Democratisation, Governance and Regionalism in East and Southeast Asia: A Comparative Study (Routledge Warwick Studies in Globalisation)

Democratisation, Governance and Regionalism in East and Southeast Asia

This new collection of essays explores comparatively the development of central institutions of governance in the emerging democracies of East and Southeast Asia. Seven key countries are covered: Taiwan, Korea, Thailand, Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia and the Philippines. Except for Singapore and Malaysia, all have experienced democratic transitions over the past decade. This scholarly work: • • • •

Includes the first comparative assessment of political culture in the seven states and a detailed empirical assessment of the ‘Asian values’ debate. Offers chapters covering political elites, bureaucracies and the impacts of regionalism on domestic politics. Considers the impacts of democratisation on economic governance and contrasts the approaches of different states to this central activity. Looks at the waning influence of Japan and (more briefly) the roles of legislatures, the incidence and roles of NGOs and the impacts of all these varied developments on state capacity.

This study offers an original assessment of regional political cultures and a pioneering evaluation of regional political parties. It will be of key interest to students of politics, IPE and Asian studies. Ian Marsh is Professor at the Graduate School of Government at the University of Sydney, Australia. His current research focuses on neo-liberalism and democratic decline in western states and innovation and economic governance.

Routledge/Warwick Studies in Globalisation Edited by Richard Higgott and published in association with the Centre for the Study of Globalisation and Regionalisation, University of Warwick. What is globalisation and does it matter? How can we measure it? What are its policy implications? The Centre for the Study of Globalisation and Regionalisation at the University of Warwick is an international site for the study of key questions such as these in the theory and practice of globalisation and regionalisation. Its agenda is avowedly interdisciplinary. The work of the Centre will be showcased in this new series. This series comprises two strands: Warwick Studies in Globalisation addresses the needs of students and teachers, and the titles will be published in hardback and paperback. Titles include: Globalisation and the AsiaPacific Contested territories Edited by Kris Olds, Peter Dicken, Philip F. Kelly, Lily Kong and Henry Wai-chung Yeung Regulating the Global Information Society Edited by Christopher Marsden Banking on Knowledge The genesis of the global development network Edited by Diane Stone

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12 Democratisation, Governance and Regionalism in East and Southeast Asia A comparative study Edited by Ian Marsh

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13 Assessment and Measurement of Regional Integration Edited by Philippe De Lombaerde

Democratisation, Governance and Regionalism in East and Southeast Asia A comparative study Edited by Ian Marsh

First published 2006 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2006 Ian Marsh for selection and editorial matter; individual contributors, their contributions.

This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2006. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Democratisation, governance, and regionalism in east and southeast Asia: a comparative study/edited by Ian Marsh. p. cm. – (Routledge/Warwick studies in globalisation) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Asia, Southeastern–Politics and government–1945– 2. East Asia– Politics and government. 3. Democratization–Asia, Southeastern–Crosscultural studies. 4. Democratization–East Asia–Cross-cultural studies. 5. Regionalism–Asia, Southeastern–Cross-cultural studies. 6. Regionalism–East Asia–Cross-cultural studies. 7. Comparative government. I. Marsh, Ian. II. Series. JQ750.A58D46 2006 320.959–dc22 2005020920 ISBN10: 0–415–37623–8 (hbk ISBN10: 0–203–08612–0 (ebk) ISBN13: 978–0–415–37623–5 (hbk) ISBN13: 978–0–203–08612–4 (ebk)

Contents

List of illustrations List of contributors Preface 1 Introduction

ix x xii 1

I AN MAR SH

PART I

Representation 2 Political culture and democratic consolidation in East and Southeast Asia

17

19

R I CH AR D SI N NOT T

3 Parties and party systems in East and Southeast Asia

49

J E AN B LO N D E L

PART II

Governance 4 The national executives in East and Southeast Asia

87 89

J E AN B LO N D E L

5 Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity and administrative reform

123

MARTI N PAI N TER

6 Economic governance and global engagement: independent and dependent linkage I AN MAR SH

152

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Contents

PART III

Regionalism 7 Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia

175 177

J O H N R AV E NH I L L

8 Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia?

204

TAK ASH I I N O G U C H I

9 Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia

223

J E AN B LO N D E L

PART IV

Conclusion

245

10 Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity in East and Southeast Asia

247

I AN MAR SH

Index

267

Illustrations

Figures 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 2.9 2.10 2.11 2.12 2.13 2.14 2.15 2.16

Perceived impact of national government Political efficacy Political deference and compliance Levels of political knowledge Self-placement on scale and importance of left and right Importance and position on left–right scale Importance of national identity and national pride Identity and equality: respect and fair treatment Supranational identity Evaluation of output Satisfaction with politics Confidence in the national parliament and in political parties Confidence in the civil service and in the law and the courts Actual/potential representational contact Actual/potential party involvement Actual/potential citizen mobilization

23 24 25 26 27 28 32 35 35 38 39 40 40 42 43 43

Tables 2.1 2.2 2.3 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 9.1 9.2 9.3

Factor analysis of left–right attitudinal items and left–right self-placement Other community or group identification Summary of positions of countries on selected variables Votes cast for successful presidential candidates Size of governments Average duration of ministers in office Ministerial turnover in selected posts Career background of ministers Factor analyses of questions covering human rights, communication and socio-economic values Distribution of answers to the ‘basic societal value’ questions Are there Chinese and Malay sub-regions in East and Southeast Asia?

30 36 47 103 111 113 114 117 231 234 238

Contributors

Jean Blondel was born in Toulon (France) in 1929 and studied in Paris and Oxford. He was awarded the Johan Skytte Prize for Lifetime Achievement in Political Science in 2004. He was the founding professor of the Department of Government at the University of Essex in 1964. He was a Scholar at the Russell-Sage Foundation in 1984–85 and became Professor of Political Science at the European University Institute in 1985, where he has remained as Professorial Fellow since his retirement in 1993, while also being Visiting Professor at the University of Siena. He has published extensively on Western European politics as well as, more recently, on East European and Asian and Southeast Asian Politics. His more recent works include Comparative Government (2nd edn, 1995), Democracy, Governance and Economic Performance (with I. Marsh and T. Inoguchi, 1999) The Nature of Party Government (with M. Cotta, 2000), Cabinets in Eastern Europe (with F. Muller-Rommel, 2001). Political Cultures (with T. Inoguchi) is to be published by Routledge in 2006. Takashi Inoguchi has been a Professor of Political Science, Chuo University since 2005. He did his PhD at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and taught at Sophia University and the University of Tokyo. He was a Senior Vice-Rector of the United Nations University (1995–97). He specialises in Japanese politics, East Asian comparative politics, political beliefs and behaviour, international relations, and international political economy. His latest publications include: Japanese Politics (2005), Encyclopedia of International Relations (principal editor, 2005), Values and Life Style in Urban Asia (principal editor, 2005), Global Governance (co-editor, 2004), Reinventing the Alliance (co-editor, 2004). Ian Marsh is ANZSOG Professor of Government in the Graduate School of Government, University of Sydney. After completing his PhD at Harvard, he held posts at the University of NSW and the Australian National University. His most recent publications include (with David Yencken): Into the Future: The Neglect of the Long Term in Australian Politics (2005), an edited study, Australian Parties in Transition? (2006); also ‘Neoliberalism and the Decline of Democratic Governance: A Problem of Institutional Design?’, in Political Studies (2005); and ‘Development and Democracy’, in H. Zafarullah and A.S. Huque (eds), Handbook of International Developmental Governance (2005). Globalisation and the People

List of contributors xi (with T. Inoguchi, R. Sinnott and J. Blondel) is to be published by Routledge in 2006. Martin Painter is Professor in the Department of Public and Social Administration, City University of Hong Kong. He teaches public management, public policy and comparative public administration. He is currently researching administrative and policy capacities and ‘new governance’ reforms in East and Southeast Asia. Professor Painter has been engaged as a consultant by several bilateral and multilateral agencies to provide advice on governance reforms and capacity building in Vietnam and was the lead resource person to the United Nations World Public Sector Report 2005, Unlocking the Human Potential for Public Sector Performance. Recent publications include Collaborative Federalism (1998); Challenges to State Policy Capacity: Global Trends and Comparative Perspectives (co-editor with Jon Pierre, 2005); ‘Administrative Reform in East and Southeast Asia: from Gridlock to Continuous Self-Improvement’, in Governance (2004); and ‘Transforming an Administrative State: Administrative Reform in Hong Kong and the Future of the “Developmental State’’’, in Public Administration Review (2005). John Ravenhill is Professor in the Department of International Relations, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University. After completing his PhD at the University of California at Berkeley, he taught at the University of Virginia and the University of Sydney before joining the ANU. His recent publications include Global Political Economy (2005), and APEC and the Construction of Pacific Rim Regionalism (2001). Richard Sinnott is Director of the Public Opinion and Political Behaviour Research Programme at the UCD Geary Institute and is also Vice-Principal for Research in the College of Human Sciences at UCD (University College Dublin). His research interests include public opinion and political culture, political participation, electoral behaviour, and attitudes to European integration and globalisation. His publications include: Irish Voters Decide: Voting Behaviour in Elections and Referendums Since 1918 (1995); Public Opinion and Internationalized Governance (co-editor, 1995); and People and Parliament in the European Union: Participation, Democracy and Legitimacy (co-author, 1998). He has held senior research fellowships at the European University Institute, Florence; Centre for Science and International Affairs, Harvard; Institute for Security Studies of the West European Union, Paris; Nuffield College, Oxford and Waseda University, Tokyo.

Preface

This study covers what are, in many ways, the seven most fascinating countries from the perspective of contemporary comparative politics. These are the first outside the West and Japan to have experienced both economic take-off and democratisation, the latter being ultimately potentially the most significant development. And all that within two or three decades. One obvious question is in what ways does their experience parallel or differ from Western or Japanese models? This present review had its genesis in an earlier collaboration between several of the present authors. This involved a study of democratisation in individual countries (Democracy, Governance and Economic Performance, edited by Marsh, Blondel and Inoguchi and published by the United Nations University Press in 1999). In his characteristically persuasive way, and in a field that had hitherto been largely dominated by country assessments, Jean Blondel argued that the region was ripe for comparative studies. Hence this project. We were fortunate that about the same time another of us, Takashi Inoguchi, obtained funding for a much wider study of globalisation. Our meetings in preparing for that exercise also provided the opportunity to advance this present project. We thus gratefully acknowledge the support we received from the Japanese Ministry of Education and Science’s scientific research grant (# 11102001 during 1999–2003, principal investigator, Takashi Inoguchi). We are also grateful to Michael Hsiao of Academica Sinica in Taipei who hosted one of our meetings. This study covers some of the major dimension of democratisation. But it also misses a number of no less important institutions. In particular, legislative-executive relations, which we touch in passing, are ripe for detailed study. Relationships have been robust in the four presidential or semi-presidential systems of Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines and Indonesia and, on the other hand, deliberately contained in the (nominally) parliamentary systems of Thailand, Singapore and Malaysia. Similarly, in the presence of top-down, leader-focussed political parties, grassroots mobilisation largely lies with trade unions, NGOs and social movements. But these organisations too have been deliberately curbed in a number of states. Aspects of their development have been reviewed in two recent studies – Civil Society in Southeast Asia (edited by Lee, H.G., ISEAS Press, Singapore, 2004) and Civil Society and Political Change in Asia (edited by M. Alagappa, Stanford University

Preface

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Press, 2005). But there is room for more. The media and the rule of law also merit attention. Comparative work is slowly being institutionalised. One welcome initiative concerns the establishment of an Asian Consortium for Political Research modelled on its European precursor. One of our authors, Takashi Inoguchi, has played an initiating role in its establishment. Another welcome development concerns the systematic gathering of attitudinal data. Inoguchi now manages an AsiaBarometer, which covers a wide range of countries, and a group led by Yunhan Chu of Academica Sinica an East Asia barometer. As Richard Sinnott’s chapter demonstrates, these are timely developments. Finally, we acknowledge our very efficient publisher. This relationship has been managed at long distance without hitch. We particularly thank our project manager, John Hodgson, and our production editor, Ulrike Swientek. Richard Higgott’s interest and support is also very much appreciated.

1

Introduction Ian Marsh

This study offers comparative perspectives on the development of democracy and governance amongst seven East and Southeast Asian states – Taiwan, South Korea, Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia and the Philippines. It also examines the development of regional ties. These seven countries are less than half of the sixteen states that compose the East and Southeast Asian region. What these seven share is the (more or less recent) adoption of democratic forms of governance. Three of the omitted states – Japan, East Timor and Cambodia – are also democratic. But in the case of Cambodia and East Timor, democracy remains an exceedingly tender shoot. It has been imposed from without (Cambodia) or following civil war (East Timor). In neither case has it been associated with economic development. For its part, Japan is the most mature democratic country in the region and her domestic politics is already the subject of an extensive literature. The other six states – Laos, Vietnam, Myanmar, North Korea, Brunei and China – are not democracies. Thus one reason for focusing on these seven states arises from their political systems. This has significance for both intra- and inter-regional comparisons. Even if only nominal, democratic forms introduce a particular pattern of institutions and a particular discourse about the construction of power and authority that invites comparison and evaluation (but see Whitehead, 2002). A further reason for associating these seven states concerns their variation. In practice, they might be arranged on a governance scale from relatively liberal and open to illiberal and authoritarian. If it is unclear which, if any, state might be placed at the liberal and open pole, Singapore clearly occupies the illiberal one. There is also a clear scholarly consensus that the ethnic divide in Singapore, and also in Malaysia, no longer provides sufficient justification for their illiberal practices. Both these states exhibit pathologies of democracy. The three themes that are central to this study – democratisation, governance and regionalism – are inter-related. They cover the short- and longer-term impacts of political change as well as the most prominent potential external influence. The focus on governance, and economic governance in particular, involves arguably the critical arena from the perspective of the short-term impacts of democratisation. Economic success (buttressed by nationalism) was the basis for public support of the ‘soft authoritarian’ regimes that formerly existed in five of these seven states

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(Kim et al., 1995; Alagappa, 1995). Weak ideological cleavages in most states imply economic performance will continue to be significant as a source of public support. But democracy changes the context for popular mobilisation. It creates new opportunities for more or less disruptive contestation. These impacts will first register in governance practices. In the longer term, democratic consolidation might be expected to have pervasive impacts on most social institutions and ultimately on citizen expectations, attitudes and behaviours (e.g. Tocqueville). But the literature on democratic consolidation identifies varying signifiers. Some scholars emphasise procedural and institutional features such as elections, electoral practices, the rule of law, a free media, change of governments etc. More recently, attention has focused on the ‘quality’ of democracy that is the real effect of these institutions (e.g. Diamond and Morlino, 2004). This study emphasises a feature not especially remarked on in either of these approaches, namely political socialisation. This is because a democratic political order is ultimately most significant as a seedbed for citizen identities. How effective are emergent democratic institutions in seeding the development of democratic orientations at both elite and mass levels? In the absence of democratic socialisation, and despite the presence of procedural safeguards, political forms could as easily remain a veneer for a predatory and ‘illiberal democracy’ (Zakaria, 2003). Finally, paralleling democratisation, regionalism is also an important potential frame shaping domestic politics and disseminating social, cultural and economic influences. Indeed, in some perspectives, regionalism not globalisation is a decisive influence on the domestic political agenda (e.g. Hay, 2004, pp. 253–6). But Asian regionalism has hitherto been driven by national economic interests rather than by any wider vision. This present study explores the cultural, political and economic forces that are involved and asks how, if at all, Asian regionalism might develop. Distinctive cultural frames and distinctive political and economic factors are explored. The definitions of key variables are not unambiguous. Differing conceptions of democratic consolidation have already been noted. Democratic governance is also variously conceived (e.g. March and Olsen, 1995). And economic governance in particular is a highly contested concept. For example, the World Bank has recently emphasised governance institutions such as property rights, corporate governance and administrative decision-making (World Bank, 1997). The literature on East Asia has identified a much more ambitious state leadership role which has been labelled ‘developmentalism’ (e.g. Woo-Cumings, 1999). Because of its influence in regional states, this latter perspective is the template adopted in this study. As a group, these states merit attention for their remarkable economic and political transformations. These have been concentrated into a short two or three decades. At an economic level, and apart from Japan (and with the arguable exceptions of the Philippines and Indonesia), these are the first non-western states to have experienced sustained economic development. The Asian share of world merchandise exports was 12 per cent in 1963 and 26 per cent in 2003. These results stand in sharp contrast with Latin American experience, much less that of

Introduction 3 Africa (Kohli et al., 2003). Outcomes in the seven states covered in this study also contrast with the experience of other regional states such as Cambodia, Laos, Sri Lanka and Myanmar, much less most of the South Asian states. There is clear layering between these seven states in the timing of economic and political developments. For example, Korea went from war-ravaged backwardness to membership of the OECD in thirty years. Taiwan and Singapore have achieved similar levels of economic growth. Despite considerable differences in industry structure and sectoral approaches, the economic development of these states has followed a distinctive, state-led pattern. Starting from the mid-1980s, economic development spread to the other four states, Malaysia, Thailand, the Philippines and Indonesia. Their approaches to economic governance have, however, hitherto been less dirigiste. If economic governance seeded the first wave of interest in these seven states, recent political changes provide even more arresting reasons for engagement. In a decade, autocracy has generally given way to democracy and, at least formally, democratic regimes are now the norm. The scale and pace of political change is perhaps only matched by developments in Eastern Europe. But the pattern of regimes and the associated political dynamics varies widely (e.g. Macintyre, 2003). At a formal level, Korea and Taiwan have adopted semi-presidential systems. Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore are formally at least parliamentary systems. The Philippines is a fully presidential system, modelled on that of its former colonial master, the United States. Indonesia’s regime is evolving from a fully presidential pattern towards one that seems semi-presidential. Malaysia is the only federation in the region. Both Malaysia and Thailand are also constitutional monarchies, although the king is a significant political figure only in the latter. At an economic level, regional states were the pioneers of global, trade-led economic integration. They pioneered the export-led development strategy, now disseminated as conventional wisdom by the World Bank and the OECD. The financial crisis of 1997 then occurred. From being beneficiaries of the first wave of global economic integration, regional states became amongst the first victims of its second phase, which originated with the development of a private sector led global financial system (Fraser and Oppenheim, 1997). More recently, domestic consumption and regional trade have joined global trade engagement as engines of economic growth. Meanwhile, the development of China is both a challenge to the Southeast Asian states and an alternative focus for their trade. At the political level, the financial crisis precipitated a democratic turn in Indonesia and was the catalyst for democratic consolidation in Thailand. It has imposed demanding tests on all seven economic and political systems. It has fractured elite and popular expectations and fuelled nationalism and populism. For example, according to the World Bank, the financial crisis reduced some three million Thais to poverty-level incomes. As noted earlier, a number of these states have adopted a distinctive approach to economic development: the ‘developmental’ approach that was pioneered in Japan. Johnson’s pioneering study of Japan (1982) initiated scholarly attention to this pattern. Wade (1990) and Amsden (1989) showed the relevance of this

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analysis to East Asia and its subsequent evolution has been traced in a number of works (e.g. Evans, 1995; Weiss and Hobson, 1995; Aoki et al., 1996; Woo-Cumings, 1999; Weiss, 1998). The modes, instruments and to a lesser extent rhetorics of state-led development have been documented and operationalised in numerous specialised, secondary and derivative texts. At an official level, these approaches were picked up and elaborated in two World Bank studies: ‘The Asian Miracle’ (1993) and the World Development Report (1997). This latter document marked official acknowledgement that the scope and quality of governance is an essential ingredient of developmental strategies. However, the particular governance capacities that have since been nominated focus primarily on the support of markets, not on those that might give the state a leadership or catalytic role in economic governance (e.g. Doner and Ramsay, 2003). A complementary stream of literature has focused on the technological capacities and approaches of regional states (e.g. Matthews and Cho, 2000; Kim and Nelson, 2000; Keller and Samuels, 2003). This literature explores the ways regional states have built strong positions in advanced areas of manufacturing such as electronics. Matthews has coined the term ‘fast followership’ to characterise their approach. More recently, the development of science-based industries has introduced new imperatives. This is because of the relatively much greater returns accruing to intellectual property over wages and salaries (West, 2001, p. 37). The engagement of local firms is essential to success in these emerging sectors. In a discussion of economic strategy in Taiwan, Amsden and Chu (2003) have introduced another description, ‘second mover advantage’, and explored the associated requirements, including the development of local scale and the associated ‘catalytic’ or ‘enabling’ role of the state. The situation is different, but no less challenging, in Southeast Asia. Here FDI has hitherto been a primary mode of technical transfer. MNCs have been seen as catalysts in the development of local capabilities, with varying results (e.g. Jomo and Felker, 1999). The switch of FDI to China and the continuing impacts of ITC (information technology, communications) technologies on global production systems, amongst other factors, also transfigure the environment for economic governance in the Southeast Asian states (e.g. Doner and Ramsay, 2003). Japan’s developmental state theory and rhetoric has been particularly influential in Korea and Taiwan and, albeit to a much lesser extent, in Malaysia and Indonesia (Kim et al., 1995). State leadership capacity has been institutionalised in such elements as a strategic planning agency (Economic Planning Board – Korea; Council for Economic Planning and Development – Taiwan; Economic Development Board – Singapore), an autonomous bureaucracy and close business–government relations. Over the course of the 1990s, the role of the state, at least in East Asia, evolved from directive towards catalytic patterns based on more collaborative relationships with business. This was associated with a change of policy instruments (e.g. from allocated capital to ‘Science Parks’). In parallel, the focus of activity has moved from specific structural outcomes to technology and cluster development (e.g. Weiss and Thurborn, 2003).

Introduction 5 In practice, the ‘developmental state’ analysis particularly fitted Taiwan, Singapore and Korea. Malaysia, and Indonesia for a few years in the mid-1990s, might be considered intermediate cases. Thailand and the Philippines have not sought to guide industry development. Further, Taiwan and Korea mobilised indigenous capital and based their economic development on indigenous firms. The other states used FDI as the engine of development, augmented in the case of Malaysia and Indonesia by local ‘platform’ projects. Most recently, in the case of Singapore, so-called GLCs (government linked companies) have also been used to spearhead development. ‘Developmentalism’ has, however, everywhere provided much of the rhetoric used by elites to mobilise public support. In comparison with other developing regions, the states covered in this survey have displayed unusual levels of state capacity in social as well as economic areas: for example, levels of educational attainment and participation. Participation in tertiary education in the relevant age cohort in South Korea increased from 9 per cent in 1970 to 69 per cent in 1997. In Singapore, the equivalent result was from 5 per cent to 42 per cent; in Thailand from 2 per cent to 21 per cent; and in the Philippines from 18 per cent to 30 per cent (The Economist, Survey of Technology and Development, 10 November 2001, p. 11). Relative income equality (‘shared growth’) has been another feature of the economic development of regional states (Campos and Root, 1996). For example, income dispersion in these Asian states is much less than in Latin America (Chu, 2003, p. 132). ITC capabilities and access also vary widely. South Korea and Singapore have both deliberately sought to build broadband access. South Korea has the highest rate of connection in the world (68 per cent). The International Telecommunications Union has ranked countries according to mobile telecommunications and internet capacities based on such factors as the quality of network infrastructure, network usage etc. South Korea was ranked 7 and Singapore 13. By contrast, Germany ranked 17 and Australia 18. The developmental state literature has glanced at state capacity for business mobilisation but has not hitherto taken account of capabilities for citizen participation and integration. A social consensus backing economic development was assumed. State authority sufficient to achieve policy objectives was taken for granted. Political and ‘technocratic’ authority was thus aligned. These assumptions were overturned by developments in the late 1980s and 1990s. Over this period, political systems in regional states have been transfigured. At the start of the 1990s, no election of a president had yet occurred in Taiwan, Korea or Indonesia, indeed in the latter case democratic development looked particularly improbable. Meanwhile, Thailand and the Philippines had only recently, and in the former case precariously, returned to democratic rule. Malaysia and Singapore had nominal democratic regimes although both were constrained by their ethnic legacies. By the end of the decade the reversals were remarkable. Democratic regimes were installed in four states and Indonesia had embarked on a democratic experiment. Transitions of presidential and prime ministerial power had occurred in nearly all countries relatively peacefully and smoothly.

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Have economic and political changes involved progressively greater conformity to patterns of representation, political mobilisation, governance and citizenship familiar in western states? Preliminary evidence is available in such factors as patterns of political culture and the form of political parties. As we will see, difference remains paramount. Yet the pressures for convergence remain strong – as Ronald Dore, no friend of the convergence thesis, indicates in his most recent assessment of Japan (2000). The speed with which political developments have taken place is one significant fact. This reflects its mostly top-down character. Whilst people power was an important element in the democratic transitions in Korea, Thailand, the Philippines and Indonesia, this was more a spontaneous upsurge than an expression of organised disaffection. Thus the subsequent influence of these popular mobilisations has been muted. Only Taiwan presents a contrary picture. Here disaffection was organised into a political party (the DPP). There is of course a large step from formal democratic rules to the repertoire of appropriate formal and informal institutions, and to the associated development of organisational routines and citizen habits, expectations and attitudes (e.g. Shin, 2003; Rose and Shin, 2004). Consolidation is a work in progress. But a nominally democratic system creates a new and powerful role for popular consent. It enhances populist pressures on the Cabinet and creates opportunities for populist leaders. It introduces new tensions in relations between ministers and their technocrat advisors and between executives and legislatures. It diminishes, or at least changes the form of, state power in dealings with interests, particularly business and unions. Later chapters begin the task of mapping these developments. Regionalism has also played a significant role in the economic development and approach of individual states, but the East and Southeast Asian pattern has been distinctive (e.g. Katzenstein, 2000). Unlike analogous developments in Europe, or in North or South America, Asian regionalism has not primarily been a political project. On the contrary, the primary drivers have been economic. Under the influence of Chinese and Japanese capitalism, production networks have created the primary economic linkages amongst regional states. This was accompanied until approximately the mid-1990s by Japanese influence at least at elite levels – Japanese success inspired emulation, particularly in her former colonies, Taiwan and South Korea. How Japanese influence is expressed, indeed whether it has been sustained, are fundamental issues in mapping the future of Asian regionalism. Meanwhile, regional political linkage has been thin. Neither APEC nor ASEAN plus 3 have so far played significant or direct roles in economic, trade or security relations. Some immediate contrasts might be noted. The dynamics of development in East and Southeast Asia contrast with European experience, the only other region where linkage has also been associated with economic advance (NAFTA involves one dominant power and Mercosur is too young). In Europe, the association has been between states of which a significant number are at a generally similar economic level. By contrast, in East and Southeast Asia, economic relations have been phased and hierarchical,

Introduction 7 with Japan as the initiating state and proximate ‘template’. Further, 70 per cent of European trade is intra-regional whereas only 46 per cent of Asian trade is of this character and much of this is ultimately based on eventual extra-regional consumption (Fligstein and Merand, 2001). Finally, regional political development has been informed by a variety of sources including Japanese, Spanish, British, Dutch and American colonial experience (Korea, Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines) and western models (Thailand). Indonesia constitutes a special case where local traditions helped shape the formal institutional structure. Ethnic tensions have shaped political practice in Singapore and Malaysia (Crouch, 1996; Lee, 2000). In sum, this study focuses on the pressures precipitating change and on the way established political institutions have responded to new contexts. It is organised in three sections – Representation, Governance and Regionalism – and ten chapters. Following this introduction, the second chapter considers regional political cultures. Drawing on a recent survey, Richard Sinnott explores the cultural mortar binding citizens to the state. He uses very elastically terms pioneered in The Civic Culture to locate countries on a spectrum covering subject, participant and critical orientations. Citizens of South Korea, Taiwan and the Philippines generally belong to the latter category and those of Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia to the first. Meanwhile Thailand occupies the middle category. Her citizens rank quite high in terms of identity variables and they are low on deference and low on aspects of institutional confidence – all of which point towards subject and participant orientations. However, they also score low on political action variables thus indicating a lack of political mobilisation. The third chapter, by Jean Blondel, evaluates the role and form of political parties. He argues that the pattern most prevalent in these seven states represents a model that is different in kind from that hitherto encountered in western experience. The second section of three chapters surveys selected aspects of governance. Chapter 4, also by Jean Blondel, explores the background of political elites covering both leaders and ministers. It evaluates the extent to which their career paths are based on political affiliations and associations or rather military, administrative or private sector links. In Chapter 5, Martin Painter surveys the impacts of democratisation on bureaucratic capacity in these seven states and in Chapter 6, Ian Marsh surveys approaches to economic governance. The third section, on Regionalism, also involves three chapters. John Ravenhill surveys efforts to build stronger regional political linkages, particularly through multilateral and bilateral trade agreements (Chapter 7). Takashi Inoguchi explores the changing form of Japanese influence amongst regional states – and indeed the dissolution of Japanese influence (Chapter 8). Chapter 9, by Jean Blondel, assesses the form and pervasiveness of ‘Asian values’. The notion that Asia was characterised by distinctive value systems was promoted by some regional political leaders to justify what they claimed was a distinctive form of democracy. Using original data, Blondel explores the extent to which citizens share common and distinctive values, emphasising particularly deference to authority and the primacy of collective orientations.

8

Ian Marsh

The concluding chapter summarises the findings of the study, in particular exploring briefly two important aspects of governance not covered in the substantive chapters, namely the proliferation of interest groups and NGOs amongst regional state and executive-legislative relations. This study does not offer a full comparative treatment of political developments. Timely though such an exercise is, this would require coverage of political institutions such as constitutional arrangements, electoral laws and systems and parliaments and interest group systems. These tasks remain. It does, however, provide preliminary assessments of the extent to which, and the means by which, democratic habits and attitudes are being developed amongst the publics of these seven states. It also offers new and comparative perspectives on aspects of governance and regionalisation. At the outset, recent political developments are briefly summarised. Taiwan Local elections had remained a feature of the Taiwanese polity since its founding. Democratisation at the national level commenced with the lifting of martial law in 1987. Taiwan’s first legislative elections occurred in 1991 and 1992. The first opposition victories occurred in the election of the Mayors of Taipei and Koahsiung (1992) and the Governor of Taipei province (1994). The first presidential election occurred in 1996, the second in 2000 and the third in 2004. The KMT retained the presidency in 1996 with 54 per cent of the popular vote. It also retained control of the National Assembly at the 1995 and 1998 Legislative Yuan elections, but with slightly less than 50 per cent of votes cast in the former case and 47 per cent in the latter case. The President is elected on a four-year cycle and the National Assembly on a three-year cycle. In the 2000 presidential election, a split in the KMT created a three-way race. The KMT candidate, Lien Chan, and People’s First Party (PFP) candidate James Soong (a former KMT secretarygeneral) split the Nationalist vote. The DPP candidate, Chen Shui-bian, attracted 39 per cent of the popular vote. The DPP did not however hold a majority in the National Assembly (DPP, 68; KMT, 115; PFP, 17; New Party, 9; Independents, 12). The issue of reunification has since risen in priority. A pro-reunification KMT-PFP alliance has frustrated Chen’s legislative programme. But this issue has precipitated a further split in the KMT with the formation of a new party, the Taiwan Solidarity Union (TSU), which backs a two-state model for cross-straight relations. This splinter party has attracted the support of former KMT president, Lee Teng-hui. An election for the legislature in December 2001 gave the DPP 87 seats in the 225-seat National Assembly (33 per cent of the vote), the KMT 68 seats (29 per cent), the TSU 13 seats (8 per cent), the PFP 46 seats (18 per cent). A tacit coalition between the TSU and the DPP left the President short of a majority. Candidates from the same two coalitions fought the 2004 presidential election. In a two-way race, the DPP candidate, Chen, narrowly won against the KMT candidate, Lien. The election outcome was strongly contested by the KMT who questioned the veracity of an assassination attempt on Chen on its eve. Chen

Introduction 9 subsequently attempted to exploit the issue of independence. He was rebuffed in the National Assembly elections in December 2004. The KMT and its allies maintained their control of the legislature with a combined total of 114 seats (54 per cent of the popular vote) to the DPP and allies total of 101 seats (46 per cent of the popular vote – on a reduced turnout). Korea The restoration of democracy was foreshadowed in the change of leadership from Chun Doo Hwan to Roh Tae Woo in 1987. Roh won the ensuing presidential election. The governing party, the Democratic Justice party (DJP) subsequently mutated several times to become, in 1997, the Grand National party (GNP). Meanwhile, its candidate Kim Young Sam became the first civilian president in three decades when he won the presidential election of 1992. Following the financial crisis, and a three-cornered contest, opposition candidate Kim Dae Jung won the presidential election of 1997. As in Taiwan however, Kim’s party lacked a majority in the National Assembly. This body is elected on a four-year cycle. In the 1996 National Assembly elections, the opposition won most seats – but it was split between Kim Dae Jung’s National Congress for New Politics (NSNP), Kim Jong Pil’s Liberal Democrats and the much smaller Democratic Party. Kim Jong Pil subsequently formed a coalition with Kim Dae Jung and became prime minister. This arrangement survived until 1999. In the 2000 Assembly election, the president’s party, temporarily renamed the Millennium Democratic Party (MDP), won a minority of seats (115) to the opposition GNPs 133. This was in a house of 273. Meanwhile, the term limit on presidential incumbency ended Kim’s tenure in 2002. He was succeeded by the candidate of his own party, Roh Moo-hyun, who won with a margin of around 2 per cent of the popular voter. Roh resigned from the MDP in October 2003 and formed his own Uri Party from dissident MDP members. He was forced to stand down in December 2003 when the National Assembly voted to overturn his veto of a special investigation of alleged corruption amongst his close aides. Prime Minister Goh Kun temporarily assumed the Presidency. This investigation ended with a heavily qualified judgement against Roh. In March 2004, the Assembly voted to impeach him. But Roh was vindicated by popular vote in the National Assembly election in April 2004. For the first time, regional loyalties did not dominate voting. Uri candidates won 152 of the 299 seats in the National Assembly. The GNP won 121 seats and the MDP only 9 seats. This election also marked the entry of the pro-labour Democratic Labour Party to national politics – it won 10 seats. Thailand Thailand’s parliamentary system has seen frequent changes of regime and oscillations between military and civilian rule. The last attempt occurred in 1992. Following bloody street protests, a military coup was aborted and democratic rule

10 Ian Marsh was formally restored – but without the constitutional changes that reformers believed to be necessary to contain so-called ‘money politics’ (Connors, 1999). In 1994, after street demonstrations, a more broadly based public commission was established and its recommendations were published in 1995. A Constitutional Drafting Assembly was subsequently appointed and it reported in August 1997 as the financial crisis gathered momentum. In September 1997, then Prime Minister Chavalit bowed to pressure and passed a constitutional reform bill incorporating most of the Assembly’s proposals. His government lasted until December 1997. The incoming Prime Minister, Chuan Leekpai, implemented the proposals for constitutional change. These included establishment of an elected Senate, an Electoral Commission, a National Corruption Commission, and a Human Rights Commission and a party list system to supplement the election of members from geographic districts (McIntyre, 2000). Meanwhile, a new party, the Thai Rak Thai party (TRT), was formed in 1998. This was established by Thaksin Shinawatra who saw an opportunity to consolidate political power. He drew on his considerable telecommunications fortune and the access to publicity which his companies provided. He persuaded some 100 minor party MPs to join the new formation. The first elections held under the new arrangements occurred in January 2001. TRT won a majority of seats (254), with the Democratic Party gaining 128 seats, Chart Thai 39, New Aspirations Party (NAP) 34, Chart Pattana 28 and smaller groups 13. This was in a 500-seat House (increase from 393 in the previous parliament). The new Constitution envisaged the Senate as a powerful check on political corruption and favouritism. The first Senate election under the new Constitution occurred in 2000. The campaign was marked by numerous allegations of corruption. The independent Electoral Commission disqualified 76 of the 182 successful provincial candidates. A third round of elections was required before the entire 200 could be affirmed. In December 2000, the National Corruption Commission found that incoming Prime Minister Thaksin had concealed assets. The decision was appealed to the Constitutional Court, which found for Thaksin by a narrow margin (Klein, 2003). Thaksin has since consolidated his hold on power and his popularity has been bolstered by vigorous economic growth. He has shown little concern for democratic niceties. In the elections of February 2005, he waged a populist campaign and won an outright majority. Philippines Ramos replaced Aquino as president in 1992. In his inaugural speech, he foreshadowed proposals for constitutional reform as a means of strengthening the executive. In 1993, influenced by President Ramos, the House passed a resolution proposing both Chambers convene as a constituent assembly to consider a shift to a French-style semi-presidential government. The Senate, which stood to be abolished, opposed the idea. From 1995, the focus shifted to the term limits that would constrain both Ramos’s continued hold of the presidency and the re-election of one third of the senate and one half of the House. The National Security

Introduction 11 Council, again under Ramos’s influence, floated proposals for change in 1995. This sparked a strong hostile public response and the proposals were abandoned. Ramos tried again in 1996, this time through a populist organisation and via the constitutional provision enabling citizen-initiated proposals to be advanced. Meanwhile the financial crisis struck. A mass public demonstration opposing the Ramos plan was convened for 21 September and supported by leading ‘people power’ protagonists including former President Aquino and Cardinal Sin. The four leading business associations also joined the opposition. Ramos abandoned the proposals. The populist candidate Estrada succeeded him at the 1998 presidential election. In 2000, the Senate arraigned Estrada on corruption charges. The hearings were subsequently terminated by majority vote. However, popular calls for his resignation continued and when the military withdrew support, Estrada was removed. He was succeeded in January 2001 by vice-president Arroyo (The Economist, 27 January 2001, p. 27). In the face of legislative frustration, Arroyo announced her intention to stand down at the end of her term. However, she reversed this decision a year later. Meanwhile, the dominance of established interests and their influence in the congress (particularly the Senate) has continued to thwart significant legislative change. The election in May 2004 resulted in a narrow victory for Arroyo against her movie-star rival Poe. She is committed to press ahead with constitutional changes (including abolition of the Senate) in her current six-year term. Malaysia There was no effective change in the governing structure in the 1990s. The financial crisis of 1997 supervened on growing rivalry between Prime Minister Mahathir and his deputy Anwar. Prime Minister Mahathir’s initial responses were seen to exacerbate the crisis. The initiative moved to Anwar, then deputy Prime Minister and minister of finance, who crafted the immediate policy strategies. Following the line taken by the IMF in those countries in which it intervened, a tight monetary regime was introduced and government spending reduced. Differences concerning policy strategy continued to develop and spilled into a questioning of Mahathir’s leadership. ‘In June 1998, Anwar and his supporters began openly assailing Mahathir and likening him to Suharto in Indonesia’ (Macintyre, 2000, p. 23). Mahathir recovered the policy initiative. On 1 September 1998, he fixed the value of the ringgit and imposed a ban for twelve months on short-term flows in the stock and currency markets (Emerson, 1999). On 20 September, an Anwarinspired rally of 30,000 was followed by a march on Mahathir’s residence and calls for his resignation. Anwar was arrested the same evening. He was later found guilty of corruption and sodomy charges and jailed. The economy recovered rapidly over the following twelve months. Stock market controls were eased in February 1999 when a graduated exit tax of 10 per cent replaced the former ban on repatriation if funds. Mahathir called an election for December 1999. Anwar’s wife, Wan Aziz had formed a new party,

12 Ian Marsh Keadilan, which campaigned against UMNO in loose coalition with the Islamic party PAS and the Chinese-led Democratic Action party. In the event, Mahathir won a two-thirds majority in the national parliament (77 out of 193). PAS won two state governments and increasing representation in the national parliament. The indigenous vote was also split with UMNO support dropping by 10 per cent to 55 per cent of the national vote. The Opposition Alliance has since eroded in the face of differences between its secular and Islamic wings. Dr Mahathir retired in November 2003. He was succeeded by the Interior Minister, Abdullah Badawi. The new Prime Minister scored a resounding victory in the subsequent election in March 2004. In the lower house, the Barisan National won 195 of the 219 seats. The shift to PAS was reversed both nationally and at the state level. Singapore Singapore’s nominally democratic, parliamentary regime is in practice a oneparty state. Lee Kuan Yew resigned as prime minister and leader of the People’s Action Party (PAP) in 1995. Goh Chok Tong replaced him with the former’s son, Lee Hsien Loong, nominated as deputy prime minister and heir apparent. Goh resigned in April 2004 and was succeeded by Lee. In the elections of 2001, only 29 of the 84 seats were contested which assured the PAP of 55 seats. PAP candidates won 75 per cent of the vote, up from 65 per cent at the last election in 1997. Opposition parties won only 2 seats. In the 36 years since independence, they have never held more than 4 seats. The government announced new electoral boundaries two and a half weeks before the poll and announced the election only 16 days before the scheduled voting day. This left the Opposition parties minimal time to organise nominations. Each candidate was obliged to provide a surety of $S13,000 which was forfeited if they failed to win 12.5 per cent of the vote. Intolerance of opposition takes other forms. For example, in an interview with the PAP journal to mark the forty-fifth anniversary of its accession to power, Lee Hsien Loong dismissed any prospect of further democratisation (Lee, 2000). The government has also continued to intimidate opposition figures. For example, in 1997, Goh launched a defamation action against Workers Party representative Jeyaretnam. In the same year, Dr Chee (Secretary General of the SDP) and other colleagues were fined and jailed for speaking illegally in public. In the same year, Workers Party candidate Ting Leang Hong was declared bankrupt and fled to Australia. Jeyaretnam and Chee subsequently joined forces to establish the Open Singapore Centre. Indonesia President Suharto resigned in May 1998. His successor, Vice-President Habibie, foreshadowed the holding of free elections. Unlike Thailand, existing politicians determined electoral rules and practices. The 1945 constitution was retained. This meant Indonesia remained a presidential system, but without direct presidential elections. Under this constitution, an electoral college (composed of elected and

Introduction 13 appointed members) elected the president. A second chamber, the House of Representatives (MPR) handled legislation. In his brief presidency (1998–99), Habibie freed the press and ended laws controlling the number of parties. A PR list system was adopted. MacIntyre (2003) comments: ‘A PR list system had appeal for the leaders of all parties, since it tends to strengthen their position vis-à-vis the party rank and file through their control of the list rankings.’ The two houses, the House of Representatives and the Assembly, were both made more democratic. 95 per cent of the assembly’s 750 members were elected and the number of military representatives in the House was reduced to 38. The demarcation of roles between these bodies was left unclear. In the elections in June 1999, the PDI Perjuangan led by Megawati Soekarnoputri gained 34 per cent of the votes, Golkar gained 22.5 per cent, PKB (National Awakening Party) led by Abdurrahman Wahid gained 12.6 per cent and PAN (National Leadership Party) led by Amien Rais 22 per cent. Wahid subsequently became president. His hold on office became increasingly tenuous in the face of uncertain leadership and he was finally ousted in July 2001 after a parliamentary vote of no confidence. He was succeeded by Megawati. Meanwhile, in 2001, former General Yudhoyono established the Democratic Party (DP). In March 2002, the People’s Consultative Assembly voted to introduce direct presidential elections and to abolish the 38 military seats. It also voted against introducing an Islamic legal system. In an election for the 550-member National Assembly in April 2004, Golkar won the largest bloc of seats (129) followed by the PDI-P (109), the PD party (55), PAN (53) and the PPP (Islamic United Democratic Party – 58). In the subsequent first round of the presidential election (July), Megawati and Yudhoyono finished at the head of the poll and the latter won the run-off election in September. Relations between the legislature and the executive remain uncertain and the anti-Yudhoyono faction took key positions on all the 11 parliamentary commissions, which operate as the principal oversight and legislative forums.

Bibliography Alagappa, M. (ed.) (1995), Political Legitimacy in Southeast Asia: The Quest for Moral Authority, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Amsden, A. (1989), Asia’s Next Giant: South Korea and Late Industrialisation, New York: Oxford University Press. Amsden, A. and Wan-wen Chu (2003), Beyond Late Development: Taiwan’s Upgrading Policies, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Aoki, M. et al. (1996), The Role of Government in East Asian Economic Development, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Campos, E. and H. Root (1996), The Key to the Asian Miracle, Making Shared Growth Credible, Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution. Connors, M. (1999), ‘Political Reform and the State in Thailand’, Journal of Contemporary Asia, 29(2), pp. 202–26. Crouch, H. (1996), Government and Society in Malaysia, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

14 Ian Marsh Chu, Y. (2003), ‘Easy Asia: Development Challenegs in the Twenty-first Century’, in Kohli, A., Chung-in Moon and G. Sorenson, States, Markets and Just Growth, Tokyo: United Nations University Press. Diamond L. et al. (2004), ‘The Quality of Democracy’, Journal of Democracy, 15(4), pp. 20– 106. Dodgson, M. (2000), ‘Policies for Science, Technology and Innovation in Asian Newly Industrialized Economies’, in Nelson, R. and Kim, L. (eds), Technology, Innovation and Learning, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Doner, R. and A. Ramsay (2003), ‘The Challenges of Economic Upgrading in Liberalising Thailand’, in Linda Weiss (ed.), States in the Global Economy, Bringing Domestic Institutions Back In, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dore, R. (2000), Stock Market Capitalism, Welfare Capitalism: Japan and Germany versus the AngloSaxons, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Evans, P. (1995), Embedded Autonomy, States and Industrial Transformation, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Fligstein, N. and F. Merand (2001), ‘Globalisation or Europeanisation? Evidence on the European Economy Since 1980’, paper prepared for the conference Shareholder Value Capitalism and Globalisation, Hamburg, FRG, 10–12 May. Fraser, J. and J. Oppenheim (1997), ‘What’s New About Globalisation?’, The McKinsey Quarterly, 2, pp. 169–79. Hay, C. (2004), ‘Globalisations Impacts on States’, in J. Ravenhill (ed.), Global Political Economy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 219–20. Hobday, M. (1995), Innovation in East Asia, Aldershot: Edward Elgar. Johnson, C. (1982), MITI and the Japanese Miracle, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Jomo, K.S. and G. Felker (1999), Technology, Competitiveness and the State: Malaysia’s Technology Policies, London: Routledge. Katzenstein, P. (1985), Small States in World Markets, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Katzenstein, P. (ed.) (2000), Asian Regionalism, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Keller, W. and R. Samuels (eds) (2003), Crisis and Innovation in Asian Technology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kim, H.-K., M. Muramatsu, T.J. Pempel and K. Yamammura (eds) (1995), The Japanese Civil Service and Economic Development, Catalysts of Change, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Kim, L. and R. Nelson (2000), Technology, Learning and Innovation, Experiences of Newly Industrialising Economies, New York: Cambridge University Press. Klein, J. (2003), The Battle for Rule of Law in Thailand, Bangkok: The Asia Foundation. Kohli, A., Chung-in Moon and G. Sorenson (2003), States, Markets and Just Growth, Tokyo: United Nations University Press. Lee Kuan Yew (2000), From Third World to First, The Singapore Story, 1965–2000, Singapore: Times Publishing. Macintyre, A. (2003), The Power of Institutions, Political Architecture and Governance, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. March, J. and J. Olsen (1995), Democratic Governance, New York: The Free Press. Matthews, J. and D.-S. Cho (2000), Tiger Technology, The Creation of a Semiconductor Industry in East Asia, Melbourne: Cambridge University Press. North, D. (1992), Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic Performance, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rose, R. and D.-S. Shin (2004), ‘Democratisation Backwards: The Problem of Third Wave Democracies’, British Journal of Political Science, 31, pp. 333–54.

Introduction 15 Shin, D.-S. (2003), ‘Mass Politics, Public Opining and Democracy in Korea’, in Kim, S. (ed.), Korea’s Democratisation, New York: Cambridge University Press. Wade, R. (1990), Governing the Market, The Role of the State in East Asian Industrialisation, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Weiss, L. (1998), The Myth of the Powerless State, Cambridge: Polity Press. Weiss, L. and J. Hobson (1995), States and Economic Development, A Comparative and Historical Analysis, Cambridge: Polity Press. Weiss, L. and E. Thurborn (2003), ‘Investing in Openness: The Evolution of FDI Strategy in South Korea and Taiwan’, paper prepared for Workshop on State Policy Capacity, Hong Kong, October. West, J. (2001), ‘The Mystery of Innovation’, Australian Journal of Management, 26, Special Issue, August, pp. 21–45. Whitehead, L. (ed.) (2002), Emerging Market Democracies, East Asia and Latin America, Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Woo-Cumings, M. (ed.) (1999), The Developmental State, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. World Bank (1993), The East Asian Miracle: Economic Growth and Public Policy, New York: Oxford University Press. World Bank (1997), The State in a Changing World: World Development Report 1997, Washington, DC: World Bank. Zakaria, F. (2003), The Future of Freedom: Illiberal Democracy at Home and Abroad, New York: W.W. Norton.

Part I

Representation

2

Political culture and democratic consolidation in East and Southeast Asia Richard Sinnott

Introduction To date, studies of the political systems of East and Southeast Asia have concentrated almost exclusively on the more managerial or administrative aspects of these systems. This has been, in large measure, because, up to the late 1980s or early 1990s, the countries of the area were ruled by authoritarian governments. In such a context, the issue of democratic political development of the systems could not be seriously considered. Instead, the bulk of academic work was devoted to the characteristics of ‘development states’, of ‘state capacity’, etc. What this book is doing, for the first time, we believe, is to ‘bring politics back in’. This needs to be done as a matter of principle. It also needs to be done for very good practical reasons since a process of democratization has been embarked upon in the region and specifically in the majority of the states that we are examining in this book. As a contribution towards meeting this need, this chapter presents a comparative analysis of the political culture of the states in question, focusing on the aspects of political culture that have particular relevance for the process of democratization. The choice of which aspects of political culture to deal with is guided by a broad conceptual framework that draws eclectically on the comparative literature, starting with The Civic Culture (Almond and Verba, 1963). The range of topics dealt with is of course constrained by the available data – in this case the data from the Asia-Europe Survey (ASES). That project conducted surveys of representative samples of the adult population in nine Asian and Southeast Asian states1 and in nine Western European states. While much of the focus of the ASES study was on questions of globalization and international politics, the study does provide a rich vein of data on the basics of political culture at the national level. In the case of most of the variables dealt with, this chapter also includes a comparison between the selected East and Southeast Asian states and the average position of the set of nine Western European states included in the ASES project. This is in no way intended as an attempt to make this chapter into an Asian–European comparison; its purpose is merely to provide a yardstick against which to measure the significance of the differences that may be uncovered among the countries of East and Southeast Asia.

20 Richard Sinnott Almond and Verba defined political culture as ‘the frequency of different kinds of cognitive, affective and evaluative orientations toward the political system in general, its input and output aspects, and the self as political actor’ (Almond and Verba, 1963, p. 17). In developing and applying their famous threefold classification of political culture (parochial, subject and participant) they used respondents’ awareness of governmental output as a key indicator of a subject as distinct from a parochial orientation to the political system. The ASES survey used an almost identical question in this area, making it possible to compare the distribution of parochial/subject responses in the five Civic Culture countries (United States, United Kingdom, Germany, Italy and Mexico) as of 1959–60 with the distribution in our seven East and Southeast Asian countries as of 2000. In regard to the distinction between subject and participant orientations, however, the indicators in the two studies are, by and large, quite different. In this respect therefore, the relationship between the present analysis and that of Almond and Verba is limited to a shared concern with the broad concepts of political competence and political efficacy. The analysis below will also consider what might be regarded as a significant inhibitor of political efficacy, namely political deference. This is particularly relevant in the present context given the possibility that cultural residues of this sort may have been carried over from the nondemocratic era and/or may exist as reflections of the much touted syndrome of ‘Asian values’.2 In concluding the first section of the chapter, we take up another broad theme emphasized in The Civic Culture, namely the ‘cognitive dimension’ of political culture, examining not just subjectively assessed levels of awareness but objectively assessed levels of political knowledge. The second element in the conceptual framework underlying the present chapter focuses on the notion of political cleavage. It should be emphasised that the term cleavage is used here in its traditional meaning of a sociocultural conflict that may or may not be linked to groups with identifiable social characteristics, and that may or may not be expressed in institutional forms of political conflict such as political parties. This is the sense in which the term cleavage was originally used by Lipset and Rokkan in their seminal study of political cleavages and alignments in Europe. Observing that cleavages do not translate themselves into party oppositions as a matter of course, Lipset and Rokkan posed the crucial question: ‘How does a sociocultural conflict get translated into an opposition between parties?’ (Lipset and Rokkan, 1967, pp. 1–3). We should note, however, that, in contrast to this usage, recent writing has tended to attach much more specific connotations to the term cleavage. For example, Knutsen and Scarborough (1995, p. 494) explicitly state that In place of the general notion of cleavages as deep-seated socio-structural conflicts with political significance, our concept of cleavage encompasses three distinct but intertwined phenomena. First, cleavage is rooted in a relatively persistent social division which gives rise to objectively identifiable groups within a society … Secondly, a cleavage engages some set of values common to members of the group … Thirdly, a cleavage is institutionalised

Political culture and democratic consolidation 21 in some form of organisation – most commonly a political party, but also in churches, unions, and other associational groups. The problem with all-embracing conceptions of cleavage like this is that they obscure the fundamental question of whether and how socio-cultural cleavages get translated into oppositions between parties and/or other organised groups. This question is particularly pertinent in states at an early stage of democratic development. The contribution of this chapter to answering this question will be to assess, in so far as the data permit, the evidence for the existence of two sources of socio-cultural cleavage, namely left–right ideology and national, sub-national and supranational identity. In searching for sources of political cleavage, one must also be aware of the possibility that in any particular domain a given society may be characterized by consensus rather than cleavage or conflict.3 The existence of broad consensus on fundamental values in a society does not mean that there will be no political conflict; it means rather that conflict will focus on immediate issues having to do with concrete policy outputs or having to do with the political process itself. Whatever their source, the attitudes and preferences of the mass public become important in politics when they are reflected in people’s orientations to political institutions and political action. The final two elements in our conceptual framework have to do, therefore, with the issues of confidence in political institutions and with propensity to engage in political action. Low levels of confidence may, on the one hand, signal alienation or apathy, or may, on the other hand, point to the emergence of critical citizens who are dissatisfied with established authorities and traditional hierarchical institutions, who feel that existing channels for participation fall short of democratic ideals, and who want to improve and reform the institutional mechanisms of representative democracy. (Norris, 1999, p. 27) Deciding which of these scenarios best encapsulates any particular distribution of attitudes in any given country is extremely difficult. However, some light can be thrown on the issue by considering citizens’ orientations to political action. Here again it is essential to begin with a number of basic distinctions (for an overview, see Kaase and Newton, 1995, pp. 127–45). Early research in this area identified four types of participation: voting, campaign activity, communal activity and particularized contacts (i.e. contacting officials on personal matters) (Verba et al., 1978, pp. 51–6). Subsequently, Barnes et al. (1979) distinguished between conventional and non-conventional participation or behaviour and further work refined this by drawing attention especially to the difference between legal and illegal political action. Our ability to test these distinctions against the empirical evidence is dependent on the availability of an appropriate range of indicators. The ASES questionnaire includes items relating to several

22 Richard Sinnott forms of political action and involvement. Our analysis below considers these under the headings of representational contact, party involvement and citizen mobilization.

Parochial, subject and participant orientations However we may characterize the citizens of our seven countries of East and Southeast Asia, they are certainly not parochials. As can be seen from Figure 2.1, the maximum level of obliviousness of the output of national government (combining ‘no effect’ and ‘don’t know’) is approximately one-quarter (in South Korea, Thailand and Taiwan) and is significantly less than that in Singapore, Indonesia and the Philippines. The level of parochialism found in the United Kingdom and in Germany some forty years previously was also more or less onequarter (precisely, it was 27 and 29 per cent respectively). The Civic Culture data suggest that it was lower in the United States (15 per cent) but that it reached 46 per cent in Italy and 69 per cent in Mexico.4 While comparisons such as these across four decades and three continents are hazardous to say the least, they do suggest that, in this respect, our seven countries of East and Southeast Asia are closer to 1950s UK and Germany that to 1950s Italy or Mexico. If the vast majority of the citizens of our Southeast Asian countries are subjects rather than parochials, the question is: are they also participants? A first stab at an answer to this question can be made by examining the evidence relating to their sense of political efficacy. This is measured here by responses to two items in the ASES questionnaire, one dealing with the amount of say people feel they have in what the government does and the other asking about the impact of voting on how the country is run. The question wording and format were as follows: Q201 Now, I have some statements here that people make from time to time. You might agree or disagree with them. Please tell me how much you agree or disagree with the following statements. (Circle one answer for each statement.) Strongly agree

Agree

Neither agree nor Disagree disagree

Strongly disagree

Don’t know

1

2

3

4

5

6

Generally speaking, people like me don’t have some say in what the government does. 1

2

3

4

5

6

The way people vote is the main thing that decides how this country is run.

Figure 2.1 shows the responses to these two questions across the seven countries, taking agreement with the first statement and disagreement with the second statement as indicative of political efficacy (countries are arranged from left to right in descending order of the proportion registering a sense of political efficacy on the second of these two items). Responses to the first of these questions were remarkably uniform and so can be readily dealt with; the responses show that

Political culture and democratic consolidation 23 100% 90%

10

16

15 23

80%

21

19

11

34

38

42

41

11

10

44

44

44

44

10

70% 60% 39 50%

45

47

43

40% 30% 20%

35

29

33

37

10% 0% South Korea

Thailand

Don't know

Europe No effect

Taiwan

Malaysia

Indonesia

Some effect

Philippines Singapore Great effect

Figure 2.1 Perceived impact of national government (in descending order of no effect plus don’t know) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q401a.

overwhelming majorities (between 85 and 90 per cent) across the seven countries believe that the electoral aspect of democratic politics is paramount and that the way people vote is the main thing that decides how their country is run. It is striking that, while a very large majority of Western Europeans agree that the votes of the people decide how the country is run, that majority is smaller in the European countries (average 76 per cent). The difference is presumably accounted for by a greater awareness in the European countries of the complexities and nuances of democratic governance both in a domestic and in a European Union context. The second measure of efficacy, which focuses on personal as opposed to collective efficacy, elicits a much wider set of inter-country contrasts, ranging from a level of individual efficacy of 79 per cent in South Korea to 41 per cent in Singapore (see Figure 2.2). While South Korea stands quite apart from any of the other countries at the high end of the spectrum of personal political efficacy, the same is not true of Singapore at the low end. Rather it is grouped with the Philippines and Taiwan, which show almost identical levels of personal political efficacy (41 to 42 per cent). It is noteworthy that the next lowest level of political efficacy is that found in our sample of European countries. This makes South Korea even more of an outlier than it appears to be at first sight, though it should be noted that personal political efficacy is quite widespread in two other countries: Thailand (62 per cent) and Indonesia (56 per cent). Political deference, while not quite the polar opposite of political efficacy, is certainly a strongly contrasting attitude or orientation. Two items from the AsiaEurope Survey can be taken as indicators of deference. The items were cast in

24 Richard Sinnott 100% 90% 80%

90

89

88

86

90

90 85

79

76

70% 62 60%

56 52

50%

44

42

41

41

Taiwan

Singapore

40% 30% 20% 10% 0% South Korea Thailand

Indonesia

Have a say in what government does

Malaysia

Europe

Philippines

Vote decides how country is run

Figure 2.2 Political efficacy (in descending order of have a say in what government does) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q201.

a format similar to that outlined above and the statements were: ‘Government usually knows best how to run a country’ and ‘We should always do what the government wants instead of just acting in our own interest’. Levels of agreement with both statements are displayed in Figure 2.3, the countries being arranged from left to right in descending order of agreement that government usually knows best. Political deference is, on this evidence, quite widespread in a number of the countries in the region, though its distribution can vary depending on which indicator is used. Taiwan and the Philippines are highly deferential on both measures (approximately two-thirds believing that government knows best and that one should do what government wants rather than acting in one’s own interest). People in Malaysia and Singapore are even more deferential on the government knows best item but, especially in the case of Singapore, are significantly less deferential in terms of ‘doing what the government wants’. Indonesia and Thailand also show different levels of deference, depending on the item, Thailand in particular showing very low levels of willingness to set individual interests aside in order to do what government wants. Overall, however, it is South Korea that stands out; it has by far the lowest level of agreement with the statement that government knows best and the second lowest level of agreement with the statement that one should always do what government wants. In this case again South Korea is closest to the average of our sample of nine Western European countries where indications of political deference are found between 17 and 30 per cent, depending on which item is used.5 Political efficacy and political deference are very subjective aspects of political orientation and, as such, can be usefully supplemented by consideration of some

Political culture and democratic consolidation 25 100% 90% 80% 74

72 70%

65 63

61 60%

66 64 59

57

50% 42

40

40% 30% 20%

30

40

28 24 17

10% 0% Europe

South Korea

Thailand

Government knows best

Indonesia

Philippines

Taiwan

Singapore

Malaysia

Do what government decides

Figure 2.3 Political deference and compliance (in ascending order of deference) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q306.

objective evidence of people’s level of political knowledge. Given the focus of the ASES project on the issue of globalization, the measures of political knowledge used in the project had a distinctly international flavour – respondents were asked to name the country’s Foreign Minister and the five countries holding permanent seats in the UN Security Council. Of course, the name of the Foreign Minister is also an indicator of knowledge of domestic politics. More importantly, Delli Carpini and Keeter make the point that the particular content of items in tests of political knowledge does not matter all that much and that items tend to be substitutable (Delli Carpini and Keeter, 1996, p. 16). Figure 2.4 presents the evidence of levels of political knowledge across the seven countries in this study. Indonesia, Taiwan and South Korea show the highest levels of political knowledge, levels of knowledge in Indonesia being in fact very close to the average level of knowledge in the Western European states in the ASES study. Indonesia and Taiwan in particular stand out in terms of the large proportion (about 20 per cent) obtaining the two highest scores on the seven-point scale; the proportion in South Korea obtaining this score is only 6 per cent. At the other end of the scale, the Philippines shows extremely low levels of political knowledge (86 per cent scoring zero on the scale). Zero scores are also quite prevalent in Malaysia and Singapore. As indicated above, the issue of political participation is taken up in some detail in the final section of this chapter. At that point it will be necessary to recall this evidence regarding efficacy, deference and knowledge since each of these, in different ways, is closely related to political participation. In the meantime, however, we turn to consider what it is that fuels political conflict in the states of the region.

26 Richard Sinnott 100% 90% 32 80%

36

41 50

70% 60%

60 13

64

65

11

86

50% 40%

30

31

20

30%

12

10 17

20% 10%

9

31

22 25

22

Europe

Indonesia South Korea

0

20

8

6

16

21 6

0%

20

Taiwan

1–2

Thailand 3–4

Singapore

7 6

Malaysia

Philippines

5–6

Figure 2.4 Levels of political knowledge (in ascending order of no knowledge) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q103 and q104.

Cleavage and consensus Left–right conflict? The assumption that all political conflict can be interpreted as a conflict between left and right has been a dominant feature of political analysis going back to the French Revolution. Its dominance was particularly marked in the twentieth century when it was reinforced by the conflict between two superpowers, each representing opposite sides of the ideological conflict between capitalism and socialism. Although that particular prop to the left–right framework has crumbled, the distinction still appears to many to be highly relevant to the analysis of contemporary political conflict. The question for this chapter is: Are these terms meaningful in the mass politics of our seven countries of East and Southeast Asia? Three tests of ‘meaningfulness’ will be used: Can respondents place themselves on a left–right scale? Do they attach any importance to the scale? Does position on the scale relate in any coherent way to variables measuring what might be regarded as the main substantive content of left–right issues? The ASES questionnaire approached the first two of these questions by means of the following items. The combined results from this pair of questions show very clear contrasts across our seven countries (see Figure 2.5). The incidence of left–right self-placement is very high (approximately 90 per cent) in the Philippines and in South Korea and this self-placement is backed up by almost equal levels of attachment of importance to the idea of left and right. In one other state – Thailand – self-placement is about

Political culture and democratic consolidation 27 Q403 In politics, people sometimes talk about ‘left’ and ‘right’. How would you place your views on this scale? (Circle one answer.) Left 1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Right

Don’t know

10

11

Q404 And can you tell me how important this idea of left and right is for you personally? (Circle one answer.) Extremely important

Somewhat important

Only a little important

Not important at all

Don’t know

1

2

3

4

5

as high as in the Philippines and South Korea but the frequency of attachment of importance to the whole idea of left and right is significantly lower (71 per cent). Use of our European yardstick shows that, in these three states, ideas of left and right are at least as important as the average in our sample of Western European countries and in the case of the Philippines and South Korea, significantly more important. In contrast to these cases, the notion of left–right conflict is much less relevant in Taiwan, Indonesia and Singapore. Willingness to use the scale is quite high in Indonesia but, like the peoples of Singapore and Taiwan, relatively few Indonesians attach much importance to the concepts involved. 100% 90%

95 89

89

88 84

82

80% 71 70%

66

64 58

60%

55 49

47

50%

38

40%

36

34

30% 20% 10% 0% Philippines South Korea Thailand

Europe

Placement on scale of left to right

Malaysia

Taiwan

Indonesia

Singapore

Importance of left and right

Figure 2.5 Self-placement on scale and importance of left and right (in descending order of importance of left and right) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q403 and q404.

28 Richard Sinnott Figure 2.6 shows the distribution of left-wing and right-wing orientations, taking account of the proportions who do not place themselves on the scale in the first instance or who say that the idea is of no importance. The most striking feature of this evidence is the small size of the left in all seven societies except one, the exception being South Korea, where almost one-third place themselves on the left and regard the notions of left and right as being of some importance. Not only is the left small in absolute terms but, in six of the seven societies, left-wing identifiers are outnumbered by right-wing identifiers, the exception again being South Korea. The average of our sample of European countries also shows more left-wing than right-wing identification. In terms of the overall distribution of leftand right-wing orientations, however, our European countries lie in the middle, being much more ideological than Singapore, Indonesia and Taiwan but much less ideological than South Korea or the Philippines. This brings us to the third question posed above – what is the substantive meaning of the terms left and right in our seven East and Southeast Asian countries? This chapter tackles this issue by using a statistical technique (factor analysis) to uncover the structure of the relationships between left–right selfplacement and a set of five items measuring the presumed substantive content of the left–right dimension. The substantive items are: • Competition is good because it stimulates people to develop new ideas. • The government should ensure that everyone either has a job or is provided with adequate social welfare.

100%

12

16

90%

29

11 8

80% 70%

19

34 45 62

17 15

64

66

5

60% 11 50% 40%

29

8

17

12

43

25

6

30% 31 23

20% 10% 0%

16 11 5

8

6

Philippines South Korea Thailand Not important at all

6

6

24

24

8

24 20

5 7 Europe

Right 9–10

5 Malaysia 7–8

Taiwan 5–6

Indonesia 3–4

Singapore Left 1–2

Figure 2.6 Importance and position on left–right scale (in descending order of not important at all) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q403 and q404.

Political culture and democratic consolidation 29 • We need a lot of government intervention in order to deal with today’s economic problems. • Society is better off when businesses are free to make as much profit as they can. • Incomes should be made more equal. One would expect a factor analysis of these five items plus the left–right selfplacement measure to produce either a single left–right factor or dimension on which all the items would load, or two coherent factors that would display the underlying attitudinal dimensions involved. In the case of the nine Western European countries as a whole the factor analysis produces a neat and intelligible two-factor solution (see Table 2.1). The first factor loads heavily on the government provision item, the government intervention item and equalization of incomes item. The second factor is defined by high loadings on the endorsement of competition and agreement with the primacy of the profit motive and by selfplacement as right wing. This analysis shows that there is a clear and consistent structure underlying these items – one relating to the role of the state (in providing a safety net, in intervening in the economy and in making incomes more equal) and the other relating to the role of competition and the profit motive. Left–right self placement in our set of European countries is associated with the competition/ profit dimension rather than with the role-of-the-state dimension. The main point, however, is that European attitudes in this area form a coherent structure. This is not the case in East and Southeast Asia, either in the seven states as a whole or in any of the individual states. It is true that two dimensions emerge in each of the relevant analyses in Table 2.1; the point is that the items that define the dimensions do not make sense in conventional left–right terms. For instance, in the seven countries taken as a whole, the item on competition, which is a right-wing item, loads with items on government provision and government intervention, which are left-wing items. This particular inconsistent structure is repeated in the factor analyses of four of the countries in the region (Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia and the Philippines). The other three countries produce different configurations of inconsistent items. Thus, South Korea links endorsement of competition and the profit motive with support for government provision of either a job or adequate social welfare for everybody. The argument is not that this is logically inconsistent; it is ideologically inconsistent, at least in terms of the normal understanding of left–right ideology. Indonesians link government provision with equalization of incomes (so far, so good) but then link both of these to right-wing self-placement. Or take the case of the Philippines – the country with, as we have seen, the most extensive usage and endorsement of left–right terminology. In this case there are two inconsistent dimensions, neither of which is related to use of the terms left and right. Summarizing this evidence on the incidence, importance and content of left–right orientations, it is clear that use of and attachment of importance to the terms left and right vary considerably across the Southeast Asian states considered in this chapter. Second, in all countries but one (South Korea), right-

.67

.03

.73

–.22

Government provision

Government intervention

Make profit

Incomes equal

‘Right’ placement

.69

–.16

.68

.18

.03

.60

2

.63

.47

–.16

.26

.06

2

.25 –.64

.11

.32

.64

.69

.71

1

Southeast Asia

.16

.39

.64

.2

.78

.76

1

.81

.06

.29

.57

–.06

–.02

2

South Korea

.64

.69

–.10

.13

.12

2

.20 –.61

.21

.12

.74

.75

.74

1

Taiwan

.76

.01

.09

.23

–.29

2

–.10 –.64

–.03

.70

.75

.64

.56

1

Singapore

–.13

.03

.37

.68

.74

.75

1

2

.72

.58

.48

.24

–.01

–.15

Malaysia

.14

.65

.48

.23

–.01

2

.53 –.66

.50

.17

.32

.70

.44

1

Indonesia

Note: Tinted numbers indicate ‘inconsistent’ factor loadings

Question wording for left–right self-placement: In politics, people sometimes talk about ‘left’ and ‘right’. How would you place your views on this scale? (‘Right’ placement)

.24

.81

.64

1

.02

.46

2

.33

–.08

.82

.68

.07

.28

Thailand

–.11

Please tell me how much you agree or disagree with the following statements (five-point agree/disagree scale) Competition is good because it stimulates people to develop new ideas (Competition good) The government should ensure that everyone either has a job or is provided with adequate social welfare (Government provision) We need a lot of government intervention in order to deal with today’s economic problems (Government intervention) Society is better off when businesses are free to make as much profit as they can (Make profit) Incomes should be made more equal (Incomes equal)

Question wording for left–right attitudinal items:

.30

.77

Competition good

1

Europe

Table 2.1 Factor analysis of left–right attitudinal items and left–right self-placement

.09

.04

.18

.65

.78

.77

1

2

–.22

.73

.75

.12

–.04

–.09

Philippines

Political culture and democratic consolidation 31 wing identifiers outnumber left-wing identifiers by a significant margin. Third, and most importantly, analyses of the structure of putative left–right attitudes in the Southeast Asian countries as a whole and in each of the individual countries, fails to find evidence of a consistent ideological structure of the kind that is readily apparent in the European sample. The implications of these findings will be considered in the conclusion to this chapter. Identity conflict? A comprehensive analysis of identity and its implications in the seven countries in this study would be a gargantuan task. All of the countries concerned are, to a greater or lesser degree, characterized by extensive regional, ethnic, linguistic or religious differences and, in several cases, some or even all of these differences overlap. Any attempt to document all of these differences is clearly out of the question. What we can do is to examine people’s subjective perceptions of a selected range of identities, allowing the subjective judgment of the respondents to be the arbiter of the salience and significance of each. While this obviously falls short of an adequate account of the role of identity in the politics of the region, it may be regarded as making a start on the kind of analysis that is required. The main focus in what follows is on national and supranational identity, with just a preliminary reconnoitering of the complex and obviously important area of sub-national identity. National identity was measured in the ASES questionnaire by means of a selfidentification question followed immediately by a scale measuring the importance of that self-identification. The question wording was as follows. In addition to this basic measure, the questionnaire also sought to tap perceptions of the degree of respect and fair treatment (or the lack of both or either of these) accorded to the national identity in question. The reason for probing these latter aspects is rooted in the theory that it is not just national identity as such that counts Q1. Many people think of themselves as being part of a particular nationality, for example as French or American or Japanese or whatever. Do you think of yourself as [INSERT MAIN NATIONALITY OF COUNTRY] or as belonging to another nationality, or do you not think of yourself in this way? (Circle one answer.) 1 I think of myself as a [MAIN NATIONALITY OF COUNTRY] 2 I think of myself as another nationality Those who have chosen 2 above, answer the following question 3 Which nationality is that? Q2. Overall, how important is it to you that you are [READ OUT NATIONALITY ANSWERED IN Q1 or Q1a]? (Circle one answer.) Extremely important

Somewhat important

Only a little important

Not important at all

1

2

3

4

Don’t know 5

32 Richard Sinnott but also the perception and experience of equal respect and equal treatment that attaches to that identity. National identity is at once remarkably uniform and remarkably varied across the seven countries in this study. It is remarkably uniform in the sense that the vast majority of respondents endorsed the main nationality as specified in the initial question even though the question explicitly put forward the possibility that the respondent might possess a different sense of nationality (or no sense of nationality at all). Taiwan was the main exception to this almost universal acceptance of the prevailing nationality in each country. In the case of Taiwan, 8 per cent of the sample said they ‘did not think of themselves in this way’ and a further 6 per cent said that they thought of themselves as another nationality. The latter consisted mainly of those who declared themselves to be part of a Taiwanese nationality, with 1 per cent opting for ‘Mainland Chinese’ as their nationality. Singapore was the only other country where a small but significant proportion did not accept the main nationality proffered in the question. In this case, 4 per cent opted for an alternative nationality, the main alternative being Malaysian, while a further 2 per cent opted for the ‘do not think of myself in this way’ response. At the same time, national identity in the countries concerned is remarkably varied in the sense that people and countries differ very substantially in the degree of importance they attach to their nationality (see Figure 2.7). At one end of the scale of importance of national identity there is the Philippines, where over 90 per cent regard their national identity as ‘extremely important’. Thailand come a little behind the Philippines in this respect (77 per cent extremely important) and Malaysia (72 per cent) also belongs to this group of countries with a very strong sense of national identity. Contrast this with the situation in Taiwan and 100% 90%

92 89

88 77

80%

71

74

70% 61

60%

55 51

50%

45 41

42 43

40%

39

31

30% 20

20% 10% 0% Philippines

Thailand

Malaysia

South Korea Singapore

Importance of national identity

Indonesia

Europe

Taiwan

National pride

Figure 2.7 Importance of national identity and national pride (in descending order of importance of national identity) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q2 and q13.

Political culture and democratic consolidation 33 Indonesia where only 43 and 51 per cent respectively attach extreme importance to their national identity. Figure 2.7 also indicates that in the three countries in which national identity is highly salient, a very strong sense of national pride (‘very proud to be …’) matches or even exceeds the level of attribution of extreme importance to national identity. However, in those countries in which attachment of extreme importance to national identity is relatively low, being very proud of one’s nationality tends to be even lower again. This is especially so in South Korea and Taiwan, where the frequency of occurrence of strong national pride is only half the frequency of occurrence of strong national identity. Taiwan is also exceptional on another variable that, for reasons of space, is not shown in a graph but can be briefly summarized. The variable in question is a measure of growth in the salience of national identity over the ten-year period preceding the study, that is over the decade of the 1990s. This perceived growth in the importance of national identity is particularly widespread in Malaysia, where 86 per cent report an increased sense of the importance of national identity but it is also the majority (61 per cent) experience in South Korea. Taiwan is the only country where a majority state that the importance of their national identity has either remained static or declined. All of this reinforces the impression of Taiwanese exceptionalism: Taiwan has the highest incidence of rejection of national identity and of reference to an alternative national identity; it also has the lowest level of strong attachment to national identity, the lowest level of sense of growth in the importance of national identity and the lowest level of national pride. The reasons for this cultural exceptionalism are not hard to find; the presumption must be that it is rooted in the exceptional nature of Taiwan’s international status. That having been said, it is worth noting that on two of the variables examined here (attachment of extreme importance to national identity and trajectory of national identity over the last 10 years), Taiwan is rather like our average European country and that it is only in regard to the incidence of being ‘very proud’ to be a national of the Republic of China that it falls substantially below the European average. Variations in national identity are not of course confined to the exceptional case of Taiwan. Accordingly, some states approach tensions that arise from ethnic, regional, or religious differences against the background of a very widespread and very strong underlying sense of national identity. The data presented here suggest that the Philippines, with its substantial ethnic, regional and religious differences, is a case in point. Other states come to such problems with a much weaker sense of national integration. Whether these different cultural underpinnings are a hindrance or a help in coping with inter-group tensions obviously depends on the precise circumstances in which such tensions arise and the nature of the issues at stake. As well as playing a role in the internal politics of each country, national identity also has implications for the relationship of any given country to the international system and to other countries. In this case, the strength of national identity is only part of the story. Just as, if not more, important is the sense of equality that goes with national identity. In this view, national identity is most likely to have an impact on other political attitudes and on political behaviour when it is combined with a sense that the identity in question is not respected or is subject to unfair

34 Richard Sinnott treatment. Evidence of the perception that one’s country and one’s fellow nationals are not ‘respected by people in other countries as much as they ought to be’ and that they are ‘not treated fairly in international economic and political affairs’ is presented in Figure 2.8. Two countries – South Korea and Taiwan – stand out as having a widespread sense of grievance on both fronts. At the other end of the scale, Singapore and Malaysia stand out as having very low incidence of perceived disrespect or unfair treatment. Thailand and Indonesia represent a third pattern: in both countries the level of perceived disrespect is quite low while the level of perceived unfair treatment is quite high. Thus, the Thai and Indonesian sense of grievance is specific to the economic and political aspects of international relations and does not, by and large, relate to the more personal dimension of respect for one’s nationality. The discrepancy may be significant, at least if we assume that it is easier to redress economic and political grievances than to assuage feelings that national identity is being slighted in some way. Consideration of the international implications of these various aspects of people’s sense of national identity brings us to the issue of supranational identity. This was tackled in the ASES questionnaire via the following questions: ‘Some people also think of themselves as being part of a larger group that includes people from other countries, for example, as European, Asian, Chinese, Islamic etc. How about you, do you think of yourself in this way?’. Those who indicated some supranational identity were then asked: ‘Overall, how important is it to you that you are […]?’. Figure 2.9 combines the data from both questions, presenting (from top to bottom) the proportions showing no supranational identity or a supranational identity that is not salient and, in succession, the particular supranational identities that are regarded as being at least somewhat important in each country. The countries are arranged from left to right in descending order of the occurrence of a salient supranational identity. A sense of supranational identity is most widespread in the Philippines and Thailand where about 70 per cent of people think of themselves as having an Asian identity and regard this as being of some importance. Asian identity is thinly spread among the other four countries, in all four of which it has to compete with other forms of supranational identity. Taiwan and Malaysia have an almost equally widespread sense of supranational identification (two-thirds in each case) as the Philippines and Thailand, but this sense of identity is related to very different objects – 11 per cent Asian and 58 per cent Chinese in the case of Taiwan and 6 per cent Asian, 15 per cent Chinese and 45 per cent Islamic in the case of Malaysia. The two remaining countries (Indonesia and Singapore) have significantly lower levels of occurrence of supranational identity. The pattern of such supranational identity as does occur is again different in each case. In Indonesia it is focused mainly on an Islamic supranational identity (40 per cent), with just 8 per cent opting for an Asian identity. In Singapore, on the other hand, supranational identity is spread across three objects: 23 per cent Chinese, 18 per cent Asian and 7 per cent Islamic. Comparing all this with our European yardstick shows that supranational identity is more widespread in all of the seven East and Southeast Asian countries than it is in the average of our sample of nine Western European countries. This is despite

Political culture and democratic consolidation 35 100% 90% 80% 70%

66

63 64

60%

57

50%

47

44 37 39

40%

34 35

30% 20%

16

18

15 9

9

10%

8

0% South Korea Taiwan

Philippines

Europe

Thailand

Not respected

Indonesia

Singapore

Malaysia

Not treated fairly

Figure 2.8 Identity and equality: respect and fair treatment (in descending order of not respected) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q4 and q6.

100% 90%

24

26

32

80%

34

34 52

52

57

70% 60%

15

50% 40%

58

71

70

23 66

30%

45

40 7

20% 10%

42

18 11

6

0% Philippines

Thailand

None/ not important

Taiwan

South Korea Malaysia

Chinese

Islamic

8 Indonesia Asian

Singapore

Europe European

Figure 2.9 Supranational identity (in ascending order of none/not important) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q9 and q10.

36 Richard Sinnott the fact that the institutional focus of supranational cooperation in East and Southeast Asia (ASEAN) is quite weak and that the corresponding institutional focus in Europe is very strong. Finally, in the area of identity, the ASES questionnaire also probed for the possible existence of sub-national identities using the following open-ended question: ‘As well as, or sometimes instead of, having a sense of nationality, people may think of themselves as being part of some other community or group. How about you, is there any other community or group that you feel part of in this way?’. The seven countries are arranged from left to right in Table 2.2 in ascending order of the non-occurrence of sub-national identities (see Table 2.2). Thus, at the left-hand side one finds South Korea, where the vast majority of people have at least one additional identity, and at the right-hand side one finds Taiwan, where an equally vast majority (88 per cent) indicate that they have no such additional identities. South Korea shows evidence of three main categories of sub-national identity: neighbourhood (53 per cent), region (30 per cent) and ethnic group (30 per cent). A further 13 per cent of South Koreans indicate that they have a sense of being part of a religion-based community or group. Thus, the evidence in Figure 2.7, which indicated that South Koreans have only a moderately widespread sense of the salience of national identity and a decidedly low sense of national pride, must be seen in the context of the pervasiveness in that country of a range of subnational identities. The existence of sub-national identities does not necessarily detract from the salience of national identity. This is illustrated by the case of Thailand, which, as shown in Figure 2.7, has a widespread and intense sense of the importance of national identity and, at the same time, is characterized by quite widespread attachment to neighbourhood (52 per cent) and to region (34 per cent). In the remaining five countries the majority of people do not show any evidence of having any sub-national identities. However, these homogenous majorities ranged from a bare 55 per cent in the Philippines to, as we have seen, 88 per cent in Taiwan. In the four countries in which sub-national identities occur with some degree of frequency, the sub-national identities involved are fairly evenly spread Table 2.2 Other community or group identification (in ascending order of none) Neighbourhood

Region

Ethnic group

Religion

Other

None

South Korea 52.8

30.2

30.4

12.7

6.6

11.9

Thailand

52.3

34.2

2.0

0.4

0.0

17.4

Philippines

7.7

13.0

13.5

9.9

1.3

55.4

Indonesia

17.1

11.1

1.4

19.0

1.9

56.6

Malaysia

5.0

7.2

7.6

9.8

3.7

69.3

Europe

8.5

10.9

1.5

4.3

7.5

69.6

12.3

0.0

4.9

11.3

0.5

71.3

1.4

1.6

1.5

3.5

4.1

88.1

Singpaore Taiwan

Political culture and democratic consolidation 37 over the categories of neighbourhood, region, ethnic group and religion. Minor exceptions to this pattern are the somewhat greater frequency of neighbourhood and religious identity in Indonesia (17 and 19 per cent respectively) and the obvious inapplicability of regional identity in Singapore. One must emphasise the limited nature of the conclusions that can be drawn from this ASES data on sub-national identity. All we know is that, with respect to sub-national identities, South Korea and Thailand are very different from Malaysia and Taiwan and that the other countries fall in between these extremes. Because of space constraints, the ASES questionnaire was not able to measure the intensity of each of these kinds of identity or other attributes that might attach to them in the way in which this was done for national identity. This limits what we can say about the potential of such identities to give rise to significant sub-national conflict. On the other hand, the open-ended nature of the sub-national identity question has the advantage of providing some indication of the salience of the sub-national identities that emerge, it being assumed that if a respondent refers to a particular identity or identities in response to such a question, the identity involved has at least some minimal salience. Output conflict? In place of or alongside conflicts centring on ideology or identity, any political system may experience conflict regarding the output of the political system. Where such evaluations of system output are highly positive, the system can be said to enjoy a degree of ‘output legitimacy’. The problem with this form of legitimacy, however, is that it is closely related to performance, and the performance of any political system may fluctuate due to circumstances that are beyond the control of government. The legitimacy of the political system must, accordingly, be buttressed by something more long-term than evaluations of the current output of the system. This something is ‘input legitimacy’, that is people’s belief that, whatever the immediate outcomes, they have confidence in the decision-making processes and in the institutions that underpin those processes.6 We shall turn to the issue of confidence in politics and political institutions in a moment. First, however, we need to examine the conflicting evaluations of the output of the political system across our seven countries. In order to maintain a focus on the political system as such rather than on the fortunes of particular governments, we measure the evaluation of the output of the political system by means of a set of questions on pride in the country’s social welfare system, pride in its economic achievements and pride in its political influence in the world. The findings are presented in Figure 2.10. The contrast between countries with high levels of output satisfaction and countries with low levels could hardly be more stark. Eighty-five to ninety-five per cent of Singaporeans express pride in the performance of Singapore in terms of social welfare, in terms of economic achievements and in terms of international influence. Malaysians are almost equally positive, with proportions of 80 to 85 per cent expressing positive evaluations in all three areas. At the other end of the scale,

38 Richard Sinnott 0% 83

86

85

84

79

0%

75

0%

64

61

59

0% 51

49

0%

59

52 48

0% 31 0% 23 24 0%

31

26

28

25 18

16

0% 0% South Korea Indonesia

Taiwan

Pride in welfare system

Europe

Thailand

Philippines

Malaysia

Pride in economic achievements

Singapore

Pride in political influence

Figure 2.10 Evaluation of output (in ascending order of pride in welfare system) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q14.

only between one-quarter and one-sixth of South Koreans and one-third and one-sixth of Indonesians express pride in any of these three aspects of Korean/ Indonesian economy, society and politics. By and large, countries tend to be fairly consistent across the three types of output evaluation – if a country is high or low on one item, it tends to be correspondingly high or low on the others. This tendency makes the occasional exceptions all the more striking. Thus, in terms of pride in specific outputs, Thailand is way down on pride in economic performance by comparison with the other categories, while Taiwan is quite high on pride in economic achievements but low on pride in welfare and low also on pride in political influence in the world.

Confidence in politics and in political institutions The ASES questionnaire measured overall attitude to the political process by means of the following question: Q411 All things considered, how satisfied are you with politics in your society today? (Circle one answer.) Very satisfied 1

Very dissatisfied 2

3

4

5

Responses to this question (Figure 2.11) show extreme disparities between, on the one hand, South Korea, where 75 per cent express dissatisfaction with politics (i.e. opt for points 4 or 5 on the scale) and, on the other hand, Malaysia and Singapore, where 14 per cent (Malaysia) and 8 per cent (Singapore) show similar degrees of dissatisfaction. Taiwan tends toward the dissatisfied end of the scale, though, at 50

Political culture and democratic consolidation 39 100% 90% 80%

10 11

16 33 10

70%

24 23

18 19

19 21

39

45

46 49

41

37

39 42 35 22

44

47

37 32

30% 20%

38

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40%

33 33 44

31 34

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60% 50%

11 11

11 23

19

9 15

15 29

33

10

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10%

41 26

44

44

15

13

37 16

13

0% South Korea Philippines

Taiwan

Very dissatisfied

Europe 4

Thailand 3

Indonesia 2

Malaysia

Singapore Very satisfied

Figure 2.11 Satisfaction with politics (in descending order of very dissatisfied) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q411.

per cent dissatisfaction, it is a long way adrift of South Korea in this regard. At the other end, Indonesia and Thailand are located towards the low dissatisfaction end, with one-third of respondents expressing dissatisfaction with politics. The contrast of South Korea and Taiwan versus Singapore and Malaysia is confirmed by the data on confidence in political institutions. Figure 2.12 shows the distribution of confidence in the national parliament and in the political parties. While 83 to 86 per cent of Singaporeans express confidence in these institutions, only 7 to 9 per cent of South Koreans do likewise. As with the previous measure, Malaysia comes next to Singapore in positive attitudes, while Taiwan is closest to South Korea. In the case of both measures (dissatisfaction and confidence in parliament and in parties), the European average tends to be located in the middle of the distribution – very far from the extreme negative view expressed by South Koreans and equally far from the extreme positive views expressed by Singaporeans. The final aspect of confidence in political institutions to be considered here is confidence in the civil service and in the law and the courts (Figure 2.13). The distribution of confidence in these institutions across our seven countries has two striking features. The first is, once again, the extreme contrast between Singapore (roughly 90 per cent confidence on each item) and South Korea (roughly 33 per cent confidence in each). The second striking feature is that six of the seven countries in our East and Southeast Asian sample show levels of confidence in the civil service of 60 per cent or more. This is significantly higher than the average level of confidence in the civil service in the ASES sample of European countries. However, one qualification needs to be made in this regard. In two of the countries concerned there is a large falling-off of confidence in the legal system in comparison with the level of confidence in the civil service. The two countries are Indonesia, where confidence in the law and the courts falls to 40 per cent (from 77

40 Richard Sinnott 100% 90%

86 83

80% 70

67

70%

61 60%

39

38

40% 30%

25

24

7

36

21

19

20% 10%

51

48

50%

8

0% South Korea Taiwan

Thailand

Europe

Philippines Indonesia

National parliament

Malaysia

Singapore

Political parties

Figure 2.12 Confidence in the national parliament and in political parties (in ascending order of national parliament) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q101.

100% 89

90%

92

77

80% 69

70% 60%

54

66

61

60

59

53

48 47

50%

40

40%

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32 33 30% 20% 10% 0% South Korea Europe

Thailand

Civil service

Philippines

Taiwan

Malaysia

Indonesia

Singapore

Law and courts

Figure 2.13 Confidence in the civil service and in the law and the courts (in ascending order of civil service) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q101.

Political culture and democratic consolidation 41 per cent in the case of the civil service) and Taiwan, where confidence falls from 61 per cent (civil service) to 36 per cent (the law and the courts). As noted in the introduction to this chapter, analysis of confidence in the input aspects of the political system presents the challenge of distinguishing between critical citizens and those who are simply turned off the whole process. Low levels of confidence in, for example, political parties are quite compatible with a vibrant democracy if the lack of confidence reflects critical engagement in the political process and is accompanied by a sense of political efficacy. As a corollary to this, high levels of confidence may be indicative of a passive citizenry if confidence is merely a reflection of the acquiescence of the citizens in a political system in which they have little or no effective input. The clear implication is that the foregoing measures of confidence in political institutions must be interpreted in the light of orientations towards political action.

Orientations towards political action Orientations to political action were measured in the ASES questionnaire as follows:7 Q405 Now I’d like you to look at this card. I’m going to read out some different forms of political activity that people can become involved in, and I’d like you to tell me, for each one, whether you have actually done any of these things, whether you might do it or would never, under any circumstances, do it. (Circle one answer for each statement.) Have often Have done Might do done once or twice

Would never Don’t do know

a) Sign a petition

1

2

3

4

5

b) Contribute money to the campaign of a party or candidate in an election

1

2

3

4

5

c) Contact an elected politician about a personal or local 1 problem

2

3

4

5

d) Attend a protest march or demonstration

1

2

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4

5

e) Contact an elected politician about a national issue or 1 problem

2

3

4

5

f) Actively help a political party 1 or candidate at election time

2

3

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5

g) Get together informally with others in your community or 1 local area to deal with some community issue or problem

2

3

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5

h) Join a political party

2

3

4

5

1

42 Richard Sinnott The eight items can be divided into three groups: items having to do with representational contact (Figure 2.14), items having to do with parties and elections (Figure 2.15), and items having to do with citizen mobilization (Figure 2.16). It is striking that the same two groups of countries occupy opposite ends of the spectrum on each of these groups of items. Thus, South Korea, the Philippines and Taiwan are, with almost complete consistency, located on the activist side of the spectrum, while Singapore, Indonesia and Thailand tend to be on the passive end of the spectrum with generally small proportions of respondents showing any propensity8 towards political action. Malaysia occupies a lower intermediate position on two of the broad categories of political action but swings clearly towards the activist end of the distribution in the case of political action related to political parties, candidates and elections. The category of representational contact includes contacting an elected representative about a personal/local problem or about a national problem. Contact relating to personal/local problems outstrips contact relating to national problems in all cases except Malaysia, where the two are at exactly the same level. The European average is again at the activist end of the spectrum (62 per cent of our Western European sample have contacted or might contact an elected politician about a local matter and 51 have done so or might do so about a national problem). On both variables the European average is closely tracked by the Philippines, with Taiwan and South Korea a bit further behind. However, the latter two are almost twice as activist in terms of actual or potential resort to representational channels as Singapore, Thailand or Indonesia. Once again, given the generous definition of political action, the passivity of Singapore, Thailand and Indonesia is remarkable. 100% 90% 80% 70% 62 60%

56 51

50%

49 43

43 38

40%

35 35

31

30%

24

20%

23 16

18 13

15

10% 0% Europe

Philippines

Taiwan

Local

South Korea Malaysia

Singapore

Thailand

Indonesia

National

Figure 2.14 Actual/potential representational contact (contact elected politician re. local or national problem (in descending order of local)) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q405.

Political culture and democratic consolidation 43 100% 90% 80% 70% 60%

57

50% 42 40%

39

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12 7 5

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0% Philippines

Malaysia

Taiwan

South Korea Europe

Help party

Indonesia

Thailand

Join party

Singapore

Money to campaign

Figure 2.15 Actual/potential party involvement (help party/candidate at election time, join political party and contribute money to campaign (in descending order of help party)) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q405.

100% 90% 80% 70%

79 70 65

68

65

60% 52 50%

44 45

40%

43 34

38

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32

30%

29

26 21

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20%

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13

13 7

7

10%

9

0% Europe

South Korea Philippines

Sign petition

Taiwan

Malaysia

Local community action

Singapore

Indonesia

Thailand

Attend protest

Figure 2.16 Actual/potential citizen mobilization (sign petition, local community action and attend protest (in descending order of sign petition)) Source: Asia-Europe Survey 2001, q405.

44 Richard Sinnott Turning to measures of involvement with political parties, candidates and elections produces some refinement of the foregoing picture. In general, the ends of the active–passive spectrum are still occupied by the same sets of countries. There is, however, one significant alteration: Malaysia has clearly moved from the middle of the spectrum on citizen mobilization and on representational contact to the activist side of the spectrum of involvement with parties, candidates and elections. In fact, if the ranking were done in terms of either joining a party or contributing money to a party or candidate at election time, Malaysia would come out by a short head as the most active of the seven countries in terms of party/ candidate/electoral involvement. The citizen mobilization category of political action includes three modes of activity – signing a petition, getting together informally with others in the community to deal with some community issue, and attending a protest, a march or a demonstration. The European average is quite clearly located on the activist side of each of these items with only South Korea coming close on petition signing and the Philippines coming close on getting together with others in the local community. This latter variable causes some disturbance in the sequence of countries from most to least active. In six of the seven countries (the exception being South Korea), local activity of this kind outstrips the other two forms of citizen mobilization. This is particularly so in the case of Thailand which would be placed much higher on the activity scale if the ranking were done in terms of this potential for local community involvement. However, this only serves to illustrate the point that, apart from local community involvement, the propensity for citizen mobilization in Thailand is almost non-existent.

Overview and conclusions The findings reported above can be summarized by focusing on the opposite ends of the distributions of attitudes and perceptions involved and on the countries that tend to occupy or be close to the end points. To aid this process, Table 2.3 presents the rankings of the seven countries on a selection of the most important variables presented in the course of this chapter. The content of the variables is defined by the headings in the columns located on the left- and righthand side of the table. The mass publics in countries on the right-hand side of the table tend to have low levels of political efficacy, high levels of political deference, low levels of political knowledge and a widespread belief that notions of left and right are unimportant. They also have relatively weak national identity, a belief that their identity is respected by people in other countries, and relatively low levels of supranational and sub-national identification. They have a high level of pride in the outputs of the political process (measured here by pride in the social welfare system), a high level of satisfaction with politics, high confidence in the national parliament and in the civil service and, finally, a low propensity to political action defined in terms of contact with elected representatives, involvement in party and electoral politics and citizen mobilization.

Political culture and democratic consolidation 45 A body of citizens exhibiting all of these attitudes and predispositions might be fairly described as passive, deferential, acquiescent, and lacking in political mobilization. Does such a body of citizens exist in any one country? The data in this chapter and the summary of that data in Table 2.3 suggest that there is such a body of citizens and that it resides in the city-state of Singapore. In virtue of the attitudes of a very substantial majority of its citizens, Singapore is located at the extreme right-hand side of the distribution of countries on more than half the variables included in Table 2.3. On the remaining variables, it is either second from the right or third from the right. Are there any other states that approximate to the syndrome exemplified in Singapore? Again the answer is yes – Indonesian and Malaysian citizens display political attitudes and perceptions that tend to place their country on the righthand side of the spectrum shown in Table 2.3. This, it must be emphasized is only a tendency. Neither country is unambiguously on the right-hand side of Table 2.3 and neither country is as strongly so as Singapore. It is indeed useful to note the instances in which each country turns up on the other side of the spectrum. In the case of Indonesia, these deviant rankings are related to that country’s higher level of political knowledge and somewhat higher level of political efficacy and lower level of political deference. Malaysia crops up on the ‘other’ side in virtue of two variables: its high level of party involvement and its relatively strong sense of national identity. What about this other side of the spectrum? At the risk of repetition (because the left-hand side of Table 2.3 is just the opposite of the right-hand side), one can say that countries that are located on the left-hand side tend to be high on political efficacy and lacking in political deference. In line with these characteristics, they are high on political knowledge and they regard ideas of left and right as being of some importance (though, as with all countries in the region, they lack a structured left–right ‘belief-system’). Those on the left-hand side tend to feel strongly about their national identity and they tend to take the view that that identity is not respected by people in other countries as much as it ought to be. At the same time, they are higher than average on endorsement of a supranational identity, though the focus of that identity varies considerably between the countries concerned. They are also high on sub-national identification. However, they show little pride in their country’s welfare system, have a low level of satisfaction with politics, and low confidence in parliament and in the civil service. Against this background they have a higher than average propensity to engage in political action, whether this be in terms of representational contact, party and electoral involvement or citizen mobilization. Who are these people? A summary answer to this question is that they are opinionated, malcontents with multiple group ties, a jaundiced view of politics and political institutions and a tendency to get involved in political action. Where are they to be found? Assuming that this question is related to the seven countries surveyed in this book, the answer is that they are to be found mainly in South Korea and, to a lesser extent, in Taiwan and the Philippines. Again these are not absolutes. Thus South Korea is lower on strength of national identity and on

46 Richard Sinnott propensity to get involved in party and electoral politics than one would anticipate from the ideal-type implied by consistent adherence to the left-hand side of Table 2.3. Similarly, Taiwan shows less political efficacy, more deference, less interest in notions of left and right, weaker national identity, and lower sub-national identification than unambiguous placement on the left-hand side of the spectrum would require. Finally, the Philippines has less political efficacy, decidedly less political knowledge, and more pride in the country’s welfare system than would be the case of a typical left-hand side country. Having noted the qualifications, one can still say that this overall syndrome of attitudes is to be found primarily in South Korea and, in weaker form, in Taiwan and the Philippines. The foregoing placement of countries leaves one country in the middle and therefore belonging to neither group. Thailand is the middle case. This is not because it is consistently placed in the middle of the spectrum; in fact it only appears in the middle on four variables (see Table 2.3). Its placement is rather due to the conflicting characteristics it exhibits. Thus it is fairly highly placed in terms of identity variables and is low on deference and low on some aspects of institutional confidence. However, despite having quite a high sense of political efficacy, it is extremely low on the political action variables (except for potential involvement in local community efforts to solve local problems). This extensive lack of political mobilization is crucial in deciding to treat Thailand as a middle case. All of this brings us back to the notions of subjects, participants and critical citizens. Acknowledging that such terms are somewhat elastic, one could argue that the two groups of countries just identified approximate to the ideal-type of subjects on the one hand (Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia) and to the idealtype of participants/critical citizens (South Korea, Taiwan and the Philippines) on the other. Which of these sets of orientations will lead more rapidly and more securely to a stable democratic system cannot be determined by focusing on the analysis of political culture on its own. Much depends on developments in the international economic and geo-political system. Much also depends on how the various aspects of political culture interact with the political, economic and administrative structures and processes studied in the other chapters of this book. However, the evidence and interpretations presented here provide some insight into the democratic challenges facing the seven countries in question. Furthermore, it is worth continuing to monitor the attitudes identified and to develop measures of those attitudes we have not been able to deal with. This is not just for the lessons that can be drawn for the countries themselves but also for the lessons that can be drawn from those aspects of the experience of East and Southeast Asia that are relevant to meeting the challenges of democratic consolidation in other regions of the world.

Notes 1 This chapter draws on data on political cultures and globalisation collected through the Asia-Europe (ASES) survey conducted in 2000, a project led by Professor Takashi

Taiw Taiw Thai Philip

Indon Philip Taiw Thai Taiw Malay Philip

SKor

Indon

Philip

Philip

SKor

Philip

SKor

SKor

SKor

SKor

SKor

Philip

Philip

Fig. 2.3 Low political deference

Fig. 2.4 High political knowledge

Fig. 2.5 Left–right important

Fig. 2.7 National identity strong

Fig. 2.8 Identity not respected

Fig. 2.9 High supranational id

Tab. 2.2 High sub-national id

Fig. 2.10 Low pride in welfare system Fig. 2.11 Low satisfaction with politics Fig. 2.12 Low confidence parliament Fig. 2.13 Low confidence civil service Fig. 2.14 High representational contact Fig 2.15 High party involvement

Fig. 2.16 High citizen mobilization SKor

Taiw

Taiw

SKor

Philip

Taiw

Philip

Malay

Thai

Taiw

Malay

SKor

Malay

Taiw

Philip

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SKor

Thai

SKor

Malay

Thai

Philip

Malay

Malay

Singp

Indon

Singp

Malay

Indon

Indon

Philip

Malay

Malay

Indon

Singp

Taiw

Singp

Taiw

Philip

Indon

Indon

Thai

Thai

Indon

Malay

Malay

Malay

Singp

Indon

Singp

Indon

Indon

Malay

Singp

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Philip

Note: The position of South Korea on each line is highlighted in bold and that of Singapore in bold and italics

Thai

Thai

Taiw

Thai

SKor

SKor

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Indon

Thai

SKor Thai

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SKor

Ranking of countries

Thai

Singp

Indon

Singp

Singp

Singp

Singp

Taiw

Singp

Malay

Taiw

Singp

Philip

Malay

Singp

Singp

Summary of positions of countries on selected variables (based on Figures 2.1 to 2.16 – excluding Figure 2.6))

Figure / Variable table Fig. 2.1 Low impact of government Fig. 2.2 High political efficacy

Table 2.3

Low citizen mobilization

Low party involvement

Low representational contact

High confidence civil service

High confidence parliament

High satisfaction with politics

High pride in welfare system

Low sub-national id

Low supranational id

Identity respected

National identity weak

Left–right not important

Low political knowledge

High political deference

Low political efficacy

High impact of government

Variable

48 Richard Sinnott

2 3

4 5 6 7 8

Inoguchi (University of Tokyo) and sponsored by the Ministry of Education, Cultures, Sports, Science and Technology, Tokyo (Project Number 11102000). The countries surveyed in Europe were: Sweden, Ireland, Greece, Spain, United Kingdom, Portugal, France, and Germany. The countries in Asia were: Thailand, Singapore, Japan, South Korea, Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines, Taiwan, and China. Samples of 1,000 were surveyed in each country. For details of the methodology involved, email: [email protected]. The issue of ‘Asian values’ is taken up in detail in Chapter 9. Our ability to identify areas or sources of conflict or consensus is limited by the range of issues covered by the ASES questionnaire. As we shall see, this range is quite wide. Nonetheless, there is the possibility that significant sources of cleavage remain outside the purview of the ASES study. Because sampling in Mexico was confined to cities of 10,000 and over, this may be an underestimate of the proportion of parochials in mid-twentieth century Mexico. Obviously, the reasons for the similarity of the Korean and European distributions on the variables in Figures 2.1 and 2.2 may be radically different. Of course, if one’s experience of political outputs is persistently negative, then over time it becomes difficult to sustain belief in the effectiveness of the input aspects. The original ASES question included 10 items, 8 of which are considered here. The items omitted as not being pertinent to the present discussion had to do with frequency of various forms of political discussion. The cut-off point on the action scale, which was between ‘might do’ and ‘would never do’, represents a generous definition of propensity to engage in political action; hence the small proportions showing up as having a propensity to political action in the states located on the left-hand side of Figures 2.14 to 2.16 suggest the existence of very passive bodies of citizens in the states concerned.

References Almond, G.A. and S. Verba (1963), The Civic Culture: Political Attitudes and Democracy in Five Nations, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Barnes, S.H., M. Kaase et al. (1979), Political Action: Mass Participation in Five Western Democracies, London: Sage Publications. Delli Carpini, M. and S. Keeter (1996), What Americans Know about Politics and Why it Matters, Yale, CT: Yale University Press. Kaase, M. and K. Newton (1995), Beliefs in Government, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Knutsen, O. and E. Scarborough (1995), ‘Cleavage Politics’, in J.W. Van Deth and E. Scarborough (eds) The Impact of Values, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 492–523. Lipset, S.M. and S. Rokkan (1967), ‘Cleavage structures, party systems and voter alignments’, in S.M. Lipset and S. Rokkan (eds) Party Systems and Voter Alignments, New York: Free Press, pp. 1–64. Norris, P. (1999), ‘Introduction: The Growth of Critical Citizens’, in P. Norris (ed.) Critical Citizens: Global Support for Democratic Government, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Verba, S., N.H. Nie and Jae-On Kim (1978), Participation and Political Equality: A Seven-Nation Comparison, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

3

Parties and party systems in East and Southeast Asia Jean Blondel

As has been pointed out earlier in this book, from the last decades of the twentieth century and up to the beginning of the twenty-first, the seven countries covered in this book fall into two broad groups. One group is composed of the five polities which have become fully liberal-democratic, Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines, Thailand and Indonesia; the other includes the two polities which, in the early years of the twenty-first century, were at most partially democratic and should be referred to as ‘semi-pluralistic’, Malaysia and Singapore. In four of the countries of the first group, the democratisation process occurred in the 1980s; in 1999, Indonesia abandoned many of the structural features of its forty-year-old authoritarian system and the changes seem to be sufficiently established to suggest that that polity had moved from the second group to the first. Meanwhile, no substantial political change occurred in Malaysia or Singapore. This state of affairs has naturally been reflected in the nature of the parties and of the party systems in the countries concerned. Parties and party systems have been contrived and even somewhat artificially maintained in Singapore and Malaysia, although there have been substantial differences among both countries in this respect; on the other hand, parties have been able to develop freely in four of the other five polities, at least since the late 1980s, and in Indonesia since the turn of the century. This distinction is far from providing the key to the understanding of the character of parties and party systems in the two groups of countries, however. First, parties and party systems vary appreciably in character among the two ‘semi-pluralistic’ countries; they are similar only in so far as the development of the parties is not wholly free. Second, the parties and party systems of at least three of the five truly liberal-democratic countries, Korea, the Philippines and Thailand, as well as, from what can be assessed at the beginning of the twenty-first century, those of Indonesia, have characteristics which cannot easily be accounted for on the basis of the theory which has prevailed for Western European parties and party systems: Taiwan is only country of the pluralistic group which can be accommodated within that theory. As a matter of fact, the ‘theory’ of parties itself, as it developed in the second half of the twentieth century, seemed to be increasingly under question, not only in relation to the characteristics of parties and party systems in East and Southeast Asia, but also elsewhere. Although having originated in Western Europe and

50 Jean Blondel having been designed to cover party developments in Western Europe, that theory encountered difficulties even there as a result of the decline of some parties and the setting up of new ones in many countries of the area; a variety of ‘adjustments’ to the theory had to be made in the 1980s and 1990s to make it more realistic, but these have tended to render that theory less simple and less clear. Meanwhile, analyses of parties in the United States took an increasingly different direction from the one which Western European party theory suggested. Perhaps even more seriously, little was done to integrate in the theory developments of parties and party systems outside the ‘consolidated’ liberal democracies. Analyses of parties in the Third World have tended to take place separately and typically without referring to the same kind of general framework. This has been the case even in the context of Latin America. The countries of the area had on the whole become independent long before the rest of the Third World and therefore had had time to develop pluralistic parties and party systems, although periods of authoritarian rule have been interspersed with periods of pluralistic party systems almost everywhere in the region (Mainwaring and Scully, 1995). It is therefore no exaggeration to say that no ‘global’ theory of parties and party systems has developed in the course of the second half of the twentieth century; this is probably principally due to the fact that efforts at theorising on parties, except to an extent in the United States, have been concentrated on Western European cases, even if these Western European cases have come to be increasingly difficult to fit within the theory. Thus the three most influential works which emerged on the subject since the Second World War have focused entirely or at least primarily on Western Europe. This is so with Duverger’s Political Parties, not surprisingly perhaps, since it appeared in the late 1940s; except for the fact that there are also major developments on the Communist single-party system, the book is concerned with Western European developments. The same characteristic is apparent in the case of Lipset and Rokkan’s most frequently quoted paper on cleavages, ‘Nation-Building, Cleavage Formation and the Structuring of Mass Politics’, which was first published in 1967 in Lipset and Rokkan’s edited volume Party Systems and Voter Alignments. This is so, more surprisingly perhaps, in the case of Sartori’s Parties and Party Systems, which was published in 1976 and devotes very little space to (non-single) party systems outside ‘advanced democracies’; it is remarkable, moreover, that this text was never updated. In order to account for developments in East and Southeast Asia, we need therefore to start by looking at ‘classical’ party theory and examine the problems which it faces when an attempt is made to apply that theory to non-Western polities and in particular to the pluralistic polities of East and Southeast Asia. We will then examine the characteristics of parties and party systems in the two ‘semi-pluralistic’ countries which are the object of this study and assess how far and in what ways these fall short of being fully pluralistic. We will then turn to the five pluralistic polities of the region, beginning with Taiwan, as the characteristics of that country’s party system since the late 1980s broadly fit with classical theory. We will finally consider the parties and party systems in Korea, the Philippines, Thailand and Indonesia to see to what extent classical theory

Parties and party systems 51 needs to be modified if it is to account for the realities of these ‘new’ pluralistic polities.

I Classical party theory and the pluralistic polities of East and Southeast Asia Three types of parties and of party systems Classical party analysis has been based, more or less rigorously, on a distinction among three broad types, essentially ideal-types, but which real-world parties were expected to approximate. The first two of these types were identified by Duverger and have been widely referred to ever since as ‘parties of notables’ and as ‘mass parties’; while ‘parties of notables’ have almost disappeared in Western Europe, they were important in the past. The idea that there might be a third type of party emerged gradually in the last decades of the twentieth century as it became clear that the ‘pure’ mass party was in substantial decline. No widely accepted expression has been associated with this ‘new’ type; it will be referred to here as the ‘party of professionals’. This expression seems more ‘neutral’ than that of the ‘cartel party’ proposed by Katz and Mair in the 1990s, as that suggests collusion among (some or most of) the main political organisations in a country; this state of affairs may exist in some cases, but it does not seem to be the key characteristic of the organisations which are not or no longer ‘mass parties’ and yet are not controlled by ‘notables’. The main feature of ‘parties of notables’ is that they are essentially local or at most regional in character; the bond linking supporters to the party is not ideological, let alone organisational, but personal. Electors know and defer to ‘notables’ who in turn protect and help them, a relationship which can be also described as clientelistic. The result is that the link with the party is indirect, as it is mediated by the ‘notables’. It is therefore almost an exaggeration to refer to such bodies as ‘parties’: they do not have any real unity at the national level; they typically have little organisation. Even at the local and regional level, they are unlikely to have an organisation. The party exists nationally only insofar as whatever national leaders there are are ‘accepted’ by and satisfy temporarily the needs of local notables. Instead of an organisation in the bureaucratic sense of the word, these parties are based on personal relationships between electors and notables as well as between notables and ‘national’ leaders. Mass parties are entirely different. They are first and foremost national. They typically have a large organisation. They originate from deeply-felt social cleavages, as Lipset and Rokkan pointed out; these cleavages can be of several kinds, the most important of which have been, in chronological order in Western Europe, as the work of Lipset and Rokkan showed in detail, the cleavage between town and country, which has come to be referred to since Lipset and Rokkan as the ‘centre–periphery’ cleavage, the ethnic or ‘community’ cleavage, the religious cleavage and the class cleavage (Lipset and Rokkan, 1967, p. 50ff.). To these social cleavages have been associated ideologies; some of the parties, be they ethnic- or

52 Jean Blondel communal-based, religious-based or class-based, have specifically been set up in order to improve the lot of groups regarded as having hitherto been deprived. For a period, mass parties coexisted with parties of notables in Western European countries; gradually, however, parties of notables had to be restructured in order to be able to meet the challenge of the mass parties; the process was complete when mass parties fully came to dominate the scene. The large organisation of these mass parties contrasted sharply with the limited organisation of parties of notables; they had a ‘bureaucratic’ structure of party officials and a network of regional and local organisations catering for a large dues-paying membership. American parties never fitted well within this model, as Epstein noted in his 1967 work on Political Parties in Western Democracies; they have not had members in the formal European sense, although large numbers of citizens ‘register’ for these parties and vote to select their candidates in primaries. As a matter of fact, American party theory has tended to distinguish itself increasingly from Western European analysis in this respect; emphasis has come to be placed more and more on the role of individual candidates and leaders rather than on cleavages (Schlesinger, 1985; Sorauf, 1988; Aldrich, 1995). In Western Europe, meanwhile, membership came to decline while greater reliance was placed on managers and specialists whose job was to discover what the public wanted and how to find means of satisfying these ‘wants’ in the party programmes. The idea that there should be a third type of party distinct from the mass party thus began to emerge. Its origins are in the notion of the ‘catchall’ party which was put forward by Kirchheimer in the 1960s and which can be viewed as a kind of distortion of the mass party (Kirchheimer, 1966). It first developed from the idea that ideologies and social cleavages were playing less of a part in voting decisions; it also came to be associated with the ‘new’ issues which emerged in Western Europe from the late 1960s and in particular with the concern for the environment, a concern which could not be easily associated with the social cleavages on which classical mass parties were based. The new type was most clearly described by Panebianco in his work on Political Parties (Panebianco, 1988). This author was the first to emphasise the part played by ‘professionals’ in party life, though the notion was in some ways inherited from earlier Italian observers and in particular from Mosca (1939). This is why the expression ‘parties of professionals’ seems appropriate to refer to these parties. In general, ‘parties of professionals’ have two key characteristics which distinguish them sharply from mass parties. First, they are markedly less ideological; they adapted to the fact that they wished to cater for electors of all types and no longer just for those who belong to a particular cleavage, whether class-based or religious-based. Second, these parties do not have a large membership, as their supporters are more independent and more concerned with issues than with ideology; the increased volatility of electors from the 1970s in some Western European countries seemed to constitute evidence of the decline of the hold of mass parties on the voting public (Pedersen, 1979). To these three types of parties have corresponded three types of party systems. First, in the case of parties of notables, there is almost no party ‘system’ in the

Parties and party systems 53 strong sense of the word; there are arrangements, both within the parties and across the parties, typically ad hoc, between ‘notables’ who come to agree, often for a short period, about which policies to accept and about which presidential candidate or which government to support. Whatever ‘system’ there is is therefore fragile in the extreme; the agreements are likely to be abandoned and be replaced by others when the ‘notables’ believe that it is to their advantage. Perhaps the more realistic conclusion to draw is that there is in effect no national party system, but a series of local or regional groupings allying with each other from time to time for reasons of convenience. With mass parties, on the contrary, a party ‘system’ exists, but it has a peculiar character because its components are rigidly fixed and do not in reality affect each other. Ideally at least, there are a number of national organisations each of which is based on a social cleavage, each of which has a well-defined ideology and each of which fights the others with the help of its supporters across the country. Thus it is a system in the sense that the parties fight the same election campaigns; but these parties resemble armies confronting each other in a kind of trench warfare. The electors who vote for – indeed often belong to – these parties are expected to be and are indeed loyal to their organisation, a state of affairs aptly described by Lijphart in his Politics of Accommodation, which appeared in 1965. Gradually, however, this warlike situation begins to lose some of its sharpness with each party attempting to woo electors from other ‘camps’, as the mass party gives way to ‘parties of professionals’ from which many of the electors are ‘independent’. Paradoxically perhaps, this is when a party system in the strong sense of the word does start to exist; electoral movements – often large movements – occur from one party to another and the actions of one party will tend to affect the actions of the others. That development was indeed anticipated with great force, in the context of two-party systems at least, as early as 1957, by Downs in his Economic Theory of Democracy. Why, then, are there three types of parties and three types of party systems and why does a country move from one type to another? The level of socio-economic development, in ‘consolidated’ Western democracies at least, is seemingly the main cause, though the political parties themselves and their leaders may either accelerate or retard the movement. ‘Parties of notables’ would appear likely to prevail in ‘peasant societies’, where mobility is very low and literacy is limited; the horizons of most members of the polity are circumscribed by the local – or at most regional – area in which they live; not unnaturally, politics reflects this state of affairs. The mobility resulting from industrialisation with its consequential urban developments has a double effect: local ties are weakened and to an extent severed; new social ties are created, many of which are based on ‘national’ cleavages, ethnic, religious or class-based. This puts parties of notables on the defensive and leads to the development of mass parties. The passage from mass parties to ‘parties of professionals’ also appears due to socio-economic change: even more mobility, this time from one type of social group to another and not merely geographical, leads to a weakening of ties based on the cleavages which have given rise to mass parties; the spread of

54 Jean Blondel new communication media in a population whose literacy levels have increased means that electors become interested in specific issues about which they read and hear. As in the case of the passage from parties of notables to mass parties, and indeed probably even more, many party leaders are likely to take advantage of the opportunities given by these changes in social conditions and increase the rapidity of the movement away from the mass party, while those leaders who benefited from the existing system may try, often unsuccessfully, to maintain the status quo. It is manifestly impossible to predict the speed at which the change takes place and thus to conclude that the era of ‘parties of notables’ or the era of the ‘mass party’ is over in a given country; but it seems permissible to claim that there is a kind of inevitability in the move from one type to another and that moves always occur in one direction only. The three models of parties and the pluralistic polities of East and Southeast Asia Whatever problems it has encountered in the course of the last decades of the twentieth century, the theory of parties based on three ‘successive’ types appeared in principle able to provide a general framework. Also in principle, such a framework could be expected to account for developments occurring not just among ‘advanced’ and ‘consolidated’ liberal democracies, but elsewhere; yet this did not prove to be the case. Neither in Latin America nor in East and Southeast Asia has it been possible to notice a uniform move from parties of notables to mass parties and later from mass parties to ‘parties of professionals’. This is in part because the developments which can be observed in these regions and in particular in the liberal democracies of East and Southeast Asia since the 1980s do not suggest that parties fall neatly in one or the other of the three types; this is also because some of the developments seemed sui generis, in particular in the part which strong leaders have played in the setting up and growth of some parties. Indeed, many parties share characteristics drawn from all three of the ‘classical’ types. Thus, although there may be ‘managers’ in charge of masterminding presidential campaigns, for instance in Korea and the Philippines, the parties do not seem to have the characteristics of ‘parties of professionals’ at the level of the electors. The ‘independence’ of voters is somewhat doubtful and moves from one party to another do not appear to be triggered by issues. Perhaps a move towards the ‘party of professionals’ type can take place only if a country has had a fairly long experience of democratic government: in East and Southeast Asia, only the Philippines had a series of truly free elections before the 1980s and, in the case of that country, the Marcos dictatorship was more than a parenthesis since it lasted for over a decade from 1973. Parties in the pluralistic countries of East and Southeast Asia cannot therefore easily be described as ‘parties of professionals’; yet they do not fit closely either of the other two categories, those of ‘parties of notables’ or of ‘mass parties’. To begin with, except for those of Taiwan, the parties of the liberal democracies of the region – Korea, the Philippines, Thailand and, from the turn of the century,

Parties and party systems 55 Indonesia – are not mass parties, except perhaps to a limited extent religious parties in Indonesia. They are not based on national cleavages in any way resembling those which characterised Western polities. This would seem to suggest that, again except in Taiwan, parties of notables tend to prevail, a conclusion which is reinforced by the fact that parties in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand at least and, seemingly to an extent, in Indonesia as well, tend to have regional or local bases and a strong dose of personal relations which might be regarded as clientelistic. Yet, before deciding whether such a categorisation is valid, three points need to be borne in mind. The first concerns the differences between these societies and those of Western Europe over a century ago. Politics may be rooted in regional relationships, but the regionalism which characterises East and Southeast Asian pluralistic polities does not lead to an indirect relationship between electors and the national leadership as it did in Western Europe. The ties between electors and the national leadership are direct, not indirect. The leaders to which electors refer may have a regional implantation, but they are national leaders. This state of affairs reflects the fact that the social structure of late twentieth century Korea, the Philippines, Thailand or Indonesia cannot be equated to the social structure of Western Europe towards the middle or even the later part of the nineteenth century. The societies of East and Southeast Asia which have become pluralistic from the 1980s are not or no longer ‘peasant’ societies where lack of mobility is the rule. The whole population may not be directly affected by social change, but social change has been such in the course of the last decades of the twentieth century that few will have totally escaped the indirect consequences of this change. Developments in communications and in particular in electronic communication processes cannot but have had an effect on large segments of the electorate. These ‘revolutions’ in technology have had a strong impact on the relationship between citizens and parties; there may be some forms of clientelism, but it is a kind of ‘national clientelism’ which differs markedly from the local clientelism which prevailed in many parts of Europe in the early and middle parts of the nineteenth century. Second, the view that Western European parties were ‘parties of notables’ in the second half of the nineteenth century is based on the notion that clientelism was indeed prevalent at the time because the relationship between electors and parties was mediated by local leaders who had a personal hold on these electors; this was indeed the reason why the parties were essentially local or regional. This is only part of the story, however; there were also – and indeed there had been for a long time – ‘nationalising’ tendencies in party developments in Western Europe. The passage from the ‘party of notables’ to the ‘mass party’ has been a complex one, but it has been one in which ‘latent’ or even ‘dormant’ cleavages have played a large part. For instance, in Britain, the political division between Whigs and Tories at the beginning of the nineteenth century and several decades later may have been based on the fact that, at the local level, what counted was the relationship between members of the aristocracy and the population (most of whom did not even have the vote); but there was also a ‘national’ cleavage, originating at least

56 Jean Blondel from the civil war and therefore linked to an extent to religious divisions, between those members of the aristocracy who were Whigs and those who were Tories. Similar points can be made about party cleavages on the Continent, with two differences: first, developments occurred later and took more often the shape of a division between those among the ‘better classes’ who sustained the traditional system and those who were progressive; second, many of these developments constituted imitations of Britain, as that country was widely regarded, at least among the liberals, as the most advanced, politically and economically. It is therefore an oversimplification to claim that there were no cleavages in Europe at the time; it is more correct to state that the cleavages were not perceived by the mass of the population – only the ‘notables’ and those who were close to them had such a level of ‘consciousness’ – but the cleavages did to an extent pre-exist the development of the mass parties. This is vastly different from what occurs in the pluralistic democracies of East and Southeast Asia which are studied here, where cleavages based on the nature of the state or on class, have simply not existed, while cleavages based on ethnicity emerged essentially in Taiwan and cleavages based on ethnicity and religion emerged in a peripheral manner only in the Philippines and Indonesia. What is more important in this respect is the fact that four of the five countries were colonies of Japan, the Netherlands or Spain and later of the United States up to the Second World War: by and large there were just no long ‘calm’ periods during which national cleavages could develop; on the contrary, the colonial powers reduced or attempted to eliminate any cleavages which might lead to a ‘national consciousness’. Indeed, the ‘ethnic’ cleavage emerged in Taiwan after the end of colonial rule; it was the result of the defeat of the nationalists in 1949, many of whom came to the island to escape the Communist take-over. Thailand was not subjected to colonialism and thus constitutes a partial exception, in that it is the country of the group in which clientelism has come closest to being ‘traditional’. Third, the political developments which occurred in most of Western Europe took place on the basis of a gradual and often very slow democratisation of the polities; by and large, the countries of that region moved from a situation in which traditional oligarchies dominated to one in which the people came to have a significant say. This evolution was typically not interrupted by periods of dictatorship; even less was it the case that a long period of dictatorship was suddenly followed by the introduction of democracy. In Western Europe, France was the one major exception to this pattern; Spain was shaken by ‘coups’ of a military character in the course of the nineteenth century, admittedly, but only in France were truly ‘modern’ authoritarian regimes established at the time, both at the beginning and in the middle of that century. What the effect of a substantial period of ‘modern’ authoritarianism may be on the development of liberal democracy in general and of political parties in particular is not altogether clear and it is unquestionably complex. At a minimum the experience of authoritarianism must result in the move to liberal democracy being somewhat difficult and even chaotic. Admittedly, in the late twentieth century, some of the East-Central European polities appear to have moved out

Parties and party systems 57 of Communism without finding it too difficult to create what can be broadly regarded as mass parties based on national cleavages; but this has not been the case everywhere, and in particular in the states which emerged from the break-up of the Soviet Union. Nor does this evolution seem to have characterised many Latin American countries, both before and after the 1980s (Mainwaring and Scully, 1995). The case of France is instructive in this regard. The political difficulties which the country experienced since the establishment of the Third Republic in 1870 have unquestionably been due in substantial part to the legacy of the authoritarianism of the two Napoleons; France is indeed the Western European country in which parties have been weakest. Most of them have had a difficult life, especially but not exclusively on the Right. Some have been based on local notables and had little organisation, a state of affairs which lasted much longer in France than elsewhere in Western Europe; meanwhile, other parties have sprung up suddenly on the basis of the strength of national leaders attempting to ‘rally’ – often for a short period only – a substantial electorate, as if the country had difficulty in shaking off the consequences of authoritarianism altogether. It is therefore important to examine the possible influence of the authoritarian legacy on parties in East and Southeast Asia. It is sometimes suggested, in Korea for instance, that the regional character of parties is ‘functional’ to democracy because it constitutes a counter to the centralisation of the state. That is clearly not the only effect of party localism, but that does mean that we must also examine how parties may have grown under authoritarian rule in order to see how far the effect of such a rule may continue to be significant, in contrast to what happened in Western Europe, except, as was pointed out, in France. Hence the need to look first at the development of parties and party systems in those polities of the region which have remained ‘semi-pluralistic’, Malaysia and Singapore, before returning to a closer analysis of these developments in the pluralistic polities of the region which are examined here. Parties and policy-making It has also been suggested in East and Southeast Asia that the advent of liberal democracy would reduce economic development, on the grounds that demands made on and pressed by social groups would prevent governments from following single-mindedly the kind of policy of economic growth which they had pursued in the past. Evidence collected earlier has suggested that there was little evidence, if any, for this standpoint (Marsh et al., 1999). Yet the matter concerns parties directly, since parties are one of the major ways in which economic demands can be pressed on governments. One must therefore examine whether the parties of the countries analysed here have been willing in the past and continue to be willing at present to affect significantly the broad economic goals pursued by the countries of East and Southeast Asia during the last decades of the twentieth century. In general, countries have to be pluralistic for parties to be able and willing to be concerned in shaping economic policy-making. Thus, only those semi-pluralistic polities in which parties enjoy some autonomy with respect to governments might

58 Jean Blondel be concerned with the question; this means in practice Malaysia in the context of the polities which are analysed here. On the other hand, the question can be expected to be relevant in the context of the polities of the region which have become fully pluralistic; it needs therefore to be considered with respect to all of them and in particular to the four which have been pluralistic since the 1980s: Korea, the Philippines, Taiwan and Thailand.

II The characteristics of parties and party systems in semi-pluralistic polities in East and Southeast Asia: the cases of Malaysia and Singapore Basic similarities in the political background of the two semi-pluralistic countries of the region Ostensibly, the semi-pluralistic countries of East and Southeast Asia, Malaysia and Singapore, differ markedly from each other. The contrast is sharp between Malaysia and Singapore; Singapore is a city-state of three million inhabitants squeezed between Indonesia and the Federation of Malaysia, to which it belonged for two years, between 1963 and 1965. At that point it was ejected from the Federation, which remained as a result composed of twelve states with a total population of 18 million, two of these states being outside the Peninsula. However different their size and population may be, the two countries have key characteristics in common. First, they are close to each other and this proximity has generated a degree of fear. Malaysia forced Singapore out of the Federation largely because of a different ethnic balance between the two sides: Singapore’s population is 77 per cent Chinese; Malaysia’s population is 61 per cent Malay. This has resulted not only in major enmity between the two countries, an enmity only partially healed since the 1960s and an enmity based on fear, which the government has exploited to an extent, that the country might be invaded; Singapore had therefore to be prepared militarily and, perhaps more importantly, united politically. The proximity of Indonesia has also been a cause for concern in Singapore as well as in Malaysia; this has been so both when Indonesia was politically strong and when it was politically weak as during the last years of the Sukarno regime, in the early part of the 1960s and in the late 1990s when Suharto was forced to resign in a context of movements of a secessionist character, in East Timor but also elsewhere, for instance among the Aceh in Northern Sumatra. Yet Singapore and Malaysia do not merely have physical proximity as a common feature. They have also social and especially political characteristics which distinguish them from the pluralistic countries of the region; both have ‘semi-pluralistic’ political systems. Their governments have kept, as a result of genuine beliefs or on grounds of expediency, the most basic features of liberaldemocratic regimes – and in particular competitive elections among a number of parties – but they have also reduced this competition in such a way that one party, in the case of Singapore, and one coalition, in the case of Malaysia, have been continuously in power and indeed have not been in real danger of losing power,

Parties and party systems 59 except possibly in one case, in 1969, in Malaysia. This has been achieved by means of a variety of restrictions, ranging from the election campaign being extremely short – a few days – and from legal and financial limitations on the campaigning of the opposition parties to major constraints on the media, on meetings and on demonstrations and to the harassment – in particular through prosecutions – of members of opposition parties. There are substantial variations in the extent to which these restrictions obtain, admittedly; Malaysia is less restrictive while Singapore is de facto, because of its small size, restrictive in an insidious manner. Yet there does remain a degree of pluralism in the electoral process, a process which is, at one level, fair, in that the restrictions which have just been listed make it possible for the count to be honest and for the claim that the system is formally democratic to be justified. What needs therefore to be explained is why the political system of both countries is, indeed, ‘semi-pluralistic’, that is to say, not based on a ‘no-party’ or a single party arrangement as in Brunei, Burma, Vietnam or China and yet not fully pluralistic. Without claiming that the semi-pluralistic features of both countries can be fully accounted for, it is at least highly significant to note that, unlike the four polities of East and Southeast Asia which have become fully pluralistic, Singapore, Indonesia and Malaysia are characterised by deep social cleavages which have been widely regarded by their leadership as potentially – and indeed to an extent actually – threatening to the survival of the polity as a unit. These deep social cleavages have had the effect of interrupting the original pluralistic process. We need therefore first to return to what can be described as the common original arrangements at the time of independence before examining how far the social cleavages prevailing in these countries have led to restrictions – but partial restrictions only – to this original pluralism. The liberal-democratic origins of Malaysia and Singapore From 1957 when it became independent, Malaya, and from 1959 when it became self-governing, Singapore, were to be parliamentary democracies. Both were excolonies which had in some sense adopted the political features of the ‘mothercountry’; thus Malaya, later to become Malaysia, and Singapore were to have a prime ministerial form of parliamentary government based on the Westminster model, but modified by ‘consociational’ arrangements, to use Lijphart’s expression, to take into account the ethnic composition of the population. That first liberal phase was interrupted relatively quickly in both countries, however. In Singapore, the pre-self-government years had been characterised by conflicts between pro-Westerners and the People’s Action Party (PAP), founded by Lee Kuan Yew, which was originally supported by and seemingly allied to Communists. Lee Kuan Yew won the 1959 election and, as had been planned, obtained self-government from Britain for the island. He was then induced to accept to join the Federation of Malaysia, independent since 1957, as a condition for his country being granted independence. Meanwhile, he was adamant to ensure that his power would not be seriously challenged, the ostensible ground

60 Jean Blondel being that Singapore, whose ethnic composition was different from and whose population size was markedly smaller than that of Malaysia, would be able to make its voice felt. This led to the elimination of the Communist elements and to the adoption of an economic programme designed to bring about rapid growth; that programme had to be based on the market and not on command, even if the state was to play a key part in directing that market. What finally established Lee Kuan Yew’s power and gave him the opportunity to render opponents ineffective and instore a peculiar form of ‘semi-pluralism’ was the ejection of the country from Malaysia in August 1965; the need for national unity became paramount in what was a ‘war vigil’. What seemed at stake was the very survival of the nation and more specifically of the part played by the Chinese in Singapore; in such circumstances, the people were ready to accept limitations to their freedoms – in the way the British people accepted limitations to their freedoms in 1940. What began as a policy for survival was then gradually transformed into a policy for rapid growth; as Singapore came to have by far the highest per capita income in the region, wealth became regarded, not just as a source of pride and thus as a strong nation-building and regime-supporting element, but as a protection against neighbours and indirectly as a continued, though unspoken, justification for restrictions on freedom. Meanwhile, Malaysia had also introduced restrictions to its political life after a period of truly consociational liberal democracy which started at the time of independence in 1957. The electoral alliance, indeed officially known as ‘the Alliance’, between the main Malay party, UMNO, the main Chinese party, the MCA, and the main Indian party, the MIC, was forged; it ran the country for the next decade in a somewhat paternalistic manner, on the basis of an understanding according to which the Malays were to predominate in politics while the Chinese would constitute the key element in the economy. This led to increasing discontent among Malays; at the 1969 General Election, the Alliance almost lost its majority. The opposition parties, which had expected victory, demonstrated violently at the result; racial riots broke out in the capital. A state of emergency was proclaimed, parliament was temporarily suspended, the avuncular prime minister who had led the country to independence resigned. A degree of coercion based on an Internal Security Act (ISA) was introduced; by the early years of the twenty-first century, the Act had not been abolished. Thus, by the early 1970s, both countries had, to a different extent, abandoned the fully-fledged liberal democracy on which they had been originally based and this was to remain the situation throughout the remaining decades of the twentieth century. The common social bases for semi-pluralism in the two countries: sharply dividing cleavages, patent or somewhat concealed Why, then, did both countries adopt, from the late 1950s to the late 1960s, restrictions on pluralism? Why did these restrictions then remain in force for decades? The desire of some leaders to remain in power at (nearly) all costs has a

Parties and party systems 61 part to play, to be sure. Yet this has to be associated with a widely-held view, at least among the elites, that ‘the system did not function properly’, as this view gave the leaders an excuse as well as political legitimacy to act in the way they did, while reducing the potential strength of their opponents’ challenge. The occasion was different, as we saw, in the two countries, but it did exist. The control which Lee Kuan Yew and the PAP came to exercise on Singapore was directly tied to the fear which the majority ethnic group in the city-state, the Chinese, had of being overwhelmed by their larger neighbour to the North, which meant that they would be dominated by a Malay elite and by Malay ‘values’. Thus, to say the least, a crucial factor in the development of the Singapore regime was ‘communal feelings’. A social cleavage was at the root of the situation, not because the ethnic group which was responsible for the action was being dominated, but because it feared it might be. The case of Malaysia was more straightforward in that, whatever ambitions political leaders may have had, the immediate cause of the abandonment of what had been a relatively easy-going liberal–democratic system was the decline of electoral support for those who practised consociationalism. As it seemed to all ‘responsible’ leaders that the consociational formula had to be maintained, it was its ‘easy-going’ – that is to say fully pluralistic – character which had to give way. As a matter of fact, only later did political leaders use the emergency arrangements for their personal benefit in order to maintain themselves in power; the leader who was in power when the riots took place did in fact draw the obvious conclusion and resigned. Thus what had been in 1965 in Singapore the fear that discrimination by another race might occur was to be in Malaysia in 1969 the fact of racial hatred and the fact of the economic domination by a minority race over the more ‘backward’ ‘indigenous’ majority. There is therefore, in Malaysia, a direct link between restrictions on liberal democracy and a sharp social cleavage, a cleavage which is ethnic and religious, since Malays are Muslims and the Chinese and Indians are not; that cleavage indeed also comes close to being class-based. The example of Malaysia does therefore seem to show that ‘plural societies’ are very difficult to run on a democratic basis (Rabushka and Shepsle, 1971). As in plural societies elsewhere, the solution seemed to be to reduce the most overt consequences of these problems by making it more difficult for dissenters to express themselves. It is only overtly that the direct impact of social cleavages on political life is largest in Malaysia, however. Social cleavages have also been at the root of profound divisions in Singapore. The fear provoked by the external threat was perhaps even more profound in that country; it was unquestionably more widespread, given the limited size of that nation-state. The Chinese majority could therefore be mobilised to defend its identity. Malaysia and Singapore thus introduced restrictions to liberal democracy after a period of liberalism – indeed of parliamentary government – as the original regime appeared unable to cope with the problems arising directly or indirectly from the sharp social cleavages which prevailed in these polities. Such a move away from the pluralistic system is far from having been exceptional at the time

62 Jean Blondel among ‘developing’ countries; as a matter of fact, perhaps the relative originality of the two countries is that they remained ‘semi-pluralistic’ instead of becoming straightforwardly authoritarian. We need therefore to examine the characteristics of party systems in the two countries and see how different were the restrictions to which these systems were subjected. Parties and party systems in Singapore and Malaysia The variations in the characteristics of parties and party systems have been marked. In Singapore, a near single-party system has prevailed, the opposition parties being small and often harassed. In Malaysia, a dominant consociational coalition of a number of parties has represented the three ethnic-cum-religious groups in the society, while the opposition has been composed of parties which have tended to be more radical in the defence of each ethnic group and have therefore been to a large extent in conflict with each other; they have had little chance of winning the federal election against the dominant coalition as a result, though they have occasionally won at state level. Singapore Prima facie, it seems surprising that Singapore should be the country of the area where restrictions to political competition have been strongest. It has by far the highest per capita income of the three countries and liberal democracy is generally associated with high per capita incomes (Vanhanen, 1984, 2003). Singapore can also be expected to display the highest level of national unity, despite the fact that Malays and Indians constitute substantial minorities; at any rate, after over three decades of continued economic growth, the likelihood that dissent would tear apart the foundations of the state seems remote. For a short period after the founder of the Republic, Lee Kuan Yew, abandoned the position of prime minister to become ‘merely’ ‘senior minister’ in 1990 and ‘minister mentor’ in 2004, a degree of liberalisation seemed allowed by the new leader; rapidly, however, traditional practices were again in force. In effect, no substantial opposition party has existed in the country; the opposition is divided into a number of small groupings in which some individuals under the banner of a party fight separately the ruling People’s Action Party. They do so in a few constituencies only; the majority of these are not contested, thus 47 MPs out of 83 were returned unopposed at the 1997 election and 55 MPs out of 90 at the 2004 election. The first-past-the-post system facilitates the dominance of the PAP whether, as originally, in the context of single-member constituencies or subsequently on the basis of multi-member districts, the change having been introduced officially to ensure a fairer ethnic distribution of MPs. Where contests do occur, the PAP obtains between 60 and 65 per cent of the votes; were the opposition able to fight every constituency without restriction and to do so in a united manner, it would clearly have won more than the one or two seats which it manages to gain, especially as time went on.

Parties and party systems 63 The specific character of each opposition party is therefore of limited significance. The Singapore Democratic Party is the oldest; it was founded in 1980. It did not win any seats in 1997 or 2004, any more than the National Solidarity Party or the Democratic Progressive Party. The only two which won a seat each in 2004 were the Workers’ Party and the Singapore Democratic Alliance. What the experience of Singapore shows is that a marked degree of control coupled with a massive improvement of the economic conditions of the population can be fully effective in a city-state, a point which Rousseau did not appear to realise when he claimed that democracy was not possible in a large country. Small states are also places – as Calvin’s Geneva had indeed already shown – where a rigorous control of the population can be achieved (Rousseau, 1762). Malaysia The political system of Malaysia has consistently been closer to pluralism. The party system is truly competitive, even after the Internal Security Act (ISA) was introduced following the race riots of 1970; but, as a result, opposition campaigning has been subjected to serious limitations: the election campaign itself is very short; meetings and demonstrations are curtailed while the media are markedly slanted in favour of the government. Candidates are sometimes harassed, including to an extent the supporters of the government parties, the Anwar case of 1999 being a prominent example. Yet the victory of the government is not only due to these restrictions; it is not even principally due to the single-member first-past-the-post system; there is opposition and the opposition wins in many districts. What has consistently worked to the advantage of the government coalition is the fact that the opposition is divided primarily into Muslim and Chinese parties which are more clearly ‘communal’ than the government parties; this is particularly so of the Malay-oriented PAS and the Chinese-based DAP. As a result, before 1999, the opposition was never truly united; yet, even in 1999, when an Alternative front was set up in the wake of the Anwar trial, the government coalition (which included fourteen parties) took 148 of the 193 seats of the legislature; some unease has remained within the various communities about the extent to which the opposition parties could really unite in practice. In 1999, as in 1990 when something approaching a joint opposition strategy had been adopted, the government was helped by the fact that it occupied the centre of the political spectrum on the basis of its consociational arrangement between UMNO, the MCA and the MIC. Its policies have tended to be proMalay, especially under Mahathir, who had been prime minister since 1981; but efforts have been made to continue to defend the interests of Chinese and Indians as well. Indeed, in 2004, at the first election which took place after the resignation of Mahathir and his replacement by Abdullah, the coalition won decisively. Thus Malaysia provides an example of consociationalism among three main ethnic parties. There has also been more participation within the Malay party than in the PAP in Singapore. In one sense, UMNO is more than a party, it is part of the state and it has some of the characteristics of parties in well-

64 Jean Blondel structured single-party systems. Its assets are vast and it is a holding company for large numbers of enterprises. Yet it has also a very large membership (2.7 million members in 1997) and it has branches across the country. It displays a degree of internal democracy; the election of its delegates to the National Congress is often contested. Indeed Anwar competed against Mahathir in a leadership election in the 1990s, the popularity of the challenger of the prime minister being perhaps one of the reasons accounting for his subsequent prosecution. Given a substantial degree of internal membership participation within the government parties, given consociational arrangements among the three ethnic communities and given the sizable strength of some of the opposition parties which have been able to take power in a few of the states, Malaysia is ostensibly more pluralistic and in particular more institutionally pluralistic than Singapore. Yet the Malaysian government does not appear in serious danger of being toppled or even closely challenged by the opposition, any more than the Singapore government. Singapore and Malaysia have thus retained their ‘classic’ ‘semi-pluralistic’ characteristics. In both cases, the party system faces – but has not solved – the need to provide a mechanism to handle ethnic conflicts in a truly open manner. Whether Singapore and Malaysia can indefinitely postpone the issue by means of restrictions to the rights of the opposition both between and during election campaigns is subject to serious doubt. Parties and policy-making in Singapore and Malaysia In such a context, in particular in Singapore, it is not surprising that parties should not have put forward serious alternatives to governmental policies. In that country, government and bureaucracy have been accustomed to decide autonomously what public policy will be, the PAP being expected to agree to and if necessary to defend the proposed policies. As the opposition plays a rather greater part in Malaysia, the situation is somewhat different; the government parties – and in particular UMNO – have had to put forward policies likely to appeal to the electorate. Thus the proMalay policies adopted in particular since the 1980s – which have led more than occasionally to serious conflict between UMNO and its coalition partners – have been introduced in the context of the perceived discontent of a part of the Malay population about the alleged ‘domination’ of the economy by the Chinese minority. As a result, Malaysia came to follow a more ‘dirigiste’ and more nationalistic economic policy than Singapore. The policy has been pursued by the government, to be sure, a policy in which prime minister Mahathir has clearly believed. Yet both the opposition and grassroots members of UMNO have also played a part. To this extent as well, Malaysian parties have had features which made them more similar to parties in fully pluralistic polities than have the parties of the other two ‘semi-pluralistic’ polities of the region.

Parties and party systems 65 A case of artificially-sustained mass parties The dominant parties of Singapore and Malaysia have been strong. These parties have had mass memberships, although the true state of affairs has been less easy to detect in the case of Singapore than in that of Malaysia, where at least UMNO has had large numbers of ‘real’ members. However, even in Malaysia, parties are not genuine mass parties; the key organisations are ‘propped up’ by providing access to a vast array of advantages and to many careers, while members of the opposition parties are likely to suffer, at least to an extent, from their affiliation. Thus, as Eastern European Communist parties before 1990, the dominant parties of the two countries have been ‘artificially sustained’, albeit to a varying degree, that artificial character being more marked in Singapore than in Malaysia. The fact that these countries are those within the region which are also most obviously plural societies is unquestionably at the root of this somewhat artificial character of the party system. Plural societies are typically regarded as being potentially more explosive unless they are, in a more or less subtle fashion, controlled from above. If they have parties at all, these parties are likely to be artificially sustained and artificially regulated, whether or not they have overtly the characteristics of mass parties.

III Parties and party systems in the five ‘new’ pluralistic polities of East and Southeast Asia: Taiwan, Korea, the Philippines, Thailand and Indonesia Since the 1980s, in contrast with Singapore and Malaysia, Taiwan and Korea came to be fully pluralistic for the first time in their history, the Philippines returned to a liberal regime in 1986 and the military appeared to cease to wish to play a prominent part in Thai politics, the last occasion in which it intervened, indeed very briefly, being in 1992. Indonesia became a pluralistic polity after the fall of Suharto in 1998 and a fully liberal-democratic system by 2004. The only other country of the area which could be regarded as having moved towards a pluralist political system is Cambodia, but the conditions under which that move was made as a result of international pressure and the difficulties which the opposition has experienced since the late 1990s, suggest that pluralism is still very fragile in that country. Yet the features of the parties in at least four of the new pluralistic polities appear to be at some variance from those of Western parties, as was indicated earlier in this chapter, in part because these parties are highly regionalised and in part because social cleavages do not appear to be relevant. Only Taiwan seems to have mass parties; how the parties of the other four countries can be categorised is somewhat problematic. We shall therefore first examine the case of Taiwan to identify the factors which have led to the rapid development of mass parties in that country; we shall then turn to the other four countries to see how far the parties and party systems of these polities have to be regarded as different in character from those of other pluralistic polities.

66 Jean Blondel Taiwan The swift move of Taiwan from a single-party system controlled by the Kuomintang (KMT) to a two-and-a-half party system in the second half of the 1980s has been astounding. In 1985, the KMT was the only party allowed to present candidates at elections; seven years later, in 1992, the two-party system was fully operative, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) being the established challenger and obtaining 30 per cent of the votes; a third party, the New Party (NP) was set up by dissatisfied members of the KMT in 1993. In 1996, the KMT’s candidate to the presidency obtained 54 per cent of the votes ‘only’; in 2000, the DPP won the presidency against a divided KMT, on a plurality basis, with 40 per cent of the votes, the incumbent DPP president, Chen Shui-bian, succeeding in being reelected, by a wafer-thin majority, in a straight fight against the KMT candidate, Lien Chan, in 2004. An effective party system based on mass parties The three main parties for which Taiwanese electors vote can be said to be mass parties in the sense which is usually given to that expression; they, and in particular the KMT and the DPP (the other parties being smaller, unstable and seemingly more closely associated to personalities), have three characteristics of mass parties: party identification is strong; ethnicity constitutes a key social cleavage leading to a distinction between the two main parties; issues play a significant part and in particular the issue of Taiwan independence. A study of the 1992 election conducted by Professor I-Chou Liu noted: ‘Some earlier studies of Taiwanese voters indicated that party did not play an important role in influencing voting behaviour, compared to other variables, such as candidates’ positions on discrete issues or their personalities’ (Tien, 1996, p. 227); the author then continues: ‘Surveys by the China Times between 1986 and 1989 documented the development of a stable distribution of bipartisan attitudes among the public’ (p. 228) and he concludes: ‘recent studies show that partisan affiliation is a good predictor of voting behavior’ (p. 229). Party identification develops on the basis of underlying social cleavages; such has been the case in Taiwan. The key factor is constituted by what is described in the literature as ‘ethnicity’, though, in this case, ethnicity refers to the distinction between ‘Mainlanders’, who came in 1949 when the Chiang Kai-shek regime was defeated and who constitute about 15 per cent of the population, and the ‘Taiwanese’ proper. Despite the fact that both groups had by then received the same educational system and shared the same political culture, 97 per cent of the Mainlanders voted KMT in 1992 as against 66 per cent of the Taiwanese while the other 34 per cent voted DPP (ibid., p. 234). This contrast stems in large part from the resentment which a substantial proportion of the Taiwanese population felt vis-à-vis Mainlanders who tended to occupy key positions, both in politics and in business. As late as 1985, 72 per cent of the leaders of the KMT at the level of the whole island were mainlanders. Indeed, Taiwanese only became a majority of the members in 1975, 25 years after

Parties and party systems 67 the Kuomintang came to dominate the island. President Lee did most, especially after the death in 1988 of Chiang’s son, Chian Ching-kuo, who had succeeded his father, to ‘Taiwanese’ the party, but that party remained for a long time – and is regarded by many as remaining – ‘the’ party of the Mainlanders. The domination of the Mainland elements was not merely political; it was economic as well. Taiwan has been exceptional among East and Southeast Asian countries for having developed an economy based on the strength and dynamism of small and medium-sized enterprises, including in foreign trade; yet this development is partly the consequence of the discrimination suffered by the ‘indigenous’ Taiwanese as large-scale enterprises tended to belong to the state and were as a result dominated, directly or indirectly, by the KMT which, as UMNO in Malaysia, was a holding company. Big business being largely in the hands of Mainlanders, ‘indigenous’ Taiwanese had to concentrate on small and mediumsized business. As a result, the ‘ethnic’ question has been to an extent associated with a class distinction. Moreover, the ethnic cleavage is articulated in terms of issues and in particular, not surprisingly, in terms of the issue of the independence of the island. There is a sharp contrast between the 78 per cent of those who are in favour of Taiwan independence having voted DPP in 1992 and the 86 per cent of those who are in favour of unification with China or the 76 per cent of those who are in favour of the status quo having voted KMT (Tien, 1996, pp. 234, 95). As a matter of fact, the conflict was so strong that the independence issue led to serious divisions within the DPP; under grassroots pressure and against the advice of its senior members, the party adopted independence as part of its platform for the 1996 election. The leadership did retreat subsequently, for instance during the presidential campaign of 2000. Chen did state before his election and afterwards that the question of independence was not on the agenda, but the DPP remains the party most closely associated with this stand. Moreover, other issues distinguish the two main parties; these give the DPP a more ‘progressive’ outlook than the KMT, for instance on land tax reform or on the environment (Tien, 1996, pp. 92–3). Meanwhile, however, the DPP always avoided criticising the economic policy of the KMT government, a policy which was in any case altered over the years in favour of small and medium-sized businesses; but the DPP has been keenly aware of the value of the mixed private–public economic policy which brought about prosperity to the island and has indeed given Taiwan an economic status in the world which few members of the society would be ready to challenge. Thus nothing is likely to be conceived, let alone adopted, by what was since 1986 the main opposition party and became from 2000 the party of the president to put forward any significant change in the direction of the economic policy. The institutional factors accounting for Taiwan’s competitive mass party system The existence of a marked cleavage between Mainlanders and Taiwanese did provide the basis for a sharp distinction between the two main parties of the island; but the emergence of stable mass parties would not have been as rapid, nor would

68 Jean Blondel the country have, so to speak, avoided having had ‘parties of notables’ of a marked regionalised character had it not been for two crucial features of Taiwanese politics since the 1960s; these are the fact that the KMT had a very large membership, in a manner somewhat analogous to that of UMNO in Malaysia, on the one hand, and, on the other, the fact that the KMT, in order to maintain its power, used and integrated many local notables who came to be referred to as ‘local factions’. The KMT was a single party: no other party was allowed to compete for elections; it was also, as UMNO, a party with a very large membership and a party which allowed a moderate extent of pluralism within itself, at least from the 1960s and 1970s. In 1969, it had 950,000 members or 11 per cent of the 8.4 million inhabitants of the island at the time; by 1992, its membership had grown to 2.6 million or nearly 17 per cent of the 15.4 million inhabitants of the country. Its membership has continued to grow since 1986 in absolute numbers, though not in percentage, when the way was cleared for other parties to be legally set up (Tien, 1996, p. 115). Perhaps surprisingly, given its electoral performance, the DPP never had a large membership; it still had slightly less than 50,000 members in 1995 (Sachsenroeder and Frings, II, 1998, p. 195). Although it was a single party before 1986, the KMT did give the Taiwanese a degree of choice; from the 1950s, before candidates were selected, ‘inquiries’ were conducted among local members for the suitability of these candidates (Tien, 1996, p. 125). Moreover, a quasi-opposition was allowed to play a substantial part in elections; from 1977, party members could run for office without having to receive an official nomination (Tien, 1996, p. 61). Thus the one-party system was formally abolished in 1986 after various groups had fought KMT candidates at elections for many years, the most important of these groups being the Tangwai (Tien, 1996, p. 11). In the 1980s, the KMT became fully democratised internally, both in terms of the selection of members of the Central Committee and in terms of the selection of its candidates, who came to be chosen by primaries, admittedly closed ones. These developments thus complemented, rather than anticipated, the opening up of the party system which took place in 1986. The KMT has also since then been forced to abandon a substantial proportion of its economic assets, though it is likely to remain for a substantial period a somewhat different type of party from the others. Yet the element which played perhaps the more important part in the development of Taiwanese politics was the ‘nationalisation’ of political life which resulted from the strategy adopted by the KMT with respect to notables. The party realised that it needed the support of locally influential persons, but it did not want to share political power with them. A bargain was therefore struck which was based on a trade-off between economic advantages given to the notables and political power remaining with the KMT (Tien, 1996, pp. 176–7). Members of the ‘local factions’ benefited in particular from the ‘zoning laws or public construction schemes’ (p. 177). Gradually, members of these factions did acquire some political influence, admittedly, for instance in nomination processes, as they were asked increasingly to mobilise voters in favour of the KMT. They did become therefore somewhat politicised, but within the KMT: it was too late for them to contribute

Parties and party systems 69 to the regionalisation of politics; but they did ‘factionalise’ the KMT to an extent, as occurred in the LDP in Japan, indeed on the basis of the same electoral system as the one which was in force in Japan at the time. Thus the association of these local notables within the KMT resulted in the ‘nationalisation’ of political life; it was through the KMT, that is to say through a national party and not through some alliance between notables, that politics came to develop. Political life had thus already begun to be internally pluralistic before the ban on party pluralism was lifted in 1986. It was pluralistic both within and alongside the KMT and it had a national rather than a localised character. The existence of the ‘ethnic’ cleavage ensured that the DPP would be solidly anchored in the social structure and gave strength to the crucial issue of independence (and at least autonomy) associated with this cleavage. The pluralistic party system of Taiwan is therefore truly based on the competition between ‘mass parties’, in a way which was to be different from what occurred in the other newly pluralistic polities of the region: Korea, the Philippines, Thailand and Indonesia. The absence of national social cleavages in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand While Indonesia became pluralistic at the end of the twentieth century, a liberaldemocratic system had been put in place in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand from the 1980s, but the parties in these three countries did not become mass parties. They lack at least two of the key features which characterise such parties. Voters do not divide on the basis of social cleavages, nor do major issues divide these parties nationally and account for voting patterns: hence the prima facie impression that parties in these three countries are ‘parties of notables’, as was the case in many parts of Europe in the nineteenth century or in the first decades of the twentieth. Party structures in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand Parties of notables are expected to be primarily locally-based or regionally-based, not national: parties in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand have indeed typically been markedly regionalised; yet they have also four important other features. They are ‘fluid’: their supporters and in particular their elected representatives often leave a party to join another. Their organisation is weak: what is supposed to exist may have little relationship with reality. They are not associated with recognisable policies: their policies are those which their leaders find expedient to put forward at different points in time. Finally and above all, most of these parties are the property of their leaders who often created them. Regionalism is the most obvious feature of parties in all three countries. In Korea, at the 1997 presidential election, the three candidates received respectively 40, 39 and 19 per cent of the vote; but the successful candidate, Kim

REGIONALISM

70 Jean Blondel Dae Jung, obtained as little as 11 to 15 per cent of the votes in the Southeast of the country while gaining between 92 and 97 per cent of the votes in Southwest. Lee Hae Chong, who was to be narrowly defeated, obtained between 2 and 4 per cent of the votes in the Southwest but 51 to 55 per cent of the votes in the Southeast, while the performance of the third candidate oscillated between 1 and 2 per cent in the Southwest, 30 per cent in the Southeast and 29 per cent in the Centre (Marsh et al., 1999, pp. 151–5). In the Philippines, ‘the political base of Lakas [one of the three major parties] is in two large and strategic provinces which are the strongholds of its top leaders’ (Marsh et al., 1999, p. 178); ‘the geographical strongholds of LAMMP [another large party, indeed a coalition] are identical with the zones of influence of its top leaders’ (p. 181). In Thailand also, the representation of the parties has varied markedly on a regional basis, at least up to the 2001 election. In 1995, for instance, over half the MPs of the oldest and second largest party, the Democrat Party, came from the South of the country; the other parties obtained only five seats out of 51 in that region. At that election, too, the largest party, Chart Thai, obtained 44 of its 92 seats in the Central region of the country. All but eight of the 53 seats obtained by the Chart Pattana Party were obtained in the North and Northeast and 36 of the 57 seats of the New Aspiration Party were obtained in the same two regions (Sachsenroeder and Frings, 1998, p. 418). The 2001 election did modify that situation to the extent that, for the first time, a party, the TRT or ‘Thais love Thailand’ of Thaksin Shinawatra, obtained nearly the absolute majority of seats in parliament and again in 2005. The regional character of the parties is associated with a considerable amount of ‘fluidity’ from one party to another. Party labels matter little, especially in Korea but also in the other two countries. Thus, in Korea, a merger of three parties took place in 1990, but break ups occurred a few years afterwards. As Ahn and Jaung state, ‘parties have scarcely become institutionalised during the 1980s and 1990s. They have all been unstable …; every significant party has experienced a merger, has split, or has disappeared’ (Marsh et al., 1999, p. 151). Similarly, in 2003, President Roh abandoned his own party, the Millennium Party, to join a new organisation, URI, at the expense of the older one. The same occurs in the Philippines, despite the fact that the country had, before the Marcos dictatorship, two historical parties, the Nationalist Party and the Liberal Party; since 1986, there have been break ups and mergers. Two of the main parties, Lakas and LAMMP, were set up in 1992 and 1997 respectively, the latter being formed as a coalition of three parties and one of its leaders being an ex-leader of the third large party in the country, the Labang ng Demokratikong (LDP) (Marsh et al., 1999, p. 176), but the panorama became different when Mrs Arroyo stood for re-election in 2004. In Thailand, creations and ups and downs of parties are frequent, the Democrat Party being the only exception, although it, too, experienced losses of prominent members. Thus the Chart Thai Party moved from 108 MPs in 1983 to 39 in 1996; the Palang Dharm Party was an extreme case: it had 14 deputies in 1988, 47 in 1992 and 0 in 1996. The TRT party (‘Thais

PARTY ‘FLUIDITY’

Parties and party systems 71 love Thailand’), which emerged victorious at the 2001 election, was the creation of its leader, Thaksin Shinawatra, hitherto a very successful businessman but not a very successful politician, having led the somewhat obscure Palang Dharma Party in 1995–6 although he had also been a prominent member of the cabinet in 1994–5 and 1995–7. In such a context, it is not surprising that the parties should have little organisation. A partial exception is the Democrat Party in Thailand, which has had 300,000 members and 150 registered branches; yet even that figure is small by comparison with the size of the population of the country (over 60 million) and it contrasts with the millions of members of UMNO in Malaysia and of the KMT in Taiwan. All the other Thai parties have been loose organisations. For the Philippines, Velasco states: ‘Their mass membership [of the parties] is low and their organisational structure limited. As before 1972, the parties are loose coalitions of provincial and regional political clans put together to contest elections’ (Marsh et al., 1999, p. 176). This echoes the point made by Ahn and Jaungs about Korea: ‘Nor are Korean parties complex organisations. They may appear to have subunits, but these exist only on paper’ (Marsh et al., 1999, p. 151).

LACK OF ORGANISATION

The parties in the three countries cannot be said to have consistent policies. There are some variations, but, by and large, the policies which are put forward correspond to what the leaders suggest from time to time; there are no ideological underpinnings, but purely pragmatic stands. As Sachsenroeder and Frings state for Thailand, ‘the difference between them [the parties], as many academics and experts point out, is in style not in essence’ (1998, p. 415). It is not clear that prime minister Thaksin’s ‘populism’ constitutes in reality a genuine policy either. In the Philippines, even if what were regarded as the ‘excesses’ of Estrada led to his impeachment and his replacement by his vice-president, not from the same party, Mrs Macapagal, what is said by Velasco about the lack of party policies goes in the same direction as what has been found for Thailand: ‘Erratic personal styles and ambitions rather than firmer policy positions become the driving force of most parties’ (Marsh et al., 1999, p. 184). An equivalent point can be made about Korea: admittedly, at the 1997 presidential election, Kim Dae Jung emphasised the need to act in order to get the country out of the financial crisis; but five years earlier, in 1992, Kim Young Sam had also said that Korea should take a new course against the corruption and authoritarianism of previous leaders. On such a basis, it is not surprising that parties should not be expected to affect the economic policies pursued in their respective country. As in Taiwan, but more because of the ‘fluidity’ of the parties than in order to follow the wishes of the electorate, the parties are essentially passive on the economic front. Admittedly, the depth of the financial crisis of the late 1990s forced party leaders to take stands and, in particular, to declare that they would fight corruption; but the point was

POLICIES

72 Jean Blondel not to propose alternative economic policies, it was rather to attempt to bring back the kind of economic prosperity which the countries of the region had known continuously during the previous decades. In reality, parties exist, change their nature, survive or decline because of their leaders. In Korea during the 1980s and 90s, the competition between the political parties was in practice the competition between ‘the three Kims’, two of whom, Kim Young Sam and Kim Dae Jung, became presidents respectively in 1992 and 1997, while the third, Kim Jong Pil, became prime minister during the first part of the presidency of Kim Dae Jung, as part of an arrangement between these two leaders which enabled Kim Dae Jung to win the presidency. Similarly, President Roh Moo Hyun, who was elected in November 2002, left his Millennium Party to join the URI party, as a result of which the Millennium Party all but disappeared at the legislative election of 2004. The situation in the Philippines and Thailand is very similar. The parties are in effect ‘owned’ by their leaders. Thus Lakas was set up in 1992 to be ‘Ramos’s vehicle for the presidential election’ (Marsh et al., 1999, p. 178); the coalition which led to the setting up of LAMMP in 1997 was the product of the action of various leaders and in effect enabled Estrada to win the presidency in 1998 (p. 180). In Thailand, all the parties except the Democrat Party, which has known various leaders since its setting up in 1945, are the creations of a leader (or sometimes of two leaders); thus Chart Pattana came into existence because of the desire of an ex-leader of Chart Thai to return to politics (p. 213). This has been above all the case with Thaksin’s TRT.

THE KEY ROLE OF LEADERS

Parties of ‘regionally-based national leaders’ rather than parties of notables The role of leaders is thus very large and often overwhelming. Yet these are not traditional leaders. They typically have a regional base, but they are national, not regional leaders. In his account of the Philippine parties, Velasco suggests that ‘they [the parties] are parties of notables whose main support is drawn from the politically active elite, and hence they are highly decentralised’. This judgement does appear justified on the basis of some of the features of the parties, but the label ‘parties of notables’ does not seem appropriate. A number of important features of the parties suggest that these are somewhat different in character. First, the link between electors and parties (or their leaders) is direct, rather than indirect. Second, there is no real regional cleavage at the root of the regionalisation of the parties in these countries. Third, the leaders are truly national, even if their base tends to be regional; they appeal to a national electorate and dominate their parties nationally. These parties should therefore be described as being dependent on ‘regionally-based national leaders’ rather than on ‘notables’. While some electors are likely to be swayed by ‘notables’ in their voting behaviour, the link between electors and the parties in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand is typically mediated not by local notables but by the top leaders. This

Parties and party systems 73 is evident in the case of Korea; electors have voted for the party of one of the three Kims in order to vote for one of the Kims, not because an intermediate leader asked them to vote for the party of one of the Kims. This is also true of the Philippines, where parties and coalitions have been built to support Ramos or Estrada; these coalitions are set up by a few leaders, admittedly, but these leaders are also national and do not depend on groups of regional or local notables. In Thailand, too, the parties are, as we noted, the creatures of particular leaders and the people vote for these parties because of these leaders; this has been the case of all the parties, even of the better-structured Democrat Party, which has had a number of different leaders since it was set up. It remains to be seen whether the emergence of Thaksin’s party in Thailand constitutes a departure from this model, as it seems on the surface to be since the TRT’s strength did spread all over the country at the 2001 election, though more markedly in rural districts. Voting is not truly regional in character, because there are no truly regional cleavages in these three countries. Leaders are typically associated with a region, but this association does not coincide with the existence of a genuinely regional culture and genuinely regional demands, as for instance in Catalogna or Scotland. Not one of these three countries is politically divided on a regional basis, except to a limited extent the Philippines, where a Muslim minority in the extreme South might have formed the basis for genuinely regional parties, were it not for the fact that many Muslim leaders have chosen the route of the guerrilla rather than that of political representation. In Korea, the Philippines and Thailand, the leaders to whom the voters refer and on the basis of whom they cast their vote are thus national leaders who happen to have a following embedded in a locality or in a region. Thus parties are fluid, not because a number of notables, at the local level, choose to follow a different leader or because leaders with a national stature are abandoned by local notables, but because one or more national leaders decide to form a new alliance for the purpose of winning an election. The key feature of the parties in the three countries is the role of the leadership, but a role which is not embedded in and does not emerge from a traditional social structure, as would be the case if they were ‘notables’; it is a national leadership which uses parties to help achieve its national ambitions. This characteristic, perhaps more than any other, renders these parties difficult if not impossible to analyse within the framework of the ‘classical’ theory of parties. Why Korea, the Philippines and Thailand have parties of ‘regionally-based national leaders’ and not parties based on social cleavages The classical theory of parties gives limited scope to leaders; indeed it gives scope to leadership only in the context of the ‘pre-modern’ phase of parties of notables. Korea, the Philippines and Thailand are not ‘pre-modern’ societies. It would therefore be surprising if they had ‘pre-modern’ parties. We noted earlier that these societies have changed dramatically. These changes have increased mobility in the process; the ‘revolution’ in communications in particular enabled national

74 Jean Blondel leaders to be closer to electors. National leaders may need local notables to help them to win votes, help which has taken many forms, including corrupt practices, as has been noted frequently, especially in relation to Thailand. Yet the notables are not fundamental for the leaders; the national status of these leaders is such that they, not the notables, exercise influence on voters. Two broad sets of reasons account for the fact that, in contrast to the West but also in contrast to Japan and Taiwan, parties of ‘regionally-based national leaders’ have emerged in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand rather than parties based on a social cleavage. First, classical theory underplays the role of leaders, while, on the contrary, even in mass parties or parties of professionals, it is widespread, indeed universal. Western parties are ‘boosted’ by leaders; indeed many of them have been created and dominated by leaders, one of the clearest examples being that of the French Gaullist party; but similar parties can be found elsewhere, in Italy in particular, but also in Scandinavia and Austria. Yet there is a difference between these parties and those which have developed in pluralist East and Southeast Asia: they may be created by prominent leaders, but they tend to become part of the landscape of politics: thus the French Gaullist party dominated for a period the Centre-right half of that landscape. They take stands on what might be regarded as ‘populist’ issues and these stands give an ‘ideological’ flavour to these parties. This is not so in Korea, the Philippines or Thailand. The link between leader and voters remains essentially personal, the TRT in Thailand being rather exceptional except in the stress its leader placed on the need to bring about prosperity; yet even that kind of stand is not ‘ideological’ in the real sense of the word. The parties of Korea, the Philippines or Thailand do not in general put forward a line; they are not associated with any social cleavage. What cannot be explained in terms of the classical theory is thus not only the fact that leaders have great political strength, but, and this is the second problem of the theory, that the strength of leaders is not associated with views, ideas or sentiments relating the parties to the society at large. Why, then, is there not such an association? Part of the answer seems to lie in the fact that divisions in the society do not give rise to political cleavages, but remain latent social divisions only. There may not be significant ethnic divisions in Korea, the Philippines or Thailand, there are divisions between town and country, between rich and poor and, particularly in Korea, between Christians and nonChristians – Christians constituting a quarter of the population in that country. The fact that social distinctions do not lead to political cleavages cannot be regarded as being an ‘Eastern’ characteristic. Political cleavages have emerged in Japan; they emerged recently in Taiwan, as we saw. In Taiwan, the main cleavage has been a kind of ethnicity, to which a class component has been associated. In Japan, religion and class have long played a substantial part in structuring the party system, even if that distinction has, in the same way as in the West, declined in importance. Something has therefore been ‘missing’ in three of the five new liberal democracies of East and Southeast Asia; what has been missing has been the freedom for political cleavages to emerge out of social distinctions. In Western Europe, in

Parties and party systems 75 general, political organisations and associations with strong political leanings, such as trade unions, have developed over a long period in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. These organisations were thus able to mobilise the electorate on the basis of broad social cleavages which became in the process key bases for political distinctions. To a substantial extent, the same evolution took place in Japan; it did not take place in Korea, the Philippines or Thailand. In Korea and Thailand, military rule prevented such cleavages from emerging. In Korea, not only were parties not able to develop freely but trade unions could not act independently to protect workers at the level of the firm, let alone at the political level. Class could therefore not become recognised as a social force. The situation was similar in Thailand, where the military was effectively in control continuously up to the mid-1970s and indeed occasionally during the subsequent period. In the Philippines, parties developed in a liberal context up to 1973; but political life was then truly traditional and localised with the two dominant parties being dominated by notables. The years of the Marcos dictatorship modified substantially the social structure, but political life was stifled by repression. Not only did authoritarian rule prevent the free expression of social divisions from emerging on the political plane, but also there were not even ‘artificiallysustained mass parties’ as in Malaysia or before the 1990s in Taiwan, whose role was to mobilise the electorate in favour of the governmental leadership. The KMT in Taiwan did accustom citizens to belong to a party, as we noted. The KMT obviously did not wish to see an ethnic cleavage emerge to divide indigenous Taiwanese from Mainlanders: this did occur and came to constitute the substantive division of the party system; but the strategy of implantation of the KMT had helped to manage, and reduce the power of, local notables and to politicise the population at large. Korea, the Philippines and Thailand have had no experience of such a politicisation; they had neither the substance nor the instruments which might have led to the development of mass parties or, as was the case in Malaysia and indeed originally in Taiwan, of ‘artificially-sustained’ parties. Moreover, at any rate in the two countries which are presidential (the Philippines) or semi-presidential (Korea), the institutional structure is not likely to create conditions leading to the emergence of mass parties. Presidential and semipresidential systems emphasise the high national stature of the Head of State. They therefore tend to produce and foster leader-based parties, not parties based on social cleavages. Furthermore, the rapid turnover of presidents – every four to six years at most – which results from the rule, adopted in both the Philippines and Korea, that the Head of State cannot stand for re-election, means that, in all the contending political parties, the role of the leaders is continuously strengthened. The situation is in principle different in parliamentary systems, as the head of the government needs the support of MPs and these are not likely to give this support unless government and majority are linked by a common socio-political cleavage. Yet this has not occurred so far in Thailand. There, too, because of the absence of a political tradition in which social cleavages have played an important part, it is difficult, perhaps impossible, for mass parties of the ‘classical’ type to emerge. Thaksin’s ‘landslide’ victory of 2001 is of the same ‘personal’

76 Jean Blondel character as the victories of other leaders in Thailand, Korea and the Philippines; the long-term effect of that victory on the nature of the party system and of the ‘landscape’ of politics in the country may not as a result be very large. The financial crisis which Thailand suffered in the late 1990s was of such a magnitude that it may have been at the origin of Thaksin’s victory; many Thai electors may have wanted to see politics take a different direction from the one it had taken since the beginning of the crisis in 1997. Yet the highly personal basis on which the victory was achieved may not lead to a genuine transformation of the nature of the relationship between people and parties. Indonesia from liberalism to rigid control and from rigid control to liberal-democratic rule There remains one case, that of Indonesia, a country which is in effect an empire of over 200 million people and the fourth most populous state in the world. The future of the country as a single political entity seems sometimes to be in question, not just because of the independence of East Timor and of the civil war in the Aceh region of Sumatra, but because of serious problems in some of the other islands which compose the archipelago. Yet the changes which have occurred in the country since 1998 seem to indicate that genuine pluralism was not leading to increased separatist tendencies. Indonesia did start as a liberal-democratic state. While its first leader, Sukarno, is probably best remembered for having launched the policy of ‘non-alignment’ at a Conference held in Bandung in 1955, in that very year, an entirely free general election resulted in the emergence of three major political parties and a number of smaller ones. The three major parties were a pro-Muslim party, the Masjumi, which was the largest, the National Independence Party of Sukarno himself, which therefore proved unable, unlike the Congress in India, to run the country alone, and the Communist Party, which had a sizeable success and came to be a key player before being regarded, especially by the army, as a major threat. As a matter of fact, the 1955 election was not the beginning, but the beginning of the end of parliamentary democracy in Indonesia; the regime under which the country was ruled since independence had been forced from the Dutch in 1949. That liberal phase was interrupted in 1957 in Indonesia when Sukarno decided to run the country in a ‘presidential’ manner on the basis of a system known as ‘guided democracy’; the parties which had emerged before 1957 declined, except for the Communist party on which Sukarno relied increasingly. This in turn led to a major fear among elements of the army which resulted in the 1965 coup directed by General Suharto. Sukarno was forced out of power and a truly bloody repression of the Communist party took place. Presidentialism was reinforced and a markedly restrictive form of semi-pluralism was introduced based on the dominance of one party, Golkar, and the somewhat artificial creation of two ‘satellite’ parties, one of which was regarded as catering primarily for the Muslim interest. Golkar was set up by merging a large number of social and administrative

Parties and party systems 77 organisations. The main purposes of the party were to support the government and to ensure that the Communist party would no longer be able to make a comeback (Sachsenroeder and Frings, 1998, p. 199). The two other parties were an Islamic party, the PPP, and a nationalist and Christian party, the PDI. The party system was thus controlled and ‘nationalised’; ‘peripheral’ communal movements would not be able to have a political expression and the government would always have a majority. Yet the system also had an appearance of democracy, the two smaller parties being outlets for those citizens who felt that their cultural identity needed to be represented. The restrictions to liberal democracy already started by Sukarno in the late 1950s and harshly pursued by Suharto in 1965 were introduced in a context of political instability, first, and of what was regarded as a communist danger, second; but the background is a large and geographically dispersed country in which ethnic cleavages are profound even if to an extent concealed by the fact that the population is 87 per cent Muslim. To begin with, there is a degree of division among the Muslims, the Javanese being markedly less ‘fundamentalist’ than many of the other groups; second, non-Muslims are highly visible, both because of the influential Chinese minority and because of the presence of a substantial proportion of Christians in the Eastern part of the country. Third and above all, the ethnic cleavage is embedded in the geography; the division between Javanese, who form about half the population, and non-Javanese is sufficiently sharp to have resulted in guerrilla activities, both in Sumatra, and in what is sometimes described euphemistically as a climate of ‘insecurity’ in other islands. Events in Indonesia showed, however, that an authoritarian government can find it difficult to maintain a rigid control over a polity spread over hundreds of miles and divided into a myriad of islands. At one level, the Suharto regime had been harsher than that of Singapore, above all at the beginning, but also later, when it conducted a policy of repression against rebellious movements in various parts of the country, East Timor and the Aceh area of Sumatra in particular, but also elsewhere; yet the fact that there have been rebellions in the ‘peripheries’ as well as demonstrations in Jakarta and other cities indicates that the regime had ceased to be able to exercise its domination over the population at least from the mid-1990s. Indeed, it probably never succeeded in exercising total domination, partly because the country is so large and so diverse; but there was unquestionably a gradual decline in the ability of Suharto and his government to keep the upper hand as the economy ceased to be buoyant and widespread accusations of corruption were made against the leader, his family and his associates. Thus a substantial ‘extra-parliamentary’ and often illegal opposition had existed for some years in Suharto’s Indonesia; parliament was tame, on the contrary, up to 1999. Yet the Indonesian president had felt obliged to organise some semblance of pluralism in the party system, while centralising power in the presidency and organising the election of the president in such a way that it seemed impossible (at least up to 1999) for an opposition candidate to win; the co-option of a large number of appointed members, especially from the armed forces, was to achieve the desired aim.

78 Jean Blondel That such a system was not foolproof was shown by the events of 1998–9 which toppled Suharto and led to the abandonment of the rigid three-party system dominated by Golkar. Instability did occur, however, perhaps even more than there had been in the last years of the liberal period of the Sukarno regime in the mid-1950s. While Suharto had been in power for over three decades, three presidents succeeded each other between 1998 and 2001, first, Habibie, who had been the last vice-president of Suharto, second, Abdurrahman Wahid, who was elected president in 1999 when Golkar refused to endorse Habibie and who was the leader of the newly-created PKB, a pro-Muslim organisation which sprang up in 1999 and was strong in East Java, and, third, Mrs Megawati, the daughter of Sukarno and leader of the PDI and subsequently of the PDI-P, who had been elected vice-president and in that capacity replaced Wahid when he was effectively forced to resign in 2001. A multi-party system, in some ways reminiscent of the fractionalisation which the country had known in the early 1950s, emerged at the June 1999 election under new rules which had abolished Suharto’s three-party system. The three ‘classical’ parties did come on top, Golkar being second, however, obtaining 120 seats out of 500 in the new legislature, while Megawati’s PDI-P obtained 154 and the traditional pro-Muslim PPP 59; but nine other parties were represented in parliament, three of which, including Wahid’s PKB, obtained between 35 and 51 seats, while the others had very few (six seats or less). In order to reduce the threat of separatism, these parties had to demonstrate that they had an organisation in nine out of twenty-seven provinces. Meanwhile, the parliamentary and extraparliamentary battle to topple Wahid, on grounds of ineffectiveness and of corruption, undermined the political system. Thus, during the first few years of the post-Suharto era, Indonesia was not a working presidential system, nor was it a truly working pluralistic polity. Yet Wahid’s successor, Mrs Megawati, did seem able to stabilise the system and even to reduce the separatist threats. The last element of the old regime, the appointment of the president by a largely appointed body, was abolished and replaced by a popular election which took place in July 2004, after the second entirely free parliamentary election of May of the same year. Mrs Megawati was defeated at the second ballot by Yudhoyono, a retired general who promised to abide by liberal-democratic rules, the Golkar candidate having been in third position at the first ballot. This result had been prefaced by the parliamentary election, at which the PDI-P of Mrs Megawati came first, but with under 22 per cent of the votes. By the end of 2004, therefore, Indonesia seemed to have overcome many of its most immediate political difficulties and to be the fifth fully liberal-democratic polity of the area, alongside Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines and Thailand.

Conclusions The examination of parties and party systems in East and Southeast Asia forces a reconsideration of the theory on the basis of which parties have been analysed and classified for several generations. The role of leaders in helping to build and

Parties and party systems 79 sustain parties has to be, not just revisited, but re-assessed. The assumption has been that political cleavages emerge almost naturally and inevitably with the ‘modernisation’ of societies. We may leave aside the fact that, in the West, these cleavages have not been as strong as the ‘classical theory’ suggested and that, as a result, their role has come to decline as well as to increase. Perhaps the more crucial point is that political cleavages can only emerge slowly and that they emerge if political conditions are such that the consciousness of their importance is allowed freely to be expressed. When a political system turns suddenly from authoritarian to liberal-democratic rule, however, there is just no time for these cleavages to play a significant part in political life. ‘Charismatic’ leaders tend therefore to fill the vacuum: they may sometimes have a ‘populist’ appeal; but they may often simply be ‘liked’ for what they are by large segments of the electorate. The parties which they form are then purely based on personal ties. Such a situation might change. As a matter of fact, a move towards cleavagebased parties is more likely to occur, at any rate in the medium term, in the two semi-pluralistic polities of East and Southeast Asia, since an ethnic or a geographical basis for political cleavages does exist in these countries. Gradually, the somewhat authoritarian character of these polities may diminish; this may occur as social tensions arising from the plural character of the societies weaken, though the leaders of these countries may succeed in maintaining restrictions to pluralism in order to prolong their hold on the government; yet a change may take place in Malaysia or Singapore. Remarkably, change has occurred in Indonesia, despite the major uncertainties about how that ‘empire’ of thousands of islands can maintain its unity in a democratic context. On the other hand, the chances of a ‘classical’ ‘mass’ party system based on political cleavages developing in Korea, the Philippines, Thailand or indeed Indonesia are rather remote. While authoritarian rule seems no longer a realistic possibility in these countries, the mobilisation of large sectors of the population around social cleavages has not become realistic either, particularly at a time when such a mobilisation is sharply declining in the West and in Japan. Thus perhaps parties of ‘regionally-based national leaders’ may continue to thrive in many pluralistic countries of East and Southeast Asia; they probably also do thrive in many other polities which have suddenly become liberal democratic. These parties may even constitute an embryonic form of a sui generis type of ‘parties of professionals’ which might by-pass entirely the ‘mass party’ phase of political parties. As a matter of fact, Thaksin’s party, the TRT, constitutes the party most likely (or least unlikely) to lead to a change in the nature of party support in the pluralistic countries of the region. Meanwhile, ‘parties of regionally-based national leaders’ have played an important part by helping the transition process between authoritarian rule and liberal democracy. What remains to be seen is whether these parties will provide a stable base for political life in the ‘new’ pluralistic polities in the decades following the ‘consolidation’ of their move towards liberal democracy.

August 1912

Kuomintang

Membership

September 1986

1996–2000 (formed by members of the DPP)

Democratic Progressive Party

Taiwan Independence Party

Opposition; aspires to be a ‘buffer’ between pro-China and pro-independence alliances

Non-Partisan Solidarity Union

June 2004

Opposition; Pro-Independence >100

11

12

80

1

1400

420,000

44

66

Members of the Legislative Yuan (217 seats)

120,000

Taiwan Solidarity July 2001 Union

Opposition; Pro-Independence; Party disbanded when Chen Shui-Bian elected President in 2001

Governing Party; proindependence

August 1993 (split from Opposition; Pan Blue proKuomintang) China alliance; close ties to KMT

Opposition; Pan Blue proChina alliance with the Kuomintang

Opposition; Pan Blue pro1,005,000 China alliance with the People First Party

Government/Opposition

New Party

People First Party 2000

Date formed

Party

Taiwan

Appendix

Chang Po-Ya

Cheng Cheng-Lung

Lin Shan-Tien; Li Yung-Chih (prominent founders)

Chen Shui-Bian

Yok Mu-Ming

James Soong

Ma Ying-Jeon

Leader

10

10

Liberal party set to merge with Uri. Formerly the largest liberal party, but lost support to Uri following its leading role in the impeachment of Roh Social democratic minor party; support from farmers and industrial workers

January 2000 (formed mainly from members of the National Congress for New Politics)

January 2000

Democratic Party

Democratic Labor Party

61,000

125

Members of the National Assembly (299 seats)

Conservative opposition party

Membership

Hannara (The Grand November 1997 (from a merger National Party) of the New Korea Party and the Democratic Party – unrelated to the Democratic Party below)

Government/Opposition

146

Date formed

Uri Dang (Our Party) November 2003 (by President Roh Government (minority); party of President Roh Moo-Hyun; support of the Millennium Democratic Party) from Democratic Party

Party

South Korea

Kim HyeKyung

Kim Dae-Jung

Park GeunHye

Moon HeuiSang

Leader

Government – National Front Coalition Government – National Front Coalition Government – National Front Coalition

Government – National Front Coalition Government – National Front Coalition Government – National Front Coalition

1949

1968

1983

1985

People’s Progressive Party (PPP)

Parti Bangsa Dayak Sarawak (PBDS)

Parti Pesaka Bumiputera Bersatu 1973 (PBB)

1994

Malaysian People’s Movement Party (Gerakan)

Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC) 1946

1953 (as the Perak Progressive Party – name changed in 1956)

Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA)

Parti Bersatu Rakyat Sabah (PBRS)

Parti Bersatu Sabah (PBS)

Government – National Front Coalition

Government – National Front Coalition

Government – National Front Coalition

1946

United Malays National Organization (UNMO)

Government/Opposition

Date formed

Party

Malaysia Membership

4

1

11

6

1

9

10

31

110

Datuk Seri Pamglima Joseph Pairin Kitingan

Tan Sri Datuk Seri Panglima Joseph Kurup

Yab Datuk Patinggi Tan Sri (Dr.) Haji Abdul Taib Bin Mahmud

Leo Moggie

Dato’ Dr M kavyveas

Samy Vellu

Datuk Seri Dr Lim Keng Yaik

Dato’ Seri Ong Ka Ting

Datuk Abdullah Haji Ahmad Badawi

Members of the House of Representatives Leader (219 seats)

1994

2004

1961

1959

1964

1965

1955

1998

Sabah Progressive Party (SAPP)

Sarawak Progressive Democratic Party (SPDP)

Sarawak National Party (SNAP)

Sarawak United People’s Party (SUPP)

United Pasokmomogun Kadazandusun Murut Organization

Democratic Action Party (DAP)

Islamic Party of Malaysia (PAS)

Keadilan

Opposition – Barisan Alternative

Opposition – Barisan Alternative

Opposition – Barisan Alternative

Government – National Front Coalition

Government – National Front Coalition

Government – National Front Coalition

Government – National Front Coalition

Government – National Front Coalition

1

6

12

4

6

2

2

2

Dr Wan Azizah Wan Ismail

Dato’Seri Tuan Guru Haji Abdul Hadi Awang

Lim Kit Siang

Tan Sri Datuk Seri Panglima Bernard Giluk Dompok

George Chan Hong Nam

Datuk Amar James Wong

Datuk Wolliam Mawan Ikom

Datuk Yong Teck Lee

1946

Liberal Party (LP)

Fight of the Democratic Filipino (LDP) 1986

Kabalikat ng Mamayang Philipino 1997 (KAMPI)

1946

1974

Democratic Party (PP)

Thai Nation Party (PCT)

Great People Party (PM)

July 1998

Thais Love Thais Party (TRT)

Opposition

Government (previously ruled in coalition with the New Aspiration Party and the Thai Nation Party)

Date formed Government/Opposition

Party

Minority Coalition

35

9

34

42

79

Ronaldo Puno

Edgardo Angara

Franklin Drilon (President); Jose Atienza Jnr (Chairman)

Eduardo Cojangco (Chairman Emeritus); Frisco San Juan (President)

Jose De Venecia (President); Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo (Chairperson)

Leader

2

25

96

377

Banharn Silpa-Archa

Abhisit Vejjajira

Thaksin Shinawatra

Members of the House of Leader Representatives (500 seats)

Members of the House of Representatives (236 seats)

Membership

Minority Coalition Majority Coalition

1992

Nationalist People’s Coalition (NPC)

Thailand

Majority Coalition

1992

Lakas (Christian Muslim Democrats)

Majority Coalition

Date formed Government/Opposition Membership

Party

The Philippines

November 1954

1987

1994

1957

People’s Action Party

National Solidarity Party

Singapore People’s Party

Workers’ Party

Date formed 1967 1996 1973 2001 1999 1998 1999 2003

Golongan Karya (Golkar)

Indonesia Democracy Party – Struggle (PDI-P)

United Development Party (PPP)

Democrat Party (PD)

National Awakening Party (PKB)

National Mandate Party (PAN)

Prosperous Justice Party (PKS)

Reform Star Party (PBR)

Government/Opposition

Opposition

1

1

13

45

52

52

57

58

109

128

Low Thia Khiang

Chiam See Tong

Steve Chia

Lim Boon Heng

Leader

Zainuddin M. Z.

Mahfud

Amien Rais

Alwi Abdurrahman Shihab

Prof. Dr. S. Budhisantoso

Hamzah Haz

Megawati Sukarnoputri

Jusuf Kalla

Leader

0 (Steve Chia an appointed MP)

82

Members of Parliament (93 – 84 elected)

Members of the House of Representatives (550 seats)

Membership

Membership

Opposition (Singapore Democratic Alliance)

Opposition (Singapore Democratic Alliance)

Ruling Party

Government/Opposition

Party

Indonesia

Date formed

Party

Singapore

86 Jean Blondel

Bibliography Aldrich, J.H. (1995), Why Parties?, Chicago, IL: Chicago University Press. Downs, A. (1957), An Economic Theory of Democracy, New York: Harper Collins. Duverger, M. (Engl. edn 1954), Political Parties, New York: Wiley. Epstein, L. (1967), Political Parties in Western Democracies, New York: Harper Collins. Katz, R.S. and Mair, P. (1995), ‘Changing Models of Party Organisation and Party Democracy: the Emergence of the Cartel Party’, Party Politics, 1, pp. 5–28. Kirchheimer, O. (1966), ‘The Transformation of Western European Party Systems’, in J. La Palombara and M. Weiner (eds), Political Parties and Political Development, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, pp. 177–200. Lijphart, A. (1965), The Politics of Accommodation, Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press. Lipset, S.M. and Rokkan, S. (1967), ‘Nation-Building, Cleavage Formation and the Structuring of Mass Politics’, in S.M. Lipset and S. Rokkan (eds), Party Systems and Voter Alignments, New York: Free Press. Mainwaring, S. and Scully, T.R. (eds) (1995), Building Democratic Institutions: Party Systems in Latin America, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Marsh, I., Blondel, J. and Inoguchi, T. (eds) (1999), Democracy, Governance and Economic Development, Tokyo: United Nations University Press. Mosca, G. (1939), Elimenti di scienza politica [The ruling class] Arthur Livingston (ed.), New York: McGraw-Hill. Panebianco, A. (Engl. edn 1988), Political Parties: Organisation and Power, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pedersen, M. (1979), ‘The Dynamics of European Party Systems: Changing Patterns of Electoral Volatility’, European Journal of Political Research, 7, pp. 1–26. Rabuschka, A.A. and Shepsle, K.A. (1971), Politics in Plural Societies, Columbus, OH: Merrill. Rousseau, J.J. (1762), The Social Contract. Sachsenroeder, W. and Frings, U. (eds) (1998), Political Party Systems and Democratic Development in East and Southeast Asia (2 vols), Aldershot: Ashgate. Sartori, G. (1976), Parties and Party Systems, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schlesinger, J.A. (1985), ‘The New American Political Party’, American Political Science Review, 79, pp. 1152–69. Sorauf, F.J. (1988), Party Politics in America, 5th edn, Boston, MA: Little, Brown. Hung-Mao Tien (ed.) (1996), Taiwan’s Electoral Politics and Democratic Transition, Monk, NY: M.E. Sharpe. Vanhanen, T. (1984), The Emergence of Democracy, Helsinki: Finnish Society of Sciences and Letters. Vanhanen, T. (2003), Democratisation, London: Routledge.

Part II

Governance

4

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia Jean Blondel

Unlike political parties, the national executives, the governments in ordinary parlance, have always existed and have existed everywhere; countries have to be governed. Despite the fact that they have remained relatively small – minute even, often with two dozen members only and very rarely with more than one hundred, including minor posts – these executives have come to have increasingly complex tasks as a combined result of the vast increase in state intervention and of the development of representative institutions. On the one hand, national executives are now at the top of large, often huge bureaucracies which deal with economic and social matters which were simply not of public concern in the past; on the other, they have to ensure that the society is in a condition of internal peace and have therefore to endeavour to act on the basis of consent and/or to exercise enough control to prevent discontent from threatening the basis of public order. These national executives, these governments, are therefore engaged in two entirely different types of activities. One type is basically ‘managerial’ and it is concerned with three sets of tasks: policy elaboration, policy coordination and policy implementation. These tasks are undertaken either jointly as a government or singly by individual members by delegation from the government (Blondel, 1982, pp. 23–5). Policy elaboration links ministers with the society; governments can be expected to be effective only if what they do relates to the needs and, to an extent at least, to the demands of the social actors. Policy coordination is internal to the government, but it raises major questions about how to ensure that policies undertaken in one department are in tune with policies undertaken in another. Policy implementation also links governments to the society but it specifically connects the members of these governments directly to the state officials whose role is both to advise ministers and to ensure that their decisions are correctly carried out. Governments must have a good working relationship with these officials if they are to be effective. Without being exclusively administrative, these three sets of tasks include substantial elements of administrative action. Meanwhile, governments are also engaged in a profoundly different type of activity, which is markedly more political and can be referred to as ‘legitimising’. Admittedly, this type of activity is often embedded in or triggered by the actions which stem from the managerial role of governments. It is concerned with building, maintaining and even increasing the support which the government enjoys, as

90 Jean Blondel well as the support for the regime and in some cases for the nation as an entity. This aspect of governmental activities is not everywhere and at all times equally manifest and equally critical. There are countries in which, and periods in the life of countries during which, citizens appear to be satisfied with the state and the society to which they belong; the government can then almost exclusively devote itself to the management of that state and of that society; this does not mean that the government is not engaged in political activities, but these are perhaps of a ‘second order’ in terms of their critical importance; they concern matters which some groups of citizens may have raised but are not regarded as problems of ‘life or death’ for the political system. There are, on the contrary, other cases in the life of countries in which the future of the nation and/or the future of the regime appear to be at stake; such has been the predicament of practically the whole of East and Southeast Asia since the end of the Second World War. Regimes originally based in some cases on the legacy of a colonial power have been put in question; the extent of support for these regimes, in a context of rapid economic growth and of the social dislocation which accompanied this growth, has come to be in doubt. In many occasions, this situation led to a wave of authoritarianism which in turn contributed to greater popular disaffection. In all these cases, the national executives have been at the forefront; they had to respond to the pressures exercised on them. During the final decades of the twentieth century, the form which this response took was in the majority of countries studied here to make a move towards liberal democracy. In order to achieve these tasks and in particular to fulfil their two broad levels of activities, managerial and, so to speak, ‘legitimising’, governments have to be organised. Most members, who are often referred to as ministers, but are also sometimes called secretaries, are in charge of a department;1 some are not and may be in charge of difficult coordination problems. ‘Above’ them there will be a leader and sometimes more than one leader who will conduct generally the affairs of the government. Given the fact that huge numbers of decisions have to be taken, there have to be some arrangements about ‘who does what’ as well as some arrangements about who has the final power to decide in the name of the government. The question of ‘who does what’ leads to some kind of division of labour between the activities of the members. The question of who has the power to decide for the government leads to arrangements about the extent to which each and all members or on the contrary a few and perhaps only one of them, the leader, are fully involved in the key decisions taken by the government, one of these sets of decisions being the matter of the composition of the government itself. As a matter of fact, the question of ‘Who does what?’ tends to be solved by means of a kind of division of labour between the leader and the other members of the government. Leaders are primarily involved in two sets of activities. On the one hand, they oversee what the government does and ensure that the ‘managerial’ machine functions well. On the other hand, they are the most closely concerned – in many cases they are the only ones to be concerned – with the ‘legitimising’ level of governmental action. Leaders are those who, if the going gets rough, have to provide the direction in which the government and the nation are to go. The

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 91 other members are typically more concerned with ‘managerial’ matters. This is not always the case; some governments may be compact and all the members may be equally involved in ensuring that the ‘regime’ functions well; in this case, however, the government has to be very small. Thus, in general, leaders are those who are most likely to be concerned with the ‘legitimising’ functions of governments while the other members of the government are primarily involved in the elaboration, coordination and implementation of policies. Meanwhile, the question of who has the power to decide for the government has to be solved by means of procedures of decision-making. Many decisions are likely to be left to individual ministers and, as we just noted, to the leader; but many have to be solved on behalf of the whole government and there are obviously many ways to achieve such a solution. At one extreme, some governments may be hierarchical, the leader being fully in command and the other members being subordinates. At the other extreme, some governments may be fully egalitarian and the key decisions at least are taken collectively. These two solutions are probably rather rare, however; intermediate arrangements are more likely. There may thus be a degree of collegiality among the members of the government but also occasions in which either the leader or the leaders or small groups of ‘top’ ministers act in the name of the whole government.

The constitutional distinction between parliamentary, presidential and semi-presidential systems and its role The question of the arrangements for decision-making to be adopted by governments is in many ways a practical matter; but it raises also matters of principle. In part for this reason, it has long been affected by a distinction, essentially legal and even constitutional in origin, which divides these governments into two sharply contrasting types, parliamentary and presidential.2 This division was originally elaborated in connection with the development of liberal systems in Western Europe and in the United States in particular; but it has since been extended to many countries, including countries whose regime is not liberal, by osmosis so to speak, as has occurred in East and Southeast Asia. To these two models an intermediate ‘semi-presidential’ model was added, mainly in the second half of the twentieth century in particular as a result of France having adopted it in 1958. The distinction between the two ‘classical’ models has been regarded as central to the analysis of governments; it has been regarded in this way because it was felt to identify two wholly diverse views of the relationship between people and government: in one model the people elect directly the head of the executive; in the other, the people elect a parliament which in turn gives support to a government. The distinction has had ramifications into the nature of the decision-making process in the governments, as presidential systems seemed to lead ‘naturally’ to hierarchical arrangements and parliamentary systems to collegial ones. The reality is somewhat different, however; there are different types of presidentialism and different types of parliamentary systems.

92 Jean Blondel Yet the distinction has continued to be prominent, although what it really means when it is in use in regimes which are not liberal becomes somewhat problematic. This point is particularly relevant in the context of East and Southeast Asia since, among the seven countries which are examined in this study, three are regarded as being parliamentary, two as presidential and two as semi-presidential. What has therefore to be discovered is to what extent the distinction plays a part when the regime is authoritarian, that is to say whether there are ‘basic’ features of the types of government which obtain irrespective of the regime.

The lack of truly precise tools to measure the activities of governments To undertake such an analysis, we need instruments which will help to describe and distinguish among governments in terms of their decision-making processes. Yet, as in the context of political parties, the tools which comparative government has developed so far in the field of governments are rather blunt, both for reasons which are specific to the area and for general reasons. The reasons which are specific to the area have to do with the fact that East and Southeast Asia includes both liberal and authoritarian regimes and that the majority of the countries have been undergoing a transition process; it is easier to study governments in an area when all of them are liberal and have been liberal for a long time. The general reasons which render the analysis of governments difficult have to do with the fact that governments, despite being in the limelight, are in many ways more closed to empirical observations than parties; an aura of secrecy envelops these bodies; but most of the problem arises from the fact that so little knowledge has been accumulated so far that the comparative assessment of decision-making processes remains highly unsatisfactory and is basically impressionistic. Thus, for instance, to assess the extent to which governments and their leaders are successful in rendering their government and their regime legitimate, guidance may be provided by such indicators as the amount of turmoil – but there may be a harsh control of the society so that we do not even know what amount of turmoil there is – and, increasingly, opinion polls – but these are scarcely reliable in authoritarian or even in ‘semi-pluralistic’ regimes. Substantial advances are needed before these indicators can be regarded as truly reliable. The unexpected collapse of many regimes constitutes a warning that the instruments at our disposal in this respect leave much to be desired. Progress has also to be made with respect to the monitoring and assessment of the managerial activities of governments. What we have at our disposal are only two measures which can be expected to provide some indication as to whether members of governments are likely to be effective. These are the duration of ministers in office and the extent to which governments are composed of specialists. If the turnover of ministers is high or very high, these ministers are unlikely to be able to exercise much influence on decisions. If ministers are specialists, they would appear to be more likely to make a mark

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 93 on their departments, though this point is somewhat controversial; it has indeed been suggested that it is more important for governments to be composed of ‘amateurs’.3 In this chapter, we simply cannot expect to be able to examine these matters in a truly comprehensive manner. The undertaking has to be more limited and consist in surveying what governments have ostensibly been like in the seven countries under study here, whether they appear to have had a successful leadership and what kinds of persons have joined and left these executives in the course of the period. We may not be able to know who decided to do what and by what complex mechanisms the decision was arrived at; but we can at least find out who were the leaders and the ministers, how long they were in office and from what background they originated. However, before examining both leaders and ministers in this manner, we need to return to the question of the ‘type of government’ in order to see whether the three ‘constitutional’ types of government – presidential, semi-presidential and parliamentary – and the sub-divisions of these types, have had an impact on the reality of the life of national executives. We will then devote the second section of this chapter to the governmental leadership in the region and the third section to the governments as a whole, to see how far, by using the two indicators of length of tenure and of specialisation of their members, they appear likely to have been effective.

I Presidential, semi-presidential and parliamentary executives in East and Southeast Asia Stability and change in governmental arrangements in East and Southeast Asia Perhaps the most immediate but in some ways the most surprising characteristic of governments in East and Southeast Asia is the fact that, despite a history of changes from liberalism to authoritarianism and vice versa, the broad labelling of these governments has changed little; countries have tended to stick to the model which they adopted at the origin. Among the seven countries studied here, the distribution of presidential, semi-presidential and parliamentary systems in the area has remained the same in five: the Philippines was semi-presidential for a few years under Marcos, but only for a while and it has been consistently presidential before and afterwards; in Indonesia alone has the governmental formula been altered in a permanent manner. That country was parliamentary during the first decade after independence, but has been ruled subsequently by a presidential government, constitutionally rather idiosyncratic and politically authoritarian, under Sukarno and even more Suharto, more ‘classical’ and indeed liberaldemocratic, at least since the coming of Megawati to power in 2001. Yet, while the broad formula remained the same elsewhere, major changes occurred, in some cases both constitutional and behavioural and in others ‘merely’ behavioural. Thus to say that the Philippines has had a presidential form of government, that

94 Jean Blondel Korea and Taiwan have always had a semi-presidential executive with a strong president and that Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand have had a parliamentary system, may not mean much in practice. Such a ‘flexibility’ of the broad types of government has thus allowed for changes to occur, not just in Indonesia but elsewhere in the region. There were major constitutional amendments in two countries besides Indonesia, Taiwan and Korea; these concerned the mode of election and the tenure of presidents. There have been three constitutions in the Philippines since independence was granted in 1946. The first had been adopted in 1935, before independence, and it had established a US-type presidential system, with presidents popularly elected for four years but subjected to a maximum of two mandates. The second was Marcos’s constitution, approved by the people by referendum in 1973; it increased markedly the powers of the president in an authoritarian direction, extended the presidential mandate to six years and abolished the limitation of tenure clause; the post of prime minister was also created, thus moving the country, temporarily, in the semi-presidential camp. The third was adopted in 1986 after the fall of Marcos; it resulted from the return to liberal democratic rule and thus went in that direction. Finally, in Thailand, there were three constitutions in succession in 1968, 1978 and 1997; these constitutions embodied the gradual moves towards liberal democracy which had already taken place in practice, but they did not alter the parliamentary principle on which the government of the country had gradually come to be based. The impact of behavioural change may well have been larger than the impact of formal institutional change, however; it has also been widespread across the region. Rules about party competition and electoral contests, such as those which were referred to in the previous chapter, have had a major effect on the political life of all the countries, including two of the three parliamentary systems, Malaysia and Singapore, where constitutional rules stricto sensu were scarcely altered at all. Thus to say that only Indonesia changed in a permanent manner the type of government under which it has been ruled amounts also to saying that the differences between presidential, semi-presidential and parliamentary systems may not have the practical importance which they are often regarded as having. Three (or even four or five) differences among parliamentary, presidential and semi-presidential forms of government irrespective of regime Are there, then, distinctions between the three broad formulae which affect governments irrespective of regime? Are there also provisions and sub-distinctions which constitute obstacles to authoritarian or ‘semi-pluralistic’ rule? To answer these questions, let us start from the basic constitutional element at the origin of the distinction; this element relates essentially to the way in which governments are formed and are allowed to continue in office. In parliamentary systems, parliament is the formal authority which makes and breaks governments; in presidential systems, this role is given to a body other than parliament, which may

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 95 or may not be the people at large. This purely constitutional distinction has a direct consequence; as the people or any ‘college’ other than parliament whose function is to elect the president is not in permanent session and cannot be expected to follow closely the activities of the president, the only solution is to establish a fixed term for the presidential tenure. In parliamentary systems, on the contrary, tenure can be indefinite; it depends on the ‘pleasure’ of parliament. Ostensibly in order to maintain continuity, but more realistically because parliamentary systems have developed originally in monarchies, there is also a head of state, monarch or president, who has essentially a symbolic role and is somewhat distant from the government which is chaired by a prime minister.4 This is not the place to examine the many complex systems which have been invented, in particular since the Second World War, to modify and in effect restrict the right of parliament to make and ‘break’ governments; ingenious schemes have been devised in this respect. It is sufficient to note that, whatever mechanisms have been invented, it still is the case that, in some manner at least, in all parliamentary systems, the government needs the confidence of parliament, at least tacitly expressed, to remain in office, although the right of dissolution does also mean that the people can have a say in the matter in many countries at least. In the context of the analysis of the characteristics of national executives, the fact that the executive is responsible to parliament does not appear to have a direct effect on the structure of that executive in either parliamentary or presidential systems; but it has three important, if indirect, consequences for the decisionmaking structure of governments, while two other features are somewhat more formal, although they do distinguish parliamentary, semi-presidential and presidential systems. First, the presidential system singles out one person and places therefore that person above the rest of the government; some parliamentary systems give a particular role to the prime minister in the formation and end of governments: the German constitution in particular gives the Chancellor an exalted position. Yet the president, in a presidential system, is the only member of the government who benefits from the aura of authority and prestige which results from a popular election or from a substitute popular election, this is to say when an electoral college, rather than the people at large, is empowered to choose the president. Second, the tenure of the president is fixed, while that of the prime minister is not. Admittedly, in extreme cases of authoritarian presidential rule, the president has sometimes been elected ‘for life’; but these cases are, indeed, extreme; they have not found their way in the presidential systems of East and Southeast Asia and can be disregarded here. What can vary and has varied appreciably is the length of the presidential mandate and the number of times that this mandate can be renewed. Third, but in a somewhat more imprecise manner, presidents are regarded as having more freedom to choose the members of their governments than prime ministers in parliamentary systems. It is typically suggested – essentially on the basis of American experience – that members of the government in a presidential system are hierarchically dependent on the president and are ‘collections’ of

96 Jean Blondel persons with no or little link with each other. In parliamentary systems, on the contrary, governments are regarded as being ‘teams’, at least in principle, prime ministers being constrained in the choices which they make, either because other parties play a part in the selection of ‘their’ ministers in cases of coalitions or because they ‘have’ to appoint some prominent personalities of their own party to the government. The distinction is not as sharp in reality as is often suggested. In some Latin American presidential systems, for instance, the president is markedly constrained in the choice of members of the government; in some parliamentary systems, prime ministers are relatively free to choose the members of their ‘team’. Yet two points appear valid: first, there are probably no parliamentary systems in which the prime minister is wholly unconstrained, while there are presidential systems – the American system for example – where there is no such constraint; second, on the whole, it is almost certainly the case that prime ministers of parliamentary systems are more likely to be constrained in the choice of the members of their government than presidents in presidential systems. There is indeed a general reason why constraints on prime ministers exist. The parliamentary system implies a tight relationship between government and parliament and consequently at least it induces, when it does not oblige, prime ministers to choose many members of the government from among parliamentarians. Admittedly, there are parliamentary systems, in particular on the Continent of Europe, in which some ministers are drawn from outside parliament; but, even then, these non-parliamentarians are in a minority (Blondel and Thiebault, 1991). A personal link thus exists between government and parliament in parliamentary systems, while such a link does not exist, or exists to a very limited extent only, in presidential systems. On the contrary, because presidents have more freedom to choose the members of their government, they are more likely than prime ministers in parliamentary systems to appoint specialists. As has been noted earlier, it is often suggested in parliamentary systems that it is better for ministers to be ‘amateurs’; the opposite view is more likely to be held in presidential systems. We have thus identified three features distinguishing presidential from parliamentary systems, irrespective of specific constitutional arrangements and even irrespective of regimes: the leader of the government is appointed alone and has a truly exalted position in presidential systems, but not in parliamentary systems; the tenure of the leader of the government is fixed in presidential systems but not in parliamentary systems; and the leader of the government is freer to appoint members of the government in presidential systems than in parliamentary systems. One element of the constraint on parliamentary prime ministers is that they are expected to choose at least a number of members of the government from among parliamentarians; as a consequence, it is expected that the members of the government will be more likely to be specialists in presidential systems. Alongside these three basic features, two other characteristics are more formal and have less of an effect on the life of the executive. One is the distinction between the head of State and the head of the government. That feature may not be very

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 97 important as the role of the head of State may be almost insignificant; there are parliamentary systems in which that role is so limited (Sweden for instance) that it is questionable as to whether, from a political point of view, if not from a social point of view perhaps, the office of head of State does really exist. The other more formal feature concerns the role of parliament. Admittedly, parliamentary systems must have a parliament while presidential systems can function without a legislature; this is the case of some military regimes, for instance. Yet the nature and even the role of parliaments can vary so much that, at one extreme, that body may play no part in political life. Not only do parliaments have parties or not, not only can there be one party only or a multitude of parties, but also the domination of the executive over parliament and society can be such that for all intents and purposes the role of the parliament is purely symbolic. Semi-presidential systems are typically regarded as intermediate between presidential and parliamentary systems. They resemble presidential systems in that the first two features of presidential systems which we identified apply to semi-presidential systems: presidents are elected alone by the people or by a special college and benefit from great authority; they are elected for a fixed term. On the other hand, the last two features bring semi-presidential systems close to parliamentary systems: semi-presidential presidents divide power with a prime minister and they are not likely to be as free as presidents in presidential systems to select whom they wish to be members of the government; there is a link between government and parliament, as in parliamentary systems, and presidents in semipresidential systems have to take this link into account. Why East and Southeast Asian countries are distributed among presidential, semi-presidential and parliamentary executives These three types of government exist. Why, then, should a country adopt one of them rather than another and, having adopted it, why does it not change? In the case of East and Southeast Asia, in order to understand the distribution of the countries among the three types of regimes, one needs to return to the point when a choice could first be made; in practice, in six cases out of seven, this was when the country became independent. Only Thailand had been continuously independent, while the other six had been colonies up to the end of the Second World War; two or them had been colonies of Japan (Korea and Taiwan), two of Britain (Malaysia – in reality Malaya and the northern part of Borneo – and Singapore) and one each of the United States (the Philippines, since 1898, after having been a Spanish colony for three centuries) and of the Netherlands (most parts of what was to become Indonesia). The choice of a parliamentary system by Thailand was somewhat accidental and rather indirect. Before 1932, the country was an absolute monarchy; in 1932, fearing colonial intervention, elements of the military made a coup with the explicit aim of modernising the country; they remained in power in practice for several decades. The accident which was to lead eventually to a parliamentary system was

98 Jean Blondel the fact that the members of the military did not wish to abolish the monarchy which was popular and was the symbol of the nation. They acted somewhat in the manner of Mussolini in Italy after the First World War. By maintaining the monarchy, however, the military also decided a contrario that the country would not be ruled by a president. Moreover, they had in effect introduced the distinction between head of State and head of government; this had the unintended consequence of rendering gradual liberalisation possible without having to modify the basis of the governmental structure. What merely had to happen was for the government to pay increasing attention to the legislature and to its parties. Given the maintenance of the monarchy, the parliamentary system was the only type of government which could be adopted in Thailand. The logic leading to the introduction of one type of government or another in the other six countries had to be different. Given that they had been colonies for a substantial period, it is not unreasonable to assume that the ‘most’ natural development was for these countries to adopt the system of government of the ‘mother-country’, in part because that mother-country may have gradually accustomed the emerging political elite of the country during the pre-independence period to ‘self-government’ and/or in part because that elite would have seen the system operate in the colonial power; many of its members would have lived for some time and even studied in a university of that colonial power. On this basis, it seems therefore understandable that Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia should have adopted the parliamentary system and the Philippines the presidential system. The same argument cannot be applied to Taiwan and Korea, however. They had been colonies of Japan, but the Japanese pre-Second World War ‘model’ was unlikely to be attractive. Moreover, Taiwan did not become independent but was ‘returned’ to Chiang Kai-chek’s China in 1945; its de facto independence only occurred four years later because the Nationalist Chinese leaders had to seek refuge on the island. Thus, whether they wished to adopt the Japanese model or not, the Taiwanese did not have any opportunity to shape the structure of the government which was to rule them for several decades in an authoritarian manner. That structure was to be that of the Kuomintang constitution which provided for a division of the government, in some ways analogous to the one which can be found in Communist states and indeed in Mainland China itself, between an ‘executive yuan’, led by Chiang Kai-chek, on whom the regime ultimately depended, and an ‘administrative yuan’, which was in effect the rest of the government. The formula was neither the parliamentary system nor the presidential system, but a combination of both; a semi-presidential arrangement had in effect been introduced as a result of the domination of Taiwan by the Nationalist Chinese. Korea is thus the only country studied here which became independent but did not adopt the type of government of the country which had dominated it. That this should have been the case is perhaps not surprising, given the bad taste which Japanese colonial rule had left in Korea. Yet this does not explain why neither parliamentarism nor presidentialism came to be adopted. Admittedly,

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 99 parliamentarism would have been difficult to introduce: unlike Japan, Korea no longer had a ruling family, one of whose members could be called upon to become a symbolic head of State; the royal family had for all intents and purposes abandoned any claims at the beginning of the twentieth century, when it asked for Chinese assistance but Japanese control was introduced instead. Presidentialism was therefore a more likely move, especially given the part which the United States was increasingly playing in the life of the country and given that the leader who had been called to run the country, at any rate provisionally, Syngman Rhee, had lived in America for many years. What seems to have tilted the balance towards what was, in the late 1940s, still the rather unusual type of government which came to be known as semi-presidentialism was Rhee’s desire to exercise almost full power and specifically, as De Gaulle was to do ten years later, to enjoy full executive power while controlling the legislature, an opportunity which the US president does not have. Thus the choice of the type of governmental formula was dictated in four of the seven countries by the colonial origin, in one case by the desire to maintain a symbolic monarch on the throne and in one case simply to continue with the constitution of a regime which was in effect forced into exile. Only in one case, that of Korea, was there some choice, but that choice was limited to presidentialism and semi-presidentialism and it appeared to have been exercised by the leader. Why the basic systems of government were not altered in East and Southeast Asia, except in Indonesia (and, temporarily, in the Philippines) There may have been some logic for most of the countries of East and Southeast Asia studied here in adopting at the time of independence the type of government which was ‘inherited’ from the departing colonial power, but why that choice was not altered subsequently, except in Indonesia, needs to be explained. The difficulty is indeed provided by Indonesia; if it does not matter which formula is adopted as any of them can be equally able to sustain a liberal or an authoritarian regime, why did Indonesia move away from the parliamentary system when it came to be under authoritarian rule? Does not such a move suggest that, after all, the parliamentary system is not really amenable to authoritarian rule? If this were so, the cases of Malaysia and of Singapore would have to be explained, however, or be treated as exceptions or be regarded as not being ‘really’ authoritarian or even ‘semi-pluralistic’, whatever evidence to the contrary there may be. The answer to these questions is somewhat mixed and it is mixed for all three governmental formulae. On the one hand, the three (or four or five) features which were identified earlier constitute the ‘rock bottom’ characteristics – the lowest common denominator – of these three formulae. A system is not presidential unless the president is elected alone, has a fixed tenure and has a free hand in choosing the other members of the government; a system is not parliamentary unless it has the opposite characteristics. On the other hand, there are many other characteristics which governments can and do have and these characteristics can

100 Jean Blondel be such that they may impede would-be authoritarian leaders from exercising the kind of rule which they apparently wish to impose. Presidential (and indeed semi-presidential) systems of a liberal democratic character tend to include restrictions on presidents’ tenure and multiplicity of mandates; would-be authoritarian presidents are more than likely to want to get rid of these ‘impediments’, as occurred in the region under Park of Korea and Marcos of the Philippines, not to mention the cases of Chiang Kai-chek and Suharto. If these restrictions obtain, presidential and semi-presidential systems are most unlikely to lead to authoritarian rule, although it is manifestly also helpful for would-be authoritarian presidents to ensure that the electoral process does not lead to any uncertainties in the result! The arrangements of presidential and semi-presidential systems have thus to be altered, and are indeed altered, by would-be authoritarian leaders. The situation is a little different in parliamentary systems, as the thrust of the measures which have to be introduced scarcely touches on the rules and is almost entirely related to modes of behaviour. At the level of the rules, parliamentary systems are in reality more open to authoritarianism than presidential regimes on the US model, as there is no constraint on the tenure of the prime minister; the only constraint relates to the appointment of ministers, but this has to be handled at the level of the modes of behaviour. For parliamentary systems to enable would-be authoritarian or ‘semi-pluralistic’ prime ministers to rule, what is only required is that their position be assured and that they be able to choose whom they wish without being endangered by possible revolts in parliament either within their own party or among other parties. This means that the prime minister must be the undisputed leader of a party with a majority in parliament or, if there has to be a coalition, the undisputed leader of a coalition dominated by one party and in practice unbreakable; if one of these conditions obtains, the prime minister can be fully in command. It must be remembered that it has even been said in relation to Britain that the prime minister was (or could be) a dictator for five years! A contrario, there must not be a number of minority parties among which governmental agreements have to be negotiated before the government is set up, a situation which occurs for instance in the Netherlands or in Belgium. It is because the system which had emerged in Indonesia in the late 1940s and early 1950s was based on a number of parties which agreed with each other only with difficulty and not because it was parliamentary that it was incompatible with authoritarianism. It is on the contrary because the type of coalition arrangement which prevails in Malaysia is based on a very strong UMNO and an unbreakable permanent agreement between UMNO and the other key parties of the Barisan National that ‘semi-pluralism’ can prevail in that country within the context of a parliamentary system. The same can be said with respect to Singapore. As a matter of fact, the majority of changes which take place when a regime moves from a liberal to an authoritarian framework occurs at the level of the parties and of parliament rather than at the level of the government. It may be that ministers become more dependent on the leader, but they can

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 101 also be dependent on the leader in liberal systems, be they presidential, semipresidential or parliamentary. It may be that ministers in authoritarian systems are ‘reduced’ to having a ‘technical’ character, but this also occurs in some liberal systems, be they presidential, semi-presidential or parliamentary. It may be that authoritarian presidential leaders wish to see their tenure prolonged and succeed in obtaining such a change; but there are also considerable variations in the tenure of presidents in liberal presidential systems while the tenure of prime ministers in liberal cabinet systems is indefinite. In the end, it is not that presidentialism per se or the parliamentary-cabinet system per se are incompatible with authoritarianism; the incompatibility is only with some varieties of one or other of these systems. This is a clear indication that one must go beyond the general distinction among the three types of government and examine empirically the concrete characteristics of these governments in East and Southeast Asia. It is to these empirical characteristics that we now turn, looking successively at leaders and at the rest of the government.

II A strong political leadership, on which regimes have depended The economic success of the countries of East and Southeast Asia poses the question of the part that political leadership may have played in this success. Admittedly, evidence about the relationship between the two elements is not only unsystematic: impressionistically at least, it seems even contradictory. Political leadership in Japan or Italy would seem to have been typically weak, yet both countries have been highly successful economically. Moreover, it is obviously difficult not just to measure the strength of the leadership but even more to assess the extent to which a given type of leadership is particularly ‘functional’ to the circumstances of a given country at a particular point in time. Churchill was extraordinarily successful in wartime after having been in the wilderness for many years as he appeared either to be a maverick or to be out of touch with the reality of the world around him. Yet it is necessary to address the problem of political leadership both in general and particularly in the case of countries which, as those of East and Southeast Asia have done, have undergone an economic and political transition. One can do so by looking at a number of aspects, perhaps to an extent peripheral but none the less important, of the characteristics of political leadership in the countries concerned. These are the mechanisms of appointment, the extent to which leadership is shared, the duration of leaders in office, the social background and earlier career of these leaders and the part which they played in politics, in particular whether they participated in a major fashion in the transition process. We shall consider successively these five aspects of political leadership in East and Southeast Asia, concentrating on the last two decades of the twentieth century and the early years of the twenty-first as these were the years during which five of the countries of the region underwent major political change.

102 Jean Blondel The selection of East and Southeast Asian leaders The formal structure of the government is diverse in the region; the method of selection of leaders is therefore also diverse and it was modified to an extent in the course of the period in some countries. In the three parliamentary-cabinet polities, Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand, the leader is the prime minister and the prime minister is chosen by the head of State. The head of State selects the politician who appears most able to succeed in forming a government and parliament ratifies the choice by supporting the government once it is constituted. As in cabinet systems elsewhere, prime ministers are not selected for a fixed term: they may not remain in the office up to the next general election; they may on the contrary lead the government for very long periods, as has indeed been the case in both Malaysia and Singapore, but not in Thailand, up to 2001, in view of the nature of the party system. In Malaysia and Singapore the choice of prime minister is in effect automatic; the leader of the PAP in Singapore and the leader of UMNO in Malaysia are the ‘natural’ prime ministers.5 Traditionally, the situation has been less clearcut in Thailand, given the complex and fluid party system in that country, at least since, as a result of the process of liberalisation, the government came to need the support of a majority in parliament. Thus the selection of the Thai prime minister, especially in the last decade of the twentieth century, bore some relationship with the selection of prime ministers in other multi-party systems in which parties are volatile or even inchoate. The process remained markedly less complex than in France before 1958, however; it also differed from the typical way in which Japanese prime ministers or Italian prime ministers before the 1980s have been chosen as, in these two countries, the selection of the leader has been made within the dominant party, admittedly a highly fractionalised party in both cases; but the general principle was the same, since there was then no ‘obvious’ leader of the government and the prime minister had therefore to be chosen from among a number of ‘serious’ contenders. However, a marked change occurred in Thailand with the success of Thaksin Shinawatra and of his party, the TRT (‘Thais love Thailand’), at the 2001 election, as that election marked the arrival to power of a popular leader backed by a parliamentary majority. The choice of the prime minister therefore became automatic; indeed, throughout the 2001–2005 legislature, the party solidly backed its leader.6 In contrast to Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand, the other four countries analysed here have a presidential or semi-presidential form of government, although, in the Indonesian case, this was only from 1957 as Sukarno abolished the parliamentary system and gave himself full powers at that point. The change in the nature of the regime led to major variations in both the method of appointment and the length of tenure of the presidents, however. During the authoritarian period, only in the Philippines was the president to be elected by universal suffrage. In Indonesia up to 2004, in Korea between 1972 and 1987 and in Taiwan before the 1990s, the appointment of the president was by an electoral college in which the dice were loaded in favour of the party in power (Golkar in

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 103 Indonesia, Kuomintang in Taiwan). Election by universal suffrage was introduced with the end of the authoritarian rule, on a first-past-the-post basis in Korea, the Philippines and Taiwan, and on the basis of a two-ballot or run-off arrangement in Indonesia. In the 1990s at least, the first-past-the-post system resulted in presidents being elected by a small proportion of the electorate. This was so particularly in the Philippines in 1992, when Ramos obtained less than a quarter of the votes cast, but, although other successful presidents did better, whether in the Philippines or Korea in 1998, the 54 per cent obtained by Lee Teng-hui of Taiwan in 1994 was exceptional for the region; it was then more ‘normal’ for successful candidates to garner only 40 per cent of the votes. It was therefore perhaps somewhat surprising that a two-ballot or run-off system was not introduced in the three countries. Such a system was to be adopted in Indonesia, however, when the constitution was amended in 2002 to allow for the popular election of the president. Indeed, the new president, Yudhoyono, was elected in 2004 at the second ballot only. Yet successful presidential candidates did better in subsequent elections in Korea, the Philippines and Taiwan, although the first-past-the-post system was maintained. Thus Roh Moo Hyun of Korea obtained 49 per cent of the votes in 2002, Mrs Arroyo of the Philippines obtained 60 per cent of the votes in 2004 and Chen Shui-bian of Taiwan obtained just over 50 per cent of the votes in the same year (see Table 4.1). Under authoritarian rule, presidents could also remain in office for long periods. Marcos of the Philippines remained president for eighteen years before he was toppled from office by the revolution. Park of Korea was assassinated after being six years in office. In Taiwan, Chiang Kai-chek and his son Chan Ching-kuo both died in office after having run their country for many years. In Indonesia, Suharto was president for thirty-five years, being re-elected every five years up to 1998. Not surprisingly, presidents in both countries were replaced by their vice-president. In Taiwan, Vice President Chan Ching-kuo replaced his father Chiang Kai-chek when the latter died. Vice-President Lee Teng-hui in turn succeeded President Chan Ching-kuo when he died, but it was Lee who subsequently initiated the reforms which reduced the tenure of Taiwanese Table 4.1 Votes cast for successful presidential candidates (percentages) Korea 1987 Roh Tae Woo

Taiwan

Philippines

Indonesia

1996 Lee Tang Hui

54.0

1992 E. Ramos

23.6

2004 Yudhoyono 1st ballot 33.6

1992 Kim Young Sam 41.4

2000 Chen Shui Bian

39.3

1998 J. Estrada

39.9

2nd ballot 60.6

1997 Kim Dae Jung

40.3

2004 Chen Shui Bian

50.1

2004 Arroyo

60

2002 Roh Moo Hyun

48.9

36.6

104 Jean Blondel presidents. In Indonesia, Vice-President Habibie replaced Suharto when the latter was forced to resign in 1999. With the liberalisation process, on the other hand, fixed terms not renewable in Korea and the Philippines and renewable, but only once, in Taiwan and Indonesia combined with a rather short tenure to render turnover markedly more rapid. Thus Korean presidents are elected for a single five-year term only and Filipino presidents for a single six-year term only (although Mrs Arroyo could remain in office longer as she inherited the last years of the deposed President Estrada). The situation in these two countries thus resembles that in many Latin American countries, although there is a trend, in that region, to change constitutions to allow for two-term presidents. Only in Taiwan and Indonesia can an incumbent president be elected for office a second time, but for terms of four years. Presidents in the four presidential and semi-presidential countries analysed here can thus no longer beat the records of Mahathir of Malaysia or of Lee Kuan Yew and Goh of Singapore. Single or shared leadership It is generally assumed that both presidential and cabinet-type systems are based on the single leadership principle, while semi-presidential systems give rise to dual leadership, although the respective power of the two leaders – president and prime minister – may vary; there have been variations of this kind during the Fifth French Republic. Yet not all presidential governments or all parliamentary cabinets are based on single leadership; the vice-president in a presidential system, a deputy prime minister in a parliamentary cabinet or the minister of finance in either may share in their country’s leadership. Moreover, what defines a semipresidential system is unclear: the popular election of the head of State may be a necessary condition, but it is not sufficient; among others, the cases of Austria and Ireland in Western Europe, of Poland and Slovenia in East-Central Europe provide conclusive evidence in this respect. This is also why, although the President of Singapore has come to be elected by universal suffrage since the 1990s, the system has not become semi-presidential; however, since Lee Kuan Yew became ‘senior minister’ in 1990 and ‘minister mentor’ in 2004 and so long as he remains in the cabinet, it is probably right to claim that there is an element of shared leadership in the government of that country. There is no parallel in Malaysia, despite the fact that the government is based on a permanent coalition, or in Thailand, although governments have also come to be based on coalitions, both before and even after 2001. There is formally shared leadership in two countries of the region, Taiwan and Korea, as the prime minister is in charge of the government together with, and perhaps under, the president. In Taiwan, some prime ministers may have been indeed influential, for instance Lien Chan who became vice-president in 1997 and was the unsuccessful candidate of the Kuomintang in 2000 and 2004. The role of the prime minister may be enhanced as a result of the fact that the president elected in 2000 and re-elected in 2004, Chen Shui-bian, lacked a parliamentary

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 105 majority in both cases and had to resort to coalition arrangements for the first time in Taiwanese history. In Korea, the role of prime ministers appears to have been always rather limited, in part, as we shall see, because their tenure has been short. This has been so even in the case of the first prime minister of Kim Dae Jung, Kim Jong Pil, despite the fact that this prime minister was appointed on the basis of an agreement arrived at between the two leaders before the presidential election; Kim Jong Pil’s role seems quickly to have waned and he subsequently resigned at the end of 1999. As a matter of fact, Korean presidents seem occasionally to leave some leeway to prime ministers in order to be able to dismiss them if difficulties occur, a practice which is frequent in other semi-presidential governments as it appears to constitute an easy way out for presidents who feel the need to rebuild their popularity. In the two ‘pure’ presidential governments analysed here, those of Indonesia and the Philippines, shared leadership has been almost unknown. Mrs Aquino did rely increasingly on her minister of Defence, who subsequently became president, Ramos; this practice seemed highly exceptional. In Indonesia, Suharto was not likely to wish to share leadership, but even Wahid, who had a vice-president from a different party, Mrs Megawati, did not appear to wish to share leadership with her, though, as we shall see, members of her party were appointed to the cabinet. Shared leadership is thus rare in East and Southeast Asia, the case of Singapore under Goh and Lee Kuan Yew being perhaps the only example of a lasting arrangement of this kind; as a matter of fact, Lee Hsien Loong does in effect hold a position which resembles closely that of president in semi-presidential systems, although he is not the president and the system is not semi-presidential! The duration of leaders in office The duration of leaders in office has varied greatly in East and Southeast Asia, in part, as we noted, as a result of the tenure rules introduced with the liberalisation of the political system. In Indonesia, the Philippines and Korea, the effect on the duration in office of presidents was already noticeable by the early years of the twenty-first century. In Indonesia, the thirty-two years of Suharto in office were followed by six years during which the country had three presidents, Habibie, Wahid and Megawati. In the Philippines, after the thirteen years of Marcos’s rule, the two presidents who had achieved their mandate by 2000, Aquino and Ramos, were each six years in office only, while Estrada was forced to resign after two years in office only. The two Korean presidents who had achieved their five-year term before 2000 on the basis of the new single-term rule were in office exactly five years, but their predecessor, Chun Doo Hwan, under whom the democratisation process began, was in office seven years. Among the presidential and semi-presidential countries, only in Taiwan did the limited tenure rule not have time to have an effect, as Lee Teng-hui of Taiwan was president for twelve years, first under the old arrangements and, since 1995, under the new arrangements, while his immediate successor, Chen Shui-bian, was first elected in 2000 and re-elected in 2004.

106 Jean Blondel In two of the three parliamentary cabinet governments, leaders have been in office for very long periods. Lee Kuan Yew was prime minister for twenty-five years before he abandoned the position to become ‘senior minister’. His successor, Goh, was prime minister for fourteen years before resigning in 2004 to be replaced by the son of Lee Kuan Yew, Lee Hsien Loong. In Malaysia, Mahathir was in office almost twice as long as Goh, having been, after a few years as deputy prime minister, prime minister between 1981 and 2004. In Thailand, on the other hand, the average duration of prime ministers in office from 1977 to the end of the century has been three years only; eight different men held the post during that period, in two cases twice. One prime minister, Prem, remained in office seven years between 1980 and 1987; three prime ministers, Anand, Banhan and Chaovalit, were in office for about a year each, while Suchinda, who engineered a coup in 1992 – the last which the country had known by the end of the century – had to resign after two months. The other three prime ministers, Kraysak, Chatichai and Chuan Leekpa, led governments which lasted three years and, in the case of Chuan Leekpa, twice. Thus before Thaksin became prime minister in 2001, there was some instability of leadership in liberal-democratic Thailand, although it was not extreme; but the coming of Thaksin to power appears to have started an era of prime ministerial stability. What has been extreme has been the instability of prime ministers in Korea after 1980; twenty-one different persons occupied the post, seven of them for a few months only, and none for appreciably more than two years; those who occupied the post longest were Lho Shin Yong for 27 months, King Young Sam for 24 months, Kim Jong Pil for 25 months and Lee Han Dong for 29 months. This short duration in office suggests that Korean prime ministers are rarely in a position to share the leadership with the president. In Taiwan, on the contrary, there were five prime ministers only between 1988 and 2004, all of whom remained in office at least two years and one of whom, Lien Chan, remained for over four years, thus suggesting that at least that prime minister did share the leadership of the country with President Lee. Overall, except in the case of Korean prime ministers, the duration of leaders in office in East and Southeast Asia has thus often been long and almost never very short. Indeed, in three countries, Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia up to 1999, it has been inordinately long. If East and Southeast Asian governments suffer from a drawback in relation to the duration of their leaders, it is not, except very occasionally in Thailand up to 2001 and in Indonesia since 1999, that these leaders do not last enough in power to make a mark on the life of the country but that, in a number of cases, they may have lasted too long. Origins and recruitment of leaders For all the countries of the region, except Japan, the post-Second World War years have been a period during which the modern state was established; not surprisingly, it has taken time for what can be described as a regular political career to develop. Parties are naturally the ‘normal’ route for such a career, but, as we saw,

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 107 parties developed, and in particular developed early on, in only a minority of the countries, Singapore and Malaysia mainly; the single-party system arrangement under which politics was organised in Taiwan from 1949 had a sufficiently strong structure, as we also saw, to constitute the route to power in the island. However, in the case of that country, only in 1988 did a leader come to power by means of the party route – a leader who was also for the first time an original Taiwanese; in the previous forty years, the founder of Kuomintang, Chiang Kai-chek and his son succeeded each other in the presidency. In two countries, Korea and Thailand, the party void was such and in Indonesia, up to 1999, the party void was made to be such that the route to the leadership had to be different; there was in effect none other than the military. In Indonesia, Suharto and the military set aside the parties and proceeded to control politics including by creating new parties. It took over thirty years for a civilian to occupy the presidency again, when Suharto came to be replaced by his vice-president, Habibie, an ex-university professor and businessman; yet, while, his two immediate successors, Wahid and Mrs Megawati, were also civilians, the subsequent president, Yudhoyono, popularly elected in 2004, came from the military. In Korea, military leaders succeeded each other up to 1992, when, for the first time in thirty years, a civilian leader came to power; interestingly, the military did not appear to want or need to appoint military men to the prime ministership. Only one prime minister was drawn from the military under Chun Doo Hwan and none under Roh Tae Woo. In Thailand, the military dominance of politics which started in 1932 was broken in 1991 only, when a diplomat, Anand, became prime minister, only to be overthrown soon afterwards by a general who had in turn to leave office under pressure after only two months. Since that episode, however, only one prime minister was to be a military man – and he had created a party and remained in office for one year only – although Thaksin, who became prime minister in 2001, had been a career member of the paramilitary policy force, but he, too, had created a party and indeed had done so twice and was a very successful businessman. Moreover, from 1988 to 1991 already, the military prime minister, Chatichai, had founded a party and had thus come to power on the basis of what might be regarded as a ‘double’ or ‘hybrid’ legitimacy. There remains the Philippines, where what had previously been an essentially civilian party-based leadership was broken by Marcos, not because he himself was from the military – he was a party leader and was first elected on that basis – but because he had probably increasingly to rely on the military to maintain himself in power; moreover, the rebellion in the South of the country meant that the government needed the support of the army if law and order was to be restored in that area. This seemed to give the military the desire to play a part in politics, a desire which manifested itself in several occasions during the presidency of Mrs Aquino in the form of attempted coups; only a military man could quash these tendencies and thus a general, Ramos, first advised and helped Mrs Aquino as minister of defence and subsequently became the successful presidential candidate in 1992. Since then the military has lost most of its influence and the Philippines, in the same way as Korea, Taiwan, Thailand and perhaps even Indonesia, has

108 Jean Blondel moved in a direction in which party and not the military is the basis for the recruitment of political leadership. The role of political leaders in the transition process By the turn of the twentieth century, the regimes of Malaysia and Singapore remained unchanged; they were ‘semi-pluralistic’ and there was no signs of any move in the direction of liberalisation. So long as this is the case, one cannot state that these two countries are in ‘transition’, though underlying forces may eventually result in a change taking place. In four of the other five countries studied here, on the other hand, a period of transition has occurred; it is perhaps somewhat optimistically thought to have been completed by 2000, although, as we saw in the previous chapter, the party system may still evolve in the subsequent decades and, as we shall see, members of governments are still far from being fully ‘political’. In Indonesia, the transition period seemed to have been particularly rapid, having begun in 2000 and been completed by 2004, though the move may not have had sufficient momentum to ensure that it will not be reversed. There is a sharp contrast between the form the transition took in three of the five countries which had become truly liberal and the form it took in the Philippines, the case of Indonesia being intermediate and perhaps not finally settled. In the Philippines, there was no transition in the strict sense of the word; there was a sharp break. The move was almost Spanish–American in character. In the early years after independence was declared, the country had a liberal regime. Marcos broke that tradition; he was forced to abandon power and to go into exile. The coming of Mrs Aquino to power signalled a ‘return to normalcy’ as much as a ‘new deal’. The role of the new president was therefore to ensure that what had occurred would not occur again, despite the fact that there were many supporters of the Marcos regime. As in Argentina under Alfonsin at about the same time, those supporters tried, with the help of the army, to make a comeback. They failed, but the climate was tense and Mrs Aquino, again as Alfonsin, seemed exhausted by the battle. Her leadership had been one of protection and defensiveness. Not so in Korea, Taiwan and Thailand; in these three countries there was indeed a transition. There was continuity of the personnel. The transition process was piloted by the old-style leadership drawn from the military in at least two of the three countries and to an extent in the third, Taiwan, if the son of Chiang Kai-chek, Chang Ching-kuo, is regarded as a military man, which he formally was. There was continuity and a gradual move towards liberal democracy, by small touches, through some constitutional changes, through some amendments to repressive laws, through the development of a pluralistic party system. Thus the leadership, typically military, in these three countries has been one of reformism and activism. The difference with the Philippines may well explain why there was little reaction, if any, from the military’s ‘old guard’ in these three countries, except for the short-lasting coup engineered by Suchinda in Thailand in early 1992.

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 109 The relative lack of reaction of the Indonesian military during the chaotic period which led to and followed Suharto’s downfall in 1999 was due to different reasons. That the Indonesian military did not even dare to attempt what some elements had attempted in the Philippines when Mrs Aquino was president, may have been in part the consequence of internal divisions within its ranks but may have been due also to the need to avoid being subjected even more to accusations of complicity with the actions of the Suharto regime. Unlike the military in Korea, Taiwan and Thailand, the Indonesian military was manifestly not in charge of whatever process of transition was taking place at the time, a process which the successive heads of State did not even control and merely followed; but the military did not actively oppose the process either. It did succeed to an extent, in the first three years following Suharto’s downfall at least, to remain neutral in the midst of the strong demonstrations against the ex-president and his successors. Although it was of value for the various presidents as it did continue to fight with energy against the rebellious movements in the peripheries, its low legitimacy, which resulted from its close association with a regime which had lost all authority, prevented it from adopting a high-profile posture if it was to remain relatively unscathed. Political leadership in East and Southeast Asia is thus diverse in its role, its origins, its duration, its composition and its mode of appointment. What appears to be a universal problem – that of ensuring that the economy progresses – and a widespread if not as yet universal concern – that of rendering political life more pluralistic – has been handled in a different manner in the seven most advanced countries, outside Japan, of East and Southeast Asia. By and large, even perhaps in Indonesia, the leadership has been successful on both counts, since major progress took place on the economic front and substantial change occurred in a majority of countries on the political front. This was achieved by a leadership which transformed itself in many cases in the process, becoming more civilian, being more drawn from the parties, not lasting so long in power, but not being affected by too rapid a turnover, with the exception, for a while at least, of post-1998 Indonesia. We need now to turn to the rest of the members of the governments to see whether, in this respect, too, there are signs of a development towards what might be regarded as a more ‘normal’ political elite.

III Rather ‘administrative’ governments with strong country-specific characteristics East and Southeast Asian political leadership has been strongly political and highly concerned with engineering support for itself and the regime; it has also been long-lasting, although some changes have occurred since the 1990s, principally in Thailand and in Indonesia, but also to an extent in some of the other countries; in contrast, the government has been confined, again until the final decades of the twentieth century and in some of the countries, to a rather administrative role. The question needs therefore to be asked: Does the government exist as a body, in a collegial sense, or is it a ‘bureaucratic’ entity which is no more than a collection

110 Jean Blondel of ministers who have nothing in common except for the fact that they work under the same leader and occasionally relate to each other over matters concerning their respective departments (Blondel, 1982, p. 5)? This last view was never wholly appropriate for some of the countries and in particular for Malaysia and Singapore where the cabinet system and above all its parliamentary base, even if it played a limited part, gave ministers a degree of collegiality. Many at least among the ministers were part of a recognised political elite. The fact that the members of the government have tended to remain in office for long periods, as we shall see, must also have played a part; these ministers have not merely been the ‘prime minister’s men and women’. The picture is not as clear in the other countries, except in Thailand, to an extent at least, where parliamentary ‘norms’ have gradually developed. What movements are taking place in Korea, in Taiwan and above all in Indonesia are still uncertain: indeed, in Indonesia, under the three presidents who followed Suharto, the relationship of the members of the government to the president has been obscure; it seems, however, that under Wahid a sharp distinction remained between the political leader, holding in his hands the regime, so to speak, and the ministers whose functions continued to be almost exclusively administrative. The changes which have occurred since the 1980s were largely the consequence of the move of many of the countries towards liberal democracy; in such a context, it seems inevitable that the gap between leaders and ministers would gradually decrease. This gap may already have decreased to an extent in some of the countries, in part because a coalition-building process is beginning to take place, however inchoate it may still be. As leaders are not able to set up governments entirely on their own, they have to take into account the views of other members of the ‘political elite’ about both policies and ministerial personnel. Little change in the administrative structure of government The liberalisation process cannot be expected to have had a major influence on the administrative structure of the governments of East and Southeast Asia, however, as the administrative structure had been ‘modern’ for decades. That structure is in any sense piggy-backed on the equally modern and well-developed organisation of the permanent bureaucracies. Perhaps the major change which occurred in this respect in the final decades of the twentieth century has been the continuation of the increase in the size of the governments, an increase which had been substantial earlier in the twentieth century and which is the consequence of the expansion of the activities of states everywhere. Thus while the average number of ministers across the world was twelve in the late 1940s, it had grown to eighteen by the mid-1970s (Blondel, 1982, p. 176); this was about the average for the countries of East and Southeast Asia at the time (ibid., p. 186). Since then, the size of East and Southeast Asian governments has continued to increase appreciably; it rose to twenty-two in the mid-1980s and to twenty-five by the end of the twentieth century. There were

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 111 substantial variations across the region, however: the size of the Thai and Filipino governments even decreased slightly; in Indonesia, there was an increase of only one post. On the other hand, in Korea, Malaysia, Singapore and above all Taiwan, the increase was substantial; thus although the Singaporean government remained the smallest of the seven (twenty posts in 2004), as tends to be the case, in general, among states with relatively small populations, the difference between the size of that government and the size of the governments of the other countries of the region had markedly diminished (see Table 4.2). In general, the administrative structure of East and Southeast Asian governments is ‘classical’. There are departmental ministers, perhaps one deputy prime minister and/or one non-portfolio minister. Slight variations on this model have occurred in three of the countries in the final decades of the twentieth century, however. In Thailand, the number of deputy prime ministers has been larger; there have been in general four of them. In Taiwan, there have been a number of ministers without portfolio (up to six). In Indonesia, there have been three ‘coordinating’ (super) ministers, each of whom has been in charge of a sector of government; there have also been a number of second-level ministers, designated as ‘state ministers’. As a matter of fact, the Indonesian government has tended to be sui generis in another respect during the authoritarian period, a point to which we shall return. Some increase in the ‘political’ character of East and Southeast Asian governments If the administrative structure of governments has changed little, the political complexion has altered somewhat, in the majority of the countries of the region at least. For the first time in many years, albeit gradually, the governments are becoming more ‘political’. Some limited evidence can be drawn from the background of ministers, as we shall see; but the change is perhaps due rather more to the fact that governments have ceased to be exclusively ‘governments of presidents’ and are based somewhat more on the views of a broader political elite. In the 1970s Table 4.2 Size of governments Circa 1980

Maximum

1997–8

2003–4

Korea

22

29 (1992)

25

19

Taiwan

26

37 (1996)

35

35

Philippines

23

27 (1987)

22

22

Indonesia

25

27 (1994)

26

23

Singapore

13

19 (2004)

16

19

Malaysia

24

28 (1995)

26

24

Thailand

25

25 (1980)

23

19

Average

22.5

24.7

23

112 Jean Blondel and early 1980s, the presidents in the presidential and semi-presidential countries and the prime ministers of Thailand and, in effect, Singapore, though to a lesser extent than those of Malaysia, constructed their governments in the way they wished: by the end of the twentieth century, pure ‘governments of presidents’ had almost entirely disappeared; even the Indonesian government, which remained during the 1990s the only example of the genre, may be in the process of adjusting to the new political conditions. The move away from the ‘government of the president’ formula resulted from various arrangements which took place sometimes in succession. The closest arrangement to the original formula is the one which results from party manipulation and engineered party splits. It has been found to occur in Korea and the Philippines. In part because some members of the opposition parties were anxious to join the government of a newly-elected president, in part because that newly-elected president cajoled some members of the opposition parties to make them cease to be opponents, the party system of these two countries which, as we saw in the previous chapter, is based on volatile and fissiparous parties, has been occasionally ‘restructured’; this makes it difficult to know whether the new government is a ‘government of the president’ or an ‘ad hoc coalition’. Indonesia has been moving in the same direction; at the 1999 election, the vice-president, Mrs Megawati, of the PDI, joined the government of Wahid who had been elected president with the support of Golkar. That government remained fully in the hands of the president, admittedly, but members of the PDI, besides the vice-president, were appointed ministers. The fact that ministers from a different party from that of the president were part of the government rendered the Wahid government more ‘political’ than its predecessors. In a second phase, the Korean president adopted another arrangement, which the Taiwan president adopted also in 2000; this consisted in building a straightforward coalition, albeit one ‘organised’ by the head of State. In both countries that type of coalition structure was initiated by someone who had been an opposition leader before becoming president and who found himself without a majority in parliament, a handicap which had to be overcome given that both countries were semi-presidential. Both these forms of coalitions, ‘ad hoc’ and ‘organised’, were produced from above, a state of affairs which is likely to occur frequently in semi-presidential systems. In parliamentary Thailand, however, a further step was taken for a while during the 1990s. Throughout that decade, wide-ranging negotiations took place between party leaders, typically at the suggestion of the person designated by the King to be prime minister, in order to build a coalition government which would enjoy a (preferably stable) majority in parliament. This last move meant that the ‘politicisation’ of the government had by then been accomplished in the country. Given that Thaksin’s TRT obtained a near-majority at the 2001 election and that that near-majority was soon turned into a majority as a result of the support offered by a few independent MPs, such a ‘normal’ coalition process was no longer needed; coalitions returned to being ‘organised from above’ by the prime minister after that election.

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 113 The contrast between the early 1980s and the late 1990s is therefore marked; in the early 1980s, the only coalition government was that of Malaysia. It was then – and it has remained – a rather contrived coalition, since the Barisan National is seemingly unbreakable. By the middle of the first decade of the twenty-first century, the only government not based on a coalition or on some arrangements between various parties was that of Singapore. Largely idiosyncratic trends in the turnover of ministers While governments have become gradually more ‘political’, the effect on turnover and even on the background of the members of the governments has remained limited. There are variations in the duration of East and Southeast Asian ministers in office, to be sure; they are even large; but they have always been large and they have been large apparently irrespective of the regime of the countries concerned. Thus, over the 1945–81 period, the average duration of ministers in office ranged between almost nine years in Singapore and less then two years in Korea; it was about four and a half years overall (Blondel, 1982, 1985). From the 1980s to the early years of the twenty-first century, that average duration had declined to about 3.8 years, ranging, also between Singapore and Korea, from 6.6 years to 1.4 years (see Table 4.3). In the first decades after the Second World War or during the first years after independence, the countries of the region thus belonged to three groups; there was great stability among ministers from Singapore and Malaysia, instability among ministers from Korea, while the turnover in the other four countries was very close to the world average which was 3.6 years at the time (Blondel, 1985, p. 91). In the last two decades of the twentieth century, the average duration of ministers in office declined somewhat in six of the seven countries studied here. Singapore and Malaysia were still at the top and Korea at the bottom, but among the four countries in the middle, three remained relatively close, the average duration in office of their ministers having fallen to around two and half years. Indonesia was Table 4.3 Average duration of ministers in office (years) 1945–81

1980s–1990s

Korea

1.8

1.4 (1980–98)

Taiwan

3.7

3.1 (1988–98)

Philippines

3.4

2.6 (1986–98)

Indonesia

3.5

4.6 (1988–98)

Singapore

8.7

6.6 (1989–98)

Malaysia

7.1

6.8 (1981–98)

Thailand

3.1

2.3 (1979–98)

Average

4.5

3.8

114 Jean Blondel different; it was the only country in the group in which ministers remained longer in office than in earlier decades; the average ministerial duration in the country increased from three and a half years to four and a half years. The average was to be markedly reduced after the fall of Suharto; but the short duration was due essentially to the rapid succession of presidents. Under Mrs Megawati, who was in power for three years between 2001 and 2004, there was indeed complete stability of the cabinet, as under Suharto previously. The reasons why the countries of the region were distributed in this manner are diverse; they manifestly cannot be ascribed, at any rate primarily, to the nature of the regime. Admittedly, the three countries in which the duration of ministers in office was longest in both the 1980s and the 1990s, Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia, were also the three in which there was little or no move towards liberal democracy during that period. However, first, ministerial turnover increased in Singapore and Malaysia while it decreased in Indonesia. Second, while one might have expected the duration of ministers in government to fall appreciably in Thailand with the emergence of a multi-party system leading to fragile coalitions, the decline in duration was the same in the Philippines and in Taiwan; the case of Taiwan is particularly striking in this respect since the same president, Lee Teng-hui, remained in office for twelve years. The high turnover of ministers could not therefore be ascribed, as it might be in the Philippines, to changes in leadership. Third and above all, the very low average duration of ministers in Korea has been a constant feature of the governments of that country, whether under authoritarian or liberal democratic regimes. Meanwhile, the relatively high turnover of ministers in Thailand had already occurred before the emergence of the multi-party system. The reasons for differences in turnover from one country to another in East and Southeast Asia are therefore similar to the ones which can be drawn for other parts of the world; these differences are to a substantial extent country-specific and are not ostensibly markedly affected by regime changes (Blondel, 1982, 1985, pp. 113–15) (see Table 4.4). Table 4.4 Ministerial turnover in selected posts Foreign affairs

Interior

Finance economy

Justice

Defence

Trade

Korea (1980–98)

11

22

15

15

14

14

Taiwan (1988–98)

4

6

5

4

4

4

Philippines (1986–98)

4

6

8

5

5

4

Indonesia (1988–98)

1

3

3

3

3

3

Singapore (1989–98)

2

2

1

?

3

2

Malaysia (1981–98)

5

(also PM)

4

NA

PM + 3

3

Thailand (1980–87)

1

3

3

4

2

6

(1987–98)

9

6

10

9

4

5

(1980–98)

10

9

13

13

PM + 5

11

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 115 Two further elements seem to reinforce these conclusions. On the one hand, variations from one post to another, within each country, are relatively limited: during the last two decades of the twentieth century there was a substantially higher turnover of ministers of the interior and a substantially lower turnover of ministers of foreign affairs in Korea than on average; but there was little difference in the turnover of ministers in other key departments (about fourteen). Second, ministerial turnover does not appear to be affected by the duration in office of the head of the government. The turnover of ministers in Taiwan, as we already noted, was as large as in the Philippines and in Thailand, although President Lee of Taiwan remained in office for twelve years between 1988 and 2000. The turnover of ministers in Thailand was as high under Prem, who was prime minister for seven years between 1980 and 1987, as under his successors who remained in office for much shorter times. The same trend continued under Thaksin, despite the stability of that prime minister in office. The fact that Chun remained president of Korea for seven years did not mean that the turnover of ministers was lower under his rule than it had been under his two successors who were in office for five years only. A peculiar case remains, however, that of the Indonesian governments under Suharto’s presidency. There had been an increase in the duration of ministers in office in that country between the early post-Second World War decades and the final years of the twentieth century, as we noted. When the composition of the governments of the period is examined in detail, it appears that this relatively high duration was due to the fact that that composition followed a peculiar pattern. At the beginning of each five-year term, Suharto formed a new government; that government was truly ‘new’ in that it included very few members of the outgoing government. During the following five years, however, that government was almost not altered at all, in contrast with what happens in general and in particular with what happened in the other presidential and semi-presidential governments of the region. Thus, between 1988 and 1993, the composition did not change at all; between 1993 and 1998, there was only one change, in 1997. Meanwhile, only seven of the twenty-two ministers who had been in office between 1988 and 1993 remained in the government after 1993, four of them in the same posts and three in new posts. In 1998, only nine of the twenty-three ministers who had been in office between 1993 and 1998 remained in the government, three of them in the same posts and six in new posts. These developments clearly indicate that there was a deliberate decision on the part of Suharto to ‘stabilise’ his executive, possibly on the ground that this would increase the efficiency of that body. While the practice was not continued by Wahid who, on the contrary, did begin to reshuffle his government a few months after taking office, it was followed by Mrs Megawati, who not only, as we saw, kept the same ministers in the cabinet throughout her three years as president, but also made entirely new appointments in two-thirds of the cases (15 out of 23); what happened to the government of Indonesia cannot therefore be ascribed just to the idiosyncratic character of Suharto. Other authoritarian rulers, Chun of Korea, Prem of Thailand and indeed the Kuomintang leaders of the early period, did not hesitate to reshuffle their governments.

116 Jean Blondel The career background of ministers in East and Southeast Asia The examination of the duration of ministers in office suggests that the democratisation which occurred in the final decades of the twentieth century in the majority of the countries of the region did not have (or at most still did not have by the beginning of the twenty-first century) any substantial impact on the extent of turnover. Broadly the same conclusion has to be drawn when examining the career background of ministers, both in terms of the extent to which they have or have not been parliamentarians and in terms of their previous occupations. Some changes are beginning to occur, however, especially in two respects: first, in those three countries in which the proportion of ministers drawn from the military was high, Thailand, Korea and even Indonesia, the proportion of military men declined gradually; second, while, as expected, parliamentary systems did draw their ministers to a substantial extent from among parliamentarians, this move amplified in the final decade of the twentieth century. On the other hand, in Singapore and even to an extent in Malaysia, the proportion of ministers drawn from the public services has remained substantial while the proportion of ministers drawn from outside the public sector has been generally small (see Table 4.5). The country of the region in which the background of ministers resembles most closely that of parliamentary countries elsewhere in the world is Malaysia, while the country in which the background of ministers resembles most closely that of presidential countries elsewhere in the world is the Philippines. This is perhaps not surprising, given the fact that these two countries are those which have had respectively the most ‘normal’ or possibly the least ‘abnormal’ form of parliamentary or presidential government on the basis of the criteria adopted in particular in Western countries. Malaysia’s government is based on a coalition, which, however permanent and to an extent contrived, is none the less based on parties which are autonomous from each other and mainly represent different ethnic communities. The British influence clearly played a substantial part in the development of the political elite of the country, even if that influence has been reduced over the years and even if Mahathir, during his long period of rule, can be expected to have played a substantial part in shaping this elite. Two-thirds of Malaysian ministers have been in parliament, often for long periods, before joining the government, while a few began their career as members of an assembly of one of the states of the Federation. Only 20 per cent of these ministers had been civil servants; most of the other ministers were drawn in relatively equal numbers from the legal profession (14 per cent), business (16 per cent), teaching, including university teaching (17 per cent) and politics, including state or local politics (13 per cent). None of the ministers had a military background. The background of members of the government in the Philippines contrasts sharply with that of Malaysian ministers in the way in which the background of members of presidential governments can be expected to contrast with that of members of parliamentary governments. A small minority among them had

0

78

59

65

31

(pre-1990)

(1990–98)

Indonesia

Singapore

Malaysia

Thailand 25

41

–

–

36

11

7

6

16

Military

* Some professors (8 out of 27) were also civil servants.

17

Philippines

12

(1992–98)

10

5

(pre-1992)

Taiwan*

Korea

MPs

19

16

20

39

28

22

53

37

41

Civil service

10

4

17

22

16

11

37

20

16

24

31

16

11

12

33

3

2

7

Professor Business

3

4

14

6

–

13

8

2

1

Law

17

2

13

11

–

–

1

19

13

3

2

20

11

7

11

1

14

6

Politician Other

Table 4.5 Career background of ministers (percentages among those whose background is known)

72

49

70

18

74

46

73

101

141

TOTAL

118 Jean Blondel been members of one or the other of the chambers of Congress (16 per cent of those whose background was known). The proportion of those who had been civil servants was as low as in Malaysia (20 per cent); some, but relatively few (10 per cent), had been members of the military. The largest single group was constituted by businessmen (30 per cent), while university professors (10 per cent) and career politicians (12 per cent) were also relatively numerous. In the other countries, only with respect to the presence or absence of members of parliament among ministers is the background comparable to what can be expected to be the case in other presidential or parliamentary systems. Thus in Singapore and Thailand the proportion of members of parliament is large – though not overwhelming, especially in Thailand – and this is consistent with the fact that these two countries are parliamentary. In Singapore, as in Malaysia, almost two-thirds of the members (14 out the 23 persons who were ministers in the 1990s) were drawn from parliament. In Thailand, about half the ministers whose background was known had been members of parliament, mostly from the lower house; many of them had been members for long periods and had been elected as early as the 1960s. On the other hand, in Indonesia, as in the Philippines, the proportion of parliamentarians is small, a finding which is consistent with the fact that the country is presidential, even if its presidential character has been rather idiosyncratic. Finally, in Taiwan and Korea, the proportion of parliamentarians is sizeable but somewhat smaller than might have expected, given that these two countries are semi-presidential. It is not possible to draw precise conclusions about Taiwan in this respect as difficulties have been encountered in obtaining a detailed knowledge of the background of ministers of that country; it should also be noted that the move to a liberal democratic regime took place in that country in the late 1980s only. In Korea, 20 per cent of the ministers whose background was known had been members of parliament; that proportion may not be higher also because liberal democratic rule was introduced, there too, in the late 1980s only. When comparing the occupational background of ministers in Korea, Taiwan, Indonesia, Singapore and Thailand, some broad trends emerge as well as substantial differences. First, by and large, the governments are composed of persons issued from the public services rather than from the private sector; only in Thailand is the proportion of businessmen substantial (nearly 30 per cent), while it is under 10 per cent in the other countries. Second and conversely, again excluding Thailand, where they form slightly under 20 per cent of the ministers, civil servants are numerous and constitute between 30 and 40 per cent of the members of governments whose occupation is known in Indonesia, Korea, Singapore and Taiwan. In parallel, excepting Taiwan, professors are a substantial group, of between 15 and 20 per cent; the proportion of professors among the ministers whose occupation was traced was even larger in Taiwan (over 40 per cent), but this is probably an artefact of the relatively small number of ministers whose occupation is known, professors being more likely to be willing to report their careers or to be asked by international directories about their career. Moreover, in a number of countries, the overlap between business,

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 119 teaching and the civil service is substantial; the ex-president of Indonesia, Habibie, for instance, was a businessman, a professor and a civil servant at various points in his career. Third, but in three of the countries only, though there is some doubt about Taiwan, the military has formed over the whole period a large proportion of the members of governments, over a third in Indonesia and Thailand, but, perhaps surprisingly, only 15 per cent in Korea. In Taiwan, only one member of the Lee governments was found to have come from the military, but others may not have been traced by international directories. In Singapore, only one member of the military was ever a minister, Lee Hsien Loong, the son of Lee Kuan Yew who became prime minister in 2004; while he has been a genuine member of the military, the fact that he was the son of Lee Kuan Yew suggests that his place in the government – in which he was twice minister of defence – may have had more to do with a decision to make sure that military and government were in unison than with the fact that the military ‘demanded’ or even wanted a position in the government. The type of profile which characterises the governments of Korea, Taiwan, Indonesia, Singapore and, with reservations, Thailand, indicates that a ministerial career in these countries is, albeit in different ways, neither an independent career nor a representative career; it seems to be more in the nature of an appendage to a public service career to which, especially in Indonesia and Thailand, as well as to an extent in Korea, the military is regarded as belonging. This conclusion is reinforced by the fact that persons with a purely political background are rarely to be found among ministers in these countries, except in Thailand and, perhaps more surprisingly, in Korea. Indonesia and Singapore as well as probably Taiwan are countries in which the distinction between a political and a public service career is, to say the least, not clearly achieved. On the whole, there was relatively little change in the occupational background of ministers who came to office from the 1990s compared with those who were in office earlier. There is one exception to this general rule, however; the proportion of military men among ministers did decline in all three countries where it had been large. The decline was least marked in Indonesia, but it did occur in that country as well and even under Suharto, let alone afterwards; it was also marked in Korea and Thailand, including under Thaksin. Indeed, in Korea, the proportion of military members of governments was sufficiently small in the 1990s (6 per cent) to suggest that that type of background had ceased to be an ‘acceptable’ basis for the recruitment of members of the government. The same seemed to occur in Thailand, both because members of the military are smaller in numbers and because several members of the military had ‘civilianised’ themselves and had entered a successful ‘new’ career within and even at the head of political parties. Overall, therefore, the public service element is substantial in all of the countries of the study, but it is lowest in Malaysia, where occupations such as the law, teaching and politics play a large part, and in the Philippines, where businessmen and lawyers are numerous. The profile of ministers in Thailand is approaching that of the Philippines, with business and political careers being important sources

120 Jean Blondel of recruitment, but with the military still occupying a large place even if some military men appear to have transferred their entire loyalty to party politics. In the other four countries, public services dominate, with the civil service and university teaching being the occupational background of most ministers and, in Indonesia and Korea, the military providing – and especially having provided earlier – a substantial contingent of ministers. Korea seems to distance itself a little from the other countries in beginning to draw a sizeable number of its ministers from among career politicians while the proportion of military men coming to the government is in marked decline. Meanwhile, while almost no military influence can be traced in Singaporean cabinets, these cabinets are remarkable for having ‘fused’, so to speak, politics and administration. This ‘fusion’ is reinforced by the fact that many ministers who had been civil servants or university professors also had a period in parliament, a body which, admittedly, has little influence on politics but does play a symbolic part in legitimising the government. Given the duration of the ministers in office in Singapore, it is surely not exaggerated to claim that the ministers of that country form a tightly-knit group with all the characteristics of a managerial elite. The government may be that of ‘Singapore Inc.’, but it is one in which the ‘Inc.’ element does not come from outside and is, by and large, the result of promotion within the public sector.

Conclusions As was noted at the start of this chapter, information about the inner workings of governments will have to improve markedly before one becomes able to understand how the decisions are processed within the executive as well as who among the leaders and other government members process these decisions. A number of points are clear, however. First, the fact that a country adopted a parliamentary, presidential or semi-presidential system is far from being irrelevant to the characteristics of the national executive. The government is more tightlyknit in parliamentary systems, whether the regime is ‘semi-pluralistic’ or not; most ministers have been parliamentarians and this contributes, even if parliament is not strong, to generating a certain camaraderie among the ministers. In presidential and semi-presidential systems, on the contrary, members of governments are usually drawn from outside parliament, although there is a difference in this respect between Korea, which is semi-presidential, and both Indonesia and the Philippines, which are presidential. The semi-presidential character of the government does result in a substantial proportion of government members – including the leaders who were elected presidents when the regime became liberal democratic in Korea – having had links with the legislature. The second rather firm conclusion is that military participation in the government is declining and that the influence of the military is also declining as a result. The participation of the military in government has been declining everywhere in the region, including in Indonesia during the final years of the Suharto presidency. Yet in the other two countries in which the military had been prominent, Korea and Thailand, as well indeed as in Taiwan if Chang Ching-kuo

The national executives in East and Southeast Asia 121 is regarded as having been a true member of the military, it is the military itself which began and in several cases completed the transition process. This might be one of the reasons why that transition took place relatively smoothly, except in Indonesia and perhaps in the Philippines, though in both these countries problems of national integration also resulted in the military inevitably playing a substantial part in public policy. Yet the third conclusion is that changes are also partial and rather slow. Not only do the cases of Singapore and Malaysia show there are some limits to the regime changes which have taken place, but also changes appear to be particularly slow in building a ‘new’ political elite, a conclusion which is perhaps not surprising given that parties are weak and/or volatile or were, in the case of Indonesia, artificial. Parties of this kind are bound to be slow in replacing civil servants and the military and in providing a basis for a new type of recruitment of members of governments. As long as this is the case, the transition cannot be regarded as being complete; as long as this is the case, the democratic processes cannot be regarded as being firmly established either. It is not at all indifferent to the political life of the countries concerned whether parties are well-structured and whether they are active. The emergence of a genuinely political elite within the government does therefore ultimately depend on whether parties will succeed, in the early part of the twenty-first century, in being sufficiently strong to provide a basis for the recruitment of substantial numbers of members of government in the countries of East and Southeast Asia.

Notes 1 Members of governments are typically referred to as ‘ministers’ in parliamentary and semi-presidential systems and as secretaries in presidential systems, though there are some exceptions. The word minister is used here to refer generally to members of governments. 2 Parliamentary systems are sometimes referred to as ‘parliamentary-cabinet’ systems. As this is a mouthful, the expression ‘parliamentary’ is used here to refer to the governments (whose apex is typically known as ‘cabinets’) in parliamentary systems. 3 The idea of the government member as an ‘amateur’ rather than as a specialist has been often put forward in the literature on parliamentary systems, particularly those which have been modelled on Britain. ‘Amateurs’ are regarded as more likely to have a collegial approach to the government and thus to conform more easily to the ‘ideal’ characteristics of parliamentary government. See for instance Kellner and Crowther Hunt. 4 Heads of governments are officially referred to by different titles, such as ‘presidents of the council’ (of ministers), in Italy for instance, or ‘chancellors’, in Germany and Austria for instance. The expression prime minister is used here to refer to all the cases of heads of governments in parliamentary and semi-presidential systems. 5 What is automatic in Malaysia is that the leader of UMNO becomes prime minister; but the selection of the UMNO leader is not automatic. As pointed out in Chapter 3, there have indeed been elections for the leadership in the party. Meanwhile, the outgoing prime minister does play a part in ‘suggesting’ who his successor might be. This was the case in 2003; Abdullah, who was deputy prime minister under Mahathir, was ‘proposed’ to UMNO by Mahathir and the choice was easily endorsed.

122 Jean Blondel 6 During the 2001–5 legislature, Thaksin, whose party was only very close to having obtained a majority of seats in parliament in 2001, succeeded in attracting the support of a number of smaller parties and indeed some of these merged with the TRT. The country appeared thus to be moving towards a near two-party system, with the opposition being essentially constituted by the Democratic Party.

Bibliography Blondel, J. (1982), The Organisation of Governments, London and Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Blondel, J. (1985), Government Ministers in the Contemporary World, London and Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Blondel, J. and J.L. Thiebault (eds) (1991), The Profession of Government Minister in Western Europe, Basingstoke: Macmillan. Kellner, P. and Lord Crowther-Hunt (1980), The Civil Servants, London: Macdonald.

5

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity and administrative reform Martin Painter1

There is a significant body of evidence that efficient and effective state bureaucracies make an important contribution to economic well-being. Knack and Keefer (1995) found a positive correlation between indices of bureaucratic quality and growth in per capita GDP. A study assessing the effects of official development aid on economic growth rates found no impact unless national governments provided a sound economic management environment (Burnside and Dollar, 1998). An important component of such a policy environment was stable, credible enforcement regimes, with low levels of corruption. Not only is there evidence of the link between bureaucratic quality and economic development, there is also evidence of the positive effects on bureaucratic performance of particular administrative support systems, such as meritocratic recruitment into the civil service and performance-based promotion and rewards (Nunberg, 1995, 1999; Rauch and Evans, 2000; World Bank, 2000a). An effective, merit-based bureaucracy is one component of the East Asian developmental state (such as Japan or South Korea) and has been associated more generally with economic success stories in Asia. In some of these cases, the bureaucracy enjoyed considerable political autonomy and coordinated economic affairs in close consultation with business; in others, the technocratic expertise of the bureaucracy was at the disposal of a powerful political executive, whose members took the leading role in managing relations with business groups (Kang, 2002). The Asian economic crisis led to something of a reappraisal of the developmental state model – for example, a critique of ‘cronyism’ and of opaqueness in government– business relations that characterised many such regimes. Another factor that complicates earlier analysis of the importance of bureaucratic autonomy for the developmental state is the growing pace of democratisation in the region. New constraints have been placed on political executives seeking to steer and manage national economies, and traditions of bureaucratic insulation and autonomy have been challenged. This, in turn, has highlighted questions concerning the effects of different democratic institutional arrangements (notably, presidential as against parliamentary systems) on government performance, including bureaucratic capacities. This chapter undertakes a stock-take of administrative and policy capacities in the seven systems of government that are the subject of this book. This is presented

124 Martin Painter in six sections: first, a discussion of the approach to be taken towards qualitative comparative assessment; second, a survey of the seven civil service systems; third, a ‘spotlight’ glimpse of some cases of serious bureaucratic pathologies in the seven systems; fourth, an analysis of bureaucrat–politician relations; fifth, a discussion of administrative reform capacity (Knill, 1999); and finally some concluding comments.

Comparing the seven bureaucratic systems The qualitative analysis that follows adopts a thematic approach, focusing on a number of key indicators. Here, quality is defined in terms of two sorts of capacity: administrative capacity (concerned with the objective and efficient management of resources for the purposes of public service provision) and policy capacity (the level of contribution to ‘intelligent steering’ by the government) (Painter and Pierre, 2005). Administrative capacity is assessed according to a number of related dimensions, most importantly the extent to which merit is entrenched in civil service norms and processes. Serious, consistent application of merit in appointment, placement and advancement is a fundamental building block for efficient administration. Closely related is a system of civil service rewards and other incentives which is based primarily on performance. A second bundle of linked characteristics relate to the instrumental character of the bureaucracy. Bureaucracies are repositories of status, wealth and power as well as instruments for achieving sound administration and effective public policies. Social, cultural, political and other ‘informal’ aspects of bureaucracies can be a source of ‘perverse instrumentality’, that is the diversion of resources to ends other than those reflected in formal, public-regarding duties. Bureaucratic structures following their own internal logic are notorious for developing organizational pathologies, leading to goal displacement. One such is excessive proceduralism; another is empire-building; yet another is ‘buck-passing’ arising from imperfect or malfunctioning hierarchies of control or division of tasks. Thus, in this section, the focus is both on bureaucratic culture and on the pathologies of behaviour arising from bureaucratic structures. A third set of characteristics relates the rational, instrumental dimensions of bureaucracy to the wider policy-making process by focusing on the nature of the relationships between the bureaucratic and political elites in the governing system. For ‘neutral competence’ to contribute effectively to policy capacity, the political elite must respect and support the principle. There needs to be an institutionalized ‘settlement’ of the respective roles and functions of the political executive and of the bureaucracy. The capacity to initiate and manage reform is an indication of the successful combination of policy capacity and administrative capacity, as it requires both political steering and administrative competencies. A set of wellfunctioning relations between bureaucrats and politicians, where their mutual spheres are institutionalized in a way that fosters cooperation, is clearly a prerequisite for successful reform implementation. A later section in this chapter

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 125 focuses specifically on the administrative reform performance of the seven jurisdictions. For purposes of comparison, the cases can be grouped and contrasted in a number of ways. The nature of the basic political architecture is one way, beginning with a familiar distinction between parliamentary and presidential regimes. This distinction masks others, namely the manner in which the political executive shares power with the legislature and the manner in which the ruling coalition is formed. We can also group our cases based on ‘path-dependent’ cultural and institutional traditions. Five of the countries have been influenced to varying degrees by different colonial powers: the British in Singapore and Malaysia; the Dutch in Indonesia; America in the Philippines; and Japan in Korea. Taiwan and South Korea show evidence of more recent American influences, but Confucian traditions also exert a powerful cultural influence. Thailand has a long, continuous national history and no colonial inheritance, but has its own record since the nineteenth century of borrowing and adaptation in pursuit of modernization. As well as these inheritances, recent political history has seen the evolution of a particular set of institutional and political arrangements in each country. In the cases of Indonesia, Thailand, Korea and Taiwan, relatively long periods of authoritarian or military rule have ended, and ushered in a process of democratization. Thailand is a particularly interesting case viewed from the point of view of historical trajectory. It is in the midst of an apparent regime transformation, in that the Thaksin Government has, through transforming the nature of the party system in the electoral arena, also transformed the way in which the political executive is restrained by legislative and other powers (essentially, with the result of removing nearly all such restraints). A key dimension of the regime changes under way in Thailand, as we shall describe, has been the way they have also changed the nature of the relations between the political executive and the bureaucracy, ushering in significant bureaucratic reforms. From a viewpoint in the midst of such a transformation it will be convenient for the sake of argument to refer in some parts of the analysis to ‘Thailand I’ (pre-Thaksin) and ‘Thailand II’ (the Thaksin regime). Historically, such swings and shifts in basic regime characteristics have not been uncommon in our seven countries. For example, the Philippines as well as Thailand have swung back and forth between democratic and authoritarian regimes. Thus, the late-Marcos regime bears little resemblance to those that followed it. However, in this case we can, for the sake of analysis, focus on the post-Marcos era regime.

The civil service systems compared The principle of neutral competence in practice refers to the routine application of a set of rules and procedures that rigorously apply fitness and merit to recruitment and promotion in the civil service (Peters, 2001, p. 87). A set of management tools that encourage and reward performance is the hallmark of a modern, merit-based civil service. In comparing the seven cases along this dimension, institutional

126 Martin Painter inheritance is a major factor. The two ex-British colonies (Singapore and Malaysia) possess civil service systems showing close similarities due to their inheritance of British colonial civil service traditions. They operate under close central direction, with strong central personnel agencies to protect and enhance civil service values and interests, and they espouse neutral competence as an article of faith. Both had a common origin in post-colonial Malaya, where recruitment to the elite Malayan Civil Service (MCS) scheme of service was a highly selective, competitive and prestigious affair (Puthucheary, 1978). After Singapore broke away and the Malayan federation disintegrated, each civil service acquired its own character, embodying features that reflect the nature of the respective societies and political regimes. Both post-colonial civil services adapted quickly to serve loyally their new political masters. Both personnel systems are relatively closed career services. Entry to a lifelong career is at lower levels, with the promise of a secure job and a pension. Recruitment to different ranks is according to educational qualifications and/or examinations. However, there are significant differences in the extent to which seniority and loyalty rather than performance are given priority in the systems of reward and promotion. Malaysia’s civil service shows the influence of wider forms of positive discrimination towards the Malay or ‘bumiputera’ population, which is a cornerstone of the regime’s legitimacy and its multi-ethnic political settlement (Case, 1996). Public employment is an important dimension of support and assistance for Malays, with an array of social, housing and other forms of assistance associated with it.2 The Malaysian civil service authorities, by investing heavily in employment security, skills training and career development, are both seeking to ensure administrative competence and also aiding in the creation of a Malay middle class. In contrast to the Malaysian civil service, the Singapore civil service has developed a system of highly competitive, performance-based recruitment and advancement. Vogel (1989) has dubbed Singapore’s government a ‘machomeritocracy’. The political leadership depicts itself as a group of visionary leaders of superior intellect, and the senior levels of the bureaucracy are likewise nurtured as the society’s brightest and best. The inherited class system of the colonial civil service has been further refined, with highly competitive selection of the best graduates into the top administrative ranks, often from those who have received government scholarships to train overseas. In-service training and career development seek to select out and promote the most able, with meticulous and constant performance appraisal and accelerated advancement for those showing the most promise. Measures such as the opening up of top positions to officers of professional classes and a limited amount of ‘lateral recruitment’ have been adopted to stimulate competition for top positions, although the typical senior official is still recruited through internal selection and placement. Once in the higher ranks, remuneration levels are the highest in Asia and among the highest in the world (Hood et al., 2003, pp. 22–5). Government policy is to pay salaries to top officials commensurate with the very highest in the corporate sector and the professions. Performance pay and bonuses coupled to

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 127 the achievement of national development and other goals are also incorporated into the rewards system. This hyper-competitive environment, in a context where discipline and political control are also tight and unremitting, distinguishes Singapore’s civil service from all others in this survey. Similarly, Singapore stands out for its low levels of reported corruption. A strong concern for clean government has preoccupied the PAP from its earliest days in office. The establishment of successful anti-corruption measures (a vigorous investigative bureau, relentless prosecution and heavy sanctions) was accompanied by a policy to raise the level of salaries progressively, based on a belief that low salaries were a root cause of corruption. The justifications for the very high levels of reward mentioned above include not only arguments about the danger of loss of talent to higher-paid positions outside government, but also the removal of incentives for corruption (Quah, 2001, p. 317). Malaysia’s reputation for corruption is not so flattering, perhaps in part due to the prevalence of ‘money politics’ in the internal affairs of the ruling political party, UMNO, and the personal networks that link business and politics within the Malay elites (Milne and Mauzy, 1999, pp. 26–8, 59–62). In 1981, when Mahathir became Prime Minister, he promised ‘clean and efficient government’. Indeed, the Anti-Corruption Commission (ACA) is diligent in its pursuit of corrupt civil servants. Five thousand arrests were made between 1977 and 1997. However, the location of the ACA as an office in the Prime Minister’s Department creates the suspicion that it goes easy on the ‘big fish’. The Head of the ACA has made repeated submissions seeking greater independence, more powers of investigation and prosecution and a larger budget (RIAP, 2001, pp. 129–31). Under Prime Minister Abdullah Badawi, who succeeded Mahathir in October 2003, early signs were of a new vigour in prosecuting political corruption, with two high-profile cases launched in February 2004.3 Thailand’s bureaucracy – the only other operating within a parliamentary cabinet system of government – has a reputation for moderate levels of competence. In the 1950s and 1960s, Thailand was dubbed a ‘bureaucratic polity’, in part because of the lack of permanency of parliamentary institutions – due to a number of military coups – but also because of a relatively high level of proficiency exhibited by the bureaucracy in managing state affairs (Riggs, 1966; Girling, 1981; Chai-Anan, 1987, 1990). The Thai civil service, with origins in 1928 Civil Service regulations, is governed by a set of laws and institutions that (on the surface at least) promote neutral competence. The civil service rules are monitored by a central personnel agency, the Office of the Civil Service Commission (OCSC), which oversees recruitment and promotion, salary determination, position classification and so on. The OCSC has continuously sought to promote merit and performance-based systems of management, borrowing and adapting a number of overseas models in the process (such as a system of position classification imported from California). However, although this civil service is the product of a modernization process begun during the first half of the twentieth century, it was built on older state institutions (Siffin, 1966). Without the kind of sharp break with the past that the colonization experience produced in the structure of Malaya’s governing

128 Martin Painter institutions, many of the norms and practices of Thai bureaucratic behaviour show strong signs of pre-modern, patrimonial roots. Public acceptance of practices such as personal ‘gifts’ for state officials in anticipation of services rendered is rooted in a long tradition. State officials still expect to receive high social esteem and tributes from subordinates, and place a high value on the symbols of office, such as uniforms and titles. The value placed on rank, seniority, status and entitlement have obstructed efforts to instil a performance-based ‘service’ culture across the civil service. Recent efforts to bring such cultural change about have, significantly, drawn heavily on the rhetoric and example of the ruling family (the monarchy is universally revered in Thailand) and their ethos of ‘public service’. The emphasis on status and rank and the lack of a serious application of performance-based merit principles is also evident in Indonesia, which has a relatively well-established set of civil service laws and institutions, in this case influenced by Dutch colonial phases of institution-building. The formal design of these institutions has changed little over several decades. Strong central administrative agencies exercise firm control over position creation and personnel management procedures under a set of detailed laws and regulations. Civil servants are divided into four ranks, each with a basic salary scale. A university degree is required to be in the top two ranks. Positions are of two types: structural (managerial) and functional (technical). All structural positions are grouped into ‘echelons’, with echelon I the most senior. Training programmes and examinations act as barriers to promotion between each echelon. A civil service position is a job for life. Most cases of breaches of rules and discipline are dealt with by transfer rather than dismissal. This includes officers punished for corruption.4 The system of promotions in practice sees most staff advance through a single agency. Under the New Order regime of President Suharto, the bureaucracy had a relatively high reputation for efficient delivery of national development projects, based on a combination of basic competencies and a high level of regime loyalty. The Indonesian bureaucracy in this period has been typified as a case of ‘administrative patrimonialism’, where the authority and competency of the bureaucracy were deployed for ‘rent extraction from a disorganised business class’ but also, significantly, for the sake of economic reform when required (Robison and Hadiz, 2004, p. 42; see also Hutchcroft, 1998). The political loyalty of the civil service was ensured through the establishment of Korpri as the sole civil servants’ organization (in which membership was compulsory), and its incorporation as one of the functional groups in Golkar, which was the regime’s instrument for monopolizing and channelling all political organization and mobilization. In 1999, civil servants were barred from membership of any political party as a way of breaking the link with Golkar (which remained active as a political party). This was an important step in re-establishing the autonomy of the civil service as a repository of neutral competence. This is not to say that forms of patronage, including political connections and influence, are not important (particularly at senior levels). Like Thailand’s bureaucracy, such networks and connections are critical for advancement. For the most part, they are internal to the bureaucracy but at the very top, political influence and presidential patronage are also felt.

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 129 Appointments to echelon I are made with the personal approval of the president. These positions include the secretary general of each department, directors general (five or six in each department) and heads of non-ministerial agencies. In each of the presidential systems among the seven cases, political patronage undermines the merit principle in differing ways. In the Philippines, the civil service tradition goes back more than one hundred years, and the benefits of a meritocracy are valued and, where possible, defended – in particular by the independent central personnel agency, the Civil Service Commission. The Philippines inherited the US system, where the practice is that the new President has the power to make new appointees to numerous top-level executive positions. The system of political appointees depends on a line being drawn and presumes a sufficient critical mass of career civil servants in senior positions to provide continuity and public administration expertise. However, adjusted for the size of the civil service, the Philippines government has three times the number of political appointees as the United States (World Bank, 2000c, p. 100). A recent estimate claims that fully qualified career officers occupy only 39 per cent of senior executive positions (World Bank, 2000c, p. 100). There are in excess of 450 executive offices, boards, councils and other national agencies, many of them legacies of a past president’s disbursement of favours. This suggests that expert, competent staff are ‘thinly spread, sometimes too thinly to deliver much public service at all’ (World Bank, 2000c, pp. 98–9). In the Philippines (which is similar in this respect to many Latin American countries), political patronage extends throughout the public employment system, and is not just confined to the layer of top political appointees. Large numbers of contract positions (many low-level) are part of the spoils system. The use of bureaucratic resources for pork-barrelling has helped to institutionalize relatively high levels of corruption in the Philippines bureaucracy. Successive presidents have set up a series of anti-corruption agencies and passed a number of laws, with little noticeable result (World Bank, 2000c, 110; World Bank, 2000b). In presidential systems where corruption is less endemic, several factors seem to be at play. In Taiwan and Korea – where bureaucratic corruption is generally viewed as a less serious problem than political corruption – a Confucian ethic of public service may provide a curb by instilling norms of probity and duty throughout the bureaucracy. However, the strongest comparative evidence from Asia suggests that ‘hard’ law, not ‘soft’ culture, is the decisive factor; the existence of effective policing and discipline are crucial (Quah, 2003). South Korea and Taiwan also show the legacy of presidential politicization of the civil service. However, both inherit a long tradition of attachment to meritocratic norms, while their Confucian ethic of detached public service contributes to a generally high legitimacy and standing in the wider community (Kim and Kim, 1997). Of the two, Korea’s civil service probably suffered least from politicization in the longer run. South Korea possesses an archetypical bureaucracy of rank rather than position. Competition at the point of entry via examinations has traditionally been keen (for college graduates seeking to enter the middle grades, there were on average 100 competitors for each position in the

130 Martin Painter 1980s and early 1990s; Kim Young-Pyoung, 2001). Although material rewards are relatively modest, social status and esteem offer meaningful substitutions to civil servants. Promotion follows from faithful service, normally within the one ministry or department with (until very recently) no competition from outside. Personal ties – or ‘factionalism’ based on local origins or on school and college ties – overlay these meritocratic norms (Kim Woon-Tai, 2001, p. 28). Retirement may be followed by a further position in state or business employment, arranged by a process akin to the Japanese system of ‘descent from heaven’ (amakudari). Korea’s authoritarian presidents exerted considerable influence over the placement of top officials in positions of influence. President Park created a ‘bifurcated bureaucracy’, with meritocratic excellence coexisting with pockets of ‘placemen’ (Kang, 2002, pp. 63–4). Successive presidents used their positions to promote loyal favourites, for example individuals from their home provinces (Kim Young-Pyoung, 2001, pp. 261–2). Under Korea’s authoritarian presidents, the bureaucracy’s role in contributing its expertise to supporting a programme of successful economic development, thereby helping to legitimate the regimes, was significant (Haggard and Moon, 1993; Kim Young-Pyoung, 2001). However, Kang (2002) argues that most of the key economic and other policy decisions of the Park government (for example) were made not by the civil service proper, but in the president’s office, or by his team of personal appointees and advisors. As in most presidential systems, a separate, temporary set of appointees form his key team of advisers. Korean presidents in recent times have strengthened the personnel office in the ‘Blue House’ to assist in managing these and other key presidential appointments according to merit and due process. In sum, South Korea’s bureaucracy embodies institutions that promote neutral competence, although presidents used their patronage powers to reward their own supporters. Taiwan’s KMT presidents went further in undermining civil service merit processes. Under the constitution, there is a complex constitutional sharing of functions and powers between the five ‘yuan’: executive, legislative, judicial, examination and control. But behind the façade of this archaic, formal constitutional structure (transplanted from China in 1949), the system operated through the centralization of powers in the hands of the president and tight ideological control exercised by the ruling party, the KMT, backed up by an extensive security apparatus. Procedures of civil service recruitment and promotion were formally under the guardianship of the examination yuan. This body had its heyday in the 1930s, but its standing and autonomy declined under the combined influence of assertion of KMT party and ideological control and the influence of ‘personal ties and old boy’s networks’ (Strauss, 1994). In practice, the principal source of power and authority over personnel management was located in the Bureau of Personnel Administration in the executive yuan. Politicization took the form of a ‘second track’ set of party oversight and controls, including loyalty tests, and also the appointment to senior civil service positions of political officials. Despite the examination requirements, political influence and special pleadings from ministries in the executive yuan meant that the examination system was widely

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 131 abused and rendered ineffective (Strauss, 1994; Tan, 2000). Large numbers of civil service appointments were made by transfer, particularly from the military, rather than via promotion by merit through the ranks. The whole process was conducted within the overarching umbrella of KMT patronage and control. As a result, the state apparatus, across all its personnel and management systems, reflected the core characteristics of the regime: its ideological purpose, military styles of discipline and centralized forms of control. With the gathering pace of democratization, a critique of such past civil service practices developed (as it did in South Korea), in large part with a view to placing the principles of neutral competence on a firmer footing through removing the taint of forms of politicization practised by the authoritarian regimes. The manner in which these criticisms are affecting changes to personnel and other administrative practices is considered later, when attention turns to civil service reform.

Bureaucratic performance: efficiency or pathology? The existence of a set of civil service institutions to preserve the principle of neutral competence does not on its own ensure an efficient bureaucracy. In this section, we consider some examples from the seven countries of seemingly entrenched ‘bureaucratic pathologies’ arising from factors such as over-tight central control, legal formalism and defective pay and reward systems. Even seemingly high-performing bureaucracies suffer such displacement effects. For example, one recent review of Malaysia’s bureaucratic system found a strong ‘punish and reward’ culture, in which line managers were not encouraged to take responsibility or to participate in decision-making. Faced with nonimplementation, the centre’s characteristic response was to issue more detailed instructions and to implement heavy inspection and audit, encouraging concealment and evasion as much as bringing about compliance (RIAP, 2001). Finally, at the centre itself, the various agencies involved dealt vertically with their respective clients, but did not effectively coordinate their directives and instructions in a coherent programme or strategy. These are common complaints about all hierarchical structures, and should not surprise anyone familiar with government bureaucracy. Other cases we are considering in this survey showed more extreme versions of similar kinds of performance inhibitors. The pre-modern features of Thailand’s patrimonial bureaucratic culture (already discussed) provide a good example. Arguably, these informal dimensions of the bureaucratic way of life in Thailand operate by and large to undermine efficiency, equity and due process. Despite the merit-based rules of recruitment and promotion, traditional forms of patronage remain strong. Orderly and relatively sedate progression to positions of seniority is underpinned by personalism (Chai-Anan, 1987). Patron–client networks and social cliques influence job placements and advancement. These networks have been the basis for a range of informal behaviours, including bribe-taking and office-buying (RIAP, 2001; Ockey, 2004). There is a strong set of forces behind the protection of these informal norms and privileges, with bureau heads in particular expected

132 Martin Painter to come to their defence, especially when confronted by increasing pressures to reform. Somewhat paradoxically, an important ingredient of Thailand’s bureaucratic traditions is a high degree of legalism and formalism, based on a code of civil law following the French model, which result in a variety of displacement effects. Legal formalism pervades all aspects of bureaucratic life, often masking underlying informal processes. A case in point is the labyrinthine systems of formal consultation and advising. Most decisions have to be taken with due regard to the formal, legal standing (and hence, informal status) of a multitude of senior officials. The executive coordinating committee is a very common device, many over time acquiring the status of standing bodies. The composition of such committees follows a well-established bureaucratic norm of inclusiveness. Their proliferation introduces a high level of proceduralism and ritualism into processes of decision-making. They afford a multitude of opportunities for obstruction and delay, particularly in the name of protecting the status quo, including the informal systems that thrive behind the ritual. In Indonesia, some of the defects of highly formalized hierarchical structures are also in evidence. Key decisions in civil service matters are shared among several agencies, each jealously guarding their legal basis for exercising a role in matters such as position classification, remuneration, training and departmental reorganization (Rohdewohld, 1995). The Ministry for State Administrative Reform (MenPAN) approves all proposals for new formasi and the Civil Service Administration Agency (BAKN) formally creates the positions after they have been approved. The Ministry of Finance is involved in setting budget limits and approving supplementary requests, and the Ministry of Home Affairs exercises supervision over establishment, recruitment, transfers and appointment decisions for regional members of the civil service. It was common under the Wahid administration (when presidential leadership was relatively weak) for these procedures (and the inter-agency squabbles they induced) to hold up for months presidential initiatives requiring the establishment of new offices and agencies. Generally speaking, the system of complex central approvals over establishments and other staffing issues inhibits responsiveness and flexibility. Another set of bureaucratic displacement activities is associated with the manner in which personnel management in the career civil service protects bureaucratic privileges. Most of the civil service systems reviewed here are ‘rank in person’ systems, in which the individual civil servant has a rank according to qualifications and seniority, independent of their particular job. This rank is the main determinant of rewards and privileges. Moving up the ranks requires attaining new qualifications as well as greater seniority. Most such advancement is confined within a single agency, with very little cross-service mobility. Training and passing exams is a major avenue for advancement, but above all conformity and loyalty to the patron or leader are often the key factors in these systems. Such a system does a good job at promoting loyalty, dedication, and discipline. At the same time, it detaches rewards from performance, it can lead to inappropriate job placements and it thwarts those hoping for quick rewards for higher levels of job

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 133 performance. Singapore’s civil service has made significant steps towards a more performance-based system and such reforms are on the agenda in South Korea and elsewhere, as discussed later. A familiar outcome in rank-in-person systems is a high level of ritualism in training and examinations. In Indonesia, the official training programmes tend to reinforce formalism and conformity more than to develop leadership and management skills. They tend to prepare large numbers of individuals for formulaic examinations, rather than to instil particular job-related skills aimed at improving performance. Moreover, their very purpose and rationale is corrupted by the operations of patronage. Selection for training courses is often treated as a favour, and evidence has been found of fictitious courses and attendance reports (Asian Development Bank, 2004, p. 64). Pay and rewards are another set of personnel rules and regulations that, in several of the systems under review, have dysfunctional elements with respect to merit and performance. Perhaps Indonesia’s is the archetypical ‘problem case’. The pay system does not reward performance but directly encourages role displacement and corruption. Most accounts of the Indonesian civil service attribute this in part to the low levels of pay, although closer analysis has demonstrated that many civil servants earn more than in comparable private sector jobs (Filmer and Lindauer, 2001). While it has been estimated that most civil servants can cover reasonable living expenses for only between eight and fifteen days of the month from their basic pay and allowances, this ignores the significance of other forms of income available to many civil servants (RIAP, 2001). Informal kinds of income supplementation include unofficial fees for the provision of public services, the licensing of private activities and so on. Some agencies collectivize the proceeds of these off-budget revenue sources to supplement incomes for staff. Contract prices often routinely contain an amount for such disbursements. Such activities flow seamlessly into various forms of bribe-taking from which individual bureaucratic office holders, or members of a patron–client network, benefit. The issue of civil service pay has been addressed by recent Indonesian governments with the granting of significant pay increases, particularly to higherlevel civil servants. In 2000, a 30 per cent across the board rise was budgeted. Higher-level civil servants were afforded very large increases to allowances (up to 1000 per cent), rather than to base pay. This approach was favoured because it did not significantly increase the state’s pension fund liability. However, despite these measures, significant dimensions of the problem remained untouched, for example aligning rewards more closely with performance, job value and labour market considerations. Structural obstacles to such reforms include not only the strong attachment to networks of patron–client loyalty and dependency but also the heavy reliance by the state on these non-formal revenues and disbursements to fund its basic operating costs. Reforms to bring about a remuneration system that relied less on informal fees, allowances and supplements would also require constructing new forms of legal, financial and bureaucratic capacity. In a system such as Indonesia’s there is a vicious circle of resource scarcity, lack of due process and effective supervision, informal ‘coping’ strategies and corruption. Of course,

134 Martin Painter bureaucratic corruption follows closely the levels of wider political and judicial corruption in the country rather than being merely a bureaucratic pathology (Robertson-Snape, 1999). Nevertheless, its manifestations in civil service behaviour and operations are a clear sign of pathology.

Neutral competence, political control and policy making The value of neutral competence as a principle of governance rests on the manner in which it is put to use for public ends. In East Asian developmental states, there is a strong tradition that the bureaucracy itself plays a major role in interpreting and implementing the public interest, at the very most sharing this role with the political executive but often viewing its qualifications for the task to be superior, and wielding real power and authority in the process. In post-colonial Singapore and Malaysia, however, there was a different tradition, under which the bureaucracy was more clearly subordinated to the direction and leadership of the political executive. The practical day-to-day realities reflect these different governing norms and traditions. Some dimensions of the different bureaucrat– politician relationships in the seven countries have already been touched on in the discussion of the degree of politicization of civil service appointments. But there are other dimensions as well, and these will be brought together in this section. The broad question addressed is: what is the nature of the constitutional and political role of the bureaucracy in the policy-making process, and how does this affect administrative and policy capacities? In Malaysia and Singapore – both parliamentary systems experiencing oneparty rule (or in the case of Malaysia, rule by a coalition containing a dominant party) – the development of an ethos of neutral competence was accompanied by a close integration between the bureaucratic elite and the ruling party. Malaysia’s ruling Barisan National coalition has enjoyed uninterrupted governing power. Political elites have reached an accommodation (Case, 1996), backed by harsh sanctions and penalties for dissenters, in which potentially divisive and destructive ethnic divisions are handled mostly by compromise and agreement. The judiciary is for the most part under the executive’s thumb (Crouch, 1996, pp. 137–42) and a number of laws suppress open political dissent. The result is a relatively stable system of government in which the political executive is supreme. In this context, close affinities developed between the Malay-dominated administrative and political elites in terms of social background, education and outlook. Similarity in outlook and ideology helped ensure a politically trustworthy civil service. Over time, the political elite cemented this loyalty by opening up extensive opportunities for senior Malay civil servants to acquire wealth and status through appointments to government enterprises and government-owned companies. Malay public servants in lower ranks were also recipients of benefits, such as generous loans and scholarships. Effective deployment of bureaucratic loyalty, discipline and competence for government policy purposes has depended also on strong political leadership.

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 135 Until October 2003, politics and government in Malaysia revolved around the personality, political acumen and policy style of Prime Minister Mahathir. He concentrated and effectively deployed the powers available to him through his leadership of UMNO and in his role of chief executive. The ‘engine room’ of his government was the Prime Minister’s Department. The Prime Minister’s Office and the Economic Planning Unit were key coordinating agencies. A number of agencies handled special projects of particular political importance, such as the Multimedia Development Corporation (MDC). Several service-wide regulatory agencies under the umbrella of the department performed politically significant control functions, such as the Audit Department, Anti-Corruption Agency, Public Service Commission and Election Commission. Little has changed in these institutional arrangements under Prime Minister Badawi. In Singapore as in Malaysia, the bureaucracy and the political executive are mutually interdependent and for the most part respect each other’s core values. In Singapore’s ‘administrative state’ (Chan, 1975) the ruling People’s Action Party (PAP) has co-opted the bureaucracy into its economic and social projects (for which willing partnership elite civil servants are handsomely rewarded). The bureaucracy has played a prominent part in realising the PAP’s political project, including assisting to run the economy (Lim, 1999, p. 110). In 1999, the government accounted for 60 per cent of the economy, much of it through state enterprise managed by statutory boards or government-linked companies (Tan, 2001). The bureaucratic elite provide many of the members of these boards. Such appointments are routine, both for serving senior civil servants and after retirement (Worthington, 2003). Senior and retired civil servants serve alongside top political and military figures in business as well as in government, sharing confidences and furthering mutual interests. In the case of Thailand, bureaucrat–politician relations have reached a watershed. In ‘Thailand I’ (pre-Thaksin), the bureaucracy continued to exercise great influence over policy through the period of democratization (Chai-Anan, 1987, 1997). The 1997 constitution took some significant steps to rein in that influence, for example the replacement of an appointed Senate (comprised in large measure of ex-bureaucrats) by an elected Senate. Other measures aimed at curbing abuses of power had mixed results, such as the establishment of new forms of public accountability and the institutionalization of public consultation. In following-up and implementing the progressive platform of administrative and political reforms launched by the 1997 constitution, there was a tendency to rely more on external sources of advice and analysis, rather than on the resources of the civil service alone. This was achieved in a number of ways: by appointing special experts on temporary contracts as ministerial advisers; by calling on outside ‘think tanks’ to provide analysis and advice; and by setting up advisory and coordinating committees to drive reform. However, a number of such bodies – for example, in education and decentralization – met solid and effective bureaucratic resistance. In the case of education reform, a special Commission and Office were set up, but devoted much of their energy to fighting the ministry. When the Commission proposed a new administrative

136 Martin Painter structure for the education system, the ministry countered with its own, with the support of the minister. In Thailand I, ministers’ identification with the programmatic successes of a government as a collective entity was less important for their political fortunes than their ability to reward patrons and followers. In any case, ministers found that the main power at their disposal was over selective interventions in matters of administrative or financial discretion. The norm was that ministers exercised considerable executive autonomy within their portfolio area, and practised mutual non-interference. However, in exercising this power, ministers depended on the bureaucracy and the latter, in turn, expected the minister’s support in defence of their bureaucratic interests. But Thaksin’s leadership style was highly centralized, both in order to implement strictly the Thai Rak Thai platform and also to sustain his personal power as ‘chief executive’. In ‘Thailand II’, this was achieved both through political patronage and through greater control of senior bureaucratic positions (Pasuk and Baker, 2004, p. 186). The Prime Minster’s Department was politicized to a new level through outside appointments and selective internal promotions. Budgetary and administrative reforms were implemented with the effect of centralizing power and diminishing some of the traditional forms of bureaucratic independence. With a safe majority in Parliament, Thaksin was able in October 2002 to undertake the first wholesale departmental reorganization since 1897. These and other changes destabilized and bit into the traditional basis of bureaucratic power – the position of the department head, which was the principal repository of delegated legal authority under Thailand’s system of public law. Thus, Thailand’s bureaucracy is coming under greater political control, possibly with the potential for a more effective set of mutual roles and linkages in relations with the political executive. In Indonesia, some elements of a bureaucracy with imperfectly institutionalized linkages with the political executive were also to be found. Following the collapse of the New Order regime, under which the bureaucracy was subdued and effectively managed through political and other means, the capacity of the presidency and his ministers to command and control the bureaucracy weakened. In part, the problems were a product of the transition process itself. Much was done to sweep away the old system – for example the military reduced its direct involvement in politics (ICG, 2000) and the decree enforcing membership by civil servants in Golkar was repealed – but effective institution-building to substitute for these mechanisms of control was slow. In some measure, this state of affairs mirrored the lack of coherence, legitimacy and policy capacity of the political executive under both Presidents Wahid and Megawati Sukarnoputri. In post-Suharto Indonesia, the lines of authority and control that formerly resided in the presidency, and encompassed military, bureaucracy and judiciary alike, were greatly weakened. In the transition from the New Order regime to a democratic system, the organization of the political executive was caught in a limbo between a presidential-cabinet and a parliamentary-cabinet system (see Chapter 6). In this situation, norms and procedures concerning presidential, collective ministerial and bureaucratic roles were in flux. Difficulties

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 137 in leadership and effective coordination at cabinet level mirrored a high degree of bureaucratic fragmentation and incoherence. These impediments to policy coordination and implementation were reflected in turn in stalled reforms in such matters as judicial reform, anti-corruption measures, financial management and regulatory reform. Thus, something of a policy vacuum appeared at the centre as a result of the collapse of the New Order regime, at the same time as the clamour for reforms across all spheres of government and society grew. A fundamental shift in the nature of presidential power occurred because of the assertiveness of the legislature (taking advantage of constitutional powers it already possessed) and the rise of multi-partyism. In addition, the military continued to assert its predominant role in internal security. While bureaucratic subordination to the President-led political executive remained the formal position, the revival of bureaucratic capacity as part of a wider set of governing capabilities more than anything awaited the reestablishment of political and policy capacity within the Presidency. The clear-cut victory by direct popular election of Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono in 2004 could be expected to strengthen the presidency’s position vis-à-vis the legislature, with possible consequences for relations with the bureaucracy. Carino (1989) typifies the civil service in the Philippines as existing in a clear relationship of ‘subordination’ to the political regime. One dimension of this has been discussed in relation to politicization; both presidential and congressional politics seem to demand close manipulation of bureaucratic personnel and resources. This aspect of the system shows a remarkable degree of continuity, despite a continuing history of regime turbulence. As David Kang (2002) puts it, Marcos plundered the state from the ‘top down’, whereas the conventional, accepted model is for the ‘oligarchs’, or political families, to plunder the state from the ‘bottom up’. This system of ‘cacique democracy’ (Anderson, 1988) has been restored post-Marcos, despite a brief interruption under Estrada, who mobilized the poor and rewarded his own chosen favourites and ‘cronies’, many of whom lay outside the accepted and established circle of beneficiaries (Hayllar, 2002). The system is characterized by personalism, patronage and the pork barrel, and serves to spread the spoils widely among the elite. The civil service as an instrument of neutral competence is somewhat peripheral to this process, either being bypassed through presidential or lower-level political appointments, or through a process by which the legislature directly participates in the distribution of the spoils. One of the keys to successful presidential political power has been the ‘buying’ of legislative support to sustain a supporting coalition (Gutierrez, 1998). As one means of this, pork-barrel politics is institutionalized in formal budgetary allocations (World Bank, 2003, p. iv), as well as in the distribution of government jobs through the good offices of the President’s congressional followers. In South Korea and Taiwan, policy capacity has resided almost exclusively in the presidency, aided by public officials and technocrats who were either part of the president’s inner circle or members of key technocratic agencies. The closeness of the bureaucracy to the seat of power in South Korea during the authoritarian era was exemplified in the relatively high proportion of cabinet

138 Martin Painter ministers (31 per cent) with backgrounds in the bureaucracy (Hahn, 2001). From many points of view, this form of centralized state management proved effective, both in South Korea and in Taiwan. Taiwan’s record in successful economic and industry policy was the envy of many, and the bureaucracy’s economic policy coordinating machinery made a strong contribution to this success (Haggard and Pang, 1994).5 KMT domination of all branches of the state provided the unity of purpose, while effective administrative control was brought about by careful selection and placement of key personnel and by a system of coordination under presidential oversight and direction among these individuals, often through a somewhat cumbersome-looking set of coordinating devices (Cheng and Haggard, 2001; Haggard and Pang, 1994; Haggard and Noble, 2001). While the system on the one hand exhibited high levels of politicization and personalism, on the other hand merit and technocratic expertise (given the observance of loyalty) were also highly valued by the political leadership, which encouraged constant modernization of the administrative system (Cheung, 2002b). Democratization, which has altered the basis on which the political executives in Taiwan and South Korea rest their legitimacy and mobilize their capacity to make policy, has raised new questions about the nature of bureaucrat–politician relationships. In Taiwan, democratization undermined the authoritarian regime’s recipe for a combination of bureaucratic competence and political legitimacy. The decline in KMT public support in the 1990s called into public question the political character of the bureaucracy. Victory by opposition parties in local government raised for the first time the issue of how a civil service inculcated with KMT regime norms could serve a new set of political masters. The latter embarked on a process of civil service restructuring that replicated the US system of a clear demarcation between political appointees and civil service positions (Tan, 2000). This allowed them not only to replace KMT loyalists with their own political appointees, but also to institutionalize the apolitical role of senior civil service personnel. The same issue is being faced at the national level, where ‘the deeply partisan and bureaucratic civil service remains a weighty legacy’ and ‘lower-level officials who are predominantly pro-KMT put up a passive resistance to the DPP leadership’ (Lee Min-yung, 2001). Some aspects of these ongoing transformations are considered in the next section.

Policy capacity and administrative reform A key issue for bureaucratic performance is whether or not the capacity exists to correct bureaucratic pathologies and to assert or protect neutral competence as a principle when other pressures have undermined it. The purpose of this section is to add to our understanding of administrative capacities in the seven cases by investigating administrative reform capacity. A paradox of administrative reform is that those governments with a more extensive administrative reform agenda are (almost by definition) the least equipped to deal with it. Where serious shortcomings exist in the effectiveness of administrative support systems, then fundamental transformation may be needed, but the capacity for such change is

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 139 weak. If, however, these systems are in reasonably good shape, then more routine forms of ‘administrative improvement’ may suffice, requiring much lower levels of policy and administrative capacity. But whether a process of internal adaptation is sufficient will also depend on a number of external factors, such as the stability of the environment. The occurrence of a major economic crisis, for example, may bring to the fore fundamental, systemic problems that require ‘root and branch’ reform. A further complicating factor is that a competent bureaucracy may be a separate – and competing – source of policy capacity to the political executive. The worst-case scenario is where there is continuous competition or conflict over these roles, but the norm is for settled patterns to become institutionalized over time (as discussed in the last section). Noting and comparing such patterns, Knill (1999) distinguishes between bureaucratic systems that are ‘instrumental’ (for example, the UK) and others that are ‘autonomous’ (for example, Germany). This distinction echoes one by Ledivina Carino (1989) between systems where there is political or ‘regime ascendancy’ (for example, the Philippines) and others where there is ‘bureaucratic coprimacy’ (for example, Japan). In a similar vein, Moon Myung-Jae and Patricia Ingraham have analysed the factors shaping administrative reform in Japan, China and Korea (Moon and Ingraham, 1998). Different configurations of power among three principal actors – bureaucrats, politicians and civil society – result in different types of administrative reform; Japan, which is ‘bureaucracy-led’, follows a path of ‘bureaucratic adaptation’, where little changes, while Korea, which is ‘president-led’, combines top-down political reforms with somewhat indeterminate, periodic administrative reorganizations. The importance of the nature of relations between political executives and the bureaucracy is highlighted. The close, mutually interdependent relationships between bureaucratic and political elites in Singapore and Malaysia have helped produce a culture of ‘administrative self-improvement’ that operates within limited boundaries defined in part by regime goals, but also in part by bureaucratic interests. Administrative improvement has been a high priority in Malaysia (Taib and Mat, 1992; Government of Malaysia, 1993). A permanent unit in the Prime Minster’s Department – the Malaysian Administrative Modernisation and Management Planning Unit (MAMPU) – deals with administrative reform issues. In the 1980s adverse comparisons with the private sector became the principal stimulus for the reform agenda, particularly as the government’s views about the role of government became clearer under the policies of ‘Malaysia Inc.’ and ‘Vision 2020’ (with the aim of making Malaysia an advanced, technologically sophisticated, wealthy industrial country by 2020). The public service was no longer to control and direct, but to facilitate through partnerships with the private sector. It needed to become more concerned with the quality of its products and with customer and client satisfaction; to consult more with the private sector, in order to seek input about what the needs of business were; to streamline its procedures and remove regulations and red tape that were holding up development; and to become leaner and more efficient. One emphasis in the wave of reforms that stemmed from this

140 Martin Painter change in vision was to try to change public service culture (more entrepreneurial, less conformist). Another sphere of reform (in this case, with greater evident impact) has been financial management and budgeting (Xavier, 1996). A further priority has been technological innovation, in particular the field of e-government. Here, the public service is being directly harnessed to Mahathir’s ‘Vision 2020’ through its participation in several ‘flagship projects’. Singapore’s ‘macho-meritocracy’ seemingly takes pleasure in flexing its reform muscles. There is a pervasive culture of administrative self-improvement in the Singapore public service. Like the rest of public policy, this is a top-down process. In May 1995, for example, the Permanent Secretaries jointly launched a programme called ‘Public Service for the 21st Century’, or ‘PS21’ described by Cheung (2002a) as ‘a self-initiated reform agenda for excellence’. Its four main components were ‘staff well-being’, ‘Excellence through Continuous Enterprise and Learning’ (or ExCEL), ‘organisational review’ and ‘quality service’ (Cheung, 2002a). A set of programmes was implemented throughout the service for ‘continuous improvement’ in these areas. Such measures built on a history of administrative reform and improvement in all spheres, such as opening up the ranks of the senior administrative grades to members of the professional grades (1981), ‘budgeting for results’ (1994), decentralization of personnel functions (1995) and creation of ‘autonomous agencies’ (1997) (Jones, 1999). The Singapore civil service borrowed reform ideas liberally from other countries but adapted the imports within a framework of local policy settings. One such setting is the continued state control of large sectors of the economy through government-linked corporations (GLCs) in areas such as telecommunications, transport and utilities. While these corporations have been partially ‘floated’ on the stock exchange, the government retains a controlling share. Singapore’s emulation of international trends in public sector management is selective. In comparison with the relatively high levels of capacity noted in Malaysia and Singapore, each of the other systems in varying degrees demonstrated lack of capacity, reluctance or resistance to reform. In pre-Thaksin Thailand, there was a series of bureaucratic reform programmes under which a relatively small group of technocratic reformers in the central agencies sought to impose a modernization strategy of management and financial reforms on a powerful and reluctant bureaucratic establishment (RIAP, 2001; Painter, 2004). Such plans and strategies were a feature throughout the 1990s (Bidhya, 2000). They were overseen by a series of reform commissions comprising a mixture of ministers, senior officials and outside experts. The bureaucratic reformers sought to enlist politicians to their cause and after the 1997 financial crisis they received strong support from the World Bank and other donors. Bidhya Bowornwathana (2004) characterizes the reform atmosphere and style under these successive programmes and plans as ‘NPM (New Public Management) fever’, in the grip of which a combination of political convenience and superficial transplantation of NPM ideas and instruments produced ineffective and counterproductive ‘hybrids’, without addressing many of the fundamental problems. Unlike Singapore and Malaysia, which select from and adapt overseas models more

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 141 or less appropriately for the problem in hand, in Thailand the common result was that the resulting hybrids accommodated the dysfunctions, rather than remedied them. Because reform required ‘cultural change’ and a long-term, rational strategy, pilots were launched in order to demonstrate that the reforms would work, usually in those agencies that were already among the more modernized (Bidhya, 2004, p. 248). Much time and effort was spent in perfecting them to the satisfaction of the converted. In the meantime, the rest of the bureaucracy carried on as before. Some departmental officials for their part sought to capture ‘reform and reorganization’ resources, seizing the opportunity to bid for increased numbers of senior positions in order to enhance their powers of patronage (Bidhya, 2001). Many line agencies resisted by inertia and were protected by the legal and bureaucratic complexities of implementing change. The Thaksin government demonstrated greater enthusiasm for and political commitment to administrative reform. The bureaucratic restructuring of 2002 has already been described. The attempt to assert greater political control over the bureaucracy is the key to understanding the Thaksin government’s whole administrative reform agenda. A number of changes sought to centralize policymaking power and authority with the prime minister and cabinet. For example, an ‘output budgeting’ format was implemented, and processes were instituted that would shift the focus of budgetary politics from negotiations between department heads and the Budget Bureau to one where ministers entered into performance agreements with a Budget Commission chaired by the Prime Minister and comprised mostly of political rather than bureaucratic appointees. The Commission was explicitly charged with setting the government’s strategic directions. Another reform strategy with a control agenda was the appointment of ‘CEO Governors’ in each of Thailand’s provinces, with expanded executive powers and accountable directly to the Prime Minister’s Office rather than through the bureaucratic hierarchies of the Interior Ministry (Mutebi, 2004). Personnel reform was also initiated, with the new Senior Executive Service (SES) accompanied by initiatives to introduce performance management. In sum, both the strategies and the outcomes of administrative reform in Thailand illustrate the potential shift in politico-bureaucrat relations, reflective of a broader modernization and democratization process. Thaksin’s somewhat authoritarian style of political rule was put to use in forwarding an agenda of bureaucratic modernization, the effect of which may in the long run (Thaksin’s personal style notwithstanding) be a familiar set of linkages between a bureaucracy committed to neutral competence and a democratically accountable political executive. Administrative reform in Indonesia mostly tells the familiar story of policy incapacity and a fundamentally weak administrative infrastructure. Repeated delays due to complex administrative or legal procedures, lack of resources and weaknesses in implementation capacity thwarted many reform proposals. Despite initiatives taken as early as 1999, it was not until December 2003 that an anti-corruption commission was established. Law 43/1999 mandated the establishment of a civil service commission to establish civil service policy, but five

142 Martin Painter years later it remained on the drawing board. Similar delays and obstacles faced the national law reform commission and other reform agencies. Budget reform was another area where a widely agreed diagnosis demonstrated far-reaching problems, yet implementation was slow (World Bank, 2001, pp. 3.4–5). In March 2003, a new law on state finances was adopted and other financial management reforms ensued (Asian Development Bank, 2004, pp. 31–3). But a broader civil service reform programme promised under the Wahid presidency stalled (World Bank, 2001, p. 3.15) and little was subsequently done to revive it. However, a radical administrative decentralization programme was adopted and, in large measure, implemented (Asian Development Bank, 2004, pp. 70– 88). Despite many obstacles – opposition to transfer of civil servants from central departments to local governments, delays over finalizing the various ordinances required to assign new responsibilities and financial powers and a high level of conflict and confusion over some of the measures in different parts of the country – the Indonesian government (in large part as a result of efforts by the bureaucracy) confounded the worst expectations of many sceptics by achieving most of the targets for implementing the decentralization decrees. The longerterm results of these measures was a different matter, but the experience suggested that the bureaucracy retained the competencies associated with the effective, topdown implementation of large-scale programmes that it had possessed in the era of authoritarian rule (RIAP, 2001, p. 40). As discussed above, progress on a widely-acknowledged urgent agenda of structural changes to the civil service and its practices and policies may well have to await the resolution of structural and political weaknesses in policy capacity arising from the drawn-out process of consolidating democratic government. The record of civil service reform in the Philippines is likewise not strong. Incoming presidents customarily brought to office ‘reorganization and reform’ plans, but the results reflected patronage considerations more than others (Endriga, 2001, p. 227). President Aquino purged many thousands of civil servants from the bloated, patronage-ridden structure she inherited from the Marcos regime, but at the same time used her powers of patronage to appoint almost double the number she sacked (Hayllar, 2002). President Ramos passed an ‘Attrition Law’, which prohibited filling vacant positions for five years. However, because only just over 40 per cent of public employment appointments were made under Civil Service rules, the impact was limited (Hayllar, 2002). The public wage bill declined after the Marcos years, but a wage reform programme ran into difficulties. Salaries were generally highly compressed, and a process of salary reform in the 1990s to remedy this stopped short of the final stage (raising salaries at the upper levels) due to the Asian financial crisis. Subsequent measures to increase higher salaries ran into congressional opposition, and were replaced by across-the-board increases (World Bank, 2000c, pp. 100–2). President Estrada’s medium-term Philippine development plan (MTPDP) in 1999 laid out a comprehensive governance reform strategy, including streamlining the bureaucracy, a new compensation system, budget and financial management reform, anti-corruption measures and judicial reform. At his invitation, the

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 143 World Bank produced a report on corruption (World Bank, 2000b). He set up a presidential committee on effective governance. The civil service commission and the department of budget and management proposed reforms to appointment and promotion rules, including a sharper definition of ‘fitness’, and a system of performance budgeting. These efforts stalled as the President became embroiled in corruption accusations, and were put in abeyance upon his being ousted from office. In sum, in the Philippines, despite the best efforts of some champions of administrative improvement in the civil service commission and a strong set of external watchdogs pressing for anti-corruption measures, institutionalized political forces were often antithetical to reform. While presidents could assert control and demand change, their reform programmes characteristically dissipated through the effects of the spoils system, while the need for continuing bargains with the legislature on all aspects of a presidential programme left continuing question marks over executive policy capacity more broadly. Presidents in Korea also without exception came to office with civil service reform programmes. Park and Chun led efficiency drives and undertook reorganizations. Chun cut civil service staff by nearly 50,000 (Moon and Ingraham, 1998). The Kim Young Sam administration embarked on a sweeping reform programme, covering anti-corruption, downsizing and reorganization. Much of this agenda was not fully implemented, largely due to ‘passive resistance’ from the bureaucracy (Moon and Ingraham, 1998; Kim, Y.-P., 2001). Kim’s presidency in its later years ran out of reforming energy across a range of subjects due to growing political weaknesses, including declining support in the legislature. However, Kim implemented some important reorganization plans, including merging the Economic Planning Board with the Ministry of Finance, setting up a Fair Trade Commission and merging Transport with Construction. The Kim Dae Jung presidency in 1998 embarked on a more vigorous and significant programme of reform. A permanent body, the Government Reform Office, was set up within the ministry of planning and budgeting to drive the process. The result was some significant changes, but not without resistance and delay. The customary structural reorganization took place, with a reduction in the number of ministries from twenty-one to seventeen. Between February 1998 and May 1999, sixteen offices, seventy-four bureaus and 136 departments were cut. Between 1998 and 2000, government employment was reduced by 18.7 per cent (Leung, 2002). The Ministry of Finance and Economy was broken up, with a new Planning and Budget Commission set up under closer presidential control. The ministries of Home Affairs and Government Administration were merged, while a Civil Service Commission was set up to take over many aspects of personnel management. The commission moved cautiously towards changes to civil service examinations, a limited degree of lateral recruitment to senior positions and the introduction of performance-related pay. These changes created opposition and insecurity within the civil service, as they feared a sharp break with tradition in the move to a more competitive work-place environment (Kim, Pan Suk, 2001). Other reforms included a pilot scheme for performance budgeting in sixteen

144 Martin Painter pilot departments and a programme of ‘agencification’, whereby ten stand-alone agencies were given a new level of budgetary and executive autonomy. Major steps were taken to ‘clean up’ a large, hidden ‘quango’ sector of semi-government authorities, where many administrative misdemeanours were uncovered in the course of an inquiry. The Roh Moo-hyun presidency’s principal initiative in civil service reform was the announcement of the establishment of a ‘senior civil service’ (SCS) in 2003. As a first step, a process of job analysis of all senior posts was undertaken, with the aim to specify clear accountabilities, performance standards and more appropriate forms of remuneration. Additional steps in the process of creating the SCS include the opening up to external and internal competition of 20 per cent of all positions, with at least 30 per cent being filled by a new service-wide ‘job posting’ system. Such measures aimed to improve the performance focus of the senior civil service. A system of performance management and compensation was foreshadowed, with performance agreements and performance pay. President Roh’s modernization programme was wider than these particular changes, united under a common theme of turning the ‘imperial presidency’ into an ‘institutional presidency’, evoking a more open, democratically accountable and results-oriented bureaucracy (Kim, Pan Suk, 2005). Taiwan’s presidents, like South Korea’s, consistently gave administrative reform a prominent place on their agenda. The ‘reinvention’ programmes that were promoted by a succession of KMT Presidents culminated in an administrative renovation programme launched by Premier Lien Chan in 1995. It had a number of elements: a drive against corruption and a programme to instil a new public service ethic; staff reductions and administrative rationalization; financial management improvements and expenditure restraint; and service delivery improvements in relations with citizens (Cheung, 2002b). This agenda was motivated in part by the need to rein in growing government budget deficits, which in turn were partly the result of the concessions made by governments to legislative pressures (Cheng and Haggard, 2001). It reflected global trends in ‘New Public Management’, in particular the rhetoric of the US ‘reinvention’ movement. In 1998, Premier Shiew relaunched the Lien Chan programme with important new elements, under the label of ‘Government Reinvention Plan’. The three main elements to the plan were organizational, manpower and regulatory reinvention. The first stipulated a new system of control and management of the machinery of government so that it could be streamlined more effectively, and more flexible forms of devolved management introduced; the second proposed to reform the system of recruitment, promotion and pay so as to allow it to be decentralized and simplified (a measure that undermined the traditional controls of the examination yuan); and the third proposed to bring about a more appropriate set of processes for setting up and reforming government and quasi-government agencies, with a view to introducing more contracting out and privatization. The DPP brought a new set of priorities to the administrative reform programme, for example emphasizing greater political and administrative decentralization. But there was also a considerable degree of continuity, at least in

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 145 aims and direction. The principal obstacle remained the political conflicts being fought out in the legislature, which had effectively prevented the implementation of most of the structural reforms proposed in 1998 and distracted attention from the development of an effective reform strategy. However, wider political and social developments in Taiwan pointed in the direction of such a programme’s implementation in the longer term. The agenda of change had support among many rank and file government employees, who saw the removal of the legacies of authoritarianism and KMT politicization as part of a wider agenda of social change. Nevertheless, the challenge of reform implementation, hinging on negotiations with the opposition parties in the legislature, would provide a severe test of reform capacity.

Conclusions Administrative capacity hinges very much on the availability of resources, but it is affected also by institutional and cultural factors. The starkest illustration of this, confirmed by the comparative analysis, was how bureaucratic corruption in those countries ranked as the worst bureaucratic performers was sustained not only by resource deficiencies but also by the inter-related debilities of a weak civil service performance culture, the dominance of informal networks of patronage, and (where sound probity and merit rules existed) lax enforcement. Indonesia, for example, exhibited a ‘syndrome’ of relative incapacity stemming from its weak resource base, low levels of institutionalization of neutral competence and high levels of corruption and other bureaucratic pathologies. On the other hand, in implementing decentralization the bureaucracy showed that its civil service institutions still provided a reserve of capacity that made it possible to take major and difficult steps in implementing a highly complex and ambitious set of proposals against considerable internal opposition. In this case, political commitment provided a clear set of targets and deadlines and the instructions were unambiguous. This added component – political commitment – depended on a set of circumstances where – for this issue – the wider political and policy incapacities of the post-New Order regime were surmounted. But in the cases of bureaucratic and anti-corruption reform, institutional weaknesses within the political executive, and in its relations with the legislature, were critical in compounding weak administrative capacity, resulting in poor performance. Indeed, the institutionalization of neutral competence as a feature of public administration goes hand in hand with a stable set of political arrangements (whether parliamentary or presidential), among which a clear delineation of the respective functions of the political and administrative executives is essential. Where the norms and roles in this relationship are contested and in doubt, it appears that bureaucratic dysfunctions multiply. The absence of strong leadership and direction from the political executive seems to be a recipe for administrative incapacity, whether the latter is accounted for by the influence of an informal culture that exhibits ‘perverse instrumentality’ or by forces of bureaucratic selfinterest in the form of rent-seeking behaviour. This can be seen as much from

146 Martin Painter historical experience within the separate countries as from comparisons between them. In situations of regime transition, where politico-bureaucratic relationships are de-stabilized, there is a potential for administrative decay and decline. In Taiwan, for example, there were difficulties in establishing new sets of norms and rules about the role of the bureaucracy in the transition to an elected, nonKMT presidency. In Thailand, by contrast, the emergence of the dominant oneparty Thaksin regime, replacing a more fluid, coalitional form of parliamentary government, resulted in the implementation of a programme of administrative modernization and reform that met a pent-up demand, which had been blocked during the 1990s by bureaucratic obstruction and self-interest. Whether the final result on balance strengthens or weakens administrative competencies (for example, in balancing the urge to politicize with the need for higher levels of bureaucratic competence) remains to be seen (Painter, 2004). From this survey, Singapore and Malaysia may provide a more appropriate institutional model of a ‘parliamentary’ system than do other (non-Asian) cases of more competitive multi-party systems. In both these cases, a strong executive that is not beholden to uncertain or shifting legislative coalitions had mutually supportive relations with a bureaucracy that (partly as a matter of institutional inheritance but just as much as a result of a deliberate choice by the ruling party) was constituted around the principle of neutral competence (or, as the Malaysians and Singaporeans might put it ‘administrative excellence’). Undoubtedly, those conditions were conducive for the development and maintenance of relatively high levels of administrative capacity. None of the presidential systems covered in this survey exhibit the kind of sustained administrative reform capacity that was evident in Singapore or Malaysia, although the degree of variation among the four presidential governments points to the importance of other factors. While the political relationships between, on the one hand, president and bureaucracy and, on the other, president and legislature, were shown to be significant in constraining administrative reform capacity in all four, instability and uncertainty in these relationships were arguably the most significant constraints, due to evolving processes of political change associated with democratization. Again, the existence of a stable elite settlement in which bureaucrats and politicians have a mutually supportive role was critical. Three of these cases showed dislocations in these relationships arising from democratization. In the process of transition, two of the respective bureaucracies – Taiwan and South Korea – enjoyed the benefit of a sustaining, unifying Confucian culture that elevated and reinforced a duty of public service. In both cases, the former authoritarian regimes also imposed their own forms of loyalty and discipline which caused tensions once they lost office, but the bedrock of the public service culture was perhaps a moderating, stabilizing influence. Beyond these two cases, in each country where democratization has been experienced, the legacy of a bureaucracy that was politicized under authoritarian rule both created lingering problems of bureaucratic performance and also provided continuing obstacles to reform. In circumstances of democratic consolidation, what kinds of changes might achieve high levels of administrative capacity, given inherited underlying

Bureaucratic performance, policy capacity, administrative reform 147 bureaucratic weaknesses plus these potential dislocations? South Korea has been an active administrative reformer under democratically elected presidents, and their approach may have lessons. Cautious steps have been taken to open up recruitment and break down bureaucratic walls of exclusiveness in the traditional, closed, rank-conscious career service; important measures have been introduced to strengthen the calibre and performance of the senior civil service; greater transparency and clearer accountability mechanisms have been implemented in the operation of ‘quasi non-government organizations’, which were a shadowy sector rife with patronage; and efforts to instil a ‘customer focus’ into service delivery have included major e-government initiatives. These customer focus and e-government initiatives also feature prominently in Malaysia and Singapore. A competent bureaucracy is a product of many complex social and political forces over a long historical time-span. There are no simple formulae that can be extracted from the analysis of the seven governments under review here. The prognosis might appear gloomy in some cases, and draws attention to wider systemic questions – such as the elimination of corruption in the legal system and in politics – rather than just an agenda of ‘sound administrative reforms’ coupled with ‘political will’. There remain structural obstacles to heightened reform capacity in several of the systems surveyed. In sum, the development of effective bureaucratic systems depends in each jurisdiction on the existence of a set of circumstances that create a set of mutually reinforcing social, economic, institutional and political developments in each national setting.

Notes 1 Research for this chapter was supported by City University of Hong Kong Project Grants 7001376 and 7001401. 2 Malaysians of Indian ethic origin are also attracted to some careers in the civil service. 3 It should be noted that Mahathir performed the same flourish early in his tenure. 4 Corruption in the Indonesian bureaucracy is considered in the next section. 5 A number of state-financed enterprises were owned by the KMT. The state enterprise system was an extension of the empires of bureaucratic and KMT patronage and power.

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6

Economic governance and global engagement Independent and dependent linkage Ian Marsh

This chapter assesses the distinctive character and broader significance of economic governance as it has developed in the seven East and Southeast Asian states covered in this study. It explores two particular questions. First, in a world of globally integrated product and financial markets, can industry policy help reconcile national sovereignty and global engagement? Second, if the answer is positive, what patterns of state capacity are required to achieve this outcome? The ‘second generation’ development strategy promulgated late in the 1990s by the World Bank recognised the importance of governance institutions, but its scope was restricted to those that facilitated market operations (e.g. rule of law, property rights, corporate governance etc.) (Weiss, 2003). As the literature on East Asia shows, the state adopted roles which extended ‘market facilitation’ well beyond these precepts. Meanwhile, ‘epic’ events (Chu, 2001) later in the decade added new agendas to the governance task. These included the financial crisis of 1997, WTO membership for several states, technological change, the emergence of China, and, on the domestic front (save for Malaysia and Singapore), political change. In the following analysis, regional states are divided into two groups. The first group is composed of Korea, Singapore and Taiwan. In exploiting the growth opportunities provided by international economic engagement, these states have adopted economic governance strategies that bolstered national sovereignty. They have attained relatively independent incorporation into the global political economy. The second group is composed of Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia and the Philippines. These states have also benefited from global economic integration but their engagement has entailed greater dependence on external agents. The chapter contrasts the patterns of state capacity associated with the states in these two groups. The first section of this chapter explores the participation of these countries in global product markets. It illustrates the significant positions that have been achieved in a variety of critical segments, notably electronics. The second section outlines four contextual changes that are reframing economic governance and recent theoretical frameworks that mediate thinking about the role of the state. The third section sketches developments in approaches to economic governance

Economic governance and global engagement 153 by Taiwan, Korea and Singapore and the fourth sketches similar developments in Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia and the Philippines.

I

East and Southeast Asia in the ‘global’ economy

The East and Southeast Asian region occupies a significant place in the global economy. Its success is clear not only in overall economic growth and growth in income and intraregional trade but more particularly in its dominance of key product segments. Including Japan and China, this region has a population of 1.7 billion and an aggregate GDP over US$2 trillion, equal to around 23 per cent of world GDP. By comparison, Western Europe accounts for around 29 per cent of world GDP and North America 32.5 per cent. The region is thus comparable in aggregate economic wealth to Europe and North America, but far exceeds both these regions in population. Economic growth has remained strong. However, the performance of individual states has varied. For example, in the five years from 1996 to 2002, Korean GDP grew by just under 30 per cent, that of the Philippines and Malaysia by around 20 per cent, but that of Indonesia by only 2 per cent. The Korean result was despite an aggregate fall in GDP of just under 7 per cent in 1998. GDP per capita also varied widely. For example in 2003, Singapore had a GDP per capita of just under US$25,000, Malaysia around $3600, Thailand around $2000 and Indonesia $700. In 2003, at purchasing power parity, South Korea had a GDP per capita of just under US$20,000, Malaysia $6,000 and Indonesia $3,000. This compares with Japanese and Euro area averages of just over $25,000. Regional states have achieved higher levels of income equality than those in other developing areas. The Gini coefficient for East and Southeast Asia is around 0.3 compared with 0.5 or more for Latin America, South Asia or Africa (Kohli et al., 2003). Regional states pioneered the export-led developmental strategy that is now generally advocated by official development agencies. Both inter- and intra- regional trading systems provide a solid base for continued economic development. In particular, intra-regional trade has been growing, partly reflecting the development of regional production systems and partly the recovery of domestic consumer and capital goods markets. In 1996, intra-regional exports (excluding Japan) represented 40 per cent of total exports, up from 20 per cent in 1980 (Chu, 2001). Regional states enjoy strong positions in global markets for a number of key products. In 1999, East and Southeast Asian states (including China) supplied the following proportions of world markets in the following ten categories of industrial goods: colour television, 57 per cent; DVD players, 93 per cent; mobile phones, 43 per cent; desktop computers, 43 per cent; hard disk drives, 97 per cent; videocassette recorders, 76 per cent; air conditioners, 78 per cent; ethylene, 27 per cent; crude steel, 39 per cent; automobiles, 29 per cent (China Economist, September 2000). All these states are also particularly dependent on electronics exports. In the first six months of 2000, these accounted for the following proportions of total exports for the nominated countries: Thailand, 60 per cent; Taiwan, 34 per cent; Malaysia, 25 per cent; South Korea, 19 per cent; Singapore, 14 per

154 Ian Marsh cent; Indonesia, 12 per cent; Philippines, 7 per cent (The Economist, 11 August 2001). The development of China has proved to be a major stimulus to regional economies. In 2003, growth in exports to China and Hong Kong accounted for 50–60 per cent of the overall export growth enjoyed by Korea and Taiwan, and about 25 per cent in economies like Malaysia and Thailand. Moreover, regional economies have been steadily gaining market share in China’s imports over time, reflecting a growing level of economic complementarity … China now sources over 60 per cent of its imports of industrial high tech and transport, machinery equipment and components from emerging East Asia … Southeast Asia has also been able to benefit from China’s growing demand for commodities, with strong growth in exports of crude rubber from Malaysia and Vietnam, cork and wood from Malaysia and vegetables and fruit from Vietnam. The result of this process has been the emergence of a new international division of labour in East Asia. (Thirlwell, 2005, p. 11) FDI flows have also remained strong. But China’s dominance creates an issue for the states (Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines) that have hitherto relied on this source. Excluding investment flows to Japan, China attracted some 80 per cent of the approximately $35 billion of total flows to the region in the period to 2005. Meanwhile, savings rates remained very high, averaging over 30 per cent of GDP in the seven countries (Singapore, 48 per cent; Thailand, 30 per cent; Korea, 30 per cent; Taiwan, 28 per cent; Indonesia, 28 per cent). High local savings were the foundation of the proposed regional monetary block (Ravenhill, this volume, Chapter 7). In sum, over the course of the 1990s, regional states have maintained and developed their dominance in critical product segments, consolidated their presence in the global trading system and become progressively embedded in global financial systems. The structural foundations of regional prosperity remain strong.

II

Contexts and frameworks

Contexts The dynamics of economic governance in individual states are framed by at least four factors. These are first, the evolution of global production systems; second, the rise of China; third, the aftermath of the financial crisis of 1997; and fourth, political change. Technology is transforming global production systems. Computer simulation and digital codification of design has allowed more complex research and development, production and marketing activities to be outsourced. Flexible manufacturing has also further developed, enhancing the scope for more customised

Economic governance and global engagement 155 products and services and for even more refined outsourcing. In response, regional states need to build skill levels. Save for Thailand, the Philippines and Indonesia, education participation rates are generally high. For example, 93 per cent of Koreans in the eligible age cohort were in secondary school. Equivalent numbers for other states were: Taiwan, 88 per cent; Singapore, 78 per cent; Malaysia, 59 per cent (Lall, in Kim and Nelson, 2000, p. 42). They also need to ensure that outsourcing and customised production does not reduce forward and backward linkages to the host economy (Kim and Nelson, 2000; Jomo and Felker, 1999). The rise of China affects particularly the Southeast Asian states. As already noted, China is the favoured location for FDI and China’s labour reserves sustain low-cost manufacturing. Half of China’s 1.2 billion people are under 24 (Kelly, 2003). The adult illiteracy rate has fallen from 37 per cent in 1978 to less than 17 per cent in 1999. On the other hand, the growth of the Chinese consumer market has also augmented trading opportunities (The Economist, 29 May 2004). For example, China’s population with incomes of $3000 a year numbered around 100 million in 2002 and has been growing by 20 per cent a year. China is already the world’s biggest mobile phone market. A third contextual factor framing economic governance arises from the financial crisis of 1997. Debt remains a major issue (Asia’s Finances, The Economist, 8 February 2003). All the states covered in this study have shifted to floating exchange rate regimes; all have been obliged to restructure their banking systems and to liquidate bankrupt corporate assets. The financial crisis has strengthened the influence of neo-liberal ideology in economic governance (Evans, 1997). It has also stimulated the affected states to consider shared interests in regional financial arrangements (Ravenhill, this volume, Chapter 7). Further, more elaborate social safety nets have been sought in Korea and Taiwan (Ramesh, 2003). Political change is the fourth contextual element. Through its provision of mechanisms for peaceful leadership change, Rodrik (1999) argues that democratic forms helped Korea and Thailand cope with the financial crisis. In both cases, a leadership change occurred. But, in assessing other aspects of state responses, Haggard and McIntyre (1998) argue that these same institutions facilitated legislative obstruction and thus retarded responses in Thailand and the Philippines. These findings illustrate the varied ways institutional arrangements can affect economic governance and these developments are considered in detail in later sections. Economic policy frameworks: innovation and upgrading Economic leadership by the state has been at the heart of past analyses of economic governance in East and Southeast Asia. This resulted in the identification of a particular type of polity, the capitalist developmental state (e.g. Johnson, 1982; Wade, 1990; Weiss and Hobson, 1995; Evans, 1995; Woo-Cumings, 1999). Earlier appraisals of the developmental form took state authority largely for granted. Recent political change means this assumption needs to be revisited. Models of economic governance are also changing. The developmental state literature described a world in which competitiveness was based on technology

156 Ian Marsh ‘catch-up’ or ‘fast-followership’ (Matthews and Cho, 2000). It also described a world in which issues of structural adaptation were primary. Following an initial switch from agriculture to basic assembly industries, regional states progressively moved to more developed secondary industries. During the 1990s, the three ‘Tiger’ economies of Korea, Taiwan and Singapore moved progressively into advanced technology sectors in electronics. From the mid-1990s, their ambitions embraced other ‘knowledge-based’ industries like biotechnology, nanotechnology and new materials. They have also sought to establish a strong position in services (such as software and, in Singapore’s case, health and education). But these ambitions raise a host of new governance challenges. For example, in science-based industries, ownership of intellectual property is critical.1 In this context, fast-followership is more problematic as a catch-up strategy (but see Amsden and Chu, 2003). Further, FDI becomes more problematic as a mode of entry to high-technology industries. In an exemplary analysis, Doner and Ramsay (2003) identify three broad industry strategies that are available to states: productivity gain within existing sectors; structural adaptation or shift between sectors; and a third approach they call upgrading (see also Weiss’ discussion of ‘transformational capacity’, 1998; also Porter, 2003; Lipsey et al., forthcoming). These strategies can be complementary. Productivity gain is usually pursued through strategies that enhance the allocative efficiency of markets and through strategies that align financial, legal and other infrastructures with neo-classical economic precepts. Structural adaptation involves deliberate efforts to encourage people and resources to shift from one activity or area to another, which offers greater gains. It involves such instruments as regional strategies, retraining schemes, subsidised relocation etc. The third approach, upgrading, presents the greatest institutional and policy challenges. Working with the grain of markets, ‘upgrading’ augments their effectiveness by focusing on the whole systems in which markets are embedded. This involves a focus on transaction costs and attention to a host of principal-agent collective action and distributional issues (Doner and Ritchie, 2003, p. 211). It fits a world in which externalities, interdependencies and information asymmetries are the norm. Systemic patterns vary widely between states and sectoral patterns vary widely within national systems (Lipsey et al., forthcoming). The aspiration to build positions in science-based industries makes this approach relevant to the East Asian states. Because of the need to maintain competitiveness in the face of competition from other low-cost manufacturing sites, it is also pertinent to the Southeast Asian states.

III The developmental states: Korea, Taiwan, Singapore This section focuses on the three states – Korea, Taiwan and Singapore – whose approaches to economic governance have exemplified the classic developmental pattern (Wade, 1990). Its elements are first briefly sketched. Then developments in individual states are considered. The section concludes with a discussion of the

Economic governance and global engagement 157 outlook for the developmental pattern and its implications for the relationship between these states and the international economy. The classic ‘developmental’ pattern of economic governance Governments have played a leadership role in patterning the industrial structure in these three states, albeit one that has developed progressively from an authoritarian towards a more collaborative approach (Weiss, 1998; Evans, 1995; but see Clifford, 1997 for a sceptical account of Korea). Economic governance has focused on the development of industrial or structural capabilities in particular high growth, high value sectors. This has required high levels of state capacity covering political, policy and administrative domains (Painter and Pierre, 2005). Political capacity derived from a general consensus at elite political, official and business levels about the priority to be accorded economic growth. In business–government relations, it was mediated by sectoral and functional collaborative institutions (‘deliberation councils’). Policy capacity for economic governance was embedded in a quasithink-tank organisation (e.g. Council for Economic Planning and Development, Taiwan; Economic Development Board, Korea). These bodies undertook the strategic structural and economic analyses that were required to implement the elite consensus. They enjoyed high standing. Meanwhile, administrative capacity was based on the prestige of bureaucratic service, meritocratic recruitment and insulation from particularist pressures. Rent seeking was thus minimised and the influence of sectional interests contained. Save for Korea, weak trade unions limited the influence of labour. In a 1998 study, Weiss added a dynamic element: transformational capacity. This involved an ability to scan economic and technological environments, identify key trends and develop and implement adaptive responses. By these means, vertical and horizontal economic linkages (externalities, spillovers etc.) were more efficiently exploited and development was less likely to be impeded by lack of infrastructure or other capabilities. More generally, the developmental approach represented a distinctive (and successful) bridling of market forces by political action in ways that reconciled economic development with improved income distribution. Over the course of the 1990s, the focus of economic governance shifted from specific structural outcomes towards technologies, business start-ups and innovation capacities. Technological change in general, and the so-called knowledge economy in particular, introduced new challenges to states and firms. The following paragraphs review developments in the individual states. Korea Political consensus and leadership The commitment of Korea’s political elites to state-facilitated economic development has continued. However, during the early 1990s, disagreement emerged amongst elites about the right strategies for pursuing this goal. The financial crisis

158 Ian Marsh brought these issues to a head. In the outcome, this episode renewed the traditional (very considerable) role and powers of the presidency in economic governance. Kim Dae Jung prevailed against the chaebol by traditional (authoritarian) means. He prevailed against the National Assembly by a similar approach. Kim’s successor Roh Moon-hyun also encountered strong opposition from the National Assembly. But in the elections of 2004 his URI party gained a majority (see Introduction). It is too early to establish if this prefigures a more cooperative relationship between the executive and the legislature. Kim’s efforts are explored in detail in the following paragraphs to illustrate the enduring form of state capacity in Korea. As we will see, save for a gesture towards corporatism, there is little evidence that democratisation has altered the established hierarchical leadership style. Administrative guidance remained a powerful source of state authority (Woo-Cummings, 2003). Democratisation from 1988 had coincided with a developing debate in elite, official and business circles about economic governance. Business and many American trained economists had earlier advocated a loosening of government controls, whilst bureaucratic elites had advocated a weakening of chaebol dominance (Weiss, 1999). In the event, presidential decisions weakened policy and administrative capacity. Kim Young Sam abolished the Economic Planning Board (EPB) in 1993 and financial markets were (partially) liberalised from 1994. This enhanced the ability of the chaebol to raise funds internationally and weakened exchange rate management. The Kim Young Sam administration also began dismantling selective industrial policy under which structural adaptation had been promoted. As Chang (1998) has noted, the financial crisis was the fruit of too little, not too much, state control. Meanwhile, democratisation enhanced business influence. The cost of electioneering was one factor. For example, spending on the 1992 presidential campaign was estimated at US$1 billion (Moon, 2000). The need for funds enhanced chaebol influence was clear in evidence presented to the Assembly inquiry on the collapse of the medium-sized Hanbo group in 1997. Kim Dae Jung’s victory in the 1997 presidential election owed something to the financial crisis but most to a three-cornered contest. He foreshadowed both economic and democratic reform – but the former quickly took precedence. Lack of a broadly based popular electoral majority and also lack of a majority in the National Assembly led Kim to enter a coalition with his conservative rival, Kim Jong Pil. But this alliance was short-lived. The need for strong action on the economy led Kim to rely increasingly on the traditional, authoritarian resources of the presidency. Kim appointed staff and associates on the basis of regional and factional loyalties and used the machinery of government changes to consolidate his role. This traditional approach was also evident in his dealings with the National Assembly, which was sidelined (Ahn, 2000; Park, 2000). The traditional sources of presidential power were applied through the presidential secretariat at the Blue House and the central agencies, such as the Ministry of Finance and the Economy (MoFE). Kim Dae Jung created the Planning and Budget Commission (PBC) as the top co-coordinating agency reporting

Economic governance and global engagement 159 directly to the president. In 1999, the PBC proposed its own reorganisation as a Ministry of Planning and the Budget, which would absorb budget review and implementation. The President also took control of the financial restructuring process as supervision of financial institutions was transferred from MoFE to the Financial Services Commission (FSC). Kim also expanded the Blue House staff. The public information apparatus was transferred from the control of the Prime Minister to that of the President. Finally, 200 top-level positions were shifted from the career civil service to appointment on a contractual basis. Kim’s economic governance programme had two elements, one involving financial markets and the other chaebol structures. The financial crisis required a new structure for the banking system and arrangements to manage non-performing loans (NPLs). The Financial Services Commission became the lead agency. Of the thirty merchant banks operating in 1997, only eight remained in 2000 (Moon, 2000, p. 15). Sixty-eight of the 378 non-bank financial intermediaries (NBFIs) adopted restructuring plans. Employment in the financial sector was reduced by 30 per cent by 1998 (The Economist, 23 September 2000, p. 103). The speed and effectiveness with which Korea tackled financial restructuring was widely acknowledged. Restructure of the chaebols was the second arm of policy. For almost a decade before the crisis, the average rate of return on equity had been lower than the prevailing interest rates for loans. The chaebol financial structure of low profitability and overborrowing made 49 per cent of Korean firms illiquid and 40 per cent technically insolvent. More than half of the thirty largest conglomerates were at risk of bankruptcy (Woo-Cumings, 1999, pp. 123–4). Kim introduced a new regime of corporate governance, which included elimination of cross-payment guarantees, more transparency and a separation between financial and industrial institutions (Rhee, 2000). Kim initially sought to base action on a business–union–government alliance. Amongst his first measures was the introduction of a consultative Tripartite Commission (Rodrik, 1999). The Commission lacked formal authority but a government proposal to increase labour market flexibility was endorsed. However, labour was excluded from discussions about wage cuts and the restructuring of financial institutions, which led to the lengthy withdrawal of both trade union federations, the more militant Korean Federation of Trade Unions (KCTU) and the Federation of Korean Trade Unions (FKTU). In the event, Kim largely advanced his programme through bureaucratic discretion. In June 1998, the FSC released a list of 55 large companies, including 20 affiliated with the top five chaebol that would be required to close. In early December 1998, the final decision on the ‘Big Deal’ between the major five conglomerates was made at a joint meeting between the companies and the President. Subsequently, the Daewoo collapse in 1999 reinforced the government’s hand. The Hyundai group then accepted restructuring proposals that it had hitherto bitterly resisted. John Ravenhill (2003) has explored in detail the change in auto industry structure. In three years, its composition was transformed. Of the five national companies in existence in 1997, only one remained in Korean hands. The future of the Korean

160 Ian Marsh industry now depends on its place in the larger strategies of MNC parents. But these developments were associated with a new acceptance of foreign investment (both inwards and outwards) in a framework that linked approvals to the new goals of technological upgrading (Weiss and Thurbon, 2004). Other measures were embodied in administrative reform bills, which were rammed through the National Assembly in traditional style (Park, 2000, p. 17). These bills were passed in May 1999 after about a month of deliberation, a floor fight and strenuous opposition from the opposition Grand National Party (GNP). Kim’s intentions may have been to extend democratisation, but the imperatives of responding to the financial crisis forced progressively greater use of the traditional authoritarian resources of his office. Strategic policy capacity The foregoing describes the agenda that directly engaged the President’s authority. Elsewhere, traditional capabilities for coordinated leadership by state agencies were displayed. Policy and administrative capacity is evident in Korea’s technology strategy. The lead agency, the Ministry of Science and Technology (MOST) instituted six major programmes including the 21st Century Frontier R and D programme, the Creative Research Initiative, the National Research Laboratory Programme, and a Biotechnology Development Programme. For example, to advance biotechnology development MOST launched a five year, US$10 billion programme. Six specific sectors were identified as the focus of effort (biomaterials, health care, agriculture and foods, alternative energy, environment, basic life sciences). The programme was implemented through cooperative research between universities and the private sector and by deliberately targeting appropriate foreign investment. Under the National Research Laboratory programme, 450 institutes were funded. Meanwhile, despite the financial crisis, total research and development expenditure equaled 2.55 per cent of GDP in 1998 and 2.46 per cent in 1999. By contrast, Japan spent 3.06 per cent, the US 2.84 per cent, and Germany 2.29 per cent. One indicator of outcomes is US patents granted to Korean companies. These increased by 75 per cent in three years, from just under 2,000 in 1997 to 3,500 in 2000. In a critical appraisal, Kim has pointed to coordination difficulties between the longer-term policies of MOST and the strategies of other departments overseeing economic strategy, industry development etc. and between the public and private sectors (Kim, 2000; see also Lee in Kim and Nelson, 2000). Sectoral capacity Three summary examples illustrate policy and administrative capacity at the sectoral level. Weiss (2003, pp. 257–8) documents the steps that were taken to establish a venture capital industry and a software retail market. In the former case, a joint public–private investment fund of around $900 million was established. By August 2000, 8,000 venture businesses had been established. A

Economic governance and global engagement 161 software development project also involved a public–private partnership. As well as encouraging the establishment of new companies, and introducing appropriate intellectual property regulation, the relevant agency initiated a programme to expand the number of PCs in circulation. Some evidence of the broader impact of state strategies on ITC capabilities is provided in the International Telecommunications Union index of national engagement in which Korea ranks first. Taiwan Political leadership and consensus Taiwan possesses a number of large business groups although, in contrast to Korea, industry organisation is concentrated in small and medium enterprises. Taiwan was not immediately affected by the financial crisis but it was affected by stock market upheavals in 1999 and by the subsequent downturn in the American economy. The KMT president, Lee Teng-hui initiated a financial restructuring programme in 1999. Following the presidential election in March 2000, the new DPP government of Chen Shui-bian maintained its predecessor’s commitment to gradual financial restructuring through the absorption of weaker institutions by their stronger rivals. (The Economist, 11 November 2000, p. 109). Capital market liberalisation proceeded slowly with attention to domestic capacity given priority over foreign participation (Chu, 2001, p.148). In early 2002, under the pressure of recession, a large-scale privatisation programme was inaugurated (Far East Economic Review, 19 December 2002, p. 42). Both KMT and DPP executives have faced particular problems in their dealings with the Legislative Yuan. For the KMT, this flowed in part from the faction system, which the party deliberately encouraged to build its local strength. Corruption scandals occurred in the mid-1990s over construction and public works contracts. Further, the government intervened in the Stock Market in both 1999 and 2000. Opposition groups alleged this was to protect favoured interests. ‘One reason for KMT electoral decline in 1995 and 2000 was the success of the New Party and the DPP in tarring it with labels of ‘black money’ (referring to ties with gangsters) and ‘golden oxen’ (referring to the direct role of business elites in the election)’ (Gold, 2000, p. 101). In 1996, Justice Minister Liao estimated that 35 per cent of more than 800 members of city and county councils had links with the underworld. At least 10 per cent of members of the Legislative Yuan and National Assembly were alleged to have criminal connections. DPP president Chen Shui-bian faced different difficulties. Obstructionist politics emerged in the months after his election. As in Korea, a three-cornered contest allowed Chen’s victory. But the DPP inherited a Legislative Yuan with a KMT majority. President Chen initially appointed a senior KMT figure, Tang Fei, as Prime Minister. He resigned when Chen held firm to the DPP agenda of terminating construction of a fourth nuclear power station. This led to a recall motion in the Legislative Yuan. To be successful, this would have required not only

162 Ian Marsh a two-thirds majority but also a national referendum. Conflict stopped short of this stage. National Assembly elections in 2001 and 2004 resulted in an Oppositioncontrolled legislature. Tests of strength between the executive and the legislature have continued (surveyed in Chapter 10). As in Korea, there have been gestures towards more consensual policy approaches. In 1990, Lee convened a National Affairs Conference and in 1996 a National Development Conference. Gold (2000) comments: ‘A clear KMT–DPP working coalition emerged at the conference to the dismay of extremists in both parties.’ Democracy in Taiwan seems solidly grounded but relations between key elected institutions remain problematic. Bureaucratic autonomy has not been compromised. But executive–legislative tensions have become an important background element. Strategic policy capacity The bureaucracy in Taiwan, particularly the key economic agencies, has independent standing (Cheng, Haggard and Kang, 1998). Authority over macroeconomic and monetary policy is split between the Central Bank of China (CBC) and the Ministry of Finance. The CBC is largely free to determine monetary policy. Both agencies have adopted conservative approaches. Exchange controls remain. In 1996, Ministry of Finance officials successfully opposed plans to position Taiwan as the Asia-Pacific Regional Operations Centre as this would have required unacceptable liberalisation of the financial system (Gold, 2000). Industry policy is managed by a number of agencies. The Council for Economic Planning and Development is the central strategic authority. The Industrial Development Bureau of the Ministry of Economic Affairs manages detailed policy strategy and implementation. Other agencies include the Research Development and Planning Commission, and the Ministry of Transport and Communications. Science and technology policy is overseen by a number of agencies, including the National Science Council whose chair has ministerial rank. The main ‘pure’ research organisation, Academica Sinica, reports directly to the Office of the President and has an independent budget. The Ministry of Economic Affairs oversees the research institutes (Dodgson, in Kim and Nelson, 2000, p. 239, also pp. 255–8). The state maintains a substantial industrial research organisation (ITRI) with a staff of over 6000. Policy instruments have involved infrastructure assistance, migration schemes and technology assistance. The government early encouraged the development of venture capital markets. Taiwan had 50 venture capital firms in 2001. The IDB and ITRI played key initiating and developmental roles in the expansion of Taiwan’s electronics industry. This is more broadly based than Korea’s. Taiwan firms supply 7.5 per cent of the global market, fourth behind the US, Japan and Korea. They have also been active in the development of the mainland and Malaysian industries (Matthews and Cho, 2000). Meanwhile, a study of Taiwanese adaptation to technological change has coined the term

Economic governance and global engagement 163 ‘second mover advantage’ to describe the economic strategy promoted by state authorities (Amsden and Chu, 2003). Sectoral policy and implementation capacity Like Korea, the policy and administrative capacities of the Taiwanese state in shaping industry structure are evident. However, a different pattern of instruments and linkages has evolved in step with a much less concentrated industry structure. Indeed, over the course of the 1990s, the distinctions between Taiwan and Korea became more prominent (Cheng and Chu, 2002). Targeted sectors included semiconductors, information technology, optoelectronics and petrochemicals. From 2000, the emphasis shifted to biotechnology based on start-ups. The Taiwanese government has committed US$5 billion to this sector over the five years from 2001. A target of 500 biotechnology companies by the end of the decade has been established (China Post, February 2001). The Hsinchu Science Park reflects the state’s approach to fostering high-technology industries. This development was seeded by public funds and initial research was undertaken by ITRI. Key infrastructure, particularly capital equipment that could be shared by individual firms was provided (Matthews and Cho, 2000). Foreign investment that would complement local technological capabilities was targeted (Weiss and Thurbon, 2004). Hsinchu is now home to some 272 companies with combined annual sales of US$14 billion. A similar park is planned for Miaoli, focused on biotechnology (www.idic.gov.tw/html/echin). Singapore Singapore has eschewed political change. ‘Soft authoritarianism’ remains the foundation of economic governance. Political authority, policy and administrative capacity at national and sectoral levels are all of a high order. Singapore’s administrative state is characterised by close links between the key agencies with a concern for industry structure, namely the Ministry of Trade and Industry (MTI) and the Economic Development Board (EDB). The development of knowledgebased industries and local capacity to generate intellectual property has been accorded priority (Dodgson, in Kim and Nelson, 2000, pp. 253–4). For example, a biomedical sciences hub has been established by attracting 15 top life science companies. A programme to increase the number of graduates in these areas has been initiated. A S$1 billion fund has been established to promote joint ventures and to invest in overseas companies with spin-offs to Singapore. Another S$1 billion fund has been designated for biotechnology research and development. As already noted, the strategy of reliance on FDI is less viable in science-based sectors because of the relatively much greater returns to intellectual property. The government has responded by using its government-linked companies (GLCs) to encourage local start-ups. There are also signs of liberalisation aimed increasingly at creativity (e.g. emphasis on culture, deliberate attempt to build Singapore as an education hub, sponsorship of culture, more tolerant approach to gay and

164 Ian Marsh lesbian citizens etc). Singapore, however, remains the only ‘pure’ developmental state since political authority continues to be concentrated in the hands of the dominant party. Summary Empirical studies in these three states show established state capacities in technology catch-up and in frontier product and process development (Ernst et al., 1998; Matthews and Cho, 2000; Jomo and Felker, 1999; Dodgson, 2000; Keller and Samuels, 2003). They show the different patterns and approaches that apply to different industries (e.g. textiles, clothing, electronics) and in different countries. Education and the development of small and medium enterprises, venture capital, and the development of specific technological capabilities are other activities whose priority in economic governance has risen. Although the elite consensus about the priority and scope of economic governance remains, the political framework within which the scope for consensus might develop is now more problematic in Taiwan and Korea. Meanwhile, either by building the capabilities of local firms or (in the case of Singapore) providing key capabilities to mostly foreign-owned firms, these states have preserved their standing in international product markets.

IV The ‘second tier’ states: Thailand, Malaysia, Philippines, Indonesia In the remaining four states, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia and the Philippines, the scope and purposes of economic governance have varied widely. All have relied on FDI as the engine of manufacturing development. Malaysia has gestured to the developmental approach, but this has been in conjunction with, and secondary to, efforts to extend Malay participation in the economy (Jomo and Felker, 1999; Jomo and Gomez, 2000). Thailand has not sought to manage structural outcomes. Indonesia briefly gestured towards guided industry development, particularly whilst B.J. Habibie held the relevant portfolio, but enrichment of then President Suharto’s family and their circle compromised the economic governance system (Dodgson, 2000, pp. 248–51). The Philippines, like Thailand, has primarily sought to manage macro-economic outcomes and has also been beset with problems of clientelism (Hutchcroft, 1999). The financial crisis affected each of these states differently and has elicited different responses. In the following country summaries, the same three capacities – political, policy and administrative – are assessed. Thailand Political consensus and leadership Ownership of Thailand’s domestic economic sector is highly concentrated. In 1998, 52 per cent of publicly listed companies were family controlled compared

Economic governance and global engagement 165 with 25 per cent in Korea. These companies were concentrated in service sectors, particularly finance. The political context is hardly more propitious. In a model analysis, Doner and Ramsay (2000, 2003; also Doner and Ritchie, 2003) argue convincingly that the institutions that have spearheaded Thai economic development hitherto are inappropriately configured to meet prospective needs. Growth has been primarily based on structural adjustment. This has involved a switch of low-cost human resources from agriculture to manufacturing. Political institutions have contributed positively to this outcome by promoting a kind of competitive clientelism. This has involved the development of (fragile) links between particular business promoters and particular political patrons. Political competition between these patrons limited predatory rent seeking. Meanwhile, the technocratic elite focused on macro-economic stability, not on detailed intervention. Following the constitutional reforms outlined in the Introduction, the Thaksin government assumed office in 2001 with a majority coalition. In 2005, it won a majority in its own right. Thaksin early established an asset-management corporation (which had earlier been successfully resisted by local interests), although he failed to strengthen bankruptcy procedures. An important early case involving Thai Petrochemical Industries found against creditors (Financial Times, 16 June 2003, p. 16). The incoming government also recognised weaknesses in the production sector. The Ministry of Industry initiated consultations that identified steps that needed to be taken to upgrade productivity in thirteen sectors (Doner and Ramsay, 2003, p. 136; also Pornchanok and Villinger, 2001). Eight public– private sector institutes were established to promote productivity in key sectors. But assessments of the effectiveness of these measures were pessimistic (Doner and Ramsay, 2003, p. 137). Structural adjustment has hitherto played a pivotal role in Thailand’s economic development. Manufacturing exports rose from 2.4 per cent of total exports in 1960 to 74 per cent in 2000 (ibid., p. 127). An analysis of export composition also indicated a shift from the mid-1990s to medium technology products. However, other studies pointed to substantial weaknesses in human resource strategies, the local supply base and technology diffusion. These indicated the shallow foundations of the structural shift (ibid., p. 131). Thailand has the advantage of committed investors in electronics and automobiles sectors. She has much to gain by the liberalisation of regional trading arrangements (Ravenhill, this volume, Chapter 7). However, Thailand cannot compete with China for low-wage industries. A shift from a strategy based on low-cost manufacturing to one based on upgrading would require more elaborate governance capabilities. It would require institutions that could mediate human resource development, supplier linkages, technology development and the introduction of advanced infrastructure. Doner and Ramsay illustrate particular patterns through analyses of electronics, textiles and automobiles, all sectors in which Thailand has built a strong position. Evidence that weaknesses are being tackled is sparse. In a broader survey, Painter (2001) reached similarly pessimistic conclusions about Thai institutional capacities. The track record of elected Thai governments

166 Ian Marsh in developing strategic policy frameworks and achieving policy coherence was poor. In relation to administrative capacity, he noted the considerable powers of delay and obstruction vested in senior civil servants, the politicisation of appointments to the formerly meritocratic elite agencies and the uneven quality of the overall service. In sum, the initiative in economic governance in Thailand largely remains with the private sector. The authoritarian, populist and predatory approach of the Thaksin government was discussed in the Introduction. The manufacturing sector, which is dominated by foreign firms, is largely insulated from these aspects of domestic politics. Should upgrading be recognised as a more pressing imperative, Thaksin has the authority to lead change. Malaysia Political leadership and consensus Over the 1990s, Dr Mahathir had progressively concentrated authority and initiative for economic governance largely in his own hands (Jomo and Felker, 1999, p. 21). Following his resignation in 2003, these powers were assumed by his successor, former Interior Minister Badawi. The financial crisis illustrated the scope of prime ministerial power. Dr Mahathir displaced his deputy Anwar (later jailed). Against economic orthodoxy, he adopted capital controls to limit local economic damage. These were judged to have been successful (Kaplan and Rodrik, 2001). Having won an overwhelming mandate on an anti-corruption platform (see Introduction), it remains to be seen if Badawi can wield the same authority as his predecessor. Strategic capacity After an initial period of uncertainty, the government responded vigorously to the financial crisis. A National Economic Action Council was formed to plan an overall response and an asset-management company to take over non-performing loan. The banking sector was rationalised. Fifty-four banks and finance houses were merged into 10 banking groups. The economy recovered rapidly over the following twelve months. Stock market controls were eased in February 1999 when a graduated exit tax of 10 per cent replaced the former ban on repatriation of funds. At the level of industry policy, the Malaysian government has been the most interventionist of the second tier NICs and has exhibited the greatest strategic and sectoral ambitions. From the early 1990s, the Mahathir government introduced an industry strategy, which sought to accelerate development in the manufacturing sector, particularly electronics. Its model was the state-level Penang Development Corporation which had stimulated the development of an electronics cluster in the 1980s. The Mahathir initiative aimed to extend industry development and to deepen technological capabilities. Networking, clusters and linkages between

Economic governance and global engagement 167 MNCs and indigenous firms were envisaged as the means. A high technology park at Kulim, on the model of the Hsinchu development in Taiwan, was foreshadowed. The CyberJaya multi-media super corridor announced in 1996 was also an expression of this approach. A review in 2000, however, found the outcome fell far short of the promise (Asian Wall Street Journal, 26 March and 1 April 2001). In July 2003, a new industrial development strategy was announced that emphasised the development of local SMEs through participation in MNC supply chains. Sectoral capacity Whilst the strategic framework for industry development has been put in place, sectoral capabilities have been found to be inadequate. In an evaluation of electronics developments, Matthews and Cho question implementation capacities: ‘The direction towards upgrading is there but its execution has been slow – although much more advanced than in neighbouring countries like Thailand and the Philippines’ (2000, p. 276). Jomo and Felker suggest bureaucratic capacities for sectoral analysis and for monitoring implementation are inadequate. They suggest that state-led strategies approaches have effectively subsidised MNCs. Further, particular local businesses have been favoured at the expense of more worthy but unrecognised local alternatives. ‘It is precisely the sparseness of such capacity for detailed, continuous sector-specific assessment of market and industry trends which is the greatest constraint on effective industry implementation’ (1999, p. 25, see also Dodgson, in Kim and Nelson, 2000, pp. 258–60). Doner and Ritchie reached a similar conclusion in their comparative assessment of the development of the hard disk drive industry in Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore. Whilst Malaysia showed more strategic capacity than Thailand (although of course much less than Singapore), there was little evidence of ability to implement policy at the sectoral level (2003, pp. 203–5, 213–14, 220–2). These assessments suggest Malaysia’s institutions are better placed than those of Thailand to mediate the introduction of upgrading. However, Dr Mahathir had so concentrated powers of initiative in his own hands that success will depend on the ambition, orientations and political effectiveness of his successor. Indonesia Apart from a flirtation with ‘national champions’ and a brief period under President Suharto when structural development was given priority, the state has not attempted to lead industrial development. But its licensing and regulatory powers were widely used as instruments of patronage (on the aircraft industry as a national champion see Dodgson in Kim and Nelson, 2000, pp. 248–51; also Keller and Samuels, 2003, p. 17). Indonesia experienced the largest economic reverse of any regional state as a result of the financial crisis. Following this, an Indonesian Bank Restructuring Agency was established. However, its leadership changed seven times in four years (The Economist, 15 June 2002). No entrepreneurs

168 Ian Marsh were prosecuted. The central bank governor was found guilty of corruption but not replaced. Banking sector reforms were delayed and corporate debt issues remain unresolved. Political leadership and consensus The basic Indonesian political structure remains unsettled. The legislature has ill-defined powers. Relations between the executive and legislature remain to be resolved (see Chapter 10). Contested issues include relations between centre and periphery and civilian and military elites. A decentralisation programme was introduced but devolved revenues and responsibilities were not aligned (The Economist, 15 February 2003). Tests of strength between economic reformers and established economic interests have mostly been resolved in favour of the latter (Far East Economic Review, 14 November 2002). Unresolved issues include judicial and bureaucratic reform, and the respective roles and powers of the executive and the legislature. Finally, there is disagreement between international agencies and local officials over economic strategies (Painter, 2001, p. 36). Above all, an elite consensus about the underlying rules of the game is absent. The state has adopted a more decentralised approach but implementation has been impaired by weak administrative capacity (see Painter, this volume, Chapter 5). The election of former General Yudhoyono as President provides a new focus for leadership. But institutional constraints remain. Bureaucratic capabilities are very weak (Painter, this volume, Chapter 5). The President’s party is in a minority in the Assembly. The context for economic governance is hardly propitious. The Philippines Political developments in the Philippines have already been discussed (Introduction). The government has gestured towards a more proactive approach to economic governance by endeavoring to reconstitute the Board of Investment on the model of the Singapore EDB, but the contexts are wholly different. It has also sought to develop an electronics cluster, modelled on the Penang and Hsinchu developments, at the former US naval base site of Subic Bay. But these are isolated developments – the government has not sought to lead industry development on any significant scale. Like Korea and Thailand, the Philippines is characterised by highly concentrated wealth. Approximately 52 per cent of the market capitalisation was controlled by 10 families (Cook, 2001, p. 7). However, the periodic need for external funding to avoid crisis has acted as a kind of countervailing influence with the World Bank and IMF supporting the economic technocrats. President Ramos sought to liberalise the economy and weaken the economic dominance of the oligarchy (Velasco, 1999). For example, the Philippines National Bank was privatised and foreign bank entry was permitted. By the time of the financial crisis, 19 foreign banks were active in the local market. ‘Technocratic actors within the state and its outside lenders took advantage of the crisis to try to

Economic governance and global engagement 169 break the tight family control of local banks. Their objective is a banking sector dominated by a few large local and foreign players’ (Cook, 2001, p. 20). This objective has been accomplished. But the overall outlook for the Philippines, as a base for low-cost manufacturing, has been weakened by the emergence of China. In the absence of political reform, the prospects for effective economic governance seem bleak. Summary The Southeast Asian picture is clouded. The need in these four states for effective economic governance, albeit only in a ‘weak’ form, arises from all the forces enumerated at the start of this chapter – technological development, competition from China, the aftermath of the financial crisis. Save for Malaysia, political capacity is weak or dominated by established interests. The mismatch between political and administrative institutions identified in one pattern in Thailand, applies even more dysfunctionally in Indonesia and the Philippines. Only Malaysia displays appropriate, if still under-developed, capabilities.

V

The future of economic governance

Two broad approaches to economic governance are illustrated in the experience of these seven states, namely a ‘bootstrap’ or developmental approach and one that primarily depends on FDI. As we have seen, the developmental approach is demanding at both political and institutional levels. This approach to economic governance has been attributed to background factors such as the prior Japanese example, culture (a Confucian inheritance), colonial experience (both Taiwan and Korea were Japanese colonies), security pressures (their importance as frontline Cold War states, or in the case of Singapore, to its location between Islamic states), or (more comprehensively) to the institutions that this combination of factors spawned (the developmental state analysts). Whatever the causes, a bootstrap or developmental approach remains far from the orthodoxy championed by the international development agencies. The FDI-driven pattern is a second-best approach, but one that asks much less of state capacity. At the same time, this approach to economic governance illustrates the imperatives associated with cost-based competitiveness as a longerterm developmental strategy. To avoid foot-loose investors, the development of local capabilities that tie international investors to the host economy becomes a requirement. Thus the pressure to enhance capacities for economic governance is also strong in these states. Robinson and White (1998) have set forth a vision for a ‘democratic developmental state’. This pattern is far from realisation. Apart from other factors, democratic political socialisation is a much more protracted project than the formal adoption of democratic institutions, significant though this latter step is. It is therefore hardly surprising that traditional norms of authority have persisted despite the new

170 Ian Marsh opportunities for political contestation. Yet the days of old-style dirigisme are also clearly past. Collaborative economic governance is being renewed in East Asia through a new consensus between political and technocratic elites about the role of the state in economic governance. Business–government collaboration is being renewed on this foundation. If labour emerges as a political force, it too will need to be accommodated. Meanwhile, the four states of Southeast Asia continue to rely primarily on their cost advantages in attracting foreign investment. Together the seven states covered in this chapter create a distinctive regionally based politicoeconomic ecology. Their experience illustrates the disparate approaches to economic governance that can mediate more or less independent integration into the global political economy and the levels of political, policy and administrative capacity that are the foundation of each approach.

Note 1 US Commerce Department data suggests value added by wages and salaries in disk drives equals 24 per cent, in computers 11 per cent and in life sciences 7 per cent. This compares with returns to wages and salaries of 67 per cent in ‘old economy’ industries such as precision engineering and specialty chemicals (West, 2001, p. 37).

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Part III

Regionalism

7

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia John Ravenhill

Developments since the mid-1990s have institutionalized regional collaboration in the Asia-Pacific at levels never previously experienced. In this period, the AsiaPacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) grouping adopted an ambitious agenda for its member states to remove their trade barriers by the year 2010 (for industrialized economies) and 2020 (for less-developed economies); ASEAN committed itself to the implementation of a free trade agreement; and a regional security dialogue was initiated through the ASEAN Regional Forum. In the years since the financial crises of 1997–98, proposals for regional collaboration in East Asia proliferated at multiple levels: for bilateral free trade arrangements; for sub-regional trade liberalization; and, most ambitiously, for various forms of cooperation in the monetary field.1 And by inviting the governments of China, Japan and Korea to a special meeting after their own summit, ASEAN members brought into being the first truly East Asian grouping – the ASEAN Plus Three forum. In late 2005, this new East Asian collaboration was to be institutionalized in the East Asian summit, the first of what are intended to be regular meetings of East Asian heads of government.2 To what extent have these developments already added to or have the potential to add to state capacity in East Asia?3 In principle, regionalism, the construction of intergovernmental collaboration on a geographically restricted basis,4 has the potential to enhance state capacity through several processes. These include: 1 Augmenting the financial resources available to participating states. At the most fundamental level, regionalism may increase the resources available to states by facilitating a more rapid rate of economic growth. Regionalism may also stimulate larger flows of foreign direct investment from other states, either from within or outside the region.5 Resources may also be derived from transfers from other member states on a permanent basis, for example, through a grouping’s mechanisms for redistribution, such as the EU’s European Regional Development Fund. Alternatively, resources may be provided on a temporary basis to assist countries in times of particular need, for example, through loans of foreign exchange made from a regional monetary swap facility

178 John Ravenhill when countries within a region are experiencing currency crises. Participation in a regional grouping may also enable members to make a more effective claim on resources that external parties direct towards promoting regional collaboration. For instance, both Japan and the European Union in recent years have designated a portion of their aid budgets for supporting ‘regional’ projects among recipient countries. Other donors, including multilateral agencies such as the World Bank, have also looked favourably on requests from regional organizations. Whether or not such aid to regional bodies adds to the total amount of aid these agencies would otherwise give is debatable. Nonetheless, for an individual state, the pursuit of regionalism may add to its net aid receipts. 2 Enhancing the expertise available to states. Regionalism may enhance the supply of expertise either collectively, at the regional level, or that available in national bureaucracies. Such expertise can be transferred from within the region from states with greater know-how in an issue area, or from outside the region through channels such as the training programmes provided by multilateral organizations. Expertise can also be generated by activities at the regional level, for instance, through the establishment of a secretariat for the cooperative grouping, and/or by enhancing processes of information collection and exchange. 3 Enhancing the bargaining situation of member states vis-à-vis third parties. By acting collectively, members may gain better outcomes than if they acted individually. By integrating their economies, member states may strengthen their bargaining hand in negotiations with foreign partners. Examples include the provision of a more attractive investment locale (a larger ‘regional’ market) that makes them more attractive to foreign partners, and acting collectively in negotiating with foreign purchasers and/or suppliers. Moreover, bargaining strength is likely to rest in part on expertise, which as noted in the previous point, can be enhanced through regional collaboration.

East Asian regionalism and state capacity ASEAN Both of the major regional economic institutions, ASEAN and APEC, in the period before the economic crisis were working towards trade liberalization among their members. ASEAN’s record in promoting economic collaboration among its members had been one of almost totally ineffectiveness in the first twenty-five years after its establishment in 1967. Despite its preferential trade arrangement, intra-regional trade had actually declined as a share of member states’ overall trade. ASEAN leaders had responded in September 1992 at their fourth summit in Singapore to the twin challenges posed to it by APEC and by China’s emergence as an attractive locale for foreign investors by launching proposals for an ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA), to be completed by 2008. Although the

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 179 grouping subsequently initiated a variety of ‘AFTA Plus’ activities in the following three years, including efforts to eliminate non-tariff barriers and quantitative restrictions, and to harmonize customs nomenclature, valuation, and procedures, and also accelerated the timetable for liberalization, progress was at best halting, leaving various key issues unresolved (Ravenhill, 1995). Members failed to commit to the total liberalization of trade; instead, ‘free trade’ was defined as occurring when tariff levels reached somewhere between 0 and 5 per cent. Moreover, the agreement allowed for the exclusion of sensitive products from the liberalization process. Frequent adjustment of the timetable for liberalization tended to confuse rather than reassure foreign investors. ASEAN’s efforts at promoting industrial cooperation among its members had been even more ineffective, the dirigiste efforts under the ASEAN Industrial Projects scheme of 1980 to assign particular industries to states having clashed with the market-oriented policies of key members, especially Singapore. A partial exception to an otherwise dismal record was the Brand-to-Brand Complementation agreement of 1988, an arrangement applying specifically to the automobile industry that provided for intra-regional trade in automobile components at a tariff reduction of 50 per cent. This arrangement had facilitated the setting up of regional production networks by some multinational auto assemblers but had been substantially undermined by the continuing protection by the Indonesian and Malaysian governments of their domestic automobile assemblers (Guiheux and Lecler, 2000; Legewie, 2000). In the realm of financial cooperation, ASEAN efforts had been meagre. Governments in 1977 had developed a small scheme for providing liquidity to one another when currencies came under attack. Each of the original five ASEAN members initially contributed $20 million to this swap facility, and was allowed to withdraw double that amount in the event of a crisis. The five governments doubled the sum committed in the following year – but left it unchanged between 1978 and 2000. The figure of $80 million that was available to an individual country is of course minuscule in comparison even with the overall foreign exchange reserves of the ASEAN states, and totally inadequate to counter the movements of capital that occur when currencies are subject to speculative attack. By the mid-1990s, the contribution that economic cooperation in ASEAN had made to regional economic growth (and thus indirectly to state capacity through enhancing government revenues) was minimal. ASEAN’s other contributions to state capacity were similarly of little consequence. It had added little to the bargaining power of member states. Collaboration had enabled ASEAN members in the second half of the 1970s to embarrass the Australian government into withdrawing proposals designed to limit airline capacity on the Australia–Europe route (Ravenhill, 1998). But despite holding frequent meetings with what became known as its ‘dialogue partners’, ASEAN seldom acted collectively in bilateral or multilateral international economic negotiations. And ASEAN members competed with one another to host foreign investment, often attempting to outbid fellow members in the concessions they offered to potential investors. One reason for ASEAN’s inability to bargain effectively with extra-regional actors was its own

180 John Ravenhill lack of depth in economic integration, reflected in the absence of a common external tariff. States consequently were left to determine their own trade policies towards outsiders. The weakness of the ASEAN secretariat was a further problem undermining collective action. Regional cooperative schemes can enhance the state capacity of their members when their secretariats develop expertise beyond that held at the national level. In ASEAN, such a development was precluded by the desire of the member states to ensure that the Secretariat remained weak and incapable of developing as an independent source of authority. The Secretariat’s professional staff was tiny by comparison with those of most cooperative institutions; staff members were all seconded from national governments, ensuring that the Secretariat did not develop an independent presence. Its role amounted to little more than one of coordinating and servicing meetings of officials from the member states. If the Secretariat did little to strengthen state capacity in member states, neither could weaker members look to their stronger counterparts for assistance. With non-interference in the affairs of other states the paramount principle governing intra-ASEAN relations, member states showed little interest in enhancing the capacity of their fellows. Moreover, the principle of non-interference has meant that ASEAN itself has done little to reinforce the process of democratization in the region.6 ASEAN members did not attempt to develop redistributive measures that might strengthen the capacity of weaker states. Because its efforts at trade integration were ineffective, the issue of ‘compensation’ to countries or regions not fully sharing in the grouping’s overall growth simply did not arise. And its efforts to ensure an equitable distribution of industrial activities through region-wide planning were nothing less than a fiasco. Perhaps the single most significant contribution that ASEAN made to enhancing state capacity was through the claims that it was able to stake on resources that donors made available to support regional projects. In 1987, for instance, Japanese Prime Minister Takeshita announced a $2 billion ASEAN–Japan Development Fund for the promotion of the private sector in ASEAN over the following three years. But while useful, these and other such resources from foreign donors were not of a magnitude that would have any transformative effect on the capacities of the various states. APEC APEC rapidly transformed itself in the first half of the 1990s from a ministeriallevel meeting of 12 countries (which originally had excluded China, Hong Kong and Taiwan) to a grouping that embraced most Pacific Rim economies (21 in total) and which held annual leaders’ meetings and frequent meetings at ministerial and senior official levels.7 At its second leaders’ meeting in Bogor, Indonesia, in 1994, APEC adopted an ambitious agenda for its members to liberalize their trade on a most-favoured-nation, i.e. non-preferential, basis by 2010 for the industrialized economies, and 2020 for the less-developed members. Trade liberalization was the first of three ‘pillars’ members agreed for APEC activities; the others were

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 181 trade facilitation, and economic and technical cooperation (in APEC jargon, ECOTECH). In its first decade, APEC gained much publicity for its actions to promote trade liberalization. In adopting a non-discriminatory approach, its members were building on the experience of unilateral trade liberalization that had occurred within the region, especially in Southeast Asia and Oceania in the 1980s. As the name of APEC’s second pillar suggests, trade facilitation activities were intended to assist the process of liberalization through the negotiation of agreements on customs procedures, technical standards, mutual recognition of product testing, etc. Similarly, activities within the economic and technical cooperation pillar were directed primarily at enhancing the capacity of states to implement trade liberalization policies. APEC’s industrialized economies, however, eschewed the phrase development cooperation, originally proposed by Indonesia’s President Suharto at the Bogor meeting; they rejected any notion that APEC’s less-developed economies should receive development assistance in compensation for undertaking trade liberalization. The logic was that of neo-classical economics; the gains from trade liberalization would accrue primarily to the economy undertaking such liberalization and would provide rewards in themselves. The role of the regional grouping was not to compensate but to enhance the capacity of states that had committed to pursue the desired policy course. When political scientists conceive of state capacity in the East Asian context, they are typically thinking of the ‘transformative’ capacity of the state, in Weiss’s (1998) terminology, that is, the state’s capabilities to intervene to change an economy’s trajectory through enhancing the national system of innovation and/ or through the pursuit of sectorally-specific industrial policies. APEC’s strategies point to another dimension of state capacity, one more consonant with the prevailing tenets of the multilateral financial institutions: a capacity to direct the liberalization of the economy. As Miles Kahler (1990) pointed out in the context of structural adjustment programmes in less-developed economies, an ‘orthodox paradox’ exists in that the principal agent of market reform and liberalization has to be the state itself. In other words, an effective state is required if liberalization is to be successful. The disastrous consequences of financial sector liberalization in the absence of an adequate regulatory framework in East Asia in the 1990s provide a perfect illustration of this point. APEC’s assistance in attempting to boost state capacity for economic liberalization took three principal avenues. Through the ECOTECH programme, it aimed to provide technical assistance to the less-developed member economies to enhance the capacity of their states through professional training in areas such as statistical data collection and preparation, implementation of harmonized customs systems, etc. A second avenue was the socialization effects that participation in APEC fora had on delegates from less-developed economies, a form of ‘sociological liberalism’, in Nye’s (1988) terminology. Finally, APEC could also enhance the capacity of the state to promote liberalization through changing the domestic political economy equation through mobilizing pro-liberalization elements.

182 John Ravenhill How successful have APEC’s efforts been in practice? ECOTECH received relatively little attention until the end of APEC’s first decade. The APEC Eminent Person’s Group, a body set up in 1992 to provide a blueprint for APEC’s future development, devoted only four and a half pages of the 78 pages of its first report, and one and a half pages of its 38-page second report to ECOTECH. The reports had a striking absence of specifics on ECOTECH activities, a marked contrast to the detailed attention they gave to trade liberalization. Gradually, however, governments came to appreciate the link between the role that APEC could play in the enhancement of domestic capabilities and the prospects for moving the trade facilitation and liberalization agendas forward. In the Osaka Action Agenda in 1995, member economies gave ECOTECH equal status with trade liberalization on APEC’s agenda. The following year’s Manila Action Plan identified six areas in which APEC would develop ECOTECH activities: developing human capital; fostering safe and efficient capital markets; strengthening economic infrastructure; harnessing technologies of the future; promoting environmentally sustainable growth; and encouraging small and medium-sized enterprises. By the end of its first decade, APEC had 220 ECOTECH projects running under its auspices. Categorized according to the themes outlined at the Manila meeting, the distribution was: developing human capital (70 projects); developing stable, safe and efficient capital markets (7); strengthening economic infrastructure (21); harnessing technologies for the future (49); promoting environmentally sound growth (51); and strengthening the dynamism of small and medium enterprises (22). Approximately a quarter of the projects were in the human resources development area, with energy, science and technology, and agricultural technology the other most active areas (each contributing about 12 per cent of the total projects).8 At first sight this may seem to be an impressive programme. In reality, the record was marred by several weaknesses. A triumph of process over substance characterized APEC’s activities. So has a general lack of coordination and setting of priorities. ECOTECH was not effectively integrated with the trade liberalization and facilitation agenda. The grouping launched projects when a member had sufficient enthusiasm to put up some money for them.9 The projects financed reflect the particular interests of bureaucracies in the individual members. They range from the promotion of the understanding of culture in schools to an improved seafood inspection regime, from research on best gender practices in the workplace to risk assessment in customs procedures. As early as 1993, the EPG had criticized the proliferation of projects and called for their rationalization. Five years later, in the environmental field, to which APEC has given priority, the Australian government’s Department of the Environment (Commonwealth of Australia, 1998) asserted that APEC’s ECOTECH activity was ‘ad hoc’ and ‘lacks cohesion’. A report by senior officials to ministers on ECOTECH concluded that many projects were not goal-oriented with explicit objectives, milestones and performance criteria; they were oriented more to process than to easily measurable results (cited in Curtis and Ciuriak, 1999, p. 10). Surveys, research and seminars constituted two-thirds of the output of the projects, causing

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 183 concern among some member economies at the lack of substantive product from ECOTECH activities.10 Inadequate finance has also hampered ECOTECH activities. The total annual expenditure on projects has not exceeded $2 million. Most of the projects have been of a very small scale, with funding of less than $50,000. The failure of APEC to adopt Japan’s ‘Partners for Progress’ proposal denied it any significant funds for the pursuit of ECOTECH. And, contrary to the expectation that the private sector would supply the bulk of funding for ECOTECH activities, business has taken little part in them. Only a third of ECOTECH projects have had any business input or participation, let alone financial support. In a survey conducted by the Australian branch of PECC, none of the business respondents ‘saw any potential in economic and technical cooperation activities’ (quoted in Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, 2000, p. 174). The lack of substantive outputs from APEC’s ECOTECH programme rendered it vulnerable to criticisms that it was ‘activity masquerading as progress’ (Flamm and Lincoln, 1997, p. 6). Even Ippei Yamazawa (1998, p. 172), an enthusiastic supporter of APEC, acknowledged that during APEC’s first decade the ECOTECH programme had produced ‘no visible achievement’. At best, ECOTECH has made a very modest contribution to enhancing the capacity of some of APEC’s weaker states to implement its trade liberalization agenda. APEC’s less-developed economies in fact have used the lack of progress on ECOTECH as an excuse for slow implementation of trade liberalization. Other dimensions of APEC’s activities have had little impact on its members’ state capacity. APEC is not generally concerned with enhancing the collective bargaining capacity of its members vis-à-vis other states in the system. The one exception to this has been the grouping’s push for trade liberalization within the GATT/WTO. APEC’s formation was argued by many participants and commentators to have increased pressure on the EU to reach agreement on key issues in the Uruguay Round talks. And APEC is often credited with having contributed to the successful negotiation of the Information Technology Agreement at the Singapore ministerial meeting of the WTO in 1996.11 But on trade liberalization, APEC is riven by the principal divisive issues that confront the WTO: agricultural protection, and labour and environmental standards. How effective APEC has been as an instrument of socialization of national government officials remains a topic characterized more by speculation than hard evidence. Certainly, APEC continued the tradition of the Pacific Economic Cooperation Council (PECC) of attempting to socialize participants into the virtues of trade liberalization (Harris, 1994). Arguments for the socializing impact of the Pacific regional economic institutions can point to the significant record of unilateral trade liberalization by countries in the region. Yet, as trade liberalization has increasingly posed hard questions for governments in their attitudes towards sensitive sectors, the socializing influence of the institutions may have diminished in effectiveness. Governments now may be listening to domestically-oriented ministers and constituencies more than they do to those who participate in APEC fora.

184 John Ravenhill A third way in which APEC might enhance state capacity for pursuing liberalization comes through the impact that trade liberalization might have on the domestic political economy equation. The emphasis placed on reciprocity in international trade negotiations derives not just from the concern of politicians that domestic constituencies do not perceive that they are providing unrequited concessions to trading partners. It is also a function of the desirability of mobilizing pro-liberalization supporters. If exporters or potential exporters have confidence that trade negotiations will enhance their prospects of gaining improved access to foreign markets, they are likely to mobilize in support of trade liberalization initiatives. In the absence of any assured reciprocity, the domestic debate on trade liberalization is more likely to be dominated by domestic interests adversely affected by market opening. APEC’s unilateral approach to trade liberalization stood at odds with the conventional wisdom on the need for reciprocity in trade negotiations (although it was entirely consistent with economists’ views on the desirability of unilateral liberalization and on the economic illiteracy of those who stressed the need for reciprocity). The emphasis on unilateralism flowed from the experience of Asian economies in the 1980s when rapid economic growth accompanied trade liberalization, Asian governments’ frequently stated preference that regional arrangements must be grounded in consensus, and the arguments of economic theory that the principal gains from liberalization accrue to the states implementing this policy. The concern of Asian governments to maintain decision-making autonomy ruled out any pooling of sovereignty on economic policies. The Japanese Minister of Foreign Affairs, Yohei Kono (1995, pp. 1–2), asserted that ‘we have adopted the approach of concerting members’ voluntary efforts on the basis of mutual trust … APEC liberalization and facilitation should be implemented not by an excessively negotiation-like framework’. To address the tension between those members who favoured a nondiscriminatory unilateral approach to trade liberalization and those who favoured a process grounded in reciprocity, APEC adopted the idea of ‘concerted unilateralism’, a term that Funabashi (1995, p. 96) attributes to Tony Miller, the Trade Secretary of Hong Kong. Concerted unilateralism is an instance of what some have termed the ‘constructive ambiguity’ widespread in APEC’s principles. The concerted component of ‘concerted unilateralism’, achieved through the setting of timetables for the removal of trade barriers, would be the value added by APEC to an ongoing process of unilateral liberalization. ‘What we are talking about’, according to former Australian Foreign Minister, Gareth Evans, ‘is neither strict, hard edged GATT-style multilateral offer and acceptance negotiations nor very loose voluntarism, in which every member economy is absolutely free to choose the pace at which it unilaterally liberalizes’ (Evans, 1995, p. 3). Outside of the circles of professional economists that have dominated Pacific regional organisations such as PECC, few have given much credibility to the concept of concerted unilateralism. Certainly, no support for the concept has been forthcoming from the US business community or from Congress. And even in

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 185 Australia, where the orthodoxy of unilateralism held sway from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s, governments have more recently asserted that Australia will not cut protection for sensitive sectors unless it is assured that its Asian trading partners will follow suit. In short, because ‘concerted unilateralism’ provided no certainty about the behaviour of trading partners, APEC’s contribution to enhancing state capacity to introduce liberalization through changing the domestic political economy equation was negligible. And because APEC’s programme of trade liberalization was unilateral and voluntary, it is difficult to point to any increase in members’ overall economic growth that derived from activities associated with APEC.

Crises and the new East Asian regionalism The economic crises that afflicted East Asian economies in 1997–8 were at root a crisis in state capacity. Commentators from all perspectives identified state weaknesses as exacerbating the problems that East Asian countries experienced. For neo-classical economists, poor mechanisms for the oversight of domestic financial systems reflected weaknesses in state capacity, a product of the ‘crony capitalism’ that characterized relations between the state and the private sector. At the other end of the political spectrum, writers from a statist perspective argued that the crises had their origins in a flawed process of liberalization; they resulted not from excessive statism but from a lack of state capacity as successive governments had set about dismantling the policy armoury that states previously had at their disposal.12 Asian governments undoubtedly were disappointed at the response of the existing regional institutions and their ineffectiveness during the economic crises. A response to this ineffectiveness could have taken several directions. One would have been to attempt to strengthen the existing institutions. An alternative was to devote energies and resources to building up one or more new institutions. To what extent have the crises led to a strengthening of regionalism in East Asia that has a potential to affect state capacity? Observers frequently point to the role of economic crises in paving the way for changes in policy. Crises may disrupt long-standing political coalitions, may affect the balance of power among various domestic groups, and provide an opening for new ideas to challenge prevailing orthodoxies. In discussing the importance of the 1994 debt crisis in changing the Mexican government’s position on NAFTA, Haggard (1997, pp. 37ff.) focuses on two factors: the role of the crisis in bringing about a convergence of elite attitudes on the desirability of trade liberalization and of more general economic deregulation; and the impetus it provided to the government’s desire to use regional collaboration as a signalling device to potential investors of its commitment to greater economic openness. The record in East Asia in response to the 1997–8 crises is far less clear-cut as regards changes in domestic coalitions. While the crisis did provide an opportunity for pro-liberalization groups to seize the initiative in some countries, most notably Korea, elsewhere (and, indeed, in some quarters in Korea itself), domestic groups

186 John Ravenhill continued to resist liberalization, and associated it with unwelcome external pressures. On balance, the crises resulted in a reinforcement of liberalization/ deregulation tendencies across the region – but the record is uneven both by sector and by country. It would be far-fetched indeed to assert that a triumph of pro-liberalization ideas and the ascendancy of pro-liberalization forces across the region is the root of governments’ new interest in regionalism. This terrain remains hotly contested. Regionalism as a means of post-crisis signalling of ‘credible commitments’ (Rodrik, 1989) also has limited explanatory value for ASEAN. ASEAN clearly lacked the resources – financial and human – to respond effectively to the financial crises. One reaction by member states was to attempt to strengthen the institution – by adding to the scope of cooperative activities through, for instance, the introduction of procedures for surveillance of financial activities in its member states, and by bringing forward the date for the implementation of existing activities, notably its Free Trade Area. Member states committed to implement the arrangement in full by 2002 (for the six original signatories of the treaty). The grouping issued new comprehensive statements of its intentions (the 1997 ‘ASEAN Vision 2020’ and, more significantly, the 1998 Hanoi ‘Plan of Action’). At its 2003 summit, ASEAN leaders committed themselves to establish an ASEAN Economic Community by 2020. Rhetoric notwithstanding, few observers are convinced of the commitment of governments to these new regional blueprints. Progress in implementation remains painfully slow and has been complicated by ASEAN’s enlargement, which incorporated countries – Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar – conspicuously lacking in state capacity. AFTA’s six original signatories agreed to abolish tariffs on 60 per cent of their tariff lines by 2003 but completely free trade in the sense of zero tariffs will not be achieved until 2015 for these six and until 2018 for the four more recent members. Member economies continue to seek exceptions from the agreement for politically sensitive domestic industries – vividly illustrated by Malaysia’s determination to continue protection for its domestic automobile industry. Trade between ASEAN member economies in the 1990s grew only slightly more than 1 per cent more rapidly than their trade with other countries – and remains at less than one-fifth of the members’ overall trade (and is heavily dominated by entrepot trade through Singapore). Moreover, ASEAN trade preferences probably contributed little to this modest growth in the share of intra-regional trade in the total exports of ASEAN economies. A study by the ASEAN Secretariat (Robert R. Teh Jr., 1999) estimated that only 1.5 per cent of intra-ASEAN trade used the certification required to attain preferential tariff treatment under AFTA’s rules of origins; the balance either entered duty free or at most favoured nation rates (indicating that most companies perceived the transaction costs of qualifying for AFTA preferences to outweigh any potential gains). Preferential tariffs are lower than MFN rates in fewer than one-third of the tariff lines. ASEAN’s integration efforts continue to suffer from a yawning credibility gap – and have reinforced concerns that the region is losing out to China in attracting foreign direct investment. The ASEAN Secretary-General,

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 187 Rodolfo C. Severino, Jr., acknowledged these concerns in calling for member states to integrate their economies more completely and more quickly (ASEAN Secretariat, 2001a). In response to the crisis, ASEAN members took two major initiatives to encourage enhanced foreign investment. One was to establish an ASEAN Investment Area, under which members agreed to liberalize selected sectors over a 12-year period. Again, however, the lengthy time frame, the exclusion of certain sectors, and frequent amendments of the scheme did little to enhance the attractiveness of the region to external partners. The other measure was to improve the conditions of the ASEAN Industrial Cooperation Scheme, which had been introduced in 1996 to replace the Brand-to-Brand complementarity arrangements. The major improvements introduced in 1999 were to reduce the processing time for applications, to allow for AICO arrangements between two branches of the same company, and to provide (for two years) an automatic waiver of the previous requirement that 30 per cent of the equity in approved ventures be held locally. As of March 2001, 74 proposals had been approved, all but 11 in the automotive industry. Although regarded by many foreign investors as a positive step, the scheme was still seen as heavily bureaucratic and subject to uncertainties and delays at the national level. The temporary nature of the waiver on local equity participation again reduced its attractiveness to foreign investors. In the realm of financial cooperation, progress has occurred but again has been limited. At the Chiang Mai meeting of the finance ministers of the ASEAN Plus Three grouping in 2000, as part of an attempt to establish a broader arrangement for the swapping of currencies (discussed below), ASEAN members agreed to increase the size of their own contributions to their swap facility to total $1 billion and to extend it to all ten ASEAN member states (Bank Negara Malaysia, 2000). The total finance available, however, remains modest even in comparison with the national reserves of the ASEAN states. ASEAN Finance Ministers, at a meeting in Washington DC, in October 1998, also created an ASEAN Surveillance Process. Its stated objectives are to strengthen cooperation by exchanging information, by ‘providing an early warning system and a peer review process to enhance macroeconomic stability and the financial system in the region’, and by ‘highlighting possible policy options and encouraging early unilateral or collective actions to prevent a crisis’. Besides the Finance Ministers themselves, the surveillance mechanism would comprise the ASEAN Senior Finance Officials Meeting and the ASEAN Central Bank Forum. These meetings would be supported by an ASEAN Surveillance Coordinating Unit, created within the ASEAN Secretariat, and by an ASEAN Surveillance Technical Support Unit (ASTSU) based at the Asian Development Bank in Manila. During an initial period of two years, ASTSU in Manila would be responsible for providing technical support to the surveillance process as well as training and capacity-building assistance to the ASEAN Secretariat, finance ministries, central banks, and other relevant departments of the ASEAN states.13 Since many commentators suggested that a lack of transparency aggravated the financial crises of 1997–8, ASEAN’s new mechanisms for increasing information

188 John Ravenhill flows will generally be applauded. How effective ASEAN’s efforts at peer review will be, given the culture of non-interference in the affairs of other members, remains to be seen. The Economist (‘Swapping Notes’, 11 May 2000) was typically sceptical in noting that ‘forthright mutual criticism is hardly one of the region’s strongpoints’. The introduction of the surveillance mechanisms, however, did herald a new dimension to ASEAN’s activities that had the potential to enhance state capacity in its weaker members: an emphasis on training and capacity building assistance. Recognizing that enlargement had been widely perceived as damaging the credibility of ASEAN’s commitment to economic integration, member states reinforced this new dimension in their activities at their 34th ministerial meeting in Hanoi in July 2001. In their ‘Hanoi Declaration on Narrowing Development Gap for Closer ASEAN Integration’, they pledged to ‘devote special efforts and resources’ to promoting the development of ASEAN’s newer members, ‘with priority given to infrastructure, human resource development, and information and communication technology’ (ASEAN Secretariat, 2001b). The Singaporean government followed up by announcing its intention to establish training centres in Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and Myanmar for information technology, English-language training and trade promotion. And in a move that heralded a new concern with distributive issues, ASEAN ministers made a commitment to unilaterally extend tariff preferences to new members beginning on 1 January 2002 (although such preferences would be for specific products and implemented on a bilateral and voluntary basis). If crisis did spark new efforts among ASEAN members to deepen their integration and increase its pace, the response of East Asian countries to the perceived ineffectiveness of the other major regional institution, APEC, was quite different. APEC appeared to have generated considerable momentum in the first half of the 1990s with first, the establishment of annual leaders’ meetings, and subsequently the adoption of a timetable for trade liberalization. But its momentum largely disappeared after 1995 when a disappointing summit hosted by the Japanese government failed to make any significant progress on its trade liberalization agenda. Subsequently, the United States government attempted to force the pace of liberalization through a sectorally based approach. This was successful in the information technology sector, where in 1996 APEC endorsed an agreement reached by the Quad grouping (Canada, EU, Japan, and the United States). At its 1997 leaders’ meeting, APEC then agreed to negotiate a package of sectorally based liberalization (known by the acronym EVSL – Early Voluntary Sectoral Liberalization). But this agreement soon unravelled when the Japanese government declared itself unable to implement liberalization commitments in the fisheries and forestry sectors.14 At the time of the economic crisis, APEC was pre-occupied with the debate on sectoral liberalization. To East Asian governments, it seemed that the grouping had its priorities all wrong. Rather than attempt to construct creative approaches to tackle the crisis, APEC’s Western members continued to focus narrowly on the trade liberalization issue. At its Vancouver leaders’ meeting in 1997, APEC

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 189 governments declared that ‘on a global level, the role of the IMF remains central’, and urged the ‘rapid implementation of the Manila Framework’ (see discussion below) (APEC, 1997). Although the leaders’ statement showed some sensitivity towards Asian views on the need for supplementary financing and for monitoring capital flows, it offered little by way of solutions to the crisis beyond urging a recommitment to liberalization and to deregulation. The question of which priorities APEC should pursue has always divided its membership. Western members, joined consistently only by Singapore and occasionally by Hong Kong, have emphasized trade liberalization. Other East Asian members, however, believed that APEC should give priority to its other two ‘pillars’: trade facilitation, and economic and technical cooperation. The Western push for trade liberalization at a time of economic crisis demonstrated a particular lack of sensitivity to the views of East Asian governments. It was, however, systematic of a broader problem that APEC has faced since the mid-1990s: a lack of leadership. The US government has only spasmodically taken an interest in APEC, largely when it perceived that the grouping might be used to further US objectives in global fora, as with the Information Technology Agreement. Governments of the two other countries that had consistently been champions of the grouping – Australia and Japan – also failed to seize the initiative at the time of the financial crisis. Australia and Japan had worked together in the formation of all the AsiaPacific groupings: PAFTAD, PBEC, PECC and then APEC. In early 1996, however, the Labor Party government led by Paul Keating in Australia, which had championed APEC’s cause in the first half of the decade, was defeated at the polls by a conservative coalition. The new government attempted to differentiate its foreign policies from those of its predecessor by arguing that it would put Australian interests first; one element of this re-orientation was a downplaying of the commitment to international institutions that had figured prominently on its predecessor’s agenda. APEC consequently was placed on the back burner – while it was not ignored, the government did not attempt to seize the initiative in response to the financial crises. The EVSL episode was particularly damaging for APEC in that it removed the other traditional source of leadership for the grouping. The Japanese government, already on the defensive for its lacklustre performance as host of the 1995 leaders’ meeting, found itself portrayed as the principal wrecker of APEC’s trade liberalization agenda.15 For a government that regarded APEC as its ‘baby’, this experience was particularly traumatic. It came to perceive APEC as a vehicle that its Western members were using against Japanese interests – and the attempt to negotiate sectoral liberalization as a contradiction of the fundamental APEC principles of voluntarism and operation by consensus. While the Japanese government has not abandoned APEC altogether, the EVSL debacle encouraged it to direct its resources and diplomatic energies in other directions, particularly towards the negotiation of bilateral and East Asian frameworks for cooperation. APEC was revitalized as a forum for discussion of Asia-Pacific issues among leaders in the aftermath of the September 2001 terrorist attacks on the United States.

190 John Ravenhill The transformation of APEC’s agenda that occurred post 9/11, with emphasis now placed on security issues, especially the securitization of trade (through, for example, improvements in port security), may lead to better coordination and financing of ECOTECH projects. It has introduced a new urgency to trade facilitation activities and a greater willingness on the part of other agencies, e.g. the Asian Development Bank and the World Bank, to co-finance APEC projects.16 The potential exists for APEC to contribute to a strengthening of state capacity. Whether, however, this new focus for ECOTECH will produce more substantive outcomes than those achieved in APEC’s first decade remains to be seen.

The new regionalism: bilateralism and pan-East Asian arrangements The economic crisis not only affected existing regional arrangements but led to new efforts at economic integration at two levels: the bilateral, and the Pan-East Asian (ASEAN plus the three Northeast Asian states of China, Japan, and the Republic of Korea). The bilateral level Before the economic crisis, East Asian countries had preferred to unilaterally lower their tariffs or bargain multilaterally on tariff reductions within the GATT/WTO rather than to engage in preferential trade arrangements (the one notable exception being the AFTA agreement). This was the approach to trade liberalization that APEC advocated. Of the close to 140 members of the WTO at the time of the crisis, only Japan, Hong Kong, and Korea along with Mongolia had not entered into any preferential trade deals. In the immediate wake of the financial crisis, however, some of the larger East Asian economies expressed an interest in the negotiation of bilateral trade arrangements. Several factors influenced this change of approach. One was disappointment with the momentum of trade liberalization in other fora, including APEC and AFTA. Another was concern that abstaining from such bilateral arrangements was increasingly costly. Two considerations were significant. One was that failing to participate in the rush to preferential trade reduced a state’s potential bargaining power within the WTO with countries that were undertaking preferential liberalization. Another was that it potentially impeded domestic economic restructuring and efficiency by precluding the additional competition that bilateral preferential trade would provide for domestic companies. The most dramatic reversal of approach came from Japan, the country that had most consistently (after the US reversal of attitude when it signed free trade agreements with Israel and Canada) and most strongly advocated a multilateral nondiscriminatory rather than a regional preferential approach to trade liberalization. Tokyo’s stance previously had been grounded in fears that as an economy with an unusually diverse range of export markets, it would be particularly vulnerable to discriminatory regional trade arrangements (and officials in Tokyo would recall

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 191 that other countries continued to discriminate against its exports even after Japan was admitted to the GATT). The 1999 MITI White Paper on International Trade signalled a dramatic alteration in Japanese government policy, explicitly calling for the development of a free trade agreement in Northeast Asia. Japan’s first move towards negotiating a free trade agreement was with South Korea, initiated by the annual meeting of the countries’ leading business groupings – Keidanren and the Federation of Korean Industries – but then given a high profile by the invitation for negotiations on such an arrangement from South Korean President Kim Dae Jung in an October 1998 visit to Tokyo. Five years later, little progress had been made in these negotiations. In the interim however, Japan negotiated preferential trade arrangements with Singapore and with Mexico and is currently negotiating agreements with most ASEAN economies. Meanwhile Singapore, disappointed with the pace of liberalization within ASEAN and the refusal of other members to negotiate a linkage between the ASEAN Free Trade Area and the trade agreement between Australia and New Zealand,17 opted to break ranks with other ASEAN members by entering into negotiations for bilateral free trade agreements with a large number of countries – inside and outside East Asia – including New Zealand, Australia, Canada, India, Japan, Mexico and the United States. For Singapore, a country with zero tariffs on most products, the attractions of such arrangements are obvious; the balance of concessions made in negotiations will almost inevitably be in its favour (at least on merchandise trade; partners have insisted that Singapore remove most of its remaining restrictions on trade in services). The potential economic benefits for the participants in the new preferential arrangements appear to be limited – not least because many of the arrangements involve countries that are relatively insignificant partners for one another. Korea accounts for 6 per cent of Japan’s total exports; Singapore for less than 4 per cent. Similarly, Japan accounts for 8.5 per cent of Korea’s total exports, and less than 7 per cent of those of Singapore. Even allowing for the possibility that current trade barriers have reduced these figures below the levels that would otherwise prevail, the overall benefits to the economies from a free trade agreement are likely to be small (and even more so in the case of the agreement between Japan and Mexico where the partners account for less than 1 per cent of each other’s exports). Until 2000, Korea operated a policy of ‘trade diversification’ that discriminated against Japanese exports of a wide range of consumer products. The removal of this and other barriers makes it likely that Japanese exporters will benefit more from a preferential trade agreement than will their Korean counterparts. Even so, econometric studies indicate that the overall effect is unlikely to be more than a 2 per cent increase in the current value of bilateral trade.18 The effects of the proposed free trade area on GDP by the year 2010 is estimated to be a mere 0.027 per cent for Japan and less than 0.25 per cent for Korea (Hasegawa, Sasai and Imagawa, 2001). The overall gains from such arrangements suggest that, if aggregate economic benefits are the prime consideration, the bureaucratic resources invested in their realization might be better placed elsewhere.19

192 John Ravenhill Clearly, many of the proposed preferential arrangements are valued as much for their symbolic as their practical effects. But they may also serve other purposes. For Japan, one potential function is as an instrument in the ongoing struggle between internationalist and protectionist interests within the bureaucracy. The choice of Singapore as the country with which Japan would accelerate trade liberalization is no accident. Of all the countries in the global economy, few pose as little threat to the heavily protected areas of the Japanese economy as does the city state of Singapore. Yet, the proposal for a free trade agreement with the island state still sparked opposition from the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries – because Singapore farmed goldfish, which competed with Japanese production, and had the potential to export orchids to Japan. Zero tariffs apply to less than 10 per cent of the volume of exports of agricultural products from Singapore to Japan; the economic partnership agreement with Singapore created no new preferences in the agricultural sector. In a similar manner, Japan made very few concessions in its bilateral trade agreement with Mexico – even to the extent that less than 90 per cent of Mexico’s exports to Japan are included in the agreement.20 Japan is not alone in carving out whole sectors from the coverage of free trade agreements. Korea sought significant exemptions in agriculture in its FTA with Chile. The likely impact on pro-liberalization forces in the domestic political economy will be negative. By creating isolated islands of protection in the overall trade landscape, partial FTAs risk making the political task of tackling sensitive domestic sectors even more difficult; producers in the excluded sectors have more resources to invest in lobbying than would otherwise have been the case, and have more confidence that an investment in such lobbying will bring the outcome they desire. Meanwhile, export-oriented interests may obtain their objectives through FTAs, for example the Japanese car industry lobbied the government to conclude an FTA with Mexico so that it would enjoy a relatively level playing field in competition with North American and European producers, and having achieved their objective fail to invest resources into lobbying for additional liberalization. Because the FTAs are bringing partial rather than full liberalization they may have the unintended consequence of weakening state capacity to push for further domestic economic restructuring.21 The pan-East Asian level The development that has triggered more excitement than any other among advocates of East Asian regionalism occurred at a meeting in Thailand in May 2000 at which the finance ministers of China, Japan, and Korea agreed to join an ASEAN arrangement that enables members to swap currencies when faced with liquidity problems. The ‘Chiang Mai Initiative’ was widely (mis)-perceived as resurrecting the idea of an Asian Monetary Fund in another guise. A reasonably persuasive case exists for the creation of regional funds to assist economies when their currencies come under speculative attack. Currency crises frequently contain elements of contagion, which are usually but not always – as

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 193 the Russia–Brazil contagion of 1998–9 indicates – geographically confined. Currency crisis contagion across a geographical region can develop for several reasons. All countries in a region may suffer a similar external shock arising, for instance, from exchange rate movements among currencies of the major trading states (as occurred in the run-up to the 1997 East Asian crises when the dollar appreciated against the yen). Moreover, once one or more regional currencies have depreciated, other governments may have to devalue their currencies if their goods are to match the prices of exports from regional competitors. Crisisinduced recession in a regional trading partner may also cause a loss of export income, thereby subjecting the domestic currency to downward pressures. And investors often fail to distinguish between various economies within the same region regardless of differences in their economic fundamentals; a crisis in one may generate a panic and ‘herd-like’ behaviour as speculators rush to repatriate funds from all countries in the region.22 It is not only the crises themselves that have been largely geographically confined but so too have the rescue packages that have been pieced together in recent years. The United States provided most of the funds for the bailout of Mexico following the 1994 crisis; Japan was by far the single most important provider of assistance to East Asian economies after the 1997–8 crises. In each of the rescue packages for the crisis-hit Asian economies, total bilateral assistance exceeded the contribution of the IMF.23 The dominance of bilateral assistance points to another justification for a regional fund: the insufficiency of current IMF resources to cope with several crises in medium-sized economies simultaneously.24 A further set of arguments in favour of a regional monetary fund is that such an institution would be better placed, because neighbours usually are well-informed about developments in adjacent countries, than the IMF or extra-regional governments to monitor developments in member states and to develop early warning indicators.25 If the new institution were able to establish clearly defined procedures for assisting economies in trouble, this could be an improvement on the ad hoc character of current bailouts. Moreover, a regional institution might be able to disburse funds more rapidly than the IMF, and to provide them with fewer strings attached. Finally, from a strategic perspective, a regional fund might give member economies a stronger voice than they would otherwise enjoy in multilateral fora – a particular concern of Asian countries in a global financial system dominated by the US and the EU. The initial suggestion for a radical deepening in financial cooperation in East Asia, through the creation of an Asian Monetary Fund, came from the government of Japan in 1997. The Japanese government presented proposals in September 1997 – before the financial crisis hit Korea – to meetings of the G7 central bankers and finance ministers, and to a meeting of the IMF in Hong Kong, for an Asian financing facility with a capitalization of up to $100 billion. Its primary argument for a new facility was that this would provide additional resources needed to supplement those of the IMF. Moreover, countries’ access to these resources would not be limited by the Fund’s quota arrangements. US opposition to the proposal, especially that of Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin and

194 John Ravenhill his deputy, Lawrence Summers, who feared that an Asian fund would diminish the authority of the IMF (and, indirectly, US influence in the monetary regime), is well known. Less widely known is that the proposal was also opposed by China. By mid-November, the proposal had disappeared from the agenda; senior finance and central bank officials from 15 Asian Pacific countries meeting in Manila together with observers from the IMF, the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank endorsed proposals (the ‘Manila Framework’) that confirmed the IMF’s centrality in the provision of emergency financing in response to crises. The Framework re-affirmed the principle that funding would only be given to crisis countries after they had negotiated a programme with the IMF. The Japanese government subsequently unilaterally implemented a programme of liquidity provision for the crisis economies through its Miyazawa Plan, which it launched in October 1998. One dimension of the Plan was a currency swap arrangement: Tokyo agreed with Korea and Malaysia to swap the equivalent of $7.5 billion in exchange for local currencies. A second stage of the Plan provided for the Japanese government to guarantee borrowing by crisis-hit governments on international capital markets for up to a total of 2 trillion yen ($16.7 billion).26 It was not, however, until the Chiang Mai meeting of the finance ministers of the ASEAN Plus Three grouping in 2000 that a regional approach to financial crisis management was re-launched. At this meeting, as noted above, ASEAN economies agreed to increase the size of their own contributions to the swap facility. More significantly, the governments of China, Japan and Korea agreed to participate in an enhanced version of the arrangements to create a network of bilateral swap and repurchase agreements amongst the 13 states.27 The inclusion of the three Northeast Asian countries in swap arrangements gives any government in crisis a potential opportunity to gain access to substantially larger foreign exchange reserves. Japan has the largest single holding of foreign reserves of any economy, totalling $838 billion in March 2005. At the same month, the foreign exchange reserves of other Northeast Asian economies stood at: China $659 billion, Hong Kong $122 billion, and the Republic of Korea $205 billion. Added to the total reserves of the five original ASEAN economies of $280 billion,28 these provide an impressive fund on which countries might draw in a crisis. Indeed, East Asia considered collectively now holds the majority of the world’s foreign exchange reserves. In reality, governments are unlikely to place a substantial part of their reserves at the disposition of their regional neighbours. The Chiang Mai Initiative is a modest step towards erecting additional fortifications to protect currencies under siege through a series of bilateral swap arrangements. Contrary to some press commentary, it is not therefore a resurrection of the Asian Monetary Fund proposal in another guise. How effective such arrangements will be in fortifying currencies under attack will largely depend on the quantity of reserves that members are willing to commit to the scheme. And here the other dimension of the regional contagion argument has to enter into the equation: if currency crises and contagion effects are indeed geographically concentrated then once a crisis gets under way, a regional fund may soon be overwhelmed as several countries

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 195 attempt simultaneously to draw on its resources. Moreover, any arrangements are likely to be beset by disputes over the terms under which countries have access to the resources. Even a limited scheme of swap arrangements has the potential to intrude on national sovereignty. One of the principal questions raised at the time of the original Asian Monetary Fund (AMF) proposals was what conditions governments would have to comply with to borrow from the Fund. The concern of the IMF and of many Western governments, voiced most strongly by the US Treasury, was that an Asian fund would undermine the attempts by the multilateral institutions and Western governments to use conditionality as a lever in support of reform proposals. Potential beneficiaries of the fund shared the view that it would provide assistance with fewer strings attached than was characteristic of IMF aid.29 Yet the governments that are potentially the major sources of funding – notably Japan and possibly China – are unlikely to be willing to commit significant resources to a crisis economy without some assurances regarding the policies that the recipients will pursue. Creditors inevitably will attach some strings to the loans they make. A process of monitoring/peer review, as established by ASEAN in the wake of the crises, may possibly be sufficient to satisfy this requirement.30 But even this limited form of conditionality can raise sensitive issues of national sovereignty. Hiding behind the IMF is convenient for governments and private creditors alike. Asian creditors may face embarrassment if a large-scale swap arrangement was to go ahead without IMF involvement – and the resulting recriminations could set back the cause of regional cooperation for some years. The initial implementation of the Chiang Mai Initiative has illustrated several of these dilemmas in regional financial cooperation. A central point of contention has been the general question of conditionality and, specifically, the involvement of the IMF. The Malaysian government, which adopted its own adjustment programme without seeking IMF support when faced by financial crisis in 1997, has argued against IMF involvement in any East Asian swap facility. The Japanese government, however, the likely primary supplier of resources to a facility, has stood firm on the principle that access to any substantial sum must be subject to the beneficiary reaching agreement with the IMF on a programme of reforms. The initial swap arrangements, announced at a meeting of the Asian Development Bank in May 2001, would release only 10 per cent of the funds unconditionally, the balance becoming available only after a country had an IMF programme in place. The initial arrangements also pointed to the limited contribution that such facilities are likely to make in the event of a speculative attack on a regional currency. The agreements announced in Honolulu provided for a swap facility between Japan and Thailand of up to $3 billion, between Japan and South Korea of up to $2 billion, and between Japan and Malaysia of up to $1 million.31 As The Economist (‘Helping Themselves’, 10 May 2001) commented, ‘these are not sums that will terrify the currency markets’. Although ASEAN Plus Three finance ministers agreed in May 2005 to a ‘significant increase’ in the bilateral swap arrangements, reportedly up to a doubling of the total of $39.5 billion then available,32 the amounts in the individual arrangements remain relatively small.

196 John Ravenhill The new enthusiasm for regional cooperation that followed the 1997–98 financial crises sparked a number of more fanciful proposals in the financial domain that were quickly abandoned. The idea of a common East Asian currency was put forward in several fora. In January 1999, Joseph Yam, the chief executive of the Hong Kong Monetary Authority proposed an Asian monetary union, an idea subsequently taken up by Hong Kong’s Financial Secretary Donald Tsang, who suggested that a common currency for Hong Kong and Singapore might be a promising first step towards realizing region-wide monetary union. ASEAN’s Hanoi Plan of Action, its comprehensive statement in response to the crises, called for a study of the feasibility of an ASEAN currency; in opening the ASEAN summit in November 1999, President Estrada of the Philippines called for countries to work towards a single regional currency. However worthy such an idea might be, it is clearly premature at best. Even some of the advocates of the idea of a regional currency quickly retreated; Joseph Yam back-pedalled to declare that ‘the idea of an Asian monetary union is farfetched’ when suggestions that Hong Kong might be willing to give up its currency unsettled foreign investors.33 A more practical sphere for cooperation has been the efforts by the region’s central bankers to promote an Asian Bond Markets Initiative, an attempt to reduce the dependence of countries in the region on short-term bank loans. The principal institution involved has been the Executives’ Meeting of the East Asia and Pacific Central Banks (EMEAP).34 To date, the funds involved have been modest and the initiative encounters some of the same problems of governments’ fear of loss of credibility that afflict the bilateral currency swap programme – but it does represent a modest step in capacity building. In the trade sphere, no collaboration has occurred at the ASEAN Plus Three level equivalent to that on finance and money. ASEAN’s initial response to the Chinese proposal at the ASEAN Plus Three summit in 2000 for the creation of a free trade zone between China and ASEAN was to suggest the creation of a study group to investigate a free trade zone for the whole of the East Asian region. The first response from both the Japanese and South Korean governments was to indicate their lack of enthusiasm for an East Asian free trade area.35 The Japanese government continues to insist that it is not interested in a trade agreement with China until the latter demonstrates its commitment to protection of intellectual property rights. Unlike their counterparts from ministries of finance, trade ministers do not meet at the ASEAN Plus Three level.

Conclusion At one level, the surge in governments’ interest in the construction of regionalism in East Asia in the period since the economic crisis has been remarkable – and certainly unprecedented. It is easy, however, to be swept away by the enthusiasm that some proponents have expressed for the proposed collaboration. To judge by some accounts, East Asia is on the brink of forming a region-wide free trade area and of establishing a regional monetary fund. According to Fred Bergsten (2000), the ASEAN Plus Three grouping ‘has become the most active regional

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 197 grouping outside Europe, and already has more sophisticated machinery than the North American Free-Trade Agreement’. To accept the argument that East Asia is on the verge of supplying the missing piece required to complete the jigsaw of a three-bloc world would be to confuse hyperbole with reality, a proliferation of meetings with institutionalization, and proposals with binding policy frameworks. The record of intergovernmental collaboration in East Asia, especially that of ASEAN, gives grounds for scepticism on the prospects for regionalism and its potential for contributing to building state capacity. ASEAN’s economic integration has proceeded at a snail’s pace – so much so that its most advanced economy, Singapore, has tired of the process and has negotiated (and is in the process of negotiating many more) bilateral free trade arrangements with countries from around the world. A compelling case can be made that the influence of proliberalizing elements in domestic coalitions in ASEAN states has increased since the financial crises (Stubbs, 2000). But the new influence of pro-liberalization elements has yet to be translated into effective action at the regional level. Even though ASEAN leaders brought the deadline for the implementation of AFTA forward, the obligation is not to free trade completely – reaching that objective was postponed for a further decade. And even the modest requirements of AFTA are being flouted by individual states. Liberalization is pursued selectively when it does not threaten entrenched domestic interests.36 ASEAN has made an important contribution to confidence-building and has enhanced the security relations among its members – arguably its main purpose – but it has yet to have any significant positive effect on the building of state capacity or on mediating the impact of the forces of globalization on its member states. At the broader (ASEAN Plus Three) level, no serious efforts have been made to move a region-wide trade agreement forward. And trade liberalization has largely disappeared from APEC’s agenda since 1998 save for routinized statements in support of the desirability of reaching success at the WTO. The main area for action on trade liberalization has been bilateral agreements. These arguably have contributed to increasing the trade negotiating capacity of participating states. But the economic effects of most of these agreements are likely to be minor given the generally low levels of tariffs and the relative economic insignificance of the parties for one another. And the carving out from the agreements of sensitive sectors, by reinforcing the position of entrenched protectionist sectors in the domestic political economy equation, risks undermining state capacity to promote domestic economic restructuring. In the monetary field, it is clear that what is on the agenda is not a version of the abortive Asian Monetary Fund proposal but a series of bilateral arrangements. The reluctance of governments to commit any significant portion of their sizeable foreign exchange reserves will limit the effectiveness of the scheme. As the Deputy Governor of the Reserve Bank of Australia (Grenville, 2000) suggested (even before the limited sums to be made available under the swap agreements became known): ‘such arrangements are valuable in that they get people together and talking about other issues, but it would be a mistake to see them, taken by themselves, as massive breakthroughs in regional cooperation’.

198 John Ravenhill The impact of the new regionalism in East Asia on state capacity therefore remains limited. Some enhancements to state capacity have occurred through financial transfers and through technical assistance that has led to an upgrading of skills in parts of the bureaucracy. At best, however, these enhancements have been modest and are likely to remain so in the foreseeable future, the rhetorical commitment to a new East Asian regionalism notwithstanding.

Notes 1 By East Asia, I mean both Northeast Asia and Southeast Asia. 2 ASEAN foreign ministers in April 2005 decided to open the meeting to countries from outside the East Asian region – India and New Zealand – and to Australia, provided its government agreed to sign ASEAN’s Treaty of Amity and Cooperation. The absence of Taiwan from ASEAN Plus Three denies the grouping comprehensive coverage of the whole East Asian region. 3 Despite its centrality to much of the literature on development, few writers discuss in any detail what they mean by state capacity. One reason is that state capacity in the abstract is a largely meaningless concept (Weiss, 1998). Capacity has to be discussed in the context of a particular task or set of tasks. Resources that facilitate the pursuit of goals in one area do not automatically translate into capacity in other domains. Moreover, the capacities of states to realize their goals depend not just upon the resources available to them but on their skills in negotiating with other actors (Noble, 1998). As Evans (1995) suggests, while building coherent bureaucracies is an essential task in promoting economic development in less-developed countries, it has to be accompanied by the building of links with society: ‘Capacity without connection will not do the job’. Discussion in this chapter of how regionalism can contribute to state capacity focuses solely on the dimension of provision of additional resources to the state – whether financial, managerial or technical. 4 Following Lorenz (1991), I distinguish regionalism from regionalization, the process whereby interactions, such as trade, within a geographical area increase more rapidly than those between states within the area and those outside of it (for further discussion, see Hurrell, 1995, pp. 38–45). It is common to confine discussions of regionalism to preferential trade agreements, as Mansfield and Milner (1999) do. These agreements are, however, but one form of the phenomenon. Regionalism also encompasses functional cooperation on a geographically limited basis in a broad array of issue areas, such as meteorology, river basin management, etc. 5 Both of these possibilities were identified by the Japanese government’s Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry in its proposal that Japan should pursue bilateral free trade agreements as positive consequences of regionalism in other parts of the world (Ministry of Economy, 2000). Note, however, that economists are divided on the impact that regional economic cooperation has had on the growth of member economies. Many doubt that even the European Union, the most sophisticated of regional schemes, has had a significant positive impact on its members’ welfare when account is taken, for instance, of the distortions introduced by the Common Agricultural Policy. For a brief overview of the debate see Schiff and Winters (2003). 6 Member states were generally resistant to attempts by Thailand and the Philippines to establish a principle of ‘flexible engagement’ under which ASEAN members would have responsibilities as well as rights, a principle that would open the way for ASEAN meetings to criticize the policies of individual member states. In 2004–5, however, ASEAN members did show a willingness to criticize the Burmese regime’s treatment of political opponents, and a concern at the potential international reaction should Burma take its turn in assuming the ASEAN chair.

Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 199 7 Indeed, so too did ASEAN. Whether the proliferation of meetings that occurred within the two institutions added to or detracted from state capacity is a matter for debate. 8 Information on APEC’s ECOTECH activities is available on the APEC Secretariat’s website at http://203.127.220.68/Apecp1.nsf ?OpenDatabase. 9 In Yamazawa’s (1997, p. 143) words: ‘A typical APEC ECOTECH activity is a pet project proposed and coordinated by a member, financed mainly by the sponsor, and partly supported by APEC’. 10 Broken down by type of activity, the 220 projects under way in 2000 consisted of: Survey/Study/Report (75); Workshop/Seminar (59); Training (38); Standard/Best Practice (4); Database/Website/Network (37); and APEC Centre/Exposition (7) (APEC, 2000). 11 For further discussion of these and other points about APEC’s effectiveness see Ravenhill (2001). 12 See, for instance, Chang, Park and Yoo (1998), Wade and Veneroso (1998), and Weiss (1999, 2000). 13 For details of the ASEAN scheme, see ASEAN Secretariat (1998). 14 For further discussion of the failure of the EVSL initiative see Krauss (2004), Wesley (2001). 15 Perhaps unfairly because other East Asian governments were happy to hide behind Japan’s veto of the liberalization measures in forestry and fisheries. 16 For further discussion of APEC’s post 9/11 agenda see Ravenhill (2006a forthcoming). 17 Officially, the Australia New Zealand Closer Economic Relations Trade Agreement. 18 Cited in Castellano (1999). 19 Scollay and Gilbert (2001) demonstrate that much larger welfare gains will be achieved if liberalization occurs on an APEC-wide basis rather than through bilateral agreements. 20 Some countries have interpreted the GATT/WTO requirement that preferential trade agreements must cover ‘substantially all the trade’ between the parties to be granted exemption from the most-favoured-nation principle as being met if 90 per cent of the value of trade in a sector is included. 21 The logic of this argument is spelled out in more detail in Ravenhill (2006b forthcoming). 22 See Rajan (2000) for a fuller discussion of these points and a summary of the econometric studies of contagion. 23 For Thailand, for instance, bilateral assistance was more than three times the quantity provided by the IMF. 24 In January 2001, the IMF had total resources of $279 billion; at that time only $96 billion were ‘uncommitted usable resources’. Besides the problem of limited total resources, the Fund’s lending is confined by the country quota system, members normally being able to borrow only a limited multiple of their quota. In the Korean package, to which the IMF committed $21 billion, its largest single contribution ever, the Fund ignored its established procedures in lending an unprecedented multiple of Korea’s country quota (a factor of close to 20 in contrast to the norm of three to four times the country quota). Korea’s quota in March 2001, after the 45 per cent increase in quotas that took effect in January 1999, was SDRs 1,633.6 million, or approximately $2.12 billion. 25 The Deputy Governor of the Reserve Bank of Australia, S.A. Grenville (2000), for instance, commented: ‘I can recall that in July 1997, when East Asian central bankers met in Shanghai, it was very obvious to everyone at that meeting that the Asian crisis was going to be very serious indeed. Four months later, the US President was still talking about the crisis as “a few glitches on the road” – no reflection on his own competence in an enormously complex world, but a reflection of the poor advice

200 John Ravenhill

26 27

28 29

30 31

32 33 34

35 36

going into the US decision-making process, which was reflected elsewhere, for instance in the lack of participation in the Thai support programme in August 1997 … there can hardly be any doubt that the IMF Indonesian programme would have been quite different if it had had an effective input from the region’. In total, the Miyazawa Plan provided $30 billion in assistance to the crisis economies, although it is unclear to what extent this sum was additional aid rather than funding switched from other programmes. The proposal for an ASEAN Plus Three swap arrangement originated in the Fourth ASEAN Finance Ministers Meeting, held in Brunei Darussalam on 24–25 March 2000. At that meeting, the ministers agreed to explore ways to extend the ASEAN agreement to include China, Japan and Korea with the guideline that ‘the size of the facility should be large enough for the requirement of the East Asian region’. See Department of Economic Affairs, Kingdom of Thailand (2000). Tokyo had, however, continued to push for the creation of a region-wide facility despite the earlier rebuff at Manila. See Castellano (2000). The figures for the individual economies are: Indonesia $35 billion; Malaysia $71 billion; Philippines $14 billion; Singapore $113 billion; and Thailand $48 billion. Figures current at the end of March 2005 sourced from The Economist. For instance, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, then Vice President of the Philippines, in advocating the creation of an Asian Monetary Fund in September 2000, asserted that ‘An AMF could be set up in conjunction with the IMF, perhaps with less stringent conditionalities’ (‘Asian Monetary Fund to Help Region Proposed’, Manila Bulletin, 28 September 2000, accessed at http://www.mb.com.ph/main/2000 per cent2D09/ mn092809.asp, 10 March 2001). For details of the ASEAN scheme, see ASEAN Secretariat (1998). For discussion of the arrangements see ‘Japan Reaches Currency Swap Deals with Malaysia, Thailand, South Korea’, Wall Street Journal (10 May 2001); ‘IMF Can Play Role in Asian Currency Swap Plan’, Bernama (6 April 2001) http://www3.bernama. com/web/business/bu0604_11.htm (accessed 15 May 2001). ‘ASEAN +3 Agrees to Expand Currency-Swap Pacts’, Wall Street Journal (5 May 2005). Quoted in Castellano (2000b) who provides further discussion of the various proposals. Established in 1991 in response to an initiative from the Japanese government, EMEAP includes representatives of the central banks of Australia, China, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Japan, Korea, Malaysia, New Zealand, the Philippines, Singapore and Thailand. For further discussion see Amyx (2005). See ‘Asian leaders look to free trade area with China’, Financial Times (7 November 2001); ‘Seoul Cool on NE Asian Trade Zone Plan’, Financial Times (8 November 2001). On Thailand, for instance, see Solingen (2005).

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Regionalism and state capacity in East Asia 203 Rodrik, Dani (1989) ‘Promises, Promises: Credible Policy Reform Via Signalling’, Economic Journal, 99 (September): 756–72. Schiff, M.W. and L.A. Winters (2003) Regional Integration and Development, New York: Oxford University Press for the World Bank. Scollay, R. and J. Gilbert (2001) New Regional Trading Arrangements in the Asia Pacific? Washington, DC: Institute for International Economics. Solingen, E. (2005) ‘ASEAN Cooperation: The Legacy of the Economic Crisis’, International Relations of Asia and the Pacific, 5(1): 1–29. Stubbs, R. (2000) ‘Signing on to Liberalization: AFTA and the Politics of Regional Economic Cooperation’, Pacific Review, 13(2): 297–318. Teh, R.R. Jr. (1999) Completing the CEPT Scheme for AFTA’, Manila, mimeo. Wade, R. and F. Veneroso (1998) ‘The Asian Crisis: The High Debt Model Versus the Wall Street–Treasury–IMF Complex’, New Left Review, 228 (March/April): 3–23. Weiss, L. (1998) The Myth of the Powerless State. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Weiss, L. (1999) ‘State Power and the Asian Crisis’, New Political Economy 4(3): 317–42. Weiss, L. (2000) ‘Developmental States in Transition: Adapting, Dismantling, Innovating, not “Normalising”’, Pacific Review 14(1): 21–56. Wesley, M. (2001) ‘APEC’s Mid-Life Crisis? The Rise and Fall of Early Voluntary Sectoral Liberalization’, Pacific Affairs, 74(2): 185–204. Yamazawa, I. (1997) ‘APEC’s Economic and Technical Cooperation: Evolution and Tasks Ahead’, in C.F. Bergsten (ed.) Whither APEC? The Progress to Date and Agenda for the Future, Washington, DC: Institute for International Economics, 135–178. Yamazawa, I. (1998) ‘Economic Integration in the Asia-Pacific Region’, in Grahame Thompson (ed.) Economic Dynamism in the Asia-Pacific: The Growth of Integration and Competitiveness, London: Routledge, 163–84.

8

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? Takashi Inoguchi

Introduction Henry A. Kissinger does not claim any special expertise on Japan. Yet in his latest book, Is American Foreign Policy Necessary?, he has expounded a ‘theory’ of Japanese dynamics (Kissinger, 2001). According to his theory, it takes fifteen years for the Japanese to make a major decision and to take a major action. He offers two pieces of evidence and one speculation. First, in 1853 Commodore Matthew Perry of the United States Navy visited Japan to open its ports and market. It took fifteen years for the Japanese to reach a decision, the Meiji Restoration, in 1868. In the meantime, numerous debates and fights, almost endless procrastination alternating with sudden resolute action, and dramatic coalition formation and dissolution took place, culminating in the installation of a modernizing parliamentary monarchy in 1868. Second, Japan was more or less totally reduced to ashes in 1945 in the Second World War. It took fifteen years for the Japanese to reach a decision: the announcement of the income-doubling plan by Prime Minister Hayato Ikeda in 1960. In the meantime, the Japanese wavered between left and right, between anti-US and pro-US views, between heavy industrialization and light industrialization. But by 1960 they decided to follow the policy line of the Yoshida doctrine (Iriye, 1967), observing the Constitution’s non-use of force in the resolution of international disputes, the close alliance with the United States, the preoccupation with the economic aggrandizement of the nation. Kissinger predicts that it will take fifteen years for the Japanese to put an end to the collapse of the bubble economy in 1991. Against all the advice of Japanese and foreign pundits about how to solve the problem, the Japanese have been wavering between resolute action and non-action, between market competition and social protection, already for more than a decade. It will take a few more years before the Japanese take a major drastic action on this issue, according to him. I mention Henry Kissinger because he is not only influential in moulding public opinion and but also reflective of public opinion. He often mirrors how the public sees human nature and international affairs. In this particular case he seems to be doing precisely that. In the 1970s and much of the 1980s, it was common practice to talk about the Euroscerosis with high unemployment, high government expenditure and budget deficits, and the shortage of the European drive. In the

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? 205 1980s through mid-1990s, it was the penchant of opinion leaders to bemoan the double deficits (budget and trade deficits) of the United States and the decreasing labor productivity of US industry. Then came the ‘lost decade’ of the 1990s, at least to the Japanese. Kissinger bandwagons the widely held view that Japan has been struggling with itself without having a clear vision or a good strategy or strong leadership. The two fifteen-year periods he depicted in modern Japanese history to demonstrate his theory of the Japanese as slow movers coincided more or less with the bumpy periods of the Japanese economy, with the former made bumpy by the opening of ports and markets and with the latter made bumpy by the difficult recovery after the war. The third period, presumed to be 1991–2006, coincides with the economic downturns slowly adjusting to the deepening of globalization. With the advent of a slow or zero or negative growth rate of the Japanese economy, the talk of a Japanese model stopped. This is natural. No one talks about Japan as Number One (Vogel, 1979). No one is worried about Japan’s imminent take over of world hegemony (Vogel, 1986). No one is talking about Japan’s unbeatable competitiveness (Porter, 1998). No one is talking about ‘Asia in Japan’s embrace’ (Hatch and Yamamura, 1996). No one is talking about the ‘most important bilateral relations – bar none’, with respect to the US’s bilateral relationship with Japan (Mansfield, 1995). One thing that needs to be kept in mind when one examines something that depends on the mood of the day is that two groups of professionals, journalists and market speculators, exaggerate changes in a disproportionate fashion, because it is in their professional and occupational interest to do so. Exaggerated, simplified and often distorted changes bring about increased attention and gigantic profits. To hit the market is often a by-product of academic concepts and ideas and that happens only at opportune moments. Indeed, looking back at the fourth quarter of the twentieth century, one is struck by the speed at which various models emerged and disappeared in the AsiaPacific. The rise of the Japanese model, as exemplified by Ezra Vogel’s book title, Japan as Number One (1979), was phenomenal. A model is called a model because it inspires people and because it leads them to emulate. More precisely, models work at at least three levels: (1) as a heuristic device to aid scholarly understanding, (2) as constructions that serve the interests of politicians and journalists, and (3) as guides to help countries learn from each other. One might be tempted to call them metaphors rather than models. Why metaphors? It seems, as will become clearer later, that the proponents of at least two particular models (the developmental state and one-party dominance) and the derivation of all the models lie in the self-preoccupation of the United States. Furthermore, their inventors perhaps invariantly and inadvertently overstated their explanatory power. If they are metaphors rather than models, what will be the implication of the exercise? One can argue that American scholarship is perhaps extremely narcissistic, that a comprehensive synthesis is beyond scholarly grasp, or that the ‘owl of Minerva’ truly does only emerge after the event. The use of metaphors rather than models tempts one to ask what is the ‘truth’ that the models reveal. It is understandable that these models do have some truth value.

206 Takashi Inoguchi Perhaps for fortuitous reasons, these models have progressively come to cover the whole ‘face’ of the political system, although it was only as one scholar disputed the emphasis of colleagues that the broader picture emerged. (Toward the end of this chapter, I will come back to the question of the role of models in building understanding and facilitating action.) At the same time, it is undeniable that these models also served journalistic interests in the United States. They also served politicians in the region (e.g. Prime Minister Mahathir Mohammad). And they served developmental approaches – the World Bank was forced to at least review its approaches under pressure of protagonists of the ‘Japanese model’. Since these and other kinds of influence go perhaps beyond their inventor’s original intention, one might be tempted to reflect on the nature of the academic project. One possible line of reflection might be the nature of contemporary Orientalism, permeating East and Southeast Asia. (Again toward the end of this chapter I will come back to this.) In examining various versions of what is called the Japanese model, I would like to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the Japanese model and its relevance to regional governance in the Asia-Pacific, in relation to its rise and fall. The following four models are examined here: 1 2 3 4

the developmental state, as articulated by Chalmers Johnson (1982) et al.; one-party dominance, as conceptualized by T.J. Pempel (1998) et al.; maturing civil society, as discussed by Schwartz and Pharr (2002) et al.; welfare capitalism, as defended by Dore (2001).

It is striking to find that assembled together they deal with major components – institutions of what is called governance. Johnson deals with bureaucracy, Pempel with political party, Schwartz and Pharr with civil society, and Dore with capitalism.

Developmental state In discussing the role of the state in economic development, Johnson (1982) argues that the Japanese state was most active in the massive mobilization of resources, labor and capital for the state-led push for development using the advantage of backwardness and that the Japanese state was quite adept at doing so, taking the Ministry of International Trade and Industry as an example. The theme is the capacity of the Japanese state to make full use of the advantage of backwardness (Gerschenkron, 1962). The capacity of the state to give the private sector some administrative guidance in the form of industrial and technology policy was stressed. It is called a strong state in contrast to a weak state. Krasner (1978) bemoaned the weak state called the United States in contrast to the strong state called Japan in these areas. The argument on the developmental state was taken very seriously in the Asia-Pacific in the 1980s through mid-1990s (Wade, 1990; Amsden, 1989; Berger and Hsiao, 1988; Deyo, 1987). Japan’s rise looked so steady and fast that many Asian neighbours wanted to envisage and emulate their own states to follow Japan in terms of state-led industrialization, especially when Japan

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? 207 had schemes of official developmental assistance, technological flows and foreign direct investment. The picture of the region thus looked indeed like the flying geese pattern of Japan leading the pack in terms of providing the developmental state model. This culminated, sort of, with the publication of the World Bank Report, The East Asian Miracle, in 1993 (World Bank, 1993). Since the Asian financial crisis of 1997–8, its influence has subsided considerably. Japan and all the East Asian countries suffered from the shortage of capital inflows. The economies stagnated. Some, like Krugman (1994), have gone further to say that the East Asian miracle was hollow and that what the East Asian states did was to assemble capital and labor massively into some targeted industrial sectors successfully, rather than exercising some ingenuity in technological innovation.

One-party dominance In comparatively examining one-party dominance in party politics, T.J. Pempel (1998) and others, when synthesized, seem to be arguing that interest aggregation was considered most critical in mobilizing support for the governing regime and that one-party dominance was most instrumental in securing a fairly stable and continuous legislative support for the national program which was crafted largely by national bureaucracy. Rather than articulating policy platforms for inter-party electoral and legislative competition, the governing party was more preoccupied with personal networking at the district level so that an aggregation of districtlevel personal votes could keep its parliamentary majority or working majority with some coalitional schemes, and thereby primarily bureaucratically drafted bills in the parliament could pass with little difficulty. The governing party could benefit from this whole scheme since it was given the privileged status of examining bureaucratically drafted bills in their formative stages so that they made effective intervention to defend and advance their district and sectoral interests under their purview/influence (Inoguchi, 1983, 1993; Inoguchi and Iwai, 1987; Inoguchi, 2005). As East Asia democratized itself country by country from the Philippines in 1986 and diffusing to Taiwan, Korea, Thailand in the late 1980s through early 1990s (Laothamatas, 1997; Marsh et al., 2000; Inoguchi, 2000a), it seemed as if some neighboring countries including China looked at the Japanese governing party with envy and with a desire to emulate. Given the success of the developmental state, one-party dominance seemed a natural formula to ensure such an economic miracle. To focus on economic development, one needs political stability which a big and inclusive party like the Liberal Democratic Party can ensure. In Singapore, Lee Kwan Yue openly said in his Asian Values offensive that with American-style freedom practised in Asia, competitiveness would be reduced, and chaos would ensue (Inoguchi, 1995). As if to symbolize the need to discipline those tainted by American-style freedom, the court of Singapore gave a naughty American boy who did something wrong in Singapore the punishment of caning. At the peak of the East Asian miracle of the mid-1990s, at least in Taiwan (the Kuomintang) and Korea (the Hannara Party’s predecessor), it looked as if the largest

208 Takashi Inoguchi party kept its power for a while. This was not the case. The Asian financial crisis of 1997 and subsequent economic difficulties dumped such a desire (Drysdale, 2000; Hagaard, 2000; Nobel and Ravenhill, 2000; Pempel, 1999). In Korea, Kim Dae Jung’s Democratic Party took power from the much larger Hannara Party in 1998 amidst the Asian financial crisis (Kim, 2001; Moon and Mo, 1999). In Taiwan, the Democratic Progressive Party under Chen Shuibian took power from the much larger Kuomintang in 2000 amidst the coercive diplomacy waged by China and the United States over the Taiwan straits (Tien, 1997; Hsiao, 2001). In Indonesia, the semi-forced resignation of Suharto amidst the Asian financial crisis in 1999 created a new democratic multi-party situation. After some difficult transitions of J.S. Habibbie and Abdurrahman Wahid, however, its Golkar organization seems to be coming back with Megawati Sukarnopurti (Hill, 1994; Robison, 1997). In Japan, the Liberal Democratic Party lost power in 1993, but by 1995 it came back to power with an unprecedented coalition with the Socialist (later renamed Social Democratic) Party (Inoguchi, 1993). Needless to say, in Malaysia, the United Malay National Organization has kept power throughout (Hilley, 2001). In Singapore, the People’s Action Party has kept power throughout (Low, 1998). Is it fair to say that only the United Malay National Organization and the People’s Action Party are relatively keen on the Japanese model? Or are the Golkar, the Democratic Progressive Party, and the Hannara Party preparing to become a more nationally based catch-all party like the Liberal Democratic Party of Japan after their respective ordeal? Or is the Chinese Communist Party interested in preparing to become the dominant party after political democratization at the high level, which is bound to come within one to two decade’s time, given the already high per capita income level along the Coast and steadily advancing social liberalization (Rowen, 1998)?

Civil society After the developmental state and one-party dominance ceased to be fashionable in the region, what came as a small surprise was the argument that Japan is becoming a sort of model of a maturing civil society, advanced by Schwartz and Pharr (2002): a small surprise in the sense that there are still some who believe Japan consists of governmental organizations and nongovernmental individuals, without much room for vibrant non-governmental organizations and mature civil society. Two good illustrations defy such a belief (Inoguchi, 2002b). In 1995, when the great Kobe earthquake killing some 6000 people took place, a flood of volunteers flocked to Kobe and its vicinities, extending their helping hands to the victims in whatever way they could. In the 1990s, large-scale disasters and famines as well as civil strife took place throughout the world and many millions suffered from them. One small Catholic-church-based non-governmental organization called AMDA (Asian Medical Doctors’ Association) keep sending medical doctors and nurses to help those victimized by them, reaching some 60 places in one decade. AMDA has members throughout Asia.

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? 209 More systematically, looking at civil liberties and political rights as measured by the Freedom House (2001), the World Bank (2001), Vanhanen (1997) or some others, it is very clear that Japanese society is a very robust civil society. The argument that Schwartz and Pharr (2002) seem to be advancing is that because the Japanese state is regarded as a strong state, some tend to believe that Japanese civil society is traditionally weak, but that the state and civil society go hand in hand and when the state is strong, civil society can become very strong because civil society is nurtured by the state, just as much as civil society creates the state it deserves to have. Having graduated from the late-comer’s industrializing drive and having reached a high income plateau of a sort, Japan is best situated to enrich a civil society. Benefiting from the fruits of the activist state at the helm and yet liberated from the industrializing and mobilizing drive of the state, its civil society is enlarging its space quite steadily (Inoguchi, 2000b, 2002b). Its civil society is also post-materialist and post-modernizationist (Inglehart, 1973, 1997). It seems to be quite real and its relevance to East Asian neighbours seems very high. As a matter of fact, Frank Schwartz and Susan Pharr published a series of monographs under the heading of the Civil Society in the Asia-Pacific region (e.g. Reimann, 2002; Witt, 2002; Schipper, 2002; Garon, 2002). Muthiah Alagappa is completing a collective volume on the civil society in the Asia-Pacific (Alagappa, 2004). Yutaka Tsujinaka has started to publish a series of books dealing with interest groups and civil society in the Asia-Pacific region on the basis of his and his collaborators’ fieldwork in Japan, Korea, China and the United States (Tsujinaka, 2002). Tadashi Yamamoto (2000) has compiled a handbook on non-governmental organizations throughout the Asia-Pacific region. Thus it looks as if Japan led the flying geese’s pack in the area of civil society after the boom of the developmental state and one-party dominance passed away.

Welfare capitalism Quite in harmony with this maturing civil society argument comes the argument of welfare capitalism as contrasted to stock market capitalism, as advanced by Ronald Dore (2001). Of all the comparative capitalism arguments, Dore is one of the few who focuses on the negative consequences of market fluctuations and externalities and the positive needs of retaining and enhancing social safety nets embedded with capitalism itself (Albert, 1991; Aoki et al., 1996; Boyer and Hollingsworth, 1997; Crouch and Streeck, 1997; Dore and Berger, 1996; Esping-Anderson, 1990; Hall and Soskice, 2001; Streeck and Yamamura, 2001; Vogel, 1996; Wade, 1990). Dore distinguishes two capitalisms, the Anglo-Saxons versus Japan and Germany. Stock market capitalism focuses on efficiency and labour productivity, whereas welfare capitalism stresses equality and employment durability, to exaggerate slightly. Dore argues that in pursuit of human happiness, capitalism should be organized in order to ensure a robust safety net against market fluctuations and externalities. When the global market seems to reign supreme, Dore seems to be saying that the social market capitalism of a German kind and the communitarian market capitalism of a Japanese kind have a lot to be learnt by many others if capitalism can achieve

210 Takashi Inoguchi both market efficiency and individual happiness. At a time when many negative consequences of globalization painfully manifest themselves, the argument attracts some adherents. The argument can be either social democratic or communitarian. Dore’s argument can be illustrated with special reference to the recovery of Korea and Japan (Drysdale, 2000; Hagaard, 2000; Noble and Ravenhill, 2000; Pempel, 1999) from the Asian financial crisis and its negative consequences (Tiberghien, 2002; Moon and Nishino, 2002). The International Monetary Fund imposed strict discipline on the economic policy package of the Korean government. The government and banks acted swiftly and firmly, especially in the areas of banking and bad loans. The positive annual economic growth rate came back much faster in Korea than in Japan largely because of this factor. The negative consequences include the much higher number of bankruptcies in Korea than in Japan. More than twenty banks went bankrupt in Korea, whereas in Japan there were only a few bank bankruptcies (Moon and Nishino, 2002). Also a high rate of unemployment ensued in Korea. In Japan, the unemployment rate is the highest since the late 1940s and early 1950s, but unemployment was produced in a relatively orderly fashion. Sudden and large-scale unemployment did not take place as it did in the United States or in Korea. Thus labour disputes raged in Korea whereas in Japan the annual spring wage increase struggle ended with virtually no increase or sometimes with wage reduction without bringing about large-scale labour strikes. Korea adopted the Anglo-Saxon model via the International Monetary Fund, whereas Japan kept its Japanese welfare capitalist model. The question arises: Is the Korean adoption of the Anglo-Saxon model of an enduring nature? In other words, will Korea come back to the partial adoption of Japanese welfare capitalism after swallowing temporarily the imposed Anglo-Saxon model at a time of real crisis once the crisis is overcome and once positive economic growth starts again? With regard to the Japanese model, most Asian neighbours seemed to let it go and try to ride on the tide of globalization. Important to note, however, is the fact that other than the Japanese model and its influences, most of East and Southeast Asian economies have had strong legacies originating from their respective endogenous or quasi-endogenous practices and institutions.

Comparative examination Let me examine major East Asian cases one by one in terms of the applicability/ feasibility of the above four models. By East Asian cases I mean such major countries as Korea, Taiwan, Singapore, China, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, the Philippines, and Vietnam. Developmental state Whether the concept and practice of the developmental state as experienced by Japan applies to other East and Southeast Asian states depends in part on the stage of economic development and the affinity of the regime type. In terms of per capita income level, Korea, Taiwan, and Singapore seem to be beyond the stage of

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? 211 industrializing drive of the normal developmental state. But they are all interested in continuing its developmental-state drive at home and abroad (or near-abroad) as long as its surplus capacity leads them to expand their outlets (Woo, 1999). It is directed most clearly at China as China’s developmental momentum has not yet subsided. Taiwan’s huge direct investment in China has led the governing Democratic Progressive Party’s original policy line of one China, one Taiwan to amend somewhat in the direction of very substantially loosening the barriers of communication, commerce and direct investment with China. Korea’s enthusiasm about China has been accelerated by Japan’s prolonged recession and China’s continuing developmental momentum. Its interest in forging a trilateral free trade agreement among Korea, Japan and China comes from its strong desire to enhance its market to the two great neighbours, to strengthen its economic integration with Japan, and to offset its too-strong links with Japan once the bilateral ties thicken by bringing China into a common framework. South Korea’s interest in North Korea stems from that same drive although North Korea (the category of near-abroad) seems to be too risky for the time being. But the predominant thinking of the Kim Dae Jung and Roh Moo Hyung governments of South Korea is that unless the economic gap between South and North is to be reduced step by step by helping the North to come back to the path of economic development, no prospect arises for them to have closer transactions and communications, let alone integration and unification (Moon and Mo, 1999; Kim, 2001; Inoguchi, 2002d). China itself has kept its developmental momentum (Lardy, 2002). But the catch is that one of the very foundations of the governing party, i.e. those public sectors where party members keep their positions, power, income and all other privileges, has to be reduced in size as they cost too much public money (Fewsmith, 2001). China’s line of thinking on how to deal with the public sector and how to keep developmental momentum seems to be very similar to the Japanese experiences of the 1950s and 1960s. China has started to invigorate its developmental momentum, not privatizing the public sector drastically but moving to its frontiers (development of the less-developed, less-inhabited noncoastal provinces of China) and its maritime frontiers to the south (the Association of the South East Nations). This serves the purpose of letting the governing party adjust step by step to the tide of marketization and globalization without jeopardizing the foundation of their power and yet making best use of economic developmental momentum outside the slow-moving public sector. China’s call for a free trade agreement with the Association of South East Asian Nations is the case in point. Although Singapore has virtually no manufacturing industrial basis and Richard Rosecrance has called Singapore a virtual state, it surely designs and implements its developmental policy (Rosecrance, 1999). It has been forging strong links with China (1) in the form of direct investment in China and (2) in the form of inviting Chinese engineers and accommodating Chinese workers as it designs and implements its information technology revolution policy in addition to (3) the coming free trade agreement between the Association of South East Asian Nations and China. In other words, despite the imminent demise of the classical developmental momentum in such countries as Japan, Korea, Taiwan and

212 Takashi Inoguchi Singapore, these countries envisage continuing their developmental momentum near-abroad, i.e. in China and North Korea, and Southeast Asia. That is why there have been assiduous efforts to materialize (and benefit from) the developmental potentials by the advances of regional inter-governmental financial arrangements to shelter local economies better from the global system such as the Miyazawa scheme, as already adopted and practised by the cooperative arrangements between the Asian Development Bank and national governments. And that is why imaginative schemes have been made especially by Singapore, Taiwan, Korea, and Japan, to use bilateral and regional free trade agreements to stimulate and invigorate regional economies. Although not much has been achieved in lieu of free trade agreements in the region, strategic planning and tactical manoeuvering have been quite vigorous. Two examples suffice. First, Japan’s initiative toward concluding a bilateral free trade agreement with Korea has been stalled for years by Korea’s counterproposal to include China into such a scheme. Japan and Korea are the two most competitive economies at a high technological level in the region. Second, China and the ASEAN have concluded a free trade agreement. They are more complementary to than competitive with each other. In response, Japan and the ASEAN have started talks toward a free trade agreement. More recently, China’s Greater West and North Korea, near-abroad to the more industrialized countries like Japan, Korea, Taiwan and Singapore, do not seem to stimulate potential foreign investors’ appetite. Rather they seem to expect Japan to initiate substantial flows of official developmental assistance focusing on communications, transportation, energy and water supplies. In terms of regime type, Korea and Taiwan have reduced the weight of stateled economic management significantly in the course of post-industrialization and democratic consolidation. Thus, the term developmental state is a misnomer for these countries. Furthermore, compared with Japan, Korea and Taiwan are much more influenced by the Anglo-Saxon market capitalism model in the first place than Japan is, despite the change of regime type. Also their accommodation of foreign capital and technology especially in conjunction with foreign direct investment inflows is done with more ease than Japanese accommodation. China and Vietnam are in the midst of industrialization drives with the heavy weight of accommodating large-scale foreign direct investment. Ironically, their eagerness in attracting foreign direct investment slightly resembles that of comprador colonialism in the past. Its industrialization drive is not necessarily primarily led by the state but more importantly by both local and foreign private sectors. Their accommodation of foreign capital and technology is in a great contrast to the Japanese developmental model, however. For the last century and half, Japan has adopted a ‘self-reliant’ model of containing foreign capital and technology to a minimum. Only for the last decade or so has Japan been seeing the large-scale accommodation of foreign capital and technology. That is why the purchase of the Long Term Credit Bank by foreign capital and Nissan’s alliance with Peugeot were received with surprise and dismay, at least initially. If the 1970s and 1980s are characterized by ‘Asia in Japan’s embrace’ (Hatch and Yamamura, 1996), the 1990s and beyond seems to be characterized by ‘Asia lured by the China market’

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? 213 (Inoguchi, 2002c). Once East and Southeast Asian markets were hit hard by the Asian financial crisis in 1997, the continuously thriving Chinese market was an obvious choice for the US and European business to make direct investment (Lardy, 2002). Thailand, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Indonesia are in various stages of industrializing drives (Robison, 1997). But the state is not necessarily strong in the sense of orchestrating its economic developmental policy. Perhaps most importantly, the international economic environment changed drastically between the time when Japanese industrial policy was given high acclaim and the time when market globalization penetrated every corner of the world. ‘Bending with the wind’ seems to be an apt characterization of most ASEAN governments’ industrialization policy. Accordingly, the likely impact of a state-led developmental push seems to have been reduced significantly. Therefore it seems fair to say that the conceptual lure of the developmental state à la Japanese seems to have been half dissipated. Yet Japan itself looks at near-abroad more from the developmental perspective than from the purpose of trade liberalization when a free trade agreement is the subject of discussion in such frameworks as the AsiaPacific Economic Cooperation forum. One-party dominance State-led industrialization required strong legislative power in order to mobilize resources at hand for its concentrated drive. One-party dominance suited the purpose perfectly. At one time, Korea resembled Japan in terms of nurturing a predominant party. But its regionalistically inspired cleavages plus democratic consolidation seemed to make that orientation more difficult to realize. Regionalistic clientelism and nepotism are a hotbed for corruption charges. In addition, the fundamental difference in orientation to the near-abroad North Korea, among South Korean leaders and populace, one school headed by Kim Dae Jung, the other school headed by Lee Hoi Chang, makes the formation of one-party dominance much more difficult. In a similar vein, Taiwan at one time looked as if it aimed at transforming the Kuomintang into a democratically chosen predominant party (Tien, 1997). But the one-China versus two-states division within Taiwanese politics split the Kuomintang into three parties. Instead, the incumbent Democratic Progressive Party seems to aspire to becoming a predominant party. Yet as long as the Democratic Progressive Party collides with Beijing over what status Taiwan gets vis-à-vis Beijing, sustaining predominant party status would not be easy. After all, Taiwanese massive direct investment in China makes collision more difficult. The erstwhile sharply articulated Taiwanese independence policy line of the governing Democratic Progressive Party has become more difficult to sustain and the increasing convergence of the policy lines on economic interdependence with China ironically makes it extremely uncertain whether a predominant party will emerge in the near future. Singapore enjoys one-party dominance which seems to be at times close to authoritarianism. Malaysia resembles one-party dominance with more democratically competitive characteristics. The United Malay National Organization has

214 Takashi Inoguchi been predominant over more narrowly ethnically or religiously inspired political parties of much smaller size. Yet the United Malay National Organization seems to be threatened by the surge of the radical Muslim party steadily undermining the Malay constituents of the organization. That is why Malaysia – along with Bosnia – was one of the only two countries which denounced terrorism in the World Muslim Conference in April 2002. The message is that the radicalized Muslim population should be discouraged. Indonesia’s Golkar lost power with the resignation of Suharto. But as Megawati Sukarnopurti became President after J.S. Habbibie and Abdurrahman Wahid, Golkar seems to be reviving its position and power steadily, and thus may be again becoming a predominant party, now under the name of democracy and aided by strong support from the military (Suryadinata, 2002). Thailand has been under a multi-party system of intense personality-focus and money-focus, as played out mostly within Bangkok. The process of democratic consolidation seems to intensify the flexible party formation and coalition, even though political participation has been visibly broadened and deepened at the same time. The Philippines has been under a multi-party system of intense focus on clientelism. But it seems that the process of democratic consolidation since Marcos’s forced resignation in 1986 has deepened not only democratic participation but also class-related cleavages (Inoguchi, 2001). If the departure of Ferdinand Marcos in 1986 was called people power, the departure of Joseph Estrada in 2000 was called people power without people (Overholt et al., 2001; Inoguchi, 2002a). In other words, when Marcos was forced from power, not only the United States government and the Philippine establishment but also those Philippine people who watch TV in Tagalog, not in English, acted against Marcos. But when Estrada was forced down, those Philippine masses who watch TV in Tagalog did not go out on the streets en masse and remained more or less pro-Estrada. Only China and Vietnam, the countries run by the Communist Party, seem to be aspiring to transform the predominant incumbent party into a democratically elected predominant party in some near or nebulous future. China especially has been undergoing fairly steady economic and social liberalization for the last quarter of a century. Once its per capita income level goes beyond some threshold in coastal China, it is likely that some regime change will take place. After all, Jiang Zeming’s decision in 2001 on the prerequisites of party membership now accommodating capitalist business managers is a clear and irreversible departure from the class-based state and society as shaped by Mao Zedong. In other words, China is becoming an all-people state as contrasted to a class-based state (Inoguchi, 2001; Fewsmith, 2001). Therefore, given the diversity in developmental stages and regime types, it is fair to say that one-party dominance is not popular in rhetoric but in practice it still has a strong appeal in some countries. Civil society Market globalization (Held et al., 1999) and democratic diffusion (Huntington, 1993; Vanhanen, 1997) seem to be major external forces accelerating to make

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? 215 a civil society more prominent and robust in relation to the state in East and Southeast Asian countries (Alagappa, 2004). Internally, economic development and democratic consolidation are two major sources of the birth of a maturing civil society. That Japan has been spearheading this movement in East and Southeast Asia is not questioned. After all, Japan has been among the highest per capita income countries for more than two decades and Japanese commitment to democratic values and norms seems to be quite robust, befitting its high Freedom House (2001) ranking in terms of civil freedom and political rights. Furthermore, Japan is quite high in terms of post-materialist ranking in the World Values Survey (Inglehart, 1997). Korea and Taiwan seem to be on a par with Japan in terms of the solid maturation of a civil society. In particular, political participation seems to be much more vigorous in Korea and Taiwan (Inoguchi, 2001). Following Korea and Taiwan closely are Thailand and the Philippines. In terms of values upheld by people, Thailand and the Philippines are poles apart from their Northeast Asian neighbours (who appreciate more Confucian values like hierarchy, deference, and diligence) and look closer to a set of values upheld by Americans (who appreciate values like freedom, association and adventure). The surge of non-governmental organizations in Thailand and the Philippines cannot be underestimated (Yamamoto, 2000). In terms of a number of governance indicators like transparency and accountability of government vis-à-vis civil society (Kaufmann et al., 2001), Japan overall surpasses the rest of East and Southeast Asia. What makes some countries in East and Southeast Asia look more illiberal, even when the practice of democratic competition is solid, is the existence of those laws that justify strong governmental authority in terms of internal security and in terms of political neutrality in mass media. Korea and Malaysia, for instance, have retained the internal security act since the times of more authoritarian rule. Singapore has a no less stringent internal security act although Singapore’s regime is not so democratically competitive as Malaysia’s or Korea’s. Civil society is fairly strong in democratic countries like Thailand and the Philippines, but social capital or trust exhibited in society tends to be narrowly defined along the line of strong clientelism. In countries that are plagued by ethnically or religiously inspired dissidents or rebels, such as China (Fa Lung Gong whose members are said to surpass the Chinese Communist Party in number and Uigur Muslims who are suspected to have ties with Al-Qaeda), the Philippines (Moro Muslims who are suspected to have ties with Al-Qaeda), Indonesia (dissidents in Ace, Iriyan Jaya and Selawesi), Malaysia (radicalized Muslims disenchanted with the government), the fast growth of mature civil society is more difficult (Lake and Rothchild, 1998). Welfare capitalism When contrasted with Anglo-Saxon stock market capitalism, Japanese welfare capitalism seems to accord more with what is called Asian values, e.g. equality, harmony, collective happiness (Inoguchi, 1995). How much such Asian values are in fact practised in East and Southeast Asia is sometimes questioned. On the surface,

216 Takashi Inoguchi most Asians seem to exhibit more individualism than communitarianism, let alone social democracy. Again on the surface, American influence seems to permeate every corner of East and Southeast Asia, taking competitive enhancement very seriously. In an apparent contrast, the Japanese seem to take the orientation of enduring hard times together in a business firm rather than firing employees in order to recover from a deficit. One such example is Toyota, which has been one of the top profit-earning business firms in Japan. The Toyota scheme is summarized as (1) keeping employees as much as possible; (2) encouraging innovations within the firm so that greater profits can be sustained in the future; (3) encouraging employees to purchase Toyota’s stocks with the anticipation that stock values are likely to rise, which the Toyota leadership says depends on employees’ ingenuity and efforts; (4) urging everyone to be efficient in production and thrifty in life. It looks as if capitalism exists in order to keep the members of the organization happy rather than raise the absolute figure of profits higher and higher. Capitalism exists to keep people employed and happy. Whether such an orientation prevails in other Asian societies or not is something that needs to be explicated empirically. A quick survey seems to show that one cannot find many followers and emulators of the Japanese model in Asia in this regard. The era of globalization seems to make welfare capitalism somewhat difficult to envisage other than in Japan, and possibly in China and Vietnam, communist-led capitalist roaders. The lesson of the United States The two models, the developmental state and one-party dominance, are those models that were most fashionable when Japan was still enjoying its developmental momentum. The other two models, the civil society model and the welfare capitalism model, were becoming more fashionable as the developmental drive subsided and the globalization tide accelerated. The former two models were developed when the United States was undergoing a difficult structural transition and suffering from weaknesses. The developmental state and one-party dominance seem to answer the American conundrum of why the United States is so different from the then alarmingly steadily rising Japan. The latter two models are being debated, as it were, when the United States is enjoying a unipolar moment and an unprecedented long economic boom and when Japan is plagued by the loss of its developmental momentum and a long economic recession. Both the civil society model and the welfare capitalism model are not threatening to the United States. The civil society model seems to give assurance to Americans that Japan too finds it useful to have a vibrant civil society and the welfare capitalism model seems to give assurance to Americans that despite some positive aspects of welfare capitalism, the Anglo-Saxon model of market capitalism seems to be superior after all, as is vindicated by the long economic boom in the United States and the long recessionary impasse in which Japan has been seemingly placed for so long, nearly fifteen years! To summarize, the former two models were food for thought for Americans when they were examining the strengths and weaknesses of America and re-

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? 217 envisioning a new American system to emerge again to stand tall and strong. It is not that academics are always explicitly thinking in such politically inspired terms, but that their concepts and ideas sometimes hit the minds of journalists and readers most importantly in the American market. That is the time when the socalled model is invented and consumed. The developmental state and one-party dominance were close to hitting the market. A maturing civil society in Japan is most welcome when the state’s limit to the provision of public policy is acutely felt and a rediscovery of welfare capitalism in Japan is reassuring when globalization arouses concerns about the need for a social safety net. The latter two models do not arouse sensational interests, whereas the former two did in part because the United States now stands seemingly tall and strong.

Conclusion Has Japan ceased to be a magnet to East and Southeast Asia? Has Japan ceased to be a template for them? Yes, in the sense that no one marvels at many wonders of Japan these days. No one warns that Japan is on the alarmingly fast rise to establishing regional or global hegemony. Newspaper headlines about Japan are mostly about the Japanese inability to make a major decision and to take a major action on bad loans and about endlessly revealed political scandals. Newspaper headlines all give dismal tones and flavors. There is no reason to think of Japan as a template for the region. However, Japan can claim that it is a template for the region in a number of ways. Once the state-led developmental momentum is gone, a civil society has to play more active roles. Once post-materialist preference dominates the citizens, a maturing civil society where non-governmental individuals and organizations flourish and thrive must be robustly forged. When the tide of globalization brings about its positive and negative aspects simultaneously, Japanese-style welfare capitalism has the merits of preventing high-level unemployment and sustaining individual dignity even if the recovery requires the fifteen-year long procrastination about bad loans and indecision on which banks and firms should be allowed to go bankrupt and which ones should not. After all, looked at from inside, there has been robust continuity: per capita income is as high as before; egalitarianism is as strong as ever; politics has been as stable as before, including scandal-proneness and the lack of leadership; the continuing critical importance of manufacturing in the Japanese economy; the flying geese pattern of manufacturing and trade; the dominant GNP size of Japan vis-à-vis the rest of the region. But the regional projection of its image has been neither active nor effective, as if Japan has been asleep in bed for years. Hence the Kissingerite perception of Japan as summarized at the beginning of this chapter. Besides the Kissingerite perception, the following questions must be posed: Where is the Japanese system heading? When might Japan emerge in a new exemplary role? The organizing principle and disciplining norms of a society are normally hard to change in the short span of half a century. If one is to be serious, one should broaden the span of observation to ten times that fifty-year span.

218 Takashi Inoguchi In approaching the future direction of Japanese political development, I want to emphasize the historical metamorphosis it has undergone over several centuries. Eiko Ikegami (1993) delineates with impressive skill the metamorphosis of early modern Japanese society from honorific individualism to honorific collectivism. She analyzes the transformation of society’s organizing and assessing principles in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In medieval times, what mattered most was the individual capabilities of warriors. Thus a battle was prefaced by announcements by the leaders of their names, places of origin, and commitment to fighting for the honor of their name. Fighting was everything, and it was driven by the individual pursuit of honor. When Japanese absolutism floundered midway through the sixteenth century, what emerged instead was the decentralized quasi-feudal, highly bureaucratic Tokugawa regime. It demanded the collectivist pursuit of honor. The individualism of warriors was replaced by the collectivism of disarmed warrior-cum-bureaucrats honoring their collective organization, an organization derived from the structure and rules of the feudal lord’s domains and family. It was very different from European absolutism (Anderson, 1974). Despotic lords tended to be superseded by their bureaucrats, who ruled the territory honoring the spirit of a sort of extended family and collective decision-making by bureaucrats. They treasured loyalty, rectitude, honesty, diligence, commitment to the welfare of the populace, frugality, and physical and mental fitness to serve the collective cause. This spirit developed during the early modern period (from the seventeenth century to the mid-nineteenth century) and was inherited by the modern Japanese state. Its modern bureaucracy further extended and expanded this spirit into a version of nationalistic and collectivist spirit for the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. When the regime based on honorific collectivism was solidified in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the challenge facing the Tokugawa shogun and the provincial lords was internal unity and stability. But with the arrival of Commodore Matthew Perry at Shimoda in 1853, the challenge facing Japan became how to cope with external threat, be it military, economic, institutional, or ideational. This was an entirely new challenge for the leaders of the Meiji state. They were assiduous in establishing a ‘wealthy nation and a strong military’ (Samuels, 1996). The key was the mobilization of nationalism under the emperor and the creation of a national bureaucracy meritocratically recruited nationwide. The Meiji bureaucracy was manned primarily by former samurai and their sons, who had lost their status and occupation after the Meiji state abolished class distinctions; they tended to be well educated, and their ideology of honorific collectivism suited the needs of the Meiji state. Thus the honorific collectivism of the early modern period was further developed in the modern period. The modern Japanese state failed in its nationalistic outburst in 1941. But its leaders succeeded in getting the country to catch up with the West in terms of wealth and equality by 1989, the end of the Showa period (1926–89). Yet the problem of Heisei Japan (that is, Japan during the reign of Akihito, which began in 1989) is that the Japanese have been gradually undermining the bastions of honorific collectivism. The guiding spirit of the nation seems to be changing

Has the Japanese model ceased to be a magnet in Asia? 219 slowly but steadily toward something that is increasingly neither honorific nor collectivist. Needless to say, the new guiding spirit is not likely to be entirely similar to the kind of individualism observed in the United States. The success of the postwar Showa state in terms of catching up with the West, however, began to decrease the intensity of the nation’s forward-directed drive. Having savored the fruits of achievement, people are far more cautious and averse to taking risks. On the issue of security, their basic starting point is to avoid involvement in conflict. In direct investment, corporations may study an investment opportunity for ten years and still not take the risk. In domestic politics, they abhor the exercise of strong leadership because it disturbs the comfortable web of vested interests (Inoguchi, 1993). The bipolar confrontation that formed the bulwark of the global security system has ended. The market, further empowered by borderlessness and globalization, now reigns supreme. And the social and transnational forces that were inadvertently suppressed by the Westphalian framework of nation-states have been unleashed (Inoguchi, 1999). These, in short, are three aspects of the metamorphosis that Japanese political development has undergone. A fourth is in the offing. In this process, individualism will be resuscitated to a significant extent and organizations will become more flexible and more functionally malleable, thanks to the individualist legacy of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries as well as to the merciless forces of globalization that have been tangible at least since the Plaza Accord of the Group of Seven countries in 1985. This brief summary of Japanese political development in terms of content and direction can offer a broader, more long-ranging, deeper historical context in which to examine and assess various Japanese models. Today, old, stylized images of Japanese society cannot remain tenable for long. Finally, I come back to the question of the role of models in building understanding and facilitating action. On this question, I see positively the truth value of models especially in sensitizing the otherwise underobserved and underestimated aspects of dynamics. But at the same time, I see ‘what passes for empirical observation is revealed to be permeated with myth, prejudice ad wishful thinking’ (Dower, 1986). When they are simplified and articulated by academic concepts, it is easy to see something of what might be best termed Orientalism emerge in the popularized diffusion and distortion of academic writings.

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222 Takashi Inoguchi Moon, Chung-In and Junya Nishino (2002) ‘Between Learning and Innovation: Japanese Economic Institution and South Korea’s Industrial Policy in the 1960s’, paper presented at the Annual Convention of the International Studies Association, New Orleans, March 24–27, 2002. Noble, Gregory and John Ravenhill (eds) (2000) The Asian Financial Crisis and the Architecture of Global Finance, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Overholt, W., et al. (2001) Perspectives : 2000 & Beyond, Singapore: Times Academic Press. Pempel, T.J. (ed.) (1998) One-party Dominance, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Pempel, T.J. (ed.) (1999) The Politics of the Asian Economic Crisis, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Porter, Michael (1998) Competitive Advantage: Creating and Sustaining Superior Performance, New York: Free Press. Reimann, Kim DoHyang (2002) ‘Global Citizens in a Borderless World?’ Monograph Series: Civil Society in the Asia-Pacific, Program on US–Japan Relations, Harvard University. Robison, R. (1997) Pathways to Asia: The Politics of Engagement, St Leonards: Allen & Unwin. Rosecrance, Richard (1999) The Rise of the Virtual State: Wealth and Power in the Coming Century, New York: Basic Books. Rowen, Henry (ed.) (1998) The Future of the Soviet Empire, New York: St Martin’s Press. Samuels, Richard (1996) Rich Country, Strong Army: National Security and Technological Transformation of Japan, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Schipper, Apichai W. (2002) ‘Pragmatism in Activism: Organizing Support for Illegal Foreign Workers in Japan’, Monograph Series: Civil Society in the Asia-Pacific, Program on US–Japan Relations, Harvard University. Schwartz, Frank and Susan Pharr (2002) The State of Civil Society in Japan, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Streeck, Wolfgang and Kozo Yamamura (2003) The End of Diversity: Prospects for German and Japanese Capitalism, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Suryadinata, Leo (2002) Elections and Politics in Indonesia, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Tiberghien, Yves (2002) ‘Political Mediation of Global Financial Forces: The Politics of Structural Reforms in Japan and South Korea’, Paper prepared at the Annual Meeting of the International Studies Association, New Orleans, 24–27 March Tien, Hung-mao (1997) Taiwan’s Electoral Politics and Democratic Transition: Riding the Third Wave (Taiwan in the Modern World), New York: M.E. Sharpe. Tsujinaka, Yutaka (ed.) (2002) Gendai Nihon no shimin shakai-rieki dantai (Civil Society and Interest Groups in Contemporary Japan), Bokutakusha. Vanhanen, Tatu (1997) Prospects of Democracy: A Study of 172 Countries, London: Routledge. Vogel, Ezra (1979) Japan as Number One, Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Vogel, Ezra (1986) ‘Pax Nipponica?’ Foreign Affairs, 64(4), Spring, pp. 752–67. Vogel, Steven (1996) Freer Markets, More Rules, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Wade, Robert (1990) Governing the Market, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Witt, M.A. (2002) ‘Keeping up: Mechanism of Firm Reconnaissance and Intra-Industry Loops in Japan’, Monograph Series Civil Society in the Asia-Pacific, Program on US– Japan Relations, Harvard University. Woo-Cumings, M. (ed.) (1999) The Developmental State, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. World Bank (1993) The East Asian Miracle, Oxford: Oxford University Press. World Bank (2000–1) World Development Report 2000–2001, New York: Oxford University Press. Yamamoto, Tadashi (ed.) (2000) Civil Society, Tokyo: Japan Center for International Exchange.

9

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia Jean Blondel

This chapter examines the values held by citizens in East and Southeast Asia on the basis of the findings of a survey which was administered at the end of 2000 in the region.1 That survey was undertaken in order to assess the extent to which the citizens shared standpoints, typically described as constituting ‘Asian values’, which had been put forward in the 1980s and early 1990s in particular by many politicians and many academics of the region. What was being stated was that a sharp contrast – a real divide – existed between ‘Asian’ and ‘Western’ values. Indeed, those who made that point also tended to claim that ‘Asian values’ were not just different from, but superior to, ‘Western values’. Such views were not held by all politicians and all scholars in the region, admittedly; the opposite standpoint was also put forcefully by many others, but the debate has been sufficiently ‘animated’ to occupy the front of the stage for a number of years. Yet the debate has tended so far to be regarded as one for which evidence was sought from sources of a philosophical character or belonging to the realm of cultural and in particular religious history. In such a perspective, the question to answer seemed to be: Are there, in the roots of East and Southeast Asian civilisation, reasons to believe that common sets of values prevail in the region? Such an approach has the merit of providing an interpretation for the panorama of the values which do prevail, but it is based ultimately on the assumption that the citizens – or at least the large majority of them – hold these values. To be truly relevant in a social context, a philosophical or cultural historical interpretation of this kind must unquestionably be preceded by an investigation designed to ascertain whether the citizens of the region hold the values which they are said to hold. So far, there was little or no evidence in this respect. In 2000, however, such an assessment became possible as a survey of the population was undertaken in nine countries of the area: Japan, Korea, Taiwan, China – parts only; Singapore, Malaysia – Continental Malaysia only; Indonesia – Java only; Thailand and the Philippines. Although this book is concerned with only seven of these countries, the present chapter examines reactions to values among the population in Japan and China as well, given the importance of these two countries in helping to shape the ‘collective identity’ of the area. After describing briefly the main tenets of the debate on ‘Asian values’ and the way in which these values can be operationalised, this chapter examines whether

224 Jean Blondel there is evidence to suggest that a ‘common’ culture exists in the region. Given that that evidence is far from being clear-cut, the chapter then considers whether variations in value patterns within the region are such that one is confronted not with a common culture but with two or more ‘sub-regional’ cultures.

I The question of the specificity of values in East and Southeast Asia The historical origins of the debate on ‘Asian values’ The debate on Asian values has been conducted at two levels. One level is philosophical and concerns the extent to which the traditional values of East and Southeast Asia, embodied in Confucianism and also in Buddhism, are both different from and perhaps superior to what is regarded as their opposite, Western values. The other level is socio-economic and political and it relates to the ability of East and Southeast Asia to maintain in their societies a set of principles enabling that society to be well-adjusted and efficient, in effect better adjusted and more efficient than the societies of the West. The two levels have of course many aspects in common, one of which is the refusal to see the West as the ideal to be followed. Behind the claim which is sometimes made of the superiority of Asian values is the desire to affirm the cultural identity of the East and Southeast Asian region, an identity which is regarded as being based on ‘communitarian’ values and which the West is felt to be crushing by affirming that the values which it holds are universal. To quote a Singapore diplomat, Kishore Mahbubani: ‘It is vital for Western minds to understand that the efforts by Asians to rediscover Asian values are not only or even primarily a search for political values. They involve, for instance, a desire to reconnect with their historical past after this connection has been ruptured both by colonial rule and the subsequent domination of the globe by a Western Weltanschauung’ (The National Interest, 1998, 35, quoted in Milner, 2000b, p. 15). This point is stressed by Milner who warns against the kind of ‘triumphalism’ which emerged in some quarters in the West when the financial crisis occurred in 1997; he stresses the need ‘to understand the “Asian values” programme within the context of this larger historical alignment, that began in the nineteenth century, [as it] draws attention to the well-established forces that help maintain the direction of change in the Asian region, even at a time of economic reversal’ (2000b, p. 17). As a matter of fact, a paradoxical aspect of the emphasis on Asian values is that the West itself insisted on their being a chasm between Eastern and Western civilisations. This viewpoint was put forward, in this case, too, at both the philosophical and socio-economic levels. The stress on the philosophical difference has been very marked from the moment that Europeans went to China and elsewhere in the Far East; but the stress on socio-economic differences is also old. It has thus long been claimed that East Asians were likely to ‘beat the West’ because of their hard work, their frugality and their ability to handle industrial techniques; such a standpoint has been ‘rejuvenated’, so to speak, from

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 225 the 1970s onwards, by all those Western social scientists, economists, sociologists, political scientists, who put forward the view that only by imitating the East, Japan originally, but increasingly other states of East and even Southeast Asia as well, could the West expect to be able to survive the challenge of the East. Such a conclusion implied that the East was different, indeed unique, in that no other region of the globe, had been able to ‘take on the West’ and not just equate its performance but surpass it. It is therefore wrong to claim that the debate on Asian values and in particular the question of the specificity of these values and therefore of the lack of universality of values had been an invention of the East. There may have been relatively few Eastern intellectuals who put forward this view in the nineteenth century, although some did, as Milner (in Segal and Goodman, 2000a, pp. 56–68) points out; in the late twentieth century, some Asian intellectuals may then have gone further than Westerners have in this respect, while Western intellectuals may have, as a result of the sheer assertiveness of their Eastern counterparts, adopted fully a universalistic vision of values. It does remain the case that, on both sides, at one time or another, but very frequently, the specificity of values has been stressed. The point is not made here to justify the positions taken, but to emphasise the seriousness of the debate on the theoretical plane. It is also to note that the debate about the specificity of values is far from being confined to the contrast between the West and East and Southeast Asia. Not only is it, in a sense, universal in that it relates to the cultural distinctions which may exist among all the regions of the globe; but it exists within each region at a variety of levels, in particular two of them: the state/ national and the sub-state/national. There is no difference in principle between the debate about the specificity of Asian v. Western values and the debate about the specificity of the values of particular ‘communities’ in a given state/nation or about the specificity of values among different states/nations. Whatever claims are made in the West about the universalistic character of the values which they propound, there are debates about cultural patterns among and within Western countries and these debates are often, to say the least, vigorous. The well-known discussion of the possible impact of Protestantism in fashioning a political culture which is distinct from the Catholic culture is a case in point. Debates of this kind are both well known and endemic among the member-States of the European Union, for instance, as well as within at any rate many, if not all these States with respect to particular areas.2 It is therefore quite wrong to suggest, as is sometimes claimed, that the East is ‘particularistic’ while the West is ‘universalistic’; both are ‘particularistic’ at different points of time and in different circumstances. Whether there are ‘Asian values’ or not, the question arises as to whether the East and Southeast Asian region is culturally united. Serious doubts can be expressed in this respect. To begin with, Japan is manifestly in a different category since its political, social and economic history has been distinct from that of the rest of the area. Korea and Taiwan are also special; the notion of ‘Asian values’ has not been significantly supported in these two countries, although there are marked differences between them in terms of the values which the citizens hold, a point to which we shall return. It is often claimed that the ‘underlying’ values

226 Jean Blondel may be different in the ‘Chinese area’ and in the ‘Malay/Indonesian and Thai areas’. Some of these differences are stressed by Milner who points out that there is a ‘range of perspectives operating within the Asian region’ (2000b, p. 14). Thus an analysis of modes of behaviour of Thai and Indonesian businessmen did show that they displayed substantial differences from the modes of behaviour of their Chinese or Malaysian counterparts (Milner and Quilty, 1997). At a minimum, these findings strongly indicate that a study of variations in cultural patterns within East and Southeast Asia has to be undertaken, both at the level of the intellectual discourse and at the level of empirical findings among the citizens. Before conducting such an inquiry, however, two preliminary steps have to be taken. First, one has to determine what exactly is the scope of those attitudes which are referred to as ‘Asian values’. Second, these attitudes need to be operationalised to discover whether, or more realistically in what proportions, the populations of the region hold these values. The first of these steps is not straightforward, as the supporters of the specificity of these values tend to be long on the ‘causes’ or history of this specificity – religious and/or philosophical – but rather short on what concretely ‘Asian values’ cover. Much of what is said in this context is relatively vague; it is also in part emotional, possibly because much of it is stated from a defensive position. If the views of populations are to be tested, however, these values have to be given a precise concrete content.

II What Asian values are and how they can be operationalised Asian values as relating to norms of a ‘communitarian’ character Perhaps the point which is most commonly stressed about what is regarded as constituting ‘Asian values’, as was pointed out earlier, is that they emphasise the ‘communitarian’ character of society, while, for instance, the societal values of Westerners are regarded as being ‘individualistic’. This communitarian aspect is also a ‘classical’ or traditional standpoint, but it was strengthened and brought particularly to the fore when it was taken up by leaders such as Lee Kuan Yew of Singapore and Mahathir Mohammed of Malaysia in the last decades of the twentieth century. The basis was, as Professor Mab Huang (2000, p. 5) noted, that Lee ‘was agitated by what he saw happening in America’ and, quoting Lee himself: ‘As a total system, I find part of it totally unacceptable: guns, drugs, violent crime, vagrancy, unbecoming behaviour in public – in sum, the breakdown of civil society’. In a sharp contrast, Asian values, to quote Professor Joseph Chan, ‘put great emphasis on communitarian values such as family bondage, communal peace, social harmony, sacrifices for the community and patriotism’ (quoted in Huang, 2000, p. 7, from ‘The Asian Challenge to Universal Human Rights: A Philosophical Appraisal’, 1994, no reference). In this context, as indeed in the rest of this chapter, the word ‘communitarian’ is being used as it is by those who support the idea of the specificity of Asian values, that is to say in opposition to the use of the word ‘individualistic’; it does

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 227 not refer to the ‘deeper’ philosophical (or religious) meaning which it has in the more specialised literature on the subject. More recently, alongside what can be described as the basic communitarian character of society according to those who propound Asian values, another debate has often taken place over the nature and role of ‘human rights’. This more recent ‘human rights’ aspect of the debate can be described as defensive while the traditional communitarian element tends to be on the attack. It is defensive in that it is concerned with rebutting the ‘Western’ claim that those who support Asian values do not care for human rights. The rebuttal takes a variety of forms. It is sometimes suggested, for instance, that there are rights in Asia, but that the stress is somewhat different; or it is said that Asian values emphasise duties more than rights and that this is why Asian societies are more cohesive than Western ones. The human rights aspect of the debate took some prominence in the 1990s and in particular in China, when the authorities in that country, but also in Singapore and Malaysia, felt under attack on the grounds that such rights as freedom of expression, of meeting, of association, were not being respected. The counter-attack, so to speak, was often couched on grounds that the West was imperialistic and hypocritical. As Mahathir of Malaysia said, Western countries ‘threaten sanctions, withdrawal of aid, stoppage of loans, economic and trade boycotts and actual military strikes against those they accuse of violating human rights’ (Huang, 2000, p. 6 from a Mahathir 1994 speech entitled ‘Rethinking Human Rights’). Given the part which the ‘human rights’ question has played in the debate, an analysis of the extent to which Asian values are adopted by the citizens of various countries of East and Southeast Asia and of Western Europe must therefore also consider reactions to rights such as freedom of expression and association alongside reactions to communitarian values. An important characteristic emerges from the observation that ‘Asian values’ define, so to speak, a ‘communitarian’ rather than an ‘individualistic’ society, with the rider, possibly and perhaps even probably consequential, that the emphasis in such a communitarian society is on the duties rather than on the rights of individuals towards family and state. This means that what are described as ‘Asian values’ do not cover all the societal values. They cover ‘only’ what might be described as basic societal values, that is to say those values which are related to the structure of power in the society; they are concerned with who the rulers are and how these rulers rule. This field is broad, but it does not constitute the whole field of societal values as these are also concerned with what the rule is about, that is to say with the policy goals which are pursued by the society, these goals being at the origin of the decisions which are initiated and implemented by the government. These policy elements have not been the subject of the same kind of debate as the ‘basic societal values’; they were probably not deemed to touch as profoundly the nature of the relationship between the citizen and the society. Operationalising Asian values To draft the questions to be put to interviewees, one must use the elements which are ‘usually’ mentioned, to use Milner’s expression, when an attempt is made to

228 Jean Blondel give a concrete impression of what Asian values consist of. On this basis, both Huang and Milner broadly agree, although in neither case is the list which is given presented as comprehensive. Thus Milner states, as a matter of fact in the form of a parenthesis, that Asian values ‘usually … include a stress on hard work, saving, order and harmony, communitarianism, family loyalty and a refusal to compartmentalise religion from other spheres of life’ (Milner, 2000b, pp. 2–3; Milner, in Segal and Goodman, 2000a, pp. 56–68). Meanwhile, Chan, in the earlier quote, states that Asian cultures ‘put great emphasis on communitarian values such as family bondage, communal peace, social harmony, sacrifices for the community and patriotism’ (Chan in Huang, 2000, p. 7). Along the lines suggested by these authors, questions were drafted to be put to interviewees in the countries of the survey in order to discover how far they supported the values which reflected communitarianism. These questions related to the ‘structure of power’ within the family and within the state: the guiding principle is that, for the supporters of Asian values, the individual must accept the importance of the family; the power structure in the family should be based on the control exercised by older male members; at the level of the state, the individual must accept that the government, which manages the state, knows what must be done better than the individual. A point remains difficult to solve, however: since the role of the family must be recognised to be large, it does not follow that the family should be subordinated to the state. The politicians who promote Asian values are most unlikely to be prepared to recognise the full autonomy of the family within the state, to be sure; yet the supporters of Asian values are not specific on this matter, which is, perhaps conveniently, left vague. It did seem important, however, to obtain the reactions of respondents to the problem. Seven questions were thus drafted to inquire into views about the power structure in the family and in the state. To prevent automatic response sets, these questions were not all placed at the same point in the questionnaire. The seven questions are the following: In decisions, older people should be given more influence (Q412e); A women’s primary role is at home (Q412c); Public interest should always come before family (Q412f); Individuals should strive mostly for their own good rather than for the good of society (Q412g); 5 Achieving consensus in society is more important than encouraging a lot of individual initiative (Q412d); 6 The government usually knows best how to run the country (Q306e); 7 We should always do what the government wants instead of acting in our own interest (Q306d). 1 2 3 4

To these were added another two questions designed to tap the reactions of respondents to ‘human rights’ as seen through ‘Western eyes’. These two questions were drawn from among those which have been repeatedly asked in the Michigan election studies. They are:

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 229 8 Everyone should have the right to express his opinion even if he or she differs from the majority (Q208b); 9 People should be allowed to organise public meetings to protest against the government (Q208c). The second of these two questions could not be asked in China, however; it was considered too ‘sensitive’ by the polling organisation in that country. It is therefore possible to find out only to a limited extent what the position of Chinese citizens is in the debate which has opposed, in particular, the Chinese authorities to the Western critics who challenged these authorities in relation to those human rights which are regarded by supporters of Asian values as essentially Western. Finally, alongside the questions specifically relating to the possible existence of an ‘Asian values’ set of responses on communitarian and human rights matters, four questions of a socio-economic character were asked to assess to what extent views of respondents in that field were associated with an ‘Asian values’ position. There is indeed a widespread belief that ‘pro-business’ views are characteristic of the East and Southeast Asian rapidly developing economies. It is therefore important to test whether such attitudes prevail among the population as a whole, even if the matter is not regarded typically as being associated to the ‘Asian values syndrome’. The four ‘socio-economic’ questions are: 10 Competition is good because it stimulates people to develop new ideas (Q306a); 11 Society is better off when businesses are free to make as much profit as they can (Q306g); 12 The government should take responsibility for ensuring that everyone either has a job or is provided with adequate social welfare (Q306b); 13 A good environment is more important than economic growth (Q412b). In total, thirteen questions (only twelve of which were answered in China) were therefore put to interviewees to obtain a picture of views relating to what will henceforth be referred to as ‘basic societal values’. Seven of these were designed to identify the extent to which these interviewees shared the vision of society embedded in the ‘communitarian’ syndrome which is regarded as embodying ‘Asian values’; two aimed at finding out reactions to the controversial matter of the ‘universal’ character of human rights; and the last four attempted to obtain a vision of attitudes towards the preferred socio-economic framework of society. Do ‘Asian values’ appear to constitute a syndrome: a factor analysis Factor analysis tests were conducted to see whether the seven questions which were adopted here to summarise ‘communitarian values’ did cohere, how the two questions designed to elicit answers in relation to human rights related to the other

230 Jean Blondel seven and whether responses to the four socio-economic questions related to each other and to responses to the other nine (Table 9.1). The seven ‘communitarian’ questions give rise to two factors, with the answers relating to the attitudes which citizens should have vis-à-vis the government (Q306d and e) being associated to three other questions, those on the role of consensus (Q412d), on the influence which old people should have (Q412e) and the preference to be given to the society over the family (Q412f). The other two ‘communitarian’ questions, which relate to the role which women should have in society (Q412c) and whether individuals should strive for their own good rather than for that of society (Q412g), are associated with each other. Meanwhile, the two human rights questions (Q208b and c) are closely related to each other in one factor and the four socio-economic questions also give rise to one factor, although, perhaps not surprisingly, the question which relates to the choice to be made between economic growth and the defence of the environment (Q412b) is least associated with the other three. Attitudes to ‘communitarian’ values thus appear to be on a different plane from attitudes to human rights and to socio-economic values, even if the picture becomes less clear-cut when the thirteen variables are examined jointly; there are then four factors, with the socio-economic questions being mainly loaded on the fourth factor. However, these four questions do lose the unity they have when they are analysed separately as the question relating to the right of businesses to make as much profit as they wish is associated with the third factor more than with the new fourth factor and the question relating to the environment is associated with the first and third factors (Table 9.1).

III A common political culture in East and Southeast Asia? Many respondents do not make a definite choice with respect to the set of ‘basic societal’ values Formally at least, the answers to all thirteen questions are remarkable in one respect: there are few ‘don’t knows’ in the replies; overall, in nine cases out of thirteen the proportion of ‘don’t know’ answers is 4 per cent or less; in the other four cases (right to protest (Q208c), ‘the government knows best how to run the country’ (Q306e), ‘the importance of achieving consensus in society’ (Q412d) and ‘society is better off if businesses are free to make as much profit as they can’ (Q306g)) the proportion of ‘don’t know’ answers is 6 per cent. Yet this small proportion of ‘don’t knows’ has to be seen in the light of the fact that, for a large majority of these questions, a substantial proportion of respondents also declare that they ‘neither agree nor disagree’ and thus do not choose. Admittedly, this is in a sense an ‘answer’; it can even be ranked as intermediate between stating agreement and stating disagreement. Yet because they are also a refusal to take sides, answers of this kind have at least to be related to ‘don’t know’ replies. This is particularly so since the proportion of respondents who fall in that category is large; in some cases, it is very large indeed.

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 231 Table 9.1 Factor analyses of questions covering human rights, communication and socioeconomic values 1 All 13 variables Human rights Communitarian values

Socio-economic values

Factors 208b 208c 306d

1 238 –6.71E–02 323

306e 412c 412d 412e 412f 412g 306a

300 179 637 607 654 123 5.36E–02

306b 306g 412b

105 –121 446

2 –528 –583 573

3 –157 361 144

4 344 163 187

570 –1.44E–02 3.13E–02 221 138 4.766E–02 106

128 633 –501E–03 160 2.266E–02 593 –9.43E–02

304 –170 9.681E–02 4.178E–02 4.808E–02 –3.52E–02 670

–111 106 –266

–1.931E–03 593 263 2

655 423 6.989E–03

2 Human rights and ‘communitarian’ only questions Human rights Communitarian values

Factors 208b 208c 306d

1 134 –213 635

306e 412c 412d 412e 412f 412g

657 9.958E–02 586 615 623 102

2 207 331 134

3 795 637 –264

–3.404E–.02 729 2–058E–02 236 4.179E–02 700

–196 –2.02E–03 199 2.792E–03 7.732E–02 –1.18E–03

3 Socio-economic questions only Factor 306a 306b 306g 412b Notes Human rights questions 208b – Right to express one’s opinion 208c – Right to organise public protest meetings Communitarian values 306d – Do what government wants 306e – Government usually knows best 412c – Woman’s primary role in the home 412d – Important to achieve consensus 412e – Give extra influence to older people 412f – Public interest before family 412g – Individuals should strive for their own good more than society

1 601 654 503 474

Socio-economic values 306a – Competition good 306b – Responsibility of government to provide jobs or social welfare 306g – Society better if businesses free to make profits 412b – Good environment more important than economic growth

232 Jean Blondel On ten of the thirteen questions, the proportion of these ‘neither agree nor disagree’ answers is 20 per cent or more; it is between a fifth and a quarter in three cases, a fifth in three cases and between 29 and 31 per cent in two cases (‘achieving consensus in society …’ (Q412d) and ‘individuals should strive most of all for their own good …’ (Q412g)). The only three cases in which the proportion of ‘neither agree nor disagree’ is relatively low (9 to 12 per cent) is on the human rights question relating to ‘the right to express an opinion’ (Q208b) and on two of the four socio-economic questions (‘competition is good …’ (Q306a) and ‘society is better when businesses are free …’ (Q306b)). If the proportions of ‘neither agree nor disagree’ are added to the proportions of ‘don’t knows’, the range of ‘uncommitted or somewhat uncommitted’ respondents is of the order of 10 or 11 per cent in these three cases, about a fifth in two, over a quarter in seven and over a third (35 per cent) in one. The proportion of ‘neither agree nor disagree’ answers is thus much larger than the proportion of ‘don’t knows’. In one country, Japan, that difference is very large indeed, however; the proportion of those who declare, with respect to all thirteen ‘basic societal values’, that they ‘neither agree nor disagree’ is 37 per cent and it rises to 46 per cent when those who declare that they do not know are added, while the corresponding proportions for the nine Asian countries is 20 per cent. Yet Japan is not the only country of the region in which proportions of respondents who ‘neither agree nor disagree’ are rather large; this suggests that there might be ‘cultures’ of ‘fence-sitting respondents’ v. ‘cultures’ of ‘decided respondents’, unless, more prosaically, variations from one country to another in this respect are due to differences in reactions to interviewing. Given that such substantial proportions do not choose, the relevant groups have to be regarded as constituting a substantial part of the overall picture of the value patterns of respondents in Asian countries.3 Variations in the extent to which respondents are supportive Apart from answering ‘don’t know’ or ‘neither agree nor disagree’, respondents were given four choices. They could say that they ‘strongly agreed’, that they ‘agreed’, that they ‘disagreed’ or that they ‘strongly disagreed’. By and large the proportions of those who ‘strongly agreed’ or of those who ‘strongly disagreed’ were small, the main exception being with respect to the ‘human rights’ question concerned with the freedom of expression (Q208b) where East and Southeast Asian respondents divided 31 to 51 per cent between those who ‘strongly agreed’ and those who ‘agreed’.4 It seems therefore reasonable to consider jointly the two groups of respondents who agreed and the two groups of respondents who disagreed. The ratio between these two groups varies sharply. In three cases, that ratio is 19 to 1; on the human rights question about the freedom of expression (Q208b), on the socio-economic questions about the value of competition (Q306a) and on the role of the government in providing jobs (Q306b), respectively 95 and 98 per cent of those who expressed an opinion agreed with the statement proposed. On

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 233 these three questions, there is thus manifestly almost total agreement and, given that the extent of agreement is so large, it can be concluded that there is indeed a common view among respondents from the region. This is not so on the other questions, however, as there is appreciably more division of opinion. Admittedly, in six cases, three ‘communitarian’, one on human rights and two socio-economic, that division of opinion is limited, since the statement proposed is endorsed by four- or even five-to-one majorities; but in the other four cases, all ‘communitarian’ (Q306d, Q412c, f and g), the amount of support and the amount of opposition are much closer to each other (Table 9.2). While the fact that opinion should be divided in this way does not constitute by itself a proof that there is no ‘common’ culture among East and Southeast Asian respondents, the existence of a divided opinion indicates that any ‘common’ culture which might exist can only be at best a ‘majority’ culture. Divided opinion also suggests that one must go beyond overall patterns of preferences and see whether there are substantial variations in the way that opinion is divided among the nine countries; for if there are variations across countries in the patterns of responses, it will become difficult to conclude that such a ‘common cultural pattern’ does exist. To determine whether there is a common pattern in the attitudes of citizens in East and Southeast Asia, we need therefore to examine comparatively the way in which opinion is distributed with respect to each of the thirteen questions in the nine countries which are analysed here. This can be done by finding out the extent to which responses are spread out on both sides of the mean for these questions. We know that support is overwhelming in three cases only; in these cases at least, the fact that the support is overwhelming means also that the spread around the mean among the countries is likely to be small. If the spread is also small with respect to some other questions, we may at least be able to conclude that, on these questions, whatever division of opinion there might be one which is shared by respondents from all the countries of the region. To undertake the comparison across the countries for each of the questions, however, a compound indicator summarising the position of respondents in each country with respect to the question concerned must be elaborated. Having already decided to consider jointly all those who agree, on the one hand, and, on the other, all those who disagree, we can obtain a compound indicator simply by subtracting the proportion of those who disagree with the statement proposed from the proportion of those who agree; the resulting figure gives a picture of the extent of relative support for the statement. Admittedly, that indicator does not take into account the ‘don’t knows’ and those who ‘neither agree nor disagree’; but it does at least make it possible to compare the standpoints of respondents on each ‘basic societal value’ question with respect to that particular question and thus to discover whether these standpoints tend to be the same or to vary from country to country.

234 Jean Blondel Table 9.2 Distribution of agree, disagree and ‘not deciding’ answers to the thirteen ‘basic societal value’ questions (percentages) Agree

Disagree

Difference agree/disagree

Don’t know or no answer

Ratio agree/ disagree

Freedom of speech (Q208b)

82

4

78

14

95

Freedom of protest (Q208c)

52

21

31

27

71

Government knows best (Q306e) Do what government wants (Q306d)

56

17

39

27

77

42

31

11

27

58

Increase influence of old (Q412e)

58

16

42

26

78

Prefer consensus (Q412d)

51

14

37

35

78

Women at home (Q412c)

30

46

–16

24

39

Public v. family (Q412f)

42

29

13

29

59

Individual v. society (Q412g)

31

34

–3

35

48

Competition good (Q306a)

85

4

81

11

95

Govt resp. for jobs (Q306b)

86

2

84

12

98

Better if bus. free for profits (Q306g)

52

20

32

28

72

Environment or growth (Q412b)

58

14

44

28

81

Very limited traces of a common political culture in East and Southeast Asia The evidence from the answers given by respondents suggests that the citizens of East and Southeast Asia do not have a truly common political culture. Among the thirteen questions designed to tap attitudes to the human rights, ‘communitarian’

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 235 and socio-economic values which are analysed here, out of a maximum possible spread of the answers of 200 points, only in two cases is that spread really small (14 and 17 points respectively) and in another case relatively small (27 points). The spread is significant in a fourth case (41 points) and becomes substantial in another three (between 57 and 69 points). It is large in three cases (between 77 and 84 points) and indeed very large in the last three cases (between 106 and 112 points). On the basis of such findings, it is clearly not permissible to conclude that there is unity in the attitudes of East and Southeast Asian respondents with respect to the thirteen ‘basic societal values’ which are examined here. As a matter of fact, the spread is appreciably larger in the East and Southeast Asian region than it is in the Western European region (66 points as against 50 points on average). Moreover, the two questions where the spread is smallest are rather peculiar in character. They relate to views about freedom of expression (Q208b) and about the responsibility of governments for jobs (Q306b), both of these questions being supported by very large majorities across the board not just in East and Southeast Asia but in Western Europe as well, with the single exception of Germany with respect to the responsibility of governments for jobs (Q 306b). These two questions are indeed among those about which there is least difference between Western European and East and Southeast Asian respondents; thus the fact that there are very similar attitudes among East and Southeast Asian respondents on these two issues cannot be regarded as surprising. Admittedly, given that the evidence on which this study is based covers only Western European and East and Southeast Asian respondents, it cannot be concluded that the reactions to these two questions would be nearly identical all over the world; but it can at least be noted that the reactions to be found among the large majority of East and Southeast Asians on these two matters are not characteristic of East and Southeast Asians only. The spread of attitudes with respect to ‘communitarian’ issues is larger than with respect to human rights and to socio-economic attitudes. It is 87 points on average while being 51 and 37 points in the context of human rights and of socio-economic questions respectively. This suggests that there is less difference in attitudes from one East and Southeast Asian country to another on these last two types of questions than on ‘communitarian’ questions. Yet ‘communitarian’ values can be regarded as being concerned in a fundamental way with the beliefs of individuals about their relationship to society; one might therefore have expected that the views of respondents would be closer to each other on these matters than on others. As this is not the case, the notion that respondents hold a really common pattern of values is further undermined. Indeed, the detailed variations in attitudes with respect to ‘communitarian’ values among East and Southeast Asian respondents are a further indication of the extent to which the very existence of a common East and Southeast Asian political culture is in question. The spread of the difference between positive and negative replies is never below 57 points out of 200 and it is among ‘communitarian’ questions that the spread can be over 100 points, that is to say that, at one extreme, the difference may be 50 per cent in favour and, at the other extreme, 50 per cent against the policy suggested. The three questions which fall in this category are

236 Jean Blondel whether one should always do what the government wants (Q306d), what the role of women should be (Q412c) and whether one should prefer the family to society (Q412f). It is surely not permissible to conclude that the citizens of East and Southeast Asian countries have a common political culture on the basis of such a record. Admittedly, in the case of five of these seven ‘communitarian’ questions, the spread is rendered wider because of the reactions of Japanese respondents. Given that Japan was the first country of the area to industrialise and to adopt modes of political and economic behaviour resembling closely those of Western European countries, it might be felt that the attitudes of Japanese respondents would differ markedly from those of other East and Southeast Asian countries. There is indeed some difference, but it is not sufficient to account for the absence of a common culture across the region; while the average spread among all nine countries is 87 points, it is still 69 points if Japan is excluded. As a matter of fact, Japanese respondents are not those who hold a position at the end of the range on either of the human rights questions; they hold such a position on two of the four socioeconomic questions, especially on competition – they are more likely to be against competition – and to a more limited extent on the role of the government about jobs; the spread among the other eight countries of the region on socio-economic questions is 29 points as against 37 when Japan is included – not a vast difference. Thus the spread of the reactions of respondents in the region, whether Japan is or is not included, is not small enough, except on three questions, to suggest that there is a common political culture. There are not even ‘fragments’ of a common culture, as in Western Europe, but only ‘traces’ of such a culture with respect to some of the socio-economic questions and with respect to freedom of speech.

IV Are there systematic intraregional divisions in East and Southeast Asia? Given that it seems to be the case that there is no ‘common’ culture, among citizens at least, across East and Southeast Asia, the next step has to be to look for evidence which might indicate that recognisable patterns of ‘sub-regional’ cultures exist. Following the historical distinctions which are frequently made, there is naturally a need to consider whether the attitudes of respondents do suggest a contrast between a ‘Chinese’ and a ‘Malay’ culture among the population of the countries concerned. Other possible divisions should also be examined, however. Especially if the ‘Chinese–Malay’ distinction is not altogether clear-cut, one might have to conclude that there are more than two sub-regional groupings or perhaps even that the sub-regional groupings which exist are ‘imperfect’. The number of sub-regional groupings on the basis of which political culture in East and Southeast Asia can be divided can vary from two to three, four, or more; at the limit there may not even be any definable sub-group of states with a common political culture in the region, if no two countries can be found whose citizens hold the same ‘basic societal values’ in roughly the same proportions. It would then have to be concluded that the countries of East and Southeast Asia

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 237 which are analysed here differ from each other in terms of the reactions of citizens to the battery of questions adopted in this study to operationalise ‘basic societal values’. Prima facie at least, it might then follow that the shaping of the values of citizens takes place more within each state than at the level of the region or even sub-region, although it cannot be concluded on this basis that the state is responsible for the shaping of these values. In order to determine whether there are cultural ‘sub-regions’, it is not so much the extent of spread as the absence of overlap between the countries belonging to different ‘sub-regions’ which need to be monitored. For instance, if the spread is large among a number of countries, it is clearly not permissible to claim that these countries are truly culturally associated, at any rate with respect to the question under consideration. Moreover, if there were to be a substantial overlap between the countries which are expected to belong to different ‘sub-regions’, as between countries belonging to the ‘Chinese’ cultural area and countries belonging to the ‘Malay’ cultural area, with respect to a particular question, it would clearly not be permissible to claim, with respect to that question at least, that the attitudes of the respondents truly divide into two ‘sub-regions’. The way in which the respondents from East and Southeast Asian countries divide is presented in Table 9.3. The ‘Chinese–Malay’ division plays a very limited part in accounting for variations among patterns of political culture in East and Southeast Asia. While there is no clear evidence on which to base the claim that there is a common East and Southeast Asian political culture, the existence of a sharp divide between a ‘Chinese’ and a ‘Malay’ political culture is also in question. As we noted earlier, for the respondents’ answers to suggest that such a divide is fundamental, the answers from the two relevant sets of countries would have both not to be spread out and not to overlap (or scarcely to overlap). The existence of a ‘Chinese–Malay’ divide depends therefore on there being sharp variations of attitudes between the respondents of Japan, Korea, China, Taiwan and Singapore, on the one hand, and the respondents of Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines, on the other. When the nine countries of the region are divided into these two separate groups, however, it appears that the ‘Chinese–Malay’ distinction does not ‘explain’ many variations. Only with respect to one question, that which relates to the role of consensus (Q412d), is there no overlap at all between the respondents from these two groups; those from the ‘Chinese’ cultural area are markedly less in favour of consensus than those from the ‘Malay’ cultural area, although the opposition to consensus is smaller in Singapore, whose respondents divide almost in the same way as the respondents from the Philippines. The fact that the Singaporeans are close to those of the ‘Malay’ cultural area is indicative of what is likely to be at least one of the reasons for the reactions of the two groups of countries on the issue of consensus; the countries belonging to the ‘Malay’ cultural area are all, to some degree at least, constrained to be multi-cultural, Singapore being close in this respect to the countries of the ‘Malay’ cultural area. Not only Malaysians, but at least Indonesians and Thais, if not Filipinos to the same extent, are confronted with powerful, even if not necessarily large, Chinese communities which they have

238 Jean Blondel Table 9.3 Are there Chinese and Malay sub-regions in East and Southeast Asia? Sino group

Malay group

China 86 Japan 72 Singapore 74 South Korea 82 Taiwan 68 Average 74

Indonesia 82 Malaysia 75 Philippines 74 Thailand 82

China Japan 58 Singapore –8 South Korea 78 Taiwan 2 Average 32

Indonesia 48 Malaysia 10 Philippines 32 Thailand 48

China 40 Japan –54 Singapore 18 South Korea –12 Taiwan 58 Average 10

Indonesia 18 Malaysia 42 Philippines 50 Thailand –38

China 26 Japan 34 Singapore 58 South Korea 68 Taiwan 2 Average 36

Indonesia 8 Malaysia 48 Philippines 18 Thailand 38

China 18 Japan 2 Singapore 50 South Korea 12 Taiwan 22 Average 20

Indonesia 58 Malaysia 60 Philippines 52 Thailand 64

Women’s place in the home (Q412c)

China –68 Japan –4 Singapore –32 South Korea 32 Taiwan –12 Average –18

Indonesia –26 Malaysia –12 Philippines 4 Thailand –42

Good environment better than economic growth (Q412b)

China 54 Japan 34 Singapore 41 South Korea 56 Taiwan 40 Average 42

Indonesia 26 Malaysia 44 Philippines 38 Thailand 40

Rights to express an opinion (Q208b)

Organise protest meetings * (Q208c)

Should do what government wants (Q306d)

Society better if business free to make profits (Q306g)

Consensus better than individual initiative (Q412d)

Average 76

Average 33

Average 20

Average 26

Average 57

Average –22

Average 36

Difference between average scores for each group

2

1

10

10

37

4

6

Note * Scores derived by summing disagree and strongly disagree responses and subtracting the total from the sum of agree and strongly agree responses.

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 239 to take into account and agree with on many points. The fact that there is a clear divide between the respondents from the two country groupings with respect to consensus must thus not be regarded as a ‘true’ instance of a ‘cultural’ distinction, but as the practical consequence of the condition in which the countries of the two cultural areas find themselves. There is therefore is no evidence to support the view that the ‘basic societal values’ of citizens in the two cultural areas are different. There are, admittedly, some variations from question to question in the nature and extent of the mix between the countries of the two cultural areas. If one leaves aside not merely the question on consensus, but the two questions where the spread is very small, that which relates to the freedom of expression (Q208b) (17 points) and that relating to the role of the government with respect to jobs (Q306b) (14 points), three patterns emerge. (1) In three cases, there is really ‘confusion’ in the sense that the mix is total; these are the question on when to obey the government (Q306d), the question on the choice between family and society (Q412f) and especially the question on the part which women should play (Q412c). (2) In four cases, there is more of a clustering between the two groups: the question asking whether the government knows best (Q306e), the question on the part which old people should play (Q412e), the question on the extent to which businesses should make profits (Q306g) and the question on the choice between growth and the environment (Q412b). (3) Finally, in the last three cases, respondents from the ‘Malay’ cultural area are almost entirely, and in two cases entirely, in the middle, with respondents from the ‘Chinese’ cultural area at both ends of the range; this is the pattern characterising the answers to the question on the right to demonstrate (Q208c) – to which, as has been pointed out, Chinese respondents were not given the opportunity to answer, the question on the choice between the individual and the public interest (Q412g) and the question on competition (Q306a). While there are thus degrees in the extent to which the countries are mixed with respect to their attitudes to ‘basic societal values’, the mix is very large; there are therefore no prima facie grounds for suggesting a distinction of the countries of the East and Southeast Asian region into two sub-regional ‘Chinese’ and ‘Malay’ cultural areas. Do the attitudes of Japanese respondents suggest that they should not be included in the ‘Chinese’ cultural area? We have noted already that the attitudes of Japanese respondents differed substantially from those of respondents from other countries of the region and contributed therefore to increasing the spread of the reactions of the respondents of the area. That spread remained none the less so large, especially on ‘communitarian’ questions, that it was not permissible to conclude that the absence of a common culture in the region could be said to be due to the fact that Japan was included in the group. Prima facie, the exclusion of Japan from the ‘Chinese’ cultural area countries appears to have a significant effect in rendering that area more ‘compact’. If one leaves aside the two questions on which the spread is very

240 Jean Blondel small overall, the question on freedom of expression (Q208b) and the question on the role of government on jobs (Q306b), the exclusion of Japan from the ‘Chinese’ cultural area makes a difference in seven of the eleven remaining questions; in five of these seven, the difference is substantial: the question about when to obey the government (Q306d), the question about whether the government knows best (Q306e), the question on the part which old people should play (Q412e), the question relating to the choice between the family and society (Q412f) and the question on competition (Q306a). Moreover, only in relation to the role of women (Q412c) does the spread of the answers among the respondents of the ‘Chinese’ cultural area remain very large (106 points) even when Japan is not included. Interestingly, however, the spread does not change with respect to the right to hold protest meetings (Q208c). Yet, even if Japanese respondents are not included, the spread of answers among respondents in the four other countries of the ‘Chinese’ cultural area remains large (41 points on average); it is indeed marginally larger than among the four countries of the ‘Malay’ cultural area. Thus, while Japanese respondents differ in substantial ways from the respondents of the other countries of the ‘Chinese’ cultural area, especially in terms of attitudes to the role of the government and to the role of competition, the answers of the respondents from the other four countries of the ‘Chinese’ cultural area remain too spread out to be said to form a single sub-regional culture. Moreover, the extent of overlap between the countries of the ‘Chinese’ and ‘Malay’ cultural areas is not significantly altered if Japan is not included. Are the attitudes of the respondents from semi-authoritarian countries significantly different from those from liberal democratic countries? At least four of the thirteen questions examined here could be regarded as likely to raise problems in the semi-authoritarian countries of the area; indeed, the question relating to the right to organise protest meetings (Q208c) was not asked in China at all. It may be that the respondents did react in an idiosyncratic manner to these ‘problematic’ questions, either because of some worry about the extent to which their views might become known or because political socialisation is such that these respondents are likely to be more favourable to the government than where the regime is liberal-democratic. The fully liberal-democratic countries are Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines and Thailand; China, Singapore and Malaysia are not, although, admittedly, to a varying extent; the case of Indonesia is less clear-cut. While the country was unquestionably ruled in an authoritarian manner under Suharto, a fully open election had taken place by the time the survey was conducted in 2000. Yet the survey is based on attitudes of respondents most of whom would have lived all their life under a regime which was not liberal; traces of this authoritarianism are likely to have remained – if it is indeed the case that attitudes are shaped to an extent by the regime under which citizens live. As

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 241 a matter of fact, comments of a somewhat similar character have to be made in relation to four of the five ‘liberal countries; in effect, apart from Japan, the regime was authoritarian in these countries for substantial periods up to the 1980s, even the late 1980s. However, given that the case of Indonesia is the most borderline, it is only with respect to that country that the data was examined in two ways, one including Indonesia and the other excluding it from the group of the semi-authoritarian countries. The spread of the answers to the thirteen questions is markedly larger among the liberal-democratic countries than among the semi-authoritarian countries (58 points against 29); the spread is reduced to 45 points among the other four liberal-democratic countries if Japan is not included, but a substantial gap does remain; even these four liberal-democratic countries thus do not constitute a cohesive group. There is, moreover, a marked amount of overlap among the two groups of countries: as a matter of fact, there is not even one question on which there is not some overlap; indeed the question on consensus gives rise to the greatest mix between the liberal-democratic and the semi-authoritarian countries. There are variations in the extent to which the two groups are ‘mixed’, but, overall, that mix is somewhat less pronounced, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, than when the countries are divided into ‘Chinese’ and ‘Malay’ sub-regional groupings. Given that the distinction is between liberal-democratic and at least somewhat authoritarian regimes, it was to be expected that the contrast – that is to say small spread in each sub-group and limited overlap between the two sub-groups – would be sharpest in reply to the two human rights questions (Q208b and c) and among the two questions relating to the attitudes of citizens vis-à-vis the government (Q306d and e). This is indeed the case in terms of overlap: the ‘mix’ is less marked with respect to these four questions than with respect to seven of the nine others; but the spread is substantial, especially among liberal-democratic countries, except with respect to the question relating to the freedom of expression (Q208b) where in any case the spread is small overall. Indeed, the spread remains high on all these questions even if Japan is not included with the other liberal-democratic countries, although there is then some reduction of the spread at least on the two questions relating to the attitudes of citizens vis-à-vis the government (Q306d and e). Yet one would have expected that the liberal-democratic countries would have had a more ‘compact’ type of reaction with respect to these four questions; in reality, only four of the five liberal countries have a ‘compact’ reaction with respect to the right to organise protest meetings (Q208c) and only three of the five have a ‘compact’ reaction with respect to the two questions relating to the attitudes of citizens vis-à-vis the government (Q306d and e). Taiwan constitutes the exception in all three cases and the Philippines in two of them. On the right to organise protest meetings (Q208c), Taiwanese respondents are close to the Singaporeans and Malaysians (while the Chinese were not asked the question); Taiwanese and Filipino respondents are also close to Singaporeans and Malaysians on the question whether the government knows best (Q306e), while Taiwanese respondents are the most ‘illiberal’ of all respondents on whether

242 Jean Blondel one should always obey the government (Q306d), more than Filipinos, Malaysians and Chinese. Such attitudes on the part of Taiwanese and Filipino respondents on these questions are clearly surprising; they are in sharp contrast with the character of the regime. Thus, on three of these questions, Japanese and Taiwanese respondents occupy the two extreme opposite positions. Moreover, Taiwanese respondents are also close to respondents of the authoritarian countries on four ‘communitarian’ questions (Q412c, d, e, and f) and on competition (Q306a). The attitudes of Filipino respondents are also close to those of the Taiwanese on three of these five ‘communitarian’ questions (Q412c, d and g). Taiwanese respondents and to an extent Filipino respondents account therefore in part for the large spread of the answers to these questions; this is so in part only, admittedly, as Koreans and Thais are also distant from each other on the right to organise protest demonstrations (Q208c) and on the two questions concerned with the attitudes citizens should have vis-à-vis the government (Q306d and e). Yet the attitudes of Taiwanese and Filipino respondents are those which differ most from those of the respondents of the other three liberal-democratic countries. The attitudes of respondents from the liberal-democratic countries are spread out, not merely with respect to issues which are directly related to liberal problems, but more broadly; such a ‘stretching’ does not occur to the same extent among the authoritarian countries. As a matter of fact, the reactions of Indonesian respondents are not markedly different from those of the respondents from China, Singapore or Malaysia; the spread is reduced only by three points, from 29 to 26, when Indonesia is not included in the group. It cannot be demonstrated that the limited character of this difference is due to the fact that, as was hypothesised earlier, the long period of authoritarian rule had a durable impact on the views of the average Indonesian citizen. What emerges, however, is that the attitudes of Indonesian respondents resemble in many cases the attitudes of respondents from the authoritarian countries, although it is intermediate between the two groups on the human rights questions (Q208b and c) and on the two questions concerned with the way in which citizens should react vis-à-vis the government (Q306d and e). There is therefore some evidence suggesting that the distinction between liberal-democratic and authoritarian rule leads to elements of a sub-regional division. This is so with some reservations, however. First, the clustering is not markedly greater than in terms of the division between respondents from countries belonging to the ‘Chinese’ cultural area and respondents from countries belonging to the ‘Malay’ cultural area. Second, while the authoritarian sub-regional grouping is relatively compact, the liberal-democratic sub-regional ‘grouping’ is not, partly because Japanese respondents are more liberal than the respondents of the other countries and partly because Taiwanese and to an extent Filipino respondents are less liberal and therefore fairly close to the respondents of the authoritarian countries. Third, the question does remain as to why respondents from the authoritarian countries are somewhat close to each other in terms of their attitudes, even if this similarity must not be exaggerated; as was suggested earlier, the reasons may be diverse.

Citizens’ values in East and Southeast Asia 243

Conclusion The main aim of this chapter was to consider whether there was evidence among the population at large supporting the conclusion that East and Southeast Asian citizens held broadly similar views about ‘basic societal values’; the exploration of attitudes showed that this was not the case. Nor is the distinction between a ‘Chinese’ and a ‘Malay’ cultural background the basis for a ‘sub-regional’ division into two broadly distinct and compact sets of attitudes towards ‘basic societal values’; that ‘classical’ division seemingly accounts only for a limited part of the variations which are registered from state to state in attitudes to these values. Meanwhile, an ideological divide related to the liberal-democratic or authoritarian character of the polity appears to have some, but only some explanatory potential, especially with respect to the authoritarian countries, whose citizens appear to be more united in their standpoints than the citizens of the liberal-democratic countries of the region. It is impossible to determine whether or not this state of affairs is recent on the basis of the cross-sectional evidence on which the study examined here is based. What is clear is that the evidence from the political culture of East and Southeast Asian citizens is not sufficiently strong currently to lead to the conclusion that these citizens hold ‘Asian values’ in any systematic manner, whatever views some of the members of the elite of that region may have on the matter.

Notes 1 The ‘Asia–Europe Survey’ was administered at the end of 2000 and covered 18 countries, nine in Western Europe and nine in East and Southeast Asia, on the basis of samples of about 1,000 interviewees in each country. The survey aimed at analysing the ‘basic societal values’ and the attitudes to globalisation among citizens in the two regions. The analysis is being published in two volumes on Political Cultures by J. Blondel and T. Inoguchi London: Routledge, forthcoming) and Attitudes to Globalisation in Europe and East and Southeast Asia by J. Blondel, T. Inoguchi, I. Kabashima, I. Marsh and R. Sinnott. 2 The point is developed in particular in Political Cultures, Chapter 3. 3 ‘Fence-sitters’ are also almost as numerous in Western Europe. See Political Cultures, Chapter 2. 4 Attitudes towards freedom of expression are similar in Western Europe. See Political Cultures, Chapter 2.

Bibliography Mab Huang (1994) ‘The Asian Challenge to Universal Human Rights: A Philosophical Appraisal’, unpublished. Mab Huang (2000) ‘Debating Asian Values: Saying Too Little or Saying Too Much’, Program for Southeast Asian Area Studies (PROSEA) Academia Sinica, Taipeh, # 31, 5. Milner, A. (2000a) ‘What happened to Asian values’, in G. Segal and D. Goodman (eds), Toward Recovery in Pacific Asia, London: Routledge, pp. 56–68.

244 Jean Blondel Milner, A. (2000b) ‘ASEAN + 3, “Asia” Consciousness and Asian Values’, PROSEA Research Paper # 39, October. Milner, A. and M. Quilty (eds) (1997) Asia in Australia: Comparing Cultures, Melbourne: Oxford University Press. The National Interest (1998) ‘Can Asians Think’, 52, Summer, p. 35. Parrish, W.L. and C. Chi-hsiang Chang (1996) ‘Political Values in Taiwan: Sources of Change and Constancy’, in Hung-mao Tien (ed.), Taiwan’s Electoral Politics and Democratic Transition, London: Sharpe, pp. 27–41.

Part IV

Conclusion

10 Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity in East and Southeast Asia Ian Marsh

The chapters collected in this study have reviewed comparatively aspects of democratisation, governance and regionalism. This final chapter summarises the overall findings and identifies specific issues that merit further analysis. Its focus is the general concept of state capacity. This refers to the ability of governments to mobilise the political, technical and administrative capabilities to ‘penetrate’ their societies, to extract the necessary resources and, in some accounts, to lead adaptation and transformation (e.g. Painter and Pierre, 2005; Weiss, 2003). In keeping with the dynamic forces that are reshaping state capacity, most attention has been devoted to governance as the short-term register of democratisation, political socialisation as its longer-term register, and regionalism as its primary potential external buttress. As Dalton (2000, 926 has remarked (and Richard Sinnott’s essay on political culture affirms), this creates an especial opportunity for students of politics: The new democratic party systems of … east Asia face the task of developing the basic structure of electoral choice … This presents a unique opportunity … to examine how new party attachments take root, the relationships between social groups and parties form, party images develop and citizens learn the process of representative democracy … The creation of party systems in a world of global television, greater knowledge about electoral politics (from the elite and public levels), and fundamentally different electorates is unlikely to follow the pattern of Western Europe in the 1920s … The true test is whether scholarship focuses on these broad questions or simply replicates earlier scholarship of the west. The Asian values promulgated by Lee Kuan Yew may have been a cover for one-party rule. But whether distinctive political orders emerge to match the already distinctive business systems (e.g. Redding, 2002; Whitely, 1999) will be of wider significance. Regional political development is also of especial interest because of its close association, at least in several cases, with state-led economic development. This is in states that are profoundly exposed to the pressures of economic globalisation

248 Ian Marsh (e.g. Chu in Kohli et al., 2003). At a domestic level, there is scholarly disagreement about the extent to which, in particular cases, relations between the state and private interests should be characterised by the perverse term ‘clientelism’, or the positive term ‘governed interdependence’ (e.g. Khan and Jomo, 2000). Whilst the Philippines is characterised as clientelist, it is less clear how, for example, business–government relations should be described in Korea and Taiwan, much less Thailand, Indonesia and Malaysia. Further, the rapid development of industrial sectors in six of these seven societies has mostly been accompanied by the suppression or at least discouragement of trade unions. Korea is the exception. With democracy, limits on freedom of association are harder to sustain (but not impossible as the experience of Singapore and Malaysia illustrates). The findings of this study are summarised in the following three sections. In keeping with its themes, the first section considers issues of political socialisation, the second section considers some impacts of democratisation on aspects of governance and the third section the distinctiveness of Asian regionalism. A concluding section summarises the implications of all these developments for state capacity and democratic consolidation.

Representation, mobilisation and socialisation The promise of democratic governance – citizens who freely will their own constraints – remains an ideal that is far from realisation in Western states. But the distance between the legal form and the democratic substance in regional states remains large. Political socialisation is the process through which this gap might progressively close. One pattern of socialisation was associated with western democratic development. What patterns might be emerging in the states of East and Southeast Asia? Democracy without partisans? Richard Sinnott’s chapter on political culture makes clear the wide variances between individual countries in political socialisation. Attachment to democratic norms and processes mostly remains shallow. How might such attachments develop? As Jean Blondel’s chapter shows, in western experience, mass political parties were the agents not only of democratic representation, but also of democratic socialisation. The causal sequence may have varied between countries. But democracy was everywhere the fruit of a bottom-up agitation based partly in the emergence of an industrial working class, partly on the development of trade unions and partly on ideologies of labourism, socialism or communism. Mass political parities progressively emerged to spearhead political advocacy. Coalitions with bourgeois, agrarian or religious interests were variously formed. By such means, and also as a result of war and civil war, liberal or authoritarian political systems were progressively displaced by liberal democratic regimes. In the literature on political development, the role of mass parties was critical. These bodies not only represented citizen views, they also contributed to the

Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity 249 formation of citizens. They politicised identity. For example, the following describes the socialising and mobilising contribution of the German Social Democratic party in its first years: There emerged in the years leading up to World War 1 a socialist counterculture and interlocking institutions. Aside from the party organisation, with over one million members by 1914, there was the massive union organisation with 2.5 million members. Then there was the party press – 90 daily papers with a circulation of 1.5 million copies, a humorous weekly with a circulation of 380,000, a multitude of other publications (e.g. Der Arbeiter-Radfahrer – The Worker Cyclist – circulation 168,000), printing houses and more. Isolated from mainstream society by choice or imposition, often banned from or unwelcome at the non-socialist societies, the socialist sub-culture created their own societies. There were socialist sporting organisations – cycling, football, athletics (with a multitude of sub-societies, e.g. boxing), swimming, hiking, rowing, sailing; socialist educational institutions (including 1100 libraries, 800,000 volumes, 365 librarians with their own journal); socialist cultural organisations like choral societies, theatres and much more. The SPD laid siege to mainstream society with an entire parallel social structure. (Norman, 2001, p. 48) Whilst this pattern was not replicated in detail in other states, an analogous story might be told about the development of the Labour or Liberal Parties in the UK, of liberal and radical parties in France, of Social Democratic parties in Scandinavia, and of Catholic and Social Democratic parties in the Netherlands (on Catholic influence see van Kersbergen, 1995). These national experiences were theorised and formalised in the comparative study of political parties. For example, V.O. Keys (1964) listed the contributions of the mass political parties to general mobilisation and socialisation: Parties in the electorate: Simplify choices for voters Educate citizens Generate symbols of identification and loyalty Mobilise people to participate Parties as organisations Recruit political leadership and seeking government office. Train political elites Articulate political interests Aggregate political interests (Keys 1964, cited in Dalton and Wattenberg, 2000) In the process of ‘making’ partisans the mass parties also ‘made’ citizens. Whatever mutations these parties may since have undergone, their roles in ‘creating’ and sustaining specifically political (i.e. liberal democratic) identities, aggregating

250 Ian Marsh interests and promoting programmes were fundamental both to democratic consolidation and to state capacity. A different pattern was evident in the United States where political socialisation was as much embedded in the development of national as in partisan identity (Huntington, 1981). This originated in the revolutionary genesis of the American republic, a pattern that is not replicated in any regional state. Democratic politics in western states beyond the United States would be inconceivable without the mass party phase. Yet democracy is taking root in the Asian states not just without this phase, but also without any immediate prospect of its occurrence. Save for Taiwan and Malaysia, the cleavages – ideological, centre–periphery, religious – that differentiated identities and were the essential foundation for party development either do not exist or do not have political salience. Nor are the organisational forms that would provide a durable foundation for party development in evidence. Save for UMNO in Malaysia, the major parties in Taiwan and perhaps the Democratic Party in Thailand, parties in the states covered have no or very limited branch structures, no mass memberships, no internal policy development mechanisms, and virtually no or very limited durable organisations. Where a durable organisation exists, its focus is the leadership group rather than the membership base. Nor are parties largely a legal artefact, partly dependent on the rules of party competition, as in the United States (Katz, 1994). Parties do not conform to ‘electoral-professional’ or ‘catch-all’ or ‘cartel’ patterns, to follow the descriptions current in recent western party literature (Mair, 1997). Rather, as Jean Blondel points out, they are primarily based on leaders with established national standing. These individuals can take a pre-existing organisation and remould it in their own image (Kim Dae Jung) or they can build a new organisation (Thaksin). In either case, power flows outward and downward from the leader, not upward from a mass membership. Prime Minister Berlusconi provides a western analogue for this particular pattern. Blondel’s findings constitute a first response to the challenge posed by Russell Dalton that was cited earlier. Emerging patterns of representation, and perhaps even more importantly patterns of political socialisation, in East and Southeast Asia will take a very different form from those made familiar in western experience. Top-down democratisation has produced a superficially familiar formal structure, but the task of citizen-development remains. If political parties are not to be the immediate medium for these processes, are there alternatives? The media One possible agent for representation and socialisation is the media. Western literature on political mobilisation has already established that the media has, for better or ill, a much-enhanced role in mature democratic states. This is partly a result of changed party roles. The media is now an important source of citizen mobilisation, focusing attention on particular issues and providing interpretive frames through which these issues are assessed. Further, the variety of sources has multiplied, embracing not just print media, but also television, talk-back radio, and

Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity 251 the Internet. Media formats and styles have also varied with more frequent and shorter news broadcast, all-news television and radio channels, so-called ‘shockjocks’ etc. Finally, the capacity to narrow-cast messages to voters has multiplied. All these developments, save the last, are evident in varying degrees in regional states. Save for Malaysia and Singapore, print media is robust and free (Rich and Williams, 2000). Further, global television companies have emerged (e.g. CNN, Fox, BBC World) and these all have a strong presence in regional states, where satellitebased dissemination is particularly important. Internet penetration is particularly high in Korea and Singapore as a result of deliberate government efforts to extend access and literacy. Save for Singapore and Malaysia, media outlets are generally uncensored, although Thaksin has proved particularly sensitive to criticism and has used his wealth to curb it. But can the media perform the socialisation tasks that are required? A direct reach to citizens by major parties via the media is clearly one viable approach to building public opinion, but can it add a political dimension to citizen identities? Even at the level of public opinion formation, the media is arguably a shallow and second-best vehicle. Media requirements for a punchy ‘grab’ and an attenuated attention span distort presentations. The media face commercial imperatives, which are not necessarily consistent with the development of prudent public opinion. Further, the focus of public debate on party leaders limits the scope of deliberation. This shallow form of political socialisation has encouraged populism, at least in western settings (e.g. Mair, 2002). Arguably, the quality or depth of public political debate has diminished significantly in western states (Katz, 1994). In the states of East and Southeast Asia, it is hard to see how this approach to political mobilisation can be the medium for political socialisation. Rather, it could be the foundation for fluid patterns of political attachment. Social movements A more promising possibility would involve interest groups and particularly social movements. These meso-level formations could be catalysts in identity formation and advocacy. This outcome would be consistent with the evolution of western democratic practice. The trade union movement was central to western democratic development. More recently, the new social movements have extended and differentiated citizenship (Tarrow, 2000). Movements such as those championing women’s rights, the environment, multi-culturalism, anti-globalisation, human rights, gay rights etc have proliferated in western states. There are unfortunately no comprehensive comparative studies of the development of these intermediary political formations in East and Southeast Asia. Studies of developments in particular countries have been undertaken (e.g. Jones, 1997) and there are also some more limited comparisons covering for example, the environment movement (Hsiao, 1999). NGOs have multiplied in a number of states. In Indonesia, according to Anthony Smith, ‘the burgeoning number of civil society groups … have been a notable feature of recent change. Independent unions have become more active in the workplace. A myriad of human rights

252 Ian Marsh groups has been established’. Islamic organisations remain the largest NGOs, including the 34 million strong NL (Nahdatur Lama), and the 28 million strong, Muhammaduyah. In Malaysia, in the 1990s, the Bar Council emerged as a protagonist for human rights. Human rights and globalisation organisations were also established. But one summary assessment suggests ‘most NGOs … were effectively one-man outfits, reliant on external funding and small, mostly non-Malay memberships’ (Abbott, 2001, p. 292) For its part the Philippines has an extremely active civil society with some 27,000 individual groups identified in a 1996 survey. However, a substantial number are government initiated, particularly as a consequence of the 1991 Countryside Development Programme. This was established by congress to allow members to channel funds to local organisations. Further, association between NGOs and political parties has resulted in movement fragmentation. In the case of Thailand, Funston notes ‘the growth of civil society has been one of the most profound changes in Thai politics over the past three decades, disproving several learned works claiming public apathy and unwillingness to resist authority’ (2003, p. 358). Interest groups and social movements are active in Korea (Kim, 2004) but they are distanced from the political parties. Some restrictions on interest formation have been eased in Singapore (for example, the gay movement has been allowed to organise, if discretely). But these formations are mostly based in urban areas. Further, save for Korea, trade union development is quite confined (Rowley and Benson, 2000). There is a pressing need for a more comprehensive comparative study of these formations, particularly from the perspective of their contribution to political socialisation. The dynamics of top-down democratic development in the states of East and Southeast Asia doubtless foreshadow a long period of gestation and contestation in which social movements, not political parties, will be critical actors. In sum, the immediate environment for democratic socialisation is not promising. If this speculation proves to be correct, outcomes in regional states might be contrasted with those in more developed western democracies. There, citizen aspirations for political outcomes have been disappointed by limited political capacities (Pharr et al., 2000). Citizen ‘disaffection’ is based on what is perceived to be inadequate current governmental performance. The ‘disaffected democrats’ of East and Southeast Asia may be of an altogether different stripe. In the absence of basic socialisation, there may be disappointment with democratic outcomes not primarily because performance fails to match expectations, but rather because attachment to the basic process remains still-born. There is some hint of this possibility in the waxing and waning of public support for democracy in Korea (Shin, 2003) and in public attitudes to the political system in Taiwan (Chu et al., 2001). This is of course wholly speculative. What is clear is that, in the absence of intermediary organisations, particularly mass parties, the processes by which citizens will be mobilised into political engagement, and socialised into democratic norms, deserves much closer attention.

Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity 253

Policy and administrative capacity Representation, mobilisation and socialisation are critical to the participatory aspects of democratic political forms. But governments must also be able to deliver effective outcomes to citizens. If government ‘of the people’ and ‘by the people’ requires representation and consent, government ‘for the people’ requires an ‘output’ capacity (Scharpf, 1999). Democratic consolidation also poses challenges to this dimension of governance. As Madison (Federalist 51) observed, ‘In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself ’. Democratic forms entail an array of new procedures for constituting executives and an array of new constraints on their day-to-day operation. As Madison implies, democratic consolidation in practice requires all participants, but particularly the ‘loyal opposition’, to use these opportunities responsibly. A wider array of influential actors (e.g. interest groups, ambitious ministers or MPs etc.) can fragment or disrupt executive authority. New policy pressures (e.g. arising from globalisation) might have the same effect on bureaucratic coherence. In this context, a number of pressure points are already evident in these seven states as the process of democratic consolidation begins. Four are primary – executive–legislative relations, bureaucratic incapacity/pluralisation, the development of political elites, and interest aggregation. In the following summary, particular attention is given to executive–legislative relations and to interest aggregation since, despite their significance, neither topic is independently covered in preceding chapters. Executive–legislative relations Executive–legislative relations depend in the first instance on the nature of the regime. As noted already, three regime patterns are evident in these seven states: presidential, semi-presidential and parliamentary (however, Macintyre, 2003, offers an approach based on veto points that subsumes particular regime architectures). Although executive–legislative dynamics are differently patterned in each case, the symptoms of tension are ubiquitous. Semi-presidential systems The semi-presidential systems of Korea and Taiwan present the greatest opportunity for unstable interaction. This arises from the considerable formal powers accorded to the legislature and, even more, the incentive structure when the party that holds the presidency lacks a majority in the legislature. This has been the recent experience of both states. In Korea’s case, the president and the legislature are elected on a different cycle. The president cannot dissolve the legislature and it has extensive formal powers of scrutiny and oversight. Against this, however, are the reserve and patronage powers

254 Ian Marsh of the presidency. In a review of developments, Park (2000) notes that Confucian traditions promote formalism over accommodation. These factors have all been on display in the period of Kim Dae Jung’s presidency whose election in 1997 coincided with the second year of the 15th Assembly. The 16th Assembly was elected in April 2000. A high proportion of first-time members (respectively 46 per cent and 41 per cent) marked both Assemblies. Reflecting popular disappointment with Kim Dae Jung, the opposition Grand National party was four seats short of a majority in the 16th Assembly. Minor parties initially held the balance of power. However, the government subsequently persuaded enough members of the Grand National Party to switch to its own National Congress for a New Politics (NCNP) to create a government majority. Meanwhile, in early 1998, Kim Jong Pil held the prime ministership for several months without Assembly endorsement. In mid1998, the government kept the Assembly quiescent for three months by failing to appoint a speaker, vice speaker and committee chairs. The president’s party also used procedures ruthlessly to force through its programme. For example, in January 1999, some 60 measures were rammed through. Later that year, there were a number of floor scuffles as the opposition reacted to government tactics. Park (2001) listed various Opposition counter-tactics: it has occupied the rostrum, prohibited the Speaker from calling or presiding over plenary sessions, blockaded the Assembly Hall and the surrounding corridors, engaged in walkouts etc. The number of bills increased substantially under Kim Dae Jung’s presidency as the economic reform process gathered momentum. In the 15th Assembly the number of bills increased four times (488) in comparison with the 13th Assembly. The Assembly has a weak committee system. It has not used its oversight powers effectively (Park, 2000). For example, at the start of each session 20 days are set aside for the inspection of government operations. But individual committees have tried to take on too many agencies, to hear too many witnesses and they have requisitioned too many documents. Committee staffs are relatively slender (in total around 150 people). However, the legislature has mounted occasional effective investigations (e.g. the Hanbo scandal in 1997). In general, the president has won out, but by strong-arm tactics. In the longer term, whilst confrontation will always be an option, day-to-day governance also requires the development of constructive relationships. The informal norms that might facilitate this outcome are not in prospect in South Korea. The executive’s programme has ultimately prevailed, but the means owe more to the authoritarian past than to a democratic future. However, Kim Dae Jung’s successor, Roo Moonhyun recently won a legislative majority (see Introduction). How this might change legislative–executive relations is as yet to be seen. In Taiwan, the powers of the legislature were amended in 1999. The Legislative Yuan surrendered the right to affirm the prime minister but gained the power to pass no-confidence motions in the latter and also to impeach the president. It also gained the right to establish investigative committees and to conduct public hearings. For the 1998 election, 64 new seats were added. According to Gold (2000), it has become the focus of local factions, many with criminal connections, with around 60 per cent of members owing primary allegiance to these groups.

Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity 255 Meanwhile, legislative turnover is also high, inhibiting the development of stable procedures. For example, in the 2001 election, 47 per cent of the members were new. Conflicts between the legislature and the executive multiplied after the election of Chen Shui-bian in 2000. Whilst the DPP won the presidency in a three-cornered race, the KMT maintained control of the legislature. A number of bruising tests of strength ensued. Chen tried accommodation with his initial appointment of a Prime Minister sympathetic to the KMT. But Tang Fei resigned after only 9 months in office. Subsequently, legislative posturing included moves to impeach the president and later to withhold approval from prime ministerial appointments. Meanwhile, conflict developed within the KMT about crossstraight relations. Former President Lee Teng-hui was expelled in 2001 after he supported a new party, the Taiwan Solidarity union, which contested the 2001 Legislative Yuan election. Both this election and that in 2004 left the executive in a minority in the legislature (see Introduction). As with Korea, the informal norms that might mediate relationships between these critical arms of government have yet to develop. According to Hawang (2002, p. 18): ‘The problem of the Legislative Yuan is not lack of financial resources, equipment, staff or organization … (the key need is rather) to make the Legislative Yuan more accountable, responsive, representative and less corrupt’. Parliamentary states The dynamics of executive–legislative relations are quite different in the parliamentary states where the prime minister and most ministers are drawn from the legislature. The dynamics are also influenced by other structural factors including the party system (multi-party or two-party) and the formal powers of an upper house, if such exists. Of the three parliamentary states, Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand, the latter presents the most interesting example. The Constitutional reforms of 1997 sought to enhance democratic consolidation. They included significant changes to the composition and standing of the Senate (the upper house) and in the conduct of elections. Fiscal decentralisation was mandated. By encouraging mergers between the smaller parties and his TRT party, Prime Minister Thaksin has created a two-party system, with the Democrats as the major Opposition party. But Thaksin has used his dominance to squash opposition (The Economist, 18 February 2005). In Malaysia, the l93 member lower house is dominated by the BN coalition. Legislation usually awards ministers wide delegated powers and much of the state budget flows through the large state enterprises such as the oil company Petronas whose accounts do not figure in the formal budget. There are few committees and minimal staffs. The 69-member Upper House is appointed by the states. It lacks the standing or the will to oppose government measures. Singapore’s parliament is unicameral. There have been moves to extend its representative role (e.g. through the appointment of ‘representative’ MPs and the wider use of committee enquiries). But these remain wholly peripheral to the basic structure of state power.

256 Ian Marsh Presidential regimes There is one fully presidential regime, the Philippines, and the ambiguous case of Indonesia. The Philippines congress enjoys substantial powers, including impeachment, which it exercised against former president Estrada in 2000. The bicameral legislature includes a Senate of 24 members (6-year terms) and House of Representatives of 250 members. The Senate has the exclusive power to approve treaties whilst the House has considerable fiscal powers. Both chambers maintain extensive committee systems, which enhance their influence in the legislative and executive process. Congress has thwarted important elements of President Arroyo’s programme. Whilst relatively stable patterns of executive–legislative relations have evolved in the Philippines, these sustain the generally clientelist character of the regime. A reforming president faces the formidable obstacle of constructing legislative majorities. Finally, the Indonesian case presents the most ambiguous example of unresolved executive–legislative relations. The relationship between the President and the Legislature (DPR) remains unsettled (see Introduction). The legislative and budgetary powers of the DPR have been exploited by that body to make it an effective partner of the executive. The chair (at time of writing, Amien Rais) manages proceedings. There are no party whips and legislative majorities are constructed from ad hoc coalitions. Parliament is divided into a number of commissions, which scrutinise executive activity. For example, Commission 9 is a 57-member grouping which exercises oversight of the bank-restructuring agency (IBRA). The Commission’s chair has played a significant role in policy decisions. He has orchestrated several blockages of proposed sales (Far East Economic Review, 2 August 2001). Staffing levels for the legislature are low, thus inhibiting professionalism. The legislature lacks library and other resources (Sherlock, 2004). Indonesia’s political system is in transition, perhaps towards a semi-presidential pattern or, in the worst case, gridlock. In sum, legislative-executive relations introduce a new arena to governance in five of the seven states. In four of these states, relations are either unsettled (Taiwan, Korea) or associated with dysfunctional governance patterns (Philippines, Indonesia). Elsewhere, Huntington has identified metrics (adaptability, complexity, autonomy and coherence) by which legislative consolidation could be assessed (cited Park, 1997). The development of procedural norms is insufficiently advanced for even their rudimentary application. Bureaucratic incapacity/pluralisation Martin Painter explores the ‘quality’ of bureaucracy throughout these seven states against such key norms as ‘neutral competence’, capacities for administrative reform etc. With two exceptions, his account is of systems under considerable stress. This is the result of internal failings, uncertainties arising from the political context, or some combination of these factors. The two exceptions are Malaysia and Singapore. In these states, semi-pluralist political systems have produced

Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity 257 governments with relatively unambiguous authority. Meanwhile, their background as British colonies produced civil services with strong internal norms of neutral competence, traditions that have not been upset since independence. These bureaucracies have developed ‘a culture of administrative self-improvement that operates within limited boundaries defined in part by regime goals’. Of the other five states, Indonesia is in the worst condition. Painter describes its bureaucracy as in crisis. Bureaucratic autonomy is stifled by over-zealous attention to turf and rules. Poor pay makes petty, and not so petty, corruption rampant. The uncertainties surrounding the division of roles between the presidency and legislature undermine political leadership. At the same time, the government has embarked on a significant programme of decentralisation. Resolution of the presidential–legislative relations is a threshold requirement if problems of administrative competence are to be tackled. Politics intrudes significantly on bureaucratic capacity in the other four states. In Thailand’s case, Prime Minister Thaksin has sought, so far successfully, to consolidate power in his own hands and that of his immediate staff. But a strong tradition of bureaucratic autonomy persists with a parliamentary political system that accords formal powers to ministers. There are only some 35 ministers in the Thai government but approximately 126 departments. Thaksin has sought to weaken the delegated powers that have hitherto buttressed the authority of departmental heads. The system is highly fragmented and prone to turf battles. Outside experts have been used in ad hoc task forces to help deal with crosscutting issues. The coordinating capabilities of elite agencies were undermined by politicisation in the 1990s. In the Philippines, a nominally strong presidency has been constrained by the need to maintain party loyalty in the congress. This has led to a highly politicised bureaucracy. Painter notes that, on a per capita basis, the number of political appointees exceeds that of the US by 34 times. The Philippines bureaucracy is also highly fragmented with over 450 executive boards, councils agencies etc. Pockets of technical excellence remain, particularly in the peak economic groups. For Korea, Kim Dae Jung made bureaucratic reform a central feature of his post-1997 programme. Government employment was cut by 19 per cent. At a structural level, the power of the president and of the central economic agencies was bolstered. Meanwhile Taiwan’s bureaucracy was unsettled by the accession of the DPP to the Presidency in 2000. This was followed by efforts to reduce long-nurtured links to the KMT. Both Korea and Taiwan have taken steps to put neutral competence on a firmer footing. In both states, turbulent executive– legislative relations have intruded much more into bureaucratic life. This has been a particular factor in Taiwan where even small changes to administrative orders require legislative assent. Finally, as John Ravenhill makes clear in his discussion of moves towards bilateral trade deals, the process of globalisation has also created policy divergence within national bureaucracies. Departments championing more developed international links can be at odds with those favouring protection of domestic interests. Examples include Thailand and Korea, and to a lesser extent Malaysia and the

258 Ian Marsh Philippines. The literature on administration in these seven states, at least until the early 1990s, emphasised bureaucratic coherence based on the domination of elite policy departments. The shift to bilateral relations and the pressures arising from continuing economic regionalisation will make bureaucratic politics an increasingly distinctive domain. The development of political elites Democratic consolidation could be expected to be marked by new patterns of elite formation. Ministers would increasingly be drawn from representative organisations and activities. This is because of their twin but divergent roles at the apex of the political and policy-making system: on the one hand, they need to gain popular and interest group consent for executive decisions; on the other, they are also formally responsible for managerial and policy effectiveness. These twin responsibilities also make this elite particularly significant in the formation of state capacity. There is no clear metric for measuring either of these outcomes. But the undeveloped character of political parties is the biggest obstacle impeding democratic consolidation at the level of executive composition. In general, and with the exception of Malaysia, ministerial careers mostly remain as extensions of public service activities. Patterns of leadership and executive formation vary markedly in individual countries. One cause is the political structure. The stylised notion that presidential systems create hierarchical relationship and parliamentary systems create collegial ones does not square with practice. A wider range of mainly informal factors shapes outcomes. In relation to the selection of leaders, the presidential or semipresidential systems of Korea and Taiwan have both adopted first-past-the-post electoral systems. Presidents have been elected on less than a plurality of votes, with the average around 40 per cent and the lowest that of Ramos in the Philippines who gained office in 1992 with 25 per cent of the popular votes. Amongst these states, only Indonesia has adopted a run-off system. Leaders can be dominating or they can share power. Dual leadership has occurred in the semi-presidential systems: in Korea for 18 months in the Kim Dae Jung–Kim Jong Pil alliance; and in Taiwan with the nine-month appointment of Tang Fei as prime minister by President Chen. The tenure of leaders has been considerable in the semi-pluralist states with Lee Kuan Yew in office for 25 years, Goh for ten years, and Mahathir for 20 years. The incumbency of presidents in the presidential and semi-presidential states is limited to one term. On the other hand, Korea had 18 prime ministers between 1980 and 2000, seven for only a few months and none for much more than two years. In Taiwan, there were four prime ministers between 1988 and 2000, all for two years except for Lien Chan who served four years and then was beaten for the presidency by Chen Shuibian. The military was the source of leaders for Korea up to 1992, Indonesia to 1999 and then again in 2004, Thailand to 1991 and Taiwan to 1988. As already noted, the more recent crop of civilian leaders has been national rather than

Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity 259 party figures. Blondel concludes that history and circumstances not formal governance structures are primary determinants of leadership styles and approaches: ‘Political leadership in East and Southeast Asia is … diverse in its role, its origins, its duration, its composition and its mode of appointment. What appears to be universal problem – that of ensuring the economy progresses – and a widespread if not yet universal concern – that of rendering political life more pluralistic – has been handled in a different manner in (each of these seven states).’ So far as executives are concerned, Blondel notes they have primarily been administrative in character. Only in Malaysia and Singapore are ministers part of a recognised political elite. One distinctive pattern in executive formation concerns the circulation of MPs after elections as individuals regroup around the winner. This is a particular feature of Korea and the Philippines. But it is unclear if this indicates the formation of an ad hoc coalition or rather a government of the president. Explicit coalition government is present only in Malaysia. The duration of ministers in office averaged 3.8 years in the 1990s. But there were wide variances with Singapore recording an average of 6.6 years (the top pole) and South Korea 1.4 years (the bottom pole). The causes for variations in tenure are country-specific and have nothing to do with the form of the regime. The administrative character of executives is reflected in the backgrounds of ministers. ‘The type of profile which characterizes the governments of Korea, Taiwan, Indonesia, Singapore and, with reservations, Thailand, indicates that the ministerial career in these countries is … more in the nature of an appendage to a public service career to which, especially in Indonesia and Thailand, as well as, to an extent, Korea, the military is regarded as belonging’. The development of ‘political’ executives would seem to depend on the further development of durable political parties. Interest aggregation The potential role of social movements as agents of political socialisation has already been noted. The absence of comparative studies of interest formation and interest intermediation in regional states is a major gap. The only exception concerns relations between business interests and the state. Business–government relations were central to one approach that argued regional patterns sustained dysfunctional rent seeking and cronyism (Lingle, 1998). This relationship also became increasingly central in the evolution of the developmental state ideal type (Evans, 1995; Weiss and Hobson, 1995; Woo-Cumings, 1999; Weiss, 2003). For example, Evans (1995) characterised relations between the state and business as ‘embedded autonomy’. Weiss and Hobson, writing in the same year, described them as ‘governed interdependence’. The central idea in both formulations was a relationship increasingly based on collaboration between independent agents who shared common interests. The state’s role in these interactions was based partly on its ability to control capital allocations and partly on its overall concern for industrial structure outcomes. In imitation of Japanese patterns, deliberation

260 Ian Marsh councils provided the formal medium of engagement (Campos and Root, 1996). This pattern of business–government relations applied particularly to Korea, Taiwan and Singapore. In an earlier influential study, Macintyre (1994) had traced the sharp variations between East and Southeast Asia. Even in Korea and Taiwan the forms were, however, significantly different, certainly more varied than the stylised models implied (Chen and Chu, 2002). Dr Mahathir’s Vision 2020 tried to assimilate some elements but in Malaysia’s case ethnic issues trumped developmental considerations. For example, Gomez and Jomo (1997) detail the extent to which ‘the privatisation program benefited UMNO-related individuals and companies such as Berjaya, Hong Leong and Renong’ (also see Abbott, 2001). Already in 1995 however, Peter Evans had identified some of the elements that were undermining this pattern of relationship. By then, the internationalisation of the Korean chaebol gave them the capacity to borrow independently of the government’s wishes. This was reinforced by domestic capital market liberalisation and by a deliberate weakening of state oversight and planning capacities (Weiss, 2003). As noted earlier, there have been experiments with corporatist type structures in Taiwan and Korea. President Lee set up a National Affairs Conference in 1990 and a National Development Conference in 1996. Meanwhile, following his election in 1997, President Kim established a Tripartite Commission. The trade unions withdrew from this body in 1998 but rejoined in 1999. No other states have sought to develop corporatist forms. If business interests are well established and organised in most states, the same could not be said for trade unions. Korea has the most developed trade union movement but representation is split between two rival federations. But both federations (the 600,000 strong KCTU and the 900,000 strong FKTU) joined other NGOs in a progressive alliance based on the Democratic Labour Party which contested the 2002 election and won six Assembly seats in the 2004 election. Trade unions are relatively weak in Thailand, Malaysia and Taiwan, and have been controlled in Singapore. Democratisation changes the context for interest formation and intermediation. But patterns have not been systematically traced on a comparative basis and this remains a major gap in the comparative literature.

Globalisation/regionalism and the role of the state An extensive body of literature addresses issues affecting the role of the state in an era of globalisation (e.g. Weiss, 2003; Ravenhill, 2005). Globalisation is seen to introduce a variety of new pressures to domestic governance and, in the eyes of some, to reduce national sovereignty. It remains to be seen whether the new concerns with security and terrorism makes borders once more salient points of demarcation. Meanwhile, globalisation includes not just ‘objective’ factors like trade, finance and investment, but also a dominant ideology, neo-liberalism (Evans, 1997). Globalisation can be mediated by regionalism. According to Peter Katzenstein: ’After the Cold War and in an era of globalisation, regional order, not strategic bi-

Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity 261 polarity, is the central organising principle in world politics’ (2000, p. 1). How will the emerging regional order in East and Southeast Asia mediate global pressures? The chapters by Ravenhill, Blondel and Inoguchi review developments affecting the ‘hard’ (trade and political-institutional) and ‘soft’ (ideologies) aspects of this order. The impact of globalisation on the role of the state in East and Southeast Asian can be mapped on a number of dimensions, for example, economic, technological and political. The regional response has hitherto been made up of a number of only loosely connected strands. Private economic interests have been dominant in creating a regional order, but these have come in two distinctive patterns. On the one hand, following the Plaza Accords and the currency realignments of 1985, Japanese investment and aid flowed to East and particularly Southeast Asia. Meanwhile, overseas Chinese investment also multiplied, but based on a wholly different pattern of engagement (Redding, 2002). In particular, Taiwanese, Hong Kong-based and Singaporean investment extended throughout the region. Industrial production was thus regionalised. The emergence of China as a major economic player in the early 1990s added a new dimension to this dynamic. On the other hand, as John Ravenhill’s chapter details, political developments have barely matched these economic engagements. ASEAN was extended in 1999 to include Japan, Korea and China as dialogue partners. But ASEAN’s tariffreducing schemes have been of minimal significance. Its many other activities, while in many cases useful in their own right, hardly extend beyond facilitation. The broader APEC grouping represents a looser trans-Pacific association. But its salience has receded in the wake of its impotence in the financial crisis and the declining interest in multilateralism. On the security front, the ARF is an arena only for discussion and ‘confidence-building’. Meanwhile, the United States remains the dominant regional trading partner. It is also linked to Japan, Taiwan and Korea through bilateral security treaties. Thus the pattern of regionalism evident in East and Southeast Asia has been particularly ‘open’, in contrast for example with the more closed structure which has characterised the EU. The 1997 financial crisis marked a new phase in regional relations. The crisis itself reflected the extraordinary pace of development of privately-based financial markets in the intervening period. Global capital markets grew from $10.7 billion in 1980 to $82.8 billion in 2000. The results of the crisis reflected the peculiar ‘openness’ of Asian regionalism. On the one hand, despite the potential to create a regional financial bloc, this proposal barely advanced. Ravenhill catalogues the many reasons that it stumbled, not least because of US opposition. On the other hand, Malaysia successfully closed its capital markets in defiance of conventional wisdom (Kaplan and Rodrik, 2001). Linkages and swap arrangements between regional financial authorities have since developed, although again John Ravenhill underlines the likely difficulties in implementation. Continuing trade and security dependence on the United States gives that country especial regional standing. Her championing of neo-liberalism has given that ideology continuing force in regional affairs. This approach shaped the response of the lead international agency, the IMF, to the financial crisis.

262 Ian Marsh This incidentally led to a split about appropriate strategies between this agency and Joseph Stiglitz, then Chief Economist of the World Bank (Stiglitz, 2002). US negotiators also used the opportunity of the crisis to pressure Korea to open hitherto closed financial and services markets in ways particularly advantageous to US interests (Cumings, 1999). Meanwhile, the continued, debt-financed growth of the US economy produced an unexpectedly rapid regional economic recovery. As a consequence of the crisis, foreign access to financial and services markets has been extended in all states, bankruptcy provisions that more or less conform to international norms are being introduced and the prudential rules governing the financial sector have also been developed along broadly international (neo-liberal) lines. There is also continuing pressure to extend the role of capital markets and diminish the role of banks in corporate financing. Katzenstein (2000) concludes: ‘The Asian financial crisis illustrates that Asian regionalism was not strong enough to prevent the establishment of beachheads in markets that used to be closed to foreign investors. An IMF-centred, global approach to the regional financial crisis rather than reliance on an Asian-centred, Japanese led effort revealed the weakness of an exclusive and cohesive East Asian regionalism without US involvement’ (p. 22). Ravenhill (this volume) affirms the continuing salience of this observation. The continuing ambiguous dynamic of Asian regionalism is also reflected in his account of the mosaic of bilateral trade negotiations. On the one hand, these free trade agreements involve the application of broad neo-liberal principles. On the other hand, the specific agreements that are being signed do not threaten sensitive local sectors. Regional states have sought agreements with as many countries beyond East and Southeast Asia as with regional partners. As Ravenhill remarks: ‘A striking characteristic of the new preferential arrangements is that they involve countries that are relatively insignificant trading partners for one another’. The development of a general China–ASEAN free trade agreement, if it eventuates, may reduce regional dependence on US markets, a development that such an agreement would however accelerate rather than facilitate. Trade linkage between China and other states could integrate the region economically. But this would depend on the success with which growth is sustained in the potentially massive Chinese economy. Even if this occurs, security issues seem likely to maintain countervailing pressures. In sum, the likelihood of regional political integration making any substantial contribution to state capacity would seem to be minimal. Asian values have been proposed as a distinctive feature of regional political culture. Jean Blondel, in an original assessment, discounts their presence. His is the first empirical test of this proposition and whilst he finds collectivist norms to be more evident than in a number of European states, the differences between citizens in different states and the different patterning between groups of states belie any claim of a common culture. Meanwhile, Japanese practice has been cast hitherto as the model for understanding developments in the other regional states. Inoguchi outlines four versions of this model: the developmental state as articulated by Chalmers Johnson (1982) and extended to East and Southeast Asian states by a succession of authors; one party dominance as conceptualised by T.J. Pempel; maturing civil society (Schwartz and Pharr, 2002); and welfare

Democratisation, regionalism and state capacity 263 capitalism (e.g. Dore, 2000). These models, it might be noted, are all far removed from neo-liberal prescriptions. Inoguchi also shows how far removed each of the other seven states are, or have become, from any of these patterns. The task of charting the characteristics of democratisation and its impacts on the political economy in regional states requires other templates. These models variously speak to aspects of political, social and economic change. As Inoguchi infers, taken together, they offer a kind of synoptic account, embracing economy, polity and society. The need for fresh, ideally synoptic, frameworks is reinforced by another aspect of Inoguchi’s discussion. He chides scholars, or at least the popularisers of scholars, for practising a kind of orientalism. In Inoguchi’s analysis, the models and templates that have been adopted owe as much to western preoccupations as to the whole cloth of Asian practice. In particular, in popular discussion, these models have mostly been used to advance western interests or to bolster western stereotypes, not to further inter-regional understanding. In contrast, the literature on European social democracy and political economy has established the distinctive character of social and political practice in the states of that region. Take, for example, the treatment of Scandinavian social democracy. As a result of scholarly research and of accumulated findings, the distinctive political, social and economic patterns evident amongst these states is widely recognised by both scholars and practitioners. The states of East and Southeast Asia are ripe for similar treatment.

Conclusion State capacity in these seven states of East and Southeast Asia needs to adapt to new pressures. From without, security concerns have a new salience. These are superimposed on economic preoccupations. Further, aspirations towards a more integrated regional political architecture are evident – but the economic and political forces sustaining ‘open regionalism’ remain strong. On the domestic front, changes in governance arrangements introduce a new discourse about authority and power and new structures for their pursuit. This is in societies with strong nationalist cultures (Korea, Thailand), with diverse colonial experience (Japanese, British, American-Spanish, Dutch), and with varied religious-moral traditions (Islam, Confucian, Buddhist, Protestant and Catholic). Save for Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia, these are countries without significant ethnic divisions. Finally, they are all deeply engaged in economic modernisation, in many cases in highly advanced industrial sectors. The old ‘civic culture’ hypothesis predicted convergence between states as democratisation advanced. The reality amongst western states has been democratic divergence. This will surely also be the pattern in East and Southeast Asia? On the economic front, neo-liberalism creates powerful pressures for economic convergence – pressures which European states have largely resisted, in part by creating a semi-closed regional order. As we have seen, the states of East and Southeast Asia are in a much more ambiguous position. Now, Singapore

264 Ian Marsh remains the only purely developmental state. But the notion that these seven states will converge towards western patterns is fanciful. The literature on the varieties of capitalism points to the powerful inertial role of path dependence (also see Pierson, 2004). Path dependence implies a continuing catalytic, adaptive (North) or transformative (Weiss) role for the state. As Dalton implied, in the comment cited at the outset of this chapter, these states are now embarking on a potentially long and distinctive politico-economic journey. Comparative systemic and synoptic studies, comparative assessments of particular institutional sub-patterns (such as political culture, executive–legislative relations or interest group–social movement systems) and tests of the applicability of theories developed in western or other contexts, are all pertinent. Such studies will establish if democratic forms are no more than a varnish, beneath which monopolies of power and privilege are renewed, or a frame for the progressive assimilation of older norms and practices into ‘new modes and orders’.

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Index

1997 financial crisis 3, 71, 123, 177, 185; currency crisis contagion 192–3; economic governance and 155; in Malaysia, 11; Kim Dae Jung’s victory and 158, 208; Malaysian government’s response to 166; one-party dominance and 208; regionalism and 261–2 Academica Sinica [Taiwan] 162 administrative capacity 124, 145, 157; of Korea 160; of Malaysia 167; of Taiwan 163; of Thailand 166, see also bureaucracy administrative patrimonialism 128 administrative reform: in Indonesia 141–2; in Japan, China and Korea 139, 143–4; in Malaysia 139–40; in the Philippines 142–3; in Singapore 140; in Taiwan 144–5; in Thailand 140–1 Anti-Corruption Commission (ACA) [Malaysia] 127 Anwar Ibrahim 11, 166; Anwar trial 63–4 APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation) 177, 261; insignificant role in economic and trade relations 6; little impact on state capacity 183, 185 Aquino, Corazon 11, 107, 108, 142 Arroyo, Gloria 11, 70, 103, 105, 256 ASEAN 6, 35, 177, 261; a free trade zone between China and 196; ineffectiveness of 6, 178–80; responding to economic crisis 187–8; trade between members 186, see also ASEAN Plus Three ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA) 178, 186, 190, 197 ASEAN Plus Three 6, 177, 187, 196 ASEAN-Japan Development Fund 180 ASES see Asia-Europe Survey Asia-Europe Survey 19, 21–3, 25–6, 31, 34, 36–39, 41 Asian Bond Market Initiative 196

Asian Development Bank 187, 190, 195 Asian economic crisis see 1997 financial crisis Asian Medical Doctors’ Association (AMDA) 208 Asian Monetary Fund 192, 194, 195 Asian values 7, 20, 207, 215, 223,262; as basic societal values 227; ‘communitarian’ character and 226–7; debate on Western vs. 224–6; human rights and 227, 229, see also values authoritarian governments: of Indonesia 77, 125; of Korea 125, 130; of Malaysia 1; of Singapore 1 Badawi, Abdullah 12, 63, 127, 166 Barisan National [Malaysia] 12, 100, 112, 134, 255 bilateral preferential trade 190 ‘black money’: in Taiwan 161 Brunei 1, 59 Bureau of Personnel Administration [Taiwan] 130 bureaucracy: bifurcated 130; Confucian ethics and 129; corruption in the Philippines 129; developmental state and 123, 134; economic growth and 123; of Indonesia 128, 132–3; of Korea 130; of Thailand 127–8, 131–2, 136; political control and 136; political elites and 124, 139; political executive and 123, 124, 134–6; Taiwan’s economic success and 138, see also civil service bureaucratic capacity: democratisation on 7, 123; in Malaysia and Singapore 256; in Indonesia 137, 257; in Korea 257; in the Philippines 257; in Taiwan 257; in Thailand 257 Cambodia 1, 65

268 Index Central Bank of China (CBC) [Taiwan] 162 chaebol 158, 260; restructure of 159 Chart Thai [Thailand] 70, 72 Chatichai Choonhavan 107 Chavalit government 10 Chen Shui-bian 8, 66, 67, 103, 104, 105, 161, 162, 255 Chiang Ching-kuo 67, 108 Chiang Kai-chek 98, 100, 103, 107 Chiang Mai Initiative 192, 195 China: adult illiteracy rate in 155; APEC and 178; economic development of 154; economic governance and rise of 154–5, 169; emergence as a major economic power 261; free trade agreement with ASEAN 212, 262; growth of consumer market in 155; opposing Asian fund proposal 194; public sectors in 211 Chinese Communist Party 208 Chuan Leekpai 10, 106 Chun Doo Hwan 9, 105, 107 citizens: mass political parties and 249–50; values of East and Southeast Asian 223, 243 Civil Service Administration Agency (BAKN) [Indonesia] 132 Civil Service Commission [Philippines] 129 civil service: British colonial traditions 126; Dutch colonial tradition and Indonesia 128; in Indonesia 133; in the Philippines 129; of Taiwan 130–1; of Thailand 127; pay and rewards, performance-based system and Singaporean 133; positive discrimination in Malaysian 126, 134; ‘rank in person’ systems and 132–3; Singapore’s 126–7 civil society 206; in Thailand and the Philippines 215; Japan, Korea and Taiwan 215; transparency and accountability of government and 215 clientelism 55; in the Philippines 164, 214, 248 colonial tradition 7, 97, 125–6, 169 communitarian values: Asian values and 224, 226–7, 228; individualistic values vs. 227, see also values concerted unilateralism 184 Confucian values 125, 129, 146,169, 215, 224, 254, see also Asian values; culture consociational party system 59, 61–4

corruption 123; bureaucratic vs. political 129; in Indonesia 167–8; in Malaysia 127; in the Philippines bureaucracy 129; low salaries and 127 Council for Economic Planning and Development [Taiwan] 4, 162 cronyism 123 culture 169, 225 Civic Culture, The 7, 19, 22 DAP (Democratic Action Party) [Malaysia] 63 democracy: citizen identities and 2; mass parties and 248–50 Democrat Party [Thailand] 70, 71, 72, 73, 255 democratic consolidation 2, 6; administrative capacity and 146–7; democratic representation 248; democratic socialisation 248–52; political elites and 258–9, see also political socialisation democratisation process: ASEAN and 180 democratisation: implications for economic governance in Korea 158; maturing civil society and 215 developmental state 2, 3–4, 5, 205, 206; bureaucracy and 123, 134; citizen participation and 5; in East Asia 3, 123; Japan and East Asian countries 210–13; Singapore 263, see also economic governance DJP (Domestic Justice Party) [South Korea] 9 DPP (Democratic Progressive Party) [Taiwan] 8, 66–7, 144, 208, 255; membership of 68 East and Southeast Asian states: American influence in 216; background of ministers in 116–20; compared to Europe and North America 153; dependence on electronics exports 153; economic growth in 2–3, 153; foreign exchange reserves in 194; Gini coefficient for 153; intra-regional trade in 153; media in 251; ministerial duration and turnovers in 113–15; pluralistic polities of 54–8; political culture in 234–6; savings rates in 154; size of governments in 110–11 East Asian miracle 207 East Timor 1, 76, 77

Index Economic Development Board (EDB) [Singapore] 4, 163 economic development: income distribution and 157; maturing civil society and 215; present challenges to 154–6 economic governance 3; developmental pattern of 157, 169; East Asia vs. World Bank 2; FDI driven pattern of 169; national sovereignty and 152; 1997 financial crisis and 155, 158; policy capacity for 157; role of Korean presidency in 158; technological development and 154–6, 169 economic growth: APEC and 185; ASEAN and regional 180; bureaucracy and 123 Economic Planning Board [Korea] 4, 158 ECOTECH (economic and technical cooperation) 181–3 education: participation rates in East and Southeast Asian countries 5, 155 Estrada, Joseph 11, 71, 73, 105, 196 European Regional Development Fund 177 Evans, Gareth 184 externalities 209 extra-regional trade 7 FDI (foreign direct investment): as the engine of manufacturing development 164; in China 4, 154; regionalism and 177 Federation of Korean Trade Unions (FKTU) 159 Financial Services Commission (FSC) [Korea] 159 first-past-the-post electoral system 103; of Korea and Taiwan 258 free trade 179, 186, see also trade liberalisation French Gaullist party 74 GATT 183 GDP (gross domestic product): effects of proposed free trade on Japan’s 191; of East and Southeast Asia 153; of Korea 153 German Social Democratic Party 249 Gini coefficient: for East and Southeast Asia 153 globalisation: bureaucratic politics and 257–8; impact on the role of East Asian

269

states 261–3; governance and 260; regionalism and 260–3 GNP (Grand National Party) [South Korea] 9, 160, 254 Goh Chok Tong 12, 104, 105 Golkar [Indonesia] 13, 76, 78, 128, 208 governed interdependence see clientelism Habibie, President 12, 78, 103, 107, 164, 208 Hannara Party [Korea] 208 Hong Kong 190 Hong Kong Monetary Authority 196 human rights: Asian values and 227, 229; in Asia 227 Ikeda Hayato 204 IMF (International Monetary Fund) 11, 193, 195, 210, 261 income inequality: in East and Southeast Asia 5, 153, see also Gini coefficient Indonesia 45–46; civil war in Aceh 76; confidence in politics and in political institutions of 38–41; economic governance in 167–8; ethnic cleavage in 77; left-right self-placement in 27–31; levels of political knowledge in 25; national and supranational identity in 31–7; 1955 election in 76; 1999 election in 78; orientations to political action in 41–4; output of political system in 38; personal political efficacy in 23; political deference in 24; pr list system 13; recent political developments in 12–13; Indonesian Bank Restructuring Agency 167 Information Technology Agreement 183, 189 intellectual property rights: China’s commitment to protection of 196 interest groups 8; business-government relations 123, 259–60, see also clientelism Internal Security Act (ISA) [Malaysia] 60, 63 International Telecommunications Union 5, 161 Intra-regional trade: Europe vs. Asia 7; in automobile components 179, see also extra-regional trade ITC (information technology, communications) 4, 5, 161

270 Index Japan 190; as a developmental state 206–7; collapse of the bubble economy 204; from honorific individualism to honorific collectivism 218; influence among regional states 7; negotiating a free trade agreement with Korea 191; providing bilateral assistance 193; party system of 74; preferential trade agreement with Singapore and Mexico 191; supporting ‘regional’ projects 178 Japanese model 205–6, 262–3; of a maturing civil society 208–9, see also developmental state Jiang Zeming 214 Keating, Paul 189 Kim Dae Jung 9, 69, 70, 71, 72, 105, 143, 158,191, 254 Kim Jong Pil 9, 72, 105, 158, 254 Kim Young Sam 9, 71, 72, 143, 158 Kissinger, Henry 204 KMT (Nationalist Party) [Taiwan] 8, 66, 71, 75, 138, 255; corruption scandals of 161; economic policy of 67; membership of 68; strategy with respect to notables 68–9 Korea see South Korea Korean Federation of Trade Unions (KCTU) 158 Kuomingtang see KMT (Nationalist Party) labour: China’s reserves of 155 Lakas [Philippines] 70, 72 LAMMP [Philippines] 70, 72 Laos 1, 3 LDP (Laban ng Demokratikong) [Philippines] 70 LDP (Liberal Democratic Party) [Japan] 69, 207 leadership: administrative incapacity and lack of 145; ‘charismatic’ leaders 79; in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand 72–4, 75; political leaders in East and Southeast Asia 258–9; role of leaders 74; Singaporean political 126 Lee Hae Chong 70 Lee Hoi Chang 213 Lee Hsien Loong 12, 105, 106, 119 Lee Kuan Yew 12, 59–62, 104, 105, 106, 207, 226, 247, 260 Lee Tung-hui 8, 103, 105, 255 Legislative Yuan [Taiwan] 8, 130, 161, 162, 255 Lien Chan 8, 66, 104, 144

Mahathir Mohammad 11, 63–4, 104, 106, 127, 135, 166, 226 Malayan Civil Service (MSC) 126 Malaysia 45–46; as a semi-pluralistic polity 49, 58–62; civil service in 126; confidence in politics and in political institutions of 38–41; economic governance in 166–7; elections in 63; left-right self-placement in 29–30; levels of political knowledge in 25; liberal-democratic origins of 59–60; national and supranational identity in 31–37; orientations to political action in 41–4; output of political system in 37; political deference in 24; recent political developments in 11–12 Marcos, Ferdinand 107, 214 mass political parties 51–4; characteristics of 66; citizens and 249; democracy and 248; in Singapore and Malaysia 65, in Taiwan 66–9; socialising and mobilising contribution of 249 MCA (Malaysian Chinese Association) [Malaysia] 60, 63 MDP (Millennium Democratic Party) [South Korea] 9, 70, 72 media: citizen identities and 251; in East and Southeast Asia 251; political mobilisation and 250–1; political socialisation and 251 Megawati Soekarnoputri 13, 78, 93, 105, 208, 214 Meiji Restoration 204 MIC (Malaysian Indian Congress) [Malaysia] 60, 63 Miller, Tony 184 Ministry for State Administrative Reform (MenPAN) [Indonesia] 132 Ministry of Finance and the Economy (MoFE) [Korea] 158 Ministry of International Trade and Industry [Japan] 206 Ministry of Science and Technology (MOST) [Korea] 160 Ministry of Trade and Industry (MTI) [Singapore] 163 Miyazawa Plan 194 Mongolia 190 Multi-party system: Thailand 214; the Philippines 214 Myanmar 1, 3 NAFTA 185, 197

Index National Assembly [Korea] 158 National Economic Action Council [Malaysia] 166 NCNP (national Congress for a New Politics) [Korea] 254 New Party [Taiwan] 66 NICs (newly industrialising countries) 166 non-bank financial intermediaries (NBFIs) 159 non-governmental organizations (NGOs): in Japan 208; in Thailand and the Philippines 215; social movements and 251–2 non-performing loan (NPLs) 159 North Korea 211, 212 NSNP (National Congress for New Politics) [South Korea] 9 Office of the Civil Service Commission (OCSC) [Thailand] 127 one-party dominance 205, 206, 207; in Japan and other East Asian countries 213–4; state-led industrialisation and 213 outsourcing 154–5 Pacific Economic Cooperation Council (PECC) 183, 184 Palang Dharma Party [Thailand] 70–1 PAP (People’s Action Party) [Singapore] 12, 59, 61–2, 102, 135, 208 Park Chung Hee 103, 130 parliamentary systems 75, 91; executivelegislative relations in 255; features of 94–7; of Malaysia 3, 59, 134, 255; of Singapore 3, 59, 134, 255; of Thailand 3, 255 parties of ‘regionally-based national leaders’: features of 72; in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand 72–6 parties of notables 51, 55, 69; in ‘peasant societies’ 53 parties of professionals: characteristics of 52; from mass parties to 53–4 party identification 66 PAS (Parti Islam SeMalaysia) [Malaysia] 12, 63 PDI (Partai Demokrasi Indonesia) [Indonesia] 13, 77, 78 Penang Development Corporation 166 Perry, Matthew 204, 218 PFP (People’s First Party) [Taiwan] 8 Philippines 45–46; civic service in 129; constitutions in 94; economic

271

governance in 168–9; left-right selfplacement in 26–31; levels of political knowledge in 25; Marcos dictatorship 54, 75; national and supranational identity in 31–7; orientations to political action in 41–4; personal political efficacy in 23; political deference in 24; recent political developments in 10–11 Philippines National Bank 168 PKB (Partei Kebangkitan Bangsa) [Indonesia] 78 Planning and Budget Commission (PBC) [Korea] 158 plural societies 65 policy capacity 124; for economic governance 157; Korea 137–8, 160–1; Malaysia 166–7; Singapore 163–4; Taiwan 138, 162–3; Thailand 165 political culture 6, 46; classification of 20; ‘cognitive dimension’ of 20; definition of 20; parochial, subject and participant orientations 22–6; political capacity: Indonesia 167–8; Korea 157–60; Malaysia 166; the Philippines 168; Taiwan 161–2; Thailand 164–5 political change: financial crisis and 155 political cleavage 20, 79; in Taiwan 74; social distinctions and 74 political executive: bureaucracy and 123, 124, 125 political parties: of Indonesia 76–8; of Korea 70, 74; of the Philippines 70, 71, 74; of Singapore and Malaysia 62–5; of Taiwan 66–9; of Thailand 70, 71, 74; regional characters of 70, see also mass political parties political party systems: in Singapore and Malaysia 62–4; of Taiwan 66–9; three types of 52–53 political socialisation: media and 251; political parties and 249–50; social movements and 251–2, 259 PPP (Partei Persatuang Pembangunan) [Indonesia] 77 preferential tariffs 186 preferential trade agreement 191 presidential system 75, 91; executivelegislative relations in 256; features of 94–97; of Indonesia 256; of the Philippines 3, 256 Ramos, Fidel 10, 73, 103, 105, 107, 142, 258

272 Index regionalism 1, 2, 6, 69–70; augmenting financial resources 177; driven by national economic interests 2; economic development and 6; enhancing bargaining situation of member states 178; enhancing expertise 178; financial crisis and 261–2; globalisation and 260–3; limited impact on state capacity 198; state capacity and 262 rent-seeking 157 research and development expenditure: as percent of GDP in Korea 160 Roh Moo-hyun 9, 70, 72, 103, 144, 158, 254 Roh Tae Woo 9, 107 Rubin, Robert 193 semi-presidential systems 91; dual leadership in 258; executive-legislative relations in 253–5; features of 97; of Korea 3, 253–4; of Taiwan 3, 254–5 Singapore 45–46; as a semi-pluralistic polity 49, 58–62; civil service in 126–7; confidence in politics and in political institutions of 38–41; economic governance in 163–4; ejection from Malaysia 60; identity in 31–7; left-right conflict in 27–31; levels of political knowledge in 25; liberal-democratic origins of 59–60; low levels of corruption 127; opposition party in 63; orientations to political action in 41–4; output of political system in 37; personal political efficacy in 23; political deference in 24; recent political developments in 12; social cleavage: based on ethnicity and religion 56; in Europe 55–6; in Korea, the Philippines and Thailand 74–5; in Singapore and Malaysia 61; mass parties and 51–52, see also political cleavage social movements 251; as agents of political socialisation 251–2, 259; in Indonesia 251–2; in Korea 252; in Malaysia 252; in Singapore 252; in Thailand 252; in the Philippines 252 social safety nets 209, 217; in Korea and Taiwan 155 Soong, James 8 South Korea (Republic of Korea) 45–6; confidence in politics and in political institutions of 38–41; economic governance in 157–61; ITC capabilities

in 5, 161; left-right self-placement in 26–31; levels of political knowledge in 25; military rule in 75; national and supranational identity in 31–7; 1997 presidential election in 69–70; orientations to political action in 41–4; output of political system in 37–8; personal political efficacy 23; political deference in 24; recent political developments in 9; semi-presidential systems of 253–4; trade unions in 75, 248 Sri Lanka 3 the state: civil society and 209; family in Asia and 228; industry strategies of 156; transformational capacity of 157, 181 state capacity: APEC and 180–5; ASEAN and 178–80; concept of 247; economic governance and 157, 170; in technology catch-up 164; regionalism and 262; to direct the liberalisation of the economy 181 Stiglitz, Joseph 262 Suharto, President 11,12, 76, 77, 78, 93, 105, 107, 181, 208 Sukarno 76, 93, 100 Summers, Lawrence 194 Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono 13, 78, 103, 107, 137, 168 Taiwan 45–46; civil service in 130–1; confidence in politics and in political institutions of 38–41; direct investment in China 211; economic governance in 161–3; electronics industry of 162; ‘ethnic’ cleavage in 56, 66–67, 74, 75; independence of 67; left-right selfplacement in 27–31; levels of political knowledge in 25; local elections in 8–9 national and supranational identity in 31–7; orientations to political action in 41–4; output of political system in 38; personal political efficacy in 23; political deference in 24; recent political developments in 8–9; semi-presidential systems in 254–5 Takeshita Noboru 180 Tang Fei [Taiwan] 161, 255 Technology 4; biotechnology, in Korea 160; biotechnology, in Singapore 163; biotechnology, in Taiwan 163; economic governance and 4; electronics in Korea, Taiwan and Singapore 156;

Index evolution of global production systems and 154–5; fast-followership 4, 156 Thailand 46; confidence in politics and in political institutions of 38–41; economic governance in 164–6; leftright self-placement in 26–7; military rule in 75; national and supranational identity in 31–7; 1995 election in 70; 1997 financial crisis in 76; orientations to political action in 41–4; output of political system in 38; personal political efficacy in 23; political deference in 24; recent political developments in 9–10 Thaksin Shinawatra 10, 70–1, 75, 79, 102, 125, 136, 141, 165, 251, 255, 257 trade liberalisation 180; APEC and 181, 188; APEC’s unilateral approach to 184; ECOTECH and 183; gains from 181 trade unions: controlled in Singapore 260; democracy and the development of 248; in Korea 75, 248, 260; movements of 251; weak in Thailand 260, Malaysia and Taiwan; transaction costs 156 transformational capacity 181 TRT (Thai Rak Thai Party) [Thailand] 10, 70, 71, 73, 74, 79, 102, 112, 255 Tsang, Donald 196 TSU (Taiwan Solidarity Union) 8

273

UMNO (United Malay National Organization) [Malaysia] 12, 60, 63–4, 68, 71, 100, 102, 135, 208, 213, 214, 250; ‘money politics’ and 127 unemployment: in Japan 210; in Korea 210 universal suffrage 102, 104 Uri Party [South Korea] 9, 70, 72, 158 values: Asian vs. Western 223–5; basic societal 229, 239; communitarian 224, 227; individualistic 226, 227; specificity of 225; universality of 225; Western 224 Vietnam 59, 212 Vogel, Ezra 205 Wahid, Abdurrahman 13, 78, 105, 110, 112, 208 welfare capitalism 206; as contrasted to stock market capitalism 209; Japan’s 209–10, 215–16; preventing high-level unemployment 217 World Bank 3, 178, 190, 206; on economic governance 2; ‘second generation’ development strategy 152 World Trade Organization (WTO) 183, 190 Yam, Joseph 196 Yohei Kono 184

2Chapter GIS: a sourcebook 1 for schools

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