Jakarta in January 2008 and agreed to cooperate in the 

joint production of military aircraft and transport vehicles. The political 

commissar of the general armaments department visited Indonesia to 

move cooperation forward, and a formal agreement was reached in 

April 2009.

In 2005, Indonesia placed an order valued at U.S. $11 million with 

China’s National Precision Machinery Import and Export Corporation 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 255

for a small number of YJ–82/C–802 antiship cruise missiles.67 In 2008, 

these reportedly were fitted on one of Indonesia’s fast patrol boats and 

successfully test-fired. Late the following year, Indonesia announced 

that it would place a major order for C–802 antiship missiles for its 

fast patrol boats and frigates and that a purchase of the smaller C–705 

antiship missiles was under negotiation.68 In January 2010, a Chinese 

delegation came to Jakarta to discuss further cooperation between their 

respective national defense industries.

In October 2005, the Chinese and Vietnamese defense ministers 

tentatively discussed cooperation between their national defense industries. Media reports suggest that NORINCO had provided Vietnam 

with ammunition for small arms and artillery and military vehicles and 

assisted in coproduction of ammunition and heavy machine guns.69

Timor-Leste, which gained independence in 2002, is not yet a 

member of ASEAN.70 In the 2 years following independence, China 

supplied U.S. $1 million in military assistance including uniforms, tents, 

and transport vehicles and a further U.S. $6 million for the construction 

of barracks and officers’ quarters. China also funded the participation 

of member of the Timor-Leste armed forces to undertake professional 

military educational and training courses in China.

In 2007, defense relations were raised with the signing of 

Timor-Leste’s first major defense contract, which went to a Chinese 

company to supply eight jeeps mounted with machineguns. In April 

2008, Timor-Leste signed a defense contract valued at U.S. $25 million 

with China’s Poly Technologies for the purchase of two modified 175-

ton Shanghai class patrol boats, the construction of a landing dock, and 

training for up to 40 crew members.

China’s “Peaceful Development” and Southeast Asia 

This chapter has reviewed the enlargement of China’s zone of 

interaction with Southeast Asia since the end of the Cold War. During 

this period, China has continually engaged with regional states on 

a bilateral basis through the framework of long-term cooperative 

agreements. China has avidly worked to promote bilateral security and 

defense cooperation through a variety of traditional mechanisms including defense MOUs, high-level exchanges, naval ship visits, training 

programs, modest weapons and technology sales, and regular security 

consultations. China’s “peaceful development” also has been accompanied by a complete turnaround in its view of and participation 
256 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

in regional multilateral organizations. Initially, China was skeptical 

and suspicious that multilateral institutions would impinge on national 

sovereignty. Within the space of a few years, China became a strong 

supporter of the multilateral process and began to play a proactive role. 

Sino-ASEAN and Sino-ARF multilateral relations offer China 

an opportunity to expand its political influence and ability to reshape 

regional order. In 2003, China consolidated its position with ASEAN 

by becoming not only the first external power to accede to the Treaty of 

Amity and Cooperation but also ASEAN’s first strategic partner. In late 

2004, China hosted the first ARF security policy conference as an alternative to the U.S.-dominated Shangri-La Dialogue.71 China has been a 

strong proponent of the ASEAN + 3 grouping over the larger East Asian 

summit processes that includes India and Australia.72 China’s position 

was reinforced by the decision of the 16th ASEAN summit held in 

Hanoi in April 2010 to invite both the United States and Russia to 

consider joining the East Asian summit. 

China’s economic growth will continue to provide a firm foundation for its defense modernization.73 There are two main drivers of 

this process: the perceived intermediate and long-term challenge posed 

by the United States and the desire to project power into the western 

Pacific. Specifically, China’s objective of reasserting control over Taiwan 

has resulted in extraordinary efforts by the PLA to purchase and develop weapons systems to deter the United States from intervening in a 

Taiwan contingency.74 China’s new defense capabilities will inevitably 

extend China’s military reach into the South China Sea, the Malacca 

Strait, Southeast Asia, and the Indian Ocean. It is clear that China’s 

growing military muscle has raised anxieties about how China will use 

its new power to influence Southeast Asia.75
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 257

Notes

1 Zhang Xuegang, “Southeast Asia and Energy: Gateway to Stability,” China Security 3, no. 2 

(2007), 18–35, and Zha Daojiong, “China’s Energy Security: Domestic and International Issues,” 

Survival 48, no. 1 (Spring 2006), 179–190.

2 U.S. National Intelligence Council, Mapping the Global Future: Report of the National Intelligence Council’s 2020 Project (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, December 

2004), 47–64, and Keith Crane et al., Modernizing China’s Military: Opportunities and Constraints

(Santa Monica: RAND Project Air Force, 2005), xvii–xviii.

3 William H. Overholt, “China and Globalization,” testimony presented to the U.S.-China 

Economic and Security Review Commission (Santa Monica: The RAND Corporation, May 19, 

2005). For analyses of the complexity of economic relations, consult Leong and Ku, China and 

Southeast Asia: Global Challenges and Regional Challenges; Chen Wen and Liao Shaolian, ChinaASEAN Trade Relations (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2005); Sheng Lijun, 

“China in Southeast Asia: The Limits of Power” Japan Focus, August 4, 2006; John Ravenhill, 

“Is China an Economic Threat to Southeast Asia?” Asian Survey 46, no. 5 (2006), 653–674; and 

Saw Swee-Hock, ed., ASEAN-China Economic Relations (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian 

Studies, 2007).

4 Martin Stuart-Fox, A Short History of China and Southeast Asia: Tribute, Trade, and Influence (Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2003), 73–94. See also David C. Kang, “Getting Asia Wrong: The 

Need for New Analytic Frameworks,” International Security 27, no. 4 (2003), 57–85, and David 

C. Kang, “Hierarchy, Balancing, and Empirical Puzzles in Asian International Relations,” International Security 28, no. 3 (2003–2004), 165–180.

5 Herbert Yee and Ian Storey, eds., The China Threat: Perceptions, Myths, and Reality (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2002).

6 For background, see Avery Goldstein, Rising to the Challenge: China’s Grand Strategy and 

International Security (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2005); Frank Frost, “Directions in 

China’s Foreign Relations—Implications for East Asia and Australia,” Research Brief, Department 

of Parliamentary Services (Canberra: Parliament of Australia, December 2005); Milton Osborne, 

The Paramount Power: China and the Countries of Southeast Asia, Lowy Institute Paper 11 (Sydney: Lowy Institute for International Policy, 2006), available at <www.lowyinstitute.org/Publication.asp?pid=370>; and Bronson Percival, The Dragon Looks South: China and Southeast Asia in 

the New Century (Westport, CT: Praeger Security International, 2007).

7 Wu Baiyi, “The Chinese Security Concept and its Historical Evolution,” Journal of Contemporary China 10, no. 27 (2001), 278. Wu is Deputy Director of the Research Department, China 

Foundation for International and Strategic Studies. See also Michael Yahuda, “Chinese Dilemmas 

in Thinking about Regional Security Architecture,” The Pacific Review 16, no. 2 (2003), 189–206.

8 Carlyle A. Thayer, “China’s ‘New Security Concept’ and ASEAN,” Comparative Connections: 

An E-Journal on East Asian Bilateral Relations 2, no. 3 (2000), 65–75, available at <csis.org/files/

media/csis/pubs/0003qchina_seasia.pdf>. For a substantial elaboration, see Bates Gill, Rising 

Star: China’s New Security Diplomacy (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 2007).

9 Carlyle A. Thayer, “China’s ‘New Security Concept’ and Southeast Asia,” in Asia-Pacific Security: Policy Challenges, ed. David W. Lovell (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 

2003), 90–91.

10 People’s Republic of China, State Council, Information Office, China’s National Defense, 

“Full Text of the White Paper on China’s National Defense,” Xinhua News Agency, July 27, 1998, 

available at <www.fas.org/nuke/guide/china/doctrine/cnd9807/index.html>. China issued its 

first white paper on arms control in 1995. 

11 The Council for Security Cooperation in Asia and the Pacific is a so-called Track 2 or 

nongovernmental organization that includes academics from leading regional think tanks and 

government officials “in their private capacity.”
258 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

12 Xinhua News Agency, September 3, 1999, quoted in Thayer, “China’s ‘New Security Concept’ and ASEAN,” 92.

13 Ibid., 91.

14 Mark Mitchell and Michael Vatikiotis, “China Steps in Where U.S. Fails,” Far Eastern Economic Review (November 23, 2000), 20–22.

15 Lyall Breckon, “Beijing Pushes ‘Asia for the Asians,’” Comparative Connections: An E-Journal on East Asian Bilateral Relations 4, no. 3 (2002), available at <http://csis.org/files/media/csis/

pubs/0203qchina_seasia.pdf>.

16 Sujian Guo, “Challenges and Opportunities for China’s ‘Peaceful Rise,’” in China’s Peaceful 

Rise in the 21st Century, ed. Sujian Guo (London: Ashgate Publishing, 2006), 1–14; People’s Republic of China, State Council, China’s Peaceful Development Road, December 22, 2005, available 

at <www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2005-12/22/content_505678.htm>; Bates Gill and Yanzhong Huang, “Sources and Limits of Chinese ‘Soft Power,’” Survival 48, no. 2 (Summer 2006), 

17–36; Jian Zhang, “Building ‘a Harmonious World’? Chinese Perceptions of Regional Order and 

Implication for Australia,” Strategic Insights no. 35 (June 2007), available at <www.aspi.org.au/

publications/publicationlist.aspx?pubtype=6>; and Joshua Kurlantzick, Charm Offensive: How 

China’s Soft Power Is Transforming the World (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007). In the 

late 1980s, China initially promoted a policy of “good neighborly relations”; see Steven F. Jackson, 

“China’s Good Neighbor Policy: Relations with Vietnam and Indonesia in Comparative Context,” 

paper presented to the 47th annual convention of the International Studies Association, San Diego, March 2006.

17 Joint Press Release, “The First ASEAN-China Joint Cooperation Committee Meeting,” Beijing, February 26–28, 1997, available at <www.aseansec.org/5880.htm>.

18 In September 2004, China hosted the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) Workshop on Drugsubstitute Alternative Development, and in March 2005, it hosted an ARF seminar on enhancing 

cooperation in the field of nontraditional security issues.

19 “Joint Declaration of the Heads of State/Government of the Association of Southeast Asian 

Nations and the People’s Republic of China on Strategic Partnership for Peace and Prosperity,” 

October 8, 2003, available at <www.aseansec.org/15265.htm>. For an analysis, see Lyall Breckon, 

“A New Strategic Partnership is Declared,” Comparative Connections: An E-Journal on East Asian 

Bilateral Relations 5, no. 4 (2003), available at <http://csis.org/files/media/csis/pubs/0304qchina_

seasia.pdf>.

20 “Plan of Action to Implement the Joint Declaration of ASEAN-China Strategic Partnership 

for Peace and Prosperity,” October 8, 2003, available at <www.aseansec.org/16805.htm>.

21 Ronald N. Montaperto, “Smoothing the Wrinkles,” Comparative Connections: An E-Journal on East Asian Bilateral Relations 6, no. 2 (2004), available at <http://csis.org/files/media/csis/

pubs/0402qchina_seasia.pdf>.

22 “Tripartite Agreement on Joint Survey of Seismic Activity in East Sea Signed,” Vietnam 

News Agency, March 14, 2005; Ma. Theresa Torres and Niel Villegas Mugas, “RP, China, Vietnam 

to Explore Spratlys,” The Manila Times, March 16, 2005; “China, Vietnam Agree to Joint Exploration of Disputed Areas,” Xinhua, Beijing, July 4, 2005; and “China, Philippines, Vietnam Work on 

Disputed South China Sea Area,” Xinhua, August 27, 2005.

23 Xinhuanet, Beijing, July 19, 2005 in People’s Liberation Army Daily, July 20, 2005.

24 Agence France-Presse, “Philippines, China, Vietnam to Cooperate in Spratlys Security,” 

Channelnewsasia.com, May 19, 2006.

25 Robert Sutter and Chin-Hao Huang, “Chinese Diplomacy and Optimism about ASEAN,” 

Comparative Connections: An E-Journal on East Asian Bilateral Relations 8, no. 3 (2006), available 

at <http://csis.org/files/media/csis/pubs/0603qchina_seasia.pdf>.

26 Alice D. Ba, “Who’s Socializing Whom? Complex Engagement in Sino-ASEAN Relations,” 

The Pacific Review 19, no. 2 (June 2006), 157–179.

27 Xinhua News Agency, September 6, 2000, quoted in Thayer, “China‘s ‘New Security Concept’ and ASEAN,” 93.
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 259

28 People’s Republic of China, State Council, Information Office, China’s National Defense in 

2000, text of White Paper on National Defense in 2000, Xinhua Domestic Service, Beijing, October 16, 2001, available at <www.china.org.cn/e-white/2000/index.htm>.

29 Ronald N. Montaperto, “Thinking Globally, Acting Regionally,” Comparative Connections: 

An E-Journal on East Asian Bilateral Relations 6, no. 4 (2004), available at <http://csis.org/files/

media/csis/pubs/0404qchina_seasia.pdf>.

30 Lyall Breckon, “SARS and a New Security Initiative from China,” Comparative Connections: An E-Journal on East Asian Bilateral Relations 5, no. 2 (2003), available at <http://csis.org/

files/media/csis/pubs/0302qchina_seasia.pdf>.

31 Dana R. Dillon and John J. Tkacik, Jr., “China and ASEAN: Endangered American Primacy 

in Southeast Asia,” The Heritage Foundation Backgrounder No. 1886, October 19, 2005, 3. The 

second ARF Security Policy Conference was held in Vientiane in May 2005. 

32 People’s Republic of China, State Council, China’s National Defense in 2004 (Beijing: Information Office, December 27, 2004), available at <www.china.org.cn/e-white/20041227/index.

htm>.

33 Ibid.

34 People’s Republic of China, State Council, China’s National Defense in 2008 (Beijing: Information Office, January 2009), available at <http://english.gov.cn/official/2009-01/20/content_1210227.htm>.

35 These arrangements were variously titled framework agreement, framework document, joint 

statement, and joint declaration. For a detailed analysis, consult Thayer, “China’s ‘New Security 

Concept’ and Southeast Asia,” 92–95. For a general overview of China’s bilateral relations with 

Southeast Asia, see Jürgen Haacke, “The Significance of Beijing’s Bilateral Relations: Looking ‘Below’ the Regional Level in China-ASEAN Ties,” in China and Southeast Asia: Global Changes and 

Regional Challenges, ed. Ho Khai Leong and Samuel C.Y. Ku (Singapore: Institute of Southeast 

Asian Studies, 2005), 118–140.

36 Ronald N. Montaperto, “Dancing with China,” Comparative Connections: An E-Journal 

on East Asian Bilateral Relations 7, no. 2 (2005), available at <http://csis.org/files/media/csis/

pubs/0502qchina_seasia.pdf>.

37 Robert Sutter, “Emphasizing the Positive; Continued Wariness,” Comparative Connections: 

An E-Journal on East Asian Bilateral Relations 7, no. 4 (2005), available at <http://csis.org/files/

media/csis/pubs/0504qchina_seasia.pdf>.

38 Xinhua, “China, Indonesia to Expand Cooperation,” People’s Daily Online, June 30, 2007, 

available at <http://id.china-embassy.org/eng/zgyyn/sbwl/t328570.htm>.

39 “Joint Statement of the People’s Republic of China and the Kingdom of Thailand on a Plan 

of Action for the 21st Century,” Xinhua News Agency, February 5, 1999.

40 Xinhua, “China Helps Thailand Train Landmine Clearance Personnel,” People’s Daily Online, 

September 8, 2005, available at <www.highbeam.com/doc/1P2-15938272.html>.

41 “Joint Statement on Framework for Future Bilateral Cooperation between the People’s Republic of China and Malaysia,” Xinhua News Agency, May 31, 1999.

42 “Joint Statement on Bilateral Cooperation between the People’s Republic of China and the 

Republic of Singapore,” Xinhua News Agency, April 11, 2000.

43 “Joint Statement Between the Government of the People’s Republic of China and the Government of the Republic of the Philippines on the Framework of Bilateral Cooperation in the 21st

Century,” Xinhua News Agency, May 16, 2000.

44 Quoted in Ranato Cruz De Castro, “China, Philippines, and U.S. Influence in Asia,” American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, July 8, 2007, available at <www.aei.org/outlook/26450>.

45 “Joint Communiqué between the People’s Republic of China and Brunei Darussalam,” Xinhua News Agency, August 23, 1999.

46 “Joint Statement on Bilateral Cooperation between the People’s Republic of China and the 

Lao People’s Democratic Republic,” Xinhua Domestic Service, November 12, 2000.
260 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

47 Lyall Breckon, “On the Inside Track,” Comparative Connections: An E-Journal on East Asian 

Bilateral Relations 5, no. 3 (2003), available at <http://csis.org/files/media/csis/pubs/0303qchina_

seasia.pdf>.

48 “Joint Statement on the Framework of Bilateral Cooperation between the People’s Republic 

of China and the Kingdom of Cambodia,” Xinhua News Agency, November 13, 2000.

49 Xinhua, “China, Thailand Stage Combined Training of Special Troops,” People’s Daily Online, July 16, 2007, available at <www.gov.cn/misc/2007-07/16/content_686577.htm>.

50 “China-Vietnam Joint Communiqué,” Beijing, August 24, 2006.

51 Robert Karniol, “China Seeks Joint Military Exercise with ASEAN Countries,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, April 25, 2007.

52 “China to Work with Singapore and Region to Fight Terror and Sea Piracy,” Channel News 

Asia, October 25, 2005.

53 Sutter, “Emphasizing the Positive; Continued Wariness.”

54 “China, RI look into Joint Maritime Ops,” The Jakarta Post, July 28, 2007, available at 

<https://www.thejakartapost.com/taxonomy/term/633?page=127>.

55 “Chinese Missile Aid for Indonesia,” IISS Strategic Comments 11, no. 6 (August 2006), 1–2.

56 Press Trust of India, “China Pledges Military Aid to Cambodia,” May 3, 2010.

57 Rommel C. Banlaoi, “Philippines-China Defense and Military Cooperation: Problems and 

Prospects,” paper presented to the International Conference on the Thirty Years of PhilippinesChina Relations, Manila, October 22, 2005.

58 Bruce Vaughn and Mayne M. Morrison, China-Southeast Asia Relations: Trends, Issues, 

and Implications for the United States (Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service, Report 

for Congress, April 4, 2006), 23–24. China has not established military bases in Burma; see Andrew Selth, Chinese Military Bases in Burma: The Explosion of a Myth, Regional Outlook Paper 

no. 10 (Brisbane: Griffith Asia Institute, 2007).

59 Thai News Agency, “Military Equipment Barter Deal Bears Fruit,” December 14, 2004.

60 Montaperto, “Dancing with China.”

61 Rommel C. Banlaoi, “Philippines-China Defense and Military Cooperation.”

62 Ronald N. Montaperto, “Find New Friends, Reward Old Ones, but Keep All in Line,” Comparative Connections: An E-Journal on East Asian Bilateral Relations 6, no. 3 (2004), available at 

<http://csis.org/files/media/csis/pubs/0403qchina_seasia.pdf>.

63 “Chinese Missile Aid for Indonesia: How Strategic a Partnership?” IISS Strategic Comments

11, no. 6 (August 2005), 1–2.

64 Antara, “RI, China to Cooperate in Rocket Development,” The Jakarta Post, May 17, 2005.

65 Ian Storey, “Progress and Remaining Obstacles in Sino-Indonesian Relations,” China Brief

#5, no. 18 (August 16, 2005), available at <www.jamestown.org/programs/chinabrief/single/?tx_

ttnews%5Btt_news%5D=3887&tx_ttnews%5BbackPid%5D=195&no_cache=1>. Some analysts 

saw this development as Jakarta’s response to Australia’s decision to acquire long-range air-toground missiles; see “Chinese Missile Aid for Indonesia.”

66 Quoted in “China Offers to Open Door to Military Cooperation,” The Jakarta Post, April 

20, 2007, online edition.

67 Jon Grevatt, “Indonesia Fits Chinese ASM but with an Eye to the West,” Jane’s Navy International, April 22, 2008, and Jon Grevatt, “Indonesia Seeks to Buy Chinese Made Anti-ship 

Missiles,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, December 23, 2009.

68 Jon Grevatt, “Indonesia Strengthens Defence Co-operations with China and Malaysia,” 

Jane’s Defence Industry, January 25, 2010. 

69 Jane’s Defence Weekly, January 4, 2006.

70 Data on Timor-Leste was taken from Ian Storey, “China and East Timor: Good, but Not 

Best Friends,” China Brief 6, no. 14 (May 2, 2007), available at <http://jamestown.nvmserver.

com/122/?tx_ttnews%5Btt_news%5D=3961&tx_ttnews%5BbackPid%5D=196&no_cache=1> 
CHINA AND SOUTHEAST ASIA: A SHIFTING ZONE OF INTERACTION 261

and Ian Storey, “China’s Inroads into East Timor,” China Brief 9, no. 6 (March 19, 2009), available 

at <www.jamestown.org/programs/chinabrief/single/?tx_ttnews%5Btt_news%5D=34724&tx_

ttnews%5BbackPid%5D=459&no_cache=1>.

71 Chinese attitudes toward participation in the Shangri-La Dialogue changed in June 2007 

when China upgraded its representation to the People’s Liberation Army deputy chief of staff.

72 See the emphasis given to these organizations in People’s Republic of China, State Council, 

China’s National Defense 2006 (Beijing: Information Office, December 29, 2006), section one, 

available at <www.china.org.cn/english/features/book/194421.htm>.

73 Crane et al. 

74 Office of the Secretary of Defense, Annual Report to Congress: Military Power of the People’s 

Republic of China 2007 (Washington, DC: Department of Defense, 2006), 30–42; and Ronald 

O’Rourke, China Naval Modernization: Implications for U.S. Navy Capabilities—Background and 

Issues for Congress (Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service, May 29, 2007), 28–49.

75 Chien-peng Chung, “Southeast Asia-China Relations: Dialectics of ‘Hedging’ and ‘Counter-hedging,’” in Southeast Asian Affairs 2004, ed. Daljit Singh and Chin Kin Wah (Singapore: 

Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004), 35–53; Denny Roy, “Southeast Asia and China: Balancing or Bandwagoning,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 27, no. 2 (2005), 305–322; Michael A. 

Glosny, “Heading towards a Win-Win Future? Recent Developments in China’s Policy toward 

Southeast Asia,” Asian Security 2, no. 1 (2006), 24–57; and Australian Government, Defending 

Australia in the Asia Pacific Century: Force 2030, Defence White Paper 2009 (Canberra: Department of Defence, 2009).

263

About the Contributors

Editors

James Clad is Senior Advisor for Asia at the Center for Naval Analyses. 

From 2007 to 2009, he served as U.S. Deputy Assistant Secretary of 

Defense for Asia Pacific Security Affairs, prior to which he taught at 

the National Defense University in Washington, DC, and was Professor 

of South and Southeast Asian Studies at Georgetown University. 

His previous career includes positions in Cambridge Energy Research 

Associates, the New Zealand diplomatic service, the Far East Economic 

Review, St. Antony’s College, Oxford, the Carnegie Endowment for 

International Peace, and Harvard University. Clad is the author/ 

coauthor of three books.

Sean M. McDonald is an Associate Professor of Geography at Bentley 

University. Previously, he was an International Trade Specialist with 

the United States Department of Commerce and Director of the 

Consortium of American Business Programs in Eastern Europe and the 

Former Soviet Union. McDonald was a Visiting Professor at Lancaster 

University, UK, and has guest lectured at numerous other institutions. 

McDonald is a founding partner of The Additional Group, which trains 

and advises numerous public and private sector organizations in economic impact assessment and evaluation. He holds a doctorate in 

geography from Scotland’s Glasgow University. 

Bruce Vaughn is a Specialist in Asian Affairs with the Congressional 

Research Service where he works on South Asia, Southeast Asia, and 

Australasia. He has taught as Adjunct Associate Professor for the Asian 

Studies Department and the Center for Australian and New Zealand 

Studies at Georgetown University. Vaughn worked as Senior Defence 

Analyst at the Embassy of Australia in Washington after completing 

his Ph.D. at the Australian National University. Vaughn has published 

articles in Contemporary Southeast Asia, Geopolitics, Intelligence and 

National Security, Central Asian Survey, Indian Ocean Review, and 

Strategic Analysis and is the editor of The Unraveling of Island Asia? 

Governmental, Communal, and Regional Instability (Praeger, 2005).
264 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

Contributing Authors

Zachary Abuza is a Professor of Southeast Asian politics and security 

issues at the National War College. He is a visiting guest lecturer at 

the Foreign Service Institute, U.S. Department of State, and the 

Department of Defense Joint Special Operations University. Previously, 

he was a professor of political science at Simmons College, Boston, 

and a Senior Fellow at the United States Institute of Peace. He is the 

author of Conspiracy of Silence: The Insurgency in Southern Thailand 

and its Implications for Southeast Asian Security (U.S. Institute of Peace, 

2009);  Muslims, Politics, and Violence in Indonesia (Routledge, 2006);  

Militant Islam in Southeast Asia (Lynne Rienner, 2003); and Renovating 

Politics in Contemporary Vietnam (Lynne Rienner, 2001). He is a 

graduate of Trinity College and received his Master of Arts in Law and 

Diplomacy and Ph.D. from the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, 

Tufts University.

Richard P. Cronin is a Senior Associate of the Henry L. Stimson 

Center in Washington, DC. Cronin joined the Stimson Center 

in July 2005 following a long career as an Asian affairs specialist with the Congressional Research Service. Cronin was a visiting 

professor of comparative political economy of Asia at the Johns Hopkins 

University from 1996 to 2002, and he taught comparative economic 

policy of East and Southeast Asia to government officials in Vietnam 

and Laos in early 2005. Cronin earned a Ph.D. in modern South Asian 

history/studies from Syracuse University. 

David Lee is Director of the Historical Publications and Information 

Section of the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. He 

is the General Editor of the Documents on Australian Foreign Policy 

series and has edited volumes on Australia’s relations with Indonesia 

in 1948 and 1949 and on its policy toward the People’s Republic of 

China from 1949 to 1972. He researches on Australian foreign policy 

in the twentieth century, and his most recent publication is Stanley 

Melbourne Bruce: Australian Internationalist (London: Continuum, 2010).

Rhoda Margesson is a Specialist in International Humanitarian Policy 

in the Foreign Affairs, Defense, and Trade Division at the Congressional Research Service. Dr. Margesson conducts research and policy 
ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS 265

analysis on international organizations and global issues, with a focus 

on humanitarian assistance and intervention, disaster relief, refugees 

and migration, and some aspects of human rights. Previously, she was 

an Associate with Harvard’s Program on International Conflict Analysis and Resolution and worked in the conflict resolution field on both 

domestic and international projects. She also held research and teaching fellow positions at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at 

Tufts University and Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government. Dr. 

Margesson earned a Master of Arts in Law and Diplomacy and a Ph.D. 

from the Fletcher School. 

Dick K. Nanto is a Specialist in Industry and Trade (senior level) and 

former head of both the International Trade and Finance Section and 

the Asia Section at the Congressional Research Service. He works 

primarily on U.S. international trade and finance and on U.S. economic 

relations with Asia. He received a Master of Arts and a Ph.D. in 

economics from Harvard University and a Master of Science degree in 

national security studies from the National War College. 

Patricia O’Brien has been Visiting Associate Professor at the Center for 

Australian and New Zealand Studies in the Edmund A. Walsh School 

of Foreign Service at Georgetown University since 2001. Her publications include The Pacific Muse: Exotic Femininity and the Colonial 

Pacific (University of Washington Press, 2006) and the co-authored 

collection of papers Amongst Friends: Australian and New Zealand 

Voices from America (Otago University Press, 2005). She has written 

on gender and Pacific empire in various other publications, and her 

recent work explores Australian colonialism in Papua before World 

War II and the history of mining in Melanesia. She is a graduate of the 

University of Sydney.

David Rosenberg is Professor of Political Science at Middlebury College, Vermont, and Visiting Fellow in the Department of Political and 

Social Change in the Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies at 

the Australian National University in Canberra. He is also the regional 

editor for the South China Sea in the WWW Virtual Library of Asian 

Studies. His recent authored, coauthored, and edited publications 

include “Piracy and Maritime Crime: Historical and Modern Case 

Studies,” U.S. Naval War College Newport Paper 35 (January 2010); 

“The Political Economy of Piracy in the South China Sea,” Naval War 
266 THE BORDERLANDS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA

College Review 62, no. 3 (Summer 2009); and “Fisheries Management 

in the South China Sea,” in Security and International Politics in the 

South China Sea: Towards a Co-operative Management Regime, ed. Sam 

Bateman and Ralf Emmers (Routledge, 2009).

Carlyle A. Thayer is Professor of Politics, School of Humanities and 

Social Sciences, The University of New South Wales at the Australian 

Defence Force Academy in Canberra. Professor Thayer has written 

widely on the domestic politics and international relations of Southeast 

Asia with a particular focus on Vietnam. He is the author of The 

Vietnam People’s Army Under Doi Moi (Diane Publishing, 1994) and 

War by Other Means: National Liberation and Revolution in Vietnam 

(Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, 1991), coauthor of Soviet 

Relations with India and Vietnam (Palgrave Macmillan, 1992), and 

coeditor of Vietnamese Foreign Policy in Transition (Palgrave Macmillan, 

2000).

Michael Wood is a faculty member in the Humanities Department 

of Dawson College. He has recently taught courses on the politics 

of Southeast Asia and on Asia-Pacific foreign policy at McGill 

University. His research interests include Indonesian nationalism, 

the use and misuse of historical themes and symbols for purposes of 

nation-building and regime legitimization, and the place of Islam in 

Indonesian politics.  His publications include Official History in 

Modern Indonesia: New Order Perceptions and Counterviews (Brill, 

2005) and “Indonesian Nationalism,” in Nations and Nationalism 

in Global Perspective: An Encyclopedia of Origins, Development and 

Contemporary Transitions (ABC-CLIO, 2008). He holds a Ph.D. from 

the McGill Institute of Islamic Studies. 
As an academic field in its own right, the topic of border studies is 

experiencing a revival in university geography courses as well as in 

wider political commentary. Until recently, border studies in contemporary Southeast Asia appeared as an afterthought at best to the politics 

of interstate rivalry and national consolidation. The maps set out all agreed 

postcolonial lines. Meanwhile, the physical demarcation of these boundaries lagged. Large slices of territory, on land and at sea, eluded definition or 

delineation. 

That comforting ambiguity has disappeared. Both evolving technologies 

and price levels enable rapid resource extraction in places, and in volumes, 

once scarcely imaginable. The beginning of the 21st century’s second decade 

is witnessing an intensifying diplomacy, both state-to-state and commercial, 

over offshore petroleum. In particular, the South China Sea has moved from 

being a rather arcane area of conflict studies to the status of a bellwether 

issue. Along with other contested areas in the western Pacific and south 

Asia, the problem increasingly defines China’s regional relationships in 

Asia—and with powers outside the region, especially the United States. 

Yet intraregional territorial differences also hobble multilateral diplomacy 

to counter Chinese claims, and daily management of borders remains 

burdened by a lot of retrospective baggage.  

The contributors to this book emphasize this mix of heritage and history 

as the primary leitmotif for contemporary border rivalries and dynamics. 

Whether the region’s 11 states want it or not, their bordered identity is falling 

into ever sharper definition—if only because of pressure from extraregional 

states. Chapters are organized by country to elicit a broad range of thought 

and approach as much as for the specific areas or nation-states examined in 

each chapter. This book aims to provide new ways of looking at the reality 

and illusion of bordered Southeast Asia. 

Edited by James Clad, Sean M. McDonald, and Bruce Vaughn, with contributions from:

Zachary Abuza Rhoda Margesson David Rosenberg

Richard P. Cronin Dick K. Nanto Carlyle A. Thayer

David Lee Patricia O’Brien Michael Wood