ASEAN’s Half Century

A Political History of the Association

of Southeast Asian Nations

Donald E. Weatherbee
University of South Carolina

ROWMAN & LITTLEFIELD

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Names: Weatherbee, Donald E., author.
Title: ASEAN’s half century : a political history of the Association of
Southeast Asian Nations / Donald E. Weatherbee.
Description: Lanham : Rowman & Littlefield, [2019] | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018058285 (print) | LCCN 2018058929 (ebook) |
ISBN 9781442272538 (ebook) | ISBN 9781442272514 | ISBN
9781442272514 (cloth ; alk. paper) | ISBN 9781442272521 (pbk. ;
alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: ASEAN—History. | Southeast Asia—Politics and
government—1945– | Southeast Asia—Foreign relations. |
Security, International—Southeast Asia.
Classification: LCC DS526.7 (ebook) | LCC DS526.7 .W43 2019
(print) | DDC 341.24/73—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018058285

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 To Epsey
without whose constant support this work would
not have been completed
 Contents

Acknowledgments
ASEAN Community Basic Structure
Note on ASEAN Documentation
List of Abbreviations
Map
1 Introduction to ASEAN: ASEAN’s Fiftieth Birthday
2 The Founding of ASEAN: The Bangkok Declaration
3 ASEAN’s First Reinvention: The 1976 First ASEAN Summit
4 The Third Indochina War: The Situation in Kampuchea
5 The Expansion of ASEAN: From Five to Ten
6 Adapting to Peace: The 1988 Third ASEAN Summit
7 ASEAN’s Second Reinvention: The 1992 Fourth ASEAN
Summit
8 ASEAN’s Third Reinvention: The Building Blocks of the ASEAN
Community
 9 Intra-ASEAN Conflict: Norms versus Behavior
10 ASEAN’s Existential Crisis: The South China Sea Conflict
11 ASEAN’s Vision 2025: A Fourth Reinvention?
About the Author
 Acknowledgments

The intellectual basis of this book is my more than fifty-year career of

research, writing, and teaching about Southeast Asian politics and
international relations. I have drawn on many of my earlier
publications and papers in tracing the political evolution of ASEAN.
In the course of my career, I have enjoyed the exchange of
information, ideas, and criticism from literally hundreds of academic
colleagues and government officials in Southeast Asia and the
United States, far too many to be identified by name. At different
points in time, I have had access to the hospitality and resources of
important Southeast Asian think tanks, including Indonesia’s Center
for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), Malaysia’s Institute of
Strategic and International Studies (ISIS Malaysia), and in Bangkok,
the Institute of Strategic and International Studies at Chulalongkorn
University. I am particularly indebted to Singapore’s Institute of
Southeast Asian Studies (ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute), where I
spent four periods of long-term residence. During my years on the
faculty of the University of South Carolina, my research programs
were supported by the Institute of International Studies, headed by
the late Dr. Richard L. Walker, for whom the institute is now named.
In completing this work, I depended on the Time and Life
magazines–honed editorial and fact-checking skills of my wife, Dr.
Epsey Cooke Farrell-Weatherbee, a Southeast Asia scholar in her
own right. At Rowman & Little-field, Susan McEachern once again
demonstrated encouragement and great patience, for which I thank
her.
ASEAN COMMUNITY BASIC STRUCTURE
 Note on ASEAN Documentation

This study depends heavily on ASEAN documents, most of which

are available online. Specific ASEAN documents cited in the text,
such as declarations, press conferences, and so on, are noted and,
where available, the URL to the online text is given. In the case of
the two major ASEAN governing bodies, the ASEAN [Foreign]
Ministers’ Meetings (AMM) and the ASEAN Summit Meetings, the
text’s references to them are so numerous that a note for each
reference would be burdensome. Instead, I refer the reader here to
the ASEAN links to all of the AMMs and summits listed in
chronological order: for the AMMs, see https://asean.org/asean-
political-security-community/asean-foreign-ministers-meeting-amm/,
and for the ASEAN Summits, see https://asean.org/asean/asean-
structure/asean-summit.
 Abbreviations

ACC ASEAN Coordinating Council

ACCT ASEAN Convention on Counter Terrorism

ACMECS Ayeyawadi-Chao Phraya-Mekong Economic

Cooperation Strategy

ADB Asian Development Bank

ADMM ASEAN Defense Ministers’ Meeting

AEC ASEAN Economic Community

AEM ASEAN Economic Ministers

AFTA ASEAN Free Trade Area

AHRD ASEAN Human Rights Declaration

AIA ASEAN Investment Area

AICHR ASEAN Intergovernmental Commission on Human

Rights

AICO ASEAN Industrial Cooperation Scheme

AMBDC ASEAN–Mekong Basin Development Cooperation

AMM ASEAN Ministers’ Meeting

ANS Armée Nationale Sihanoukiste (Cambodia)

APSC ASEAN Political-Security Community

APT ASEAN + 3

ARF ASEAN Regional Forum

ASA Association of Southeast Asia

ASC ASEAN Security Community

ASCC ASEAN Socio-Cultural Community

ASPAC Asia and Pacific Council

BIMSTEC Bay of Bengal Initiative for Multi-Sectoral Technical

and Economic Cooperation

BRN Barisan Revolusi Nasional (Thailand)

CBM Confidence-Building Measure

CCI ASEAN Chamber of Commerce and Industry

CEPEA Comprehensive Economic Partnership in East Asia

CEPT Common Effective Preferential Tariff

CGDK Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea

CLMV Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam

CMI Chiang Mai Initiative

COC Code of Conduct

COHA Cessation of Hostilities Agreement (Indonesia)

CPTPP Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for
Trans-Pacific Partnership

CSCAP Council for Security Cooperation in the Asia Pacific

DK Democratic Kampuchea

DOC Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South

China Sea

DRET Democratic Republic of East Timor

EAEC East Asia Economic Caucus

EAEG East Asia Economic Group

EAFTA East Asia Free Trade Area

EAMF Expanded ASEAN Maritime Forum

EAVG East Asia Vision Group

EDCA Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement

EEC European Economic Community

EEZ Exclusive Economic Zone

EPG Eminent Persons Group

FDI Foreign Direct Investment

FOC Friends of the Chair

FONOP Freedom of Navigation Operation

FRETILIN Frente Revolucionária do Timor-Leste Independente

(East Timor)
FTAAP Free Trade Area of Asia and the Pacific

FUNCINPEC Front Uni National pour un Cambodge Indépendent,

Neutre, Pacifique, et Coopératif (Cambodia)

GAM Gerakan Aceh Merdeka (Indonesia)

GATT General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade

GDP Gross Domestic Product

GMS Greater Mekong Subregion

HDC Henry Dunant Centre for Humanitarian Dialogue

HLTF High Level Task Force

HPA Hanoi Plan of Action

IAI Initiative for ASEAN Integration

ICJ International Court of Justice

ICK International Conference on Kampuchea

IMC Informal Meeting on Cambodia

IMF International Monetary Fund

INTERFET International Force for East Timor

IOT Indonesia Observer Team (Thailand)

ISF International Stabilization Force (East Timor)

ISM Intersessional Meeting

JIM Jakarta Informal Meeting

JWG Joint Working Group

KPNLF Khmer People’s National Liberation Front

KPRP Khmer (or Kampuchea) People’s Revolutionary Party

KR Khmer Rouge

LMC Lancang-Mekong Cooperation

LPDR Lao People’s Democratic Republic

MAPHILINDO Malaysia, Philippines, Indonesia (nonpolitical

confederation)

MBA Military Bases Agreement

MIA Missing in Action

MDT Mutual Defense Treaty (Philippines)

MILF Moro Islamic Liberation Front (Philippines)

MNLF Moro National Liberation Front (Philippines)

MRC Mekong River Commission

MSG Melanesian Spearhead Group (PNG)

NAM Non-Aligned Movement

NLD National League for Democracy (Myanmar)

NPT UN Treaty on Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons

NWS Nuclear Weapon States

OIC Organization of Islamic Cooperation

OPTAD Organization for Pacific Trade and Development

PAFTAD Pacific Trade and Development Conference

PAVN People’s Army of Vietnam

PCA Permanent Court of Arbitration

PECC Pacific Economic Cooperation Conference

PICC Paris International Conference on Cambodia

PKI Partai Kommunis Indonesia

PLA People’s Liberation Army

PMC Post-Ministerial Conference

PNG Papua New Guinea

PRB Partai Rakyat Brunei

PRC People’s Republic of China

PRGSV Provisional Revolutionary Government of South

Vietnam

PRK People’s Republic of Kampuchea

PTA Preferential Trading Arrangement

RCEP Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership

ROV Republic of Vietnam

SCO Shanghai Cooperation Organization

SCS South China Sea

SEAARC Southeast Asia Association for Regional Cooperation

SEAFET Southeast Asia Friendship and Economic Treaty

SEANWFZ Southeast Asia Nuclear Weapon–Free Zone

SEATO Southeast Asia Treaty Organization

SLORC State Law and Order Restoration Council (Myanmar)

SNC Supreme National Council (Cambodia)

SOM Senior Officials’ Meeting

SPDC State Peace and Development Council (Myanmar)

SRV Socialist Republic of Vietnam

TAC Southeast Asia Treaty of Amity and Cooperation

TNKU Tentera Nasional Kalimantan Utara (Brunei)

TPP Trans-Pacific Partnership

UNAMET United Nations Assistance Mission in East Timor

UNCLOS United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea

UNGA United Nations General Assembly

UNHCR United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees

UNSC United Nations Security Council

UNTAC United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia

UNTAET United Nations Transitional Administration in East

Timor

VAP Vientiane Action Program

WTO World Trade Organization

ZOPFAN Zone of Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality

ZOPGIN Zone of Peace, Genuine Independence, and
Neutrality
 Chapter 1
Introduction to ASEAN
ASEAN’s Fiftieth Birthday

On August 8, 2017, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations

(ASEAN) celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of its founding by the
foreign ministers of Indonesia, the Philippines, Singapore, and
Thailand, and Malaysia’s deputy prime minister. The original five
member states were joined by Brunei (1984), Vietnam (1995), Laos
and Myanmar (1997), and Cambodia (1999). The application of a
potential eleventh member, Timor-Leste, is pending. Throughout the
anniversary year a virtual clock on ASEAN’s website—
https://asean.org—counted down the time to the organization’s
golden jubilee. A twenty-seven-page calendar listed the
commemorative events taking place throughout the ASEAN region.
The official ceremony for the occasion took place in Manila, where
the Philippines’ president, Rodrigo Duterte, chaired ASEAN for the
year by virtue of the country’s position in ASEAN’s annual leadership
rotation.
A half century earlier in Bangkok, Thailand, the five ministers had
issued the Bangkok ASEAN Declaration, laying the foundation for a
regional intergovernmental organization dedicated to cooperation in
the pursuit of regional peace, stability, and economic prosperity. The
founders could not have imagined that what they had created would
fifty years later be acclaimed as the world’s second-most successful
regional intergovernmental organization after the European Union. In
their Manila anniversary declaration, the current ASEAN heads of
government reaffirmed the founders’ aspirations, purposes, and
principles that had guided the organization through five decades.1 In
particular, they addressed their commitment to maintain and promote
regional peace, stability, and security. In ASEAN’s first half century,
the achievement of these political goals has been viewed by
generations of ASEAN’s leaders as setting the necessary political
conditions for attaining ASEAN’s economic and social goals.
Although sometimes deliberately obscured in the wrappings of
ASEAN’s nonpolitical agenda, it is the pursuit of security at the
national, Southeast Asia regional, and Asia-Pacific levels of political
interaction that has been the salient dimension of ASEAN’s history,
framing and shaping the development of its economic, cultural, and
social dimensions. It is the evolution and future of ASEAN’s political
role in both intra–Southeast Asian and wider Asia-Pacific relations
that is the major concern of this book.
The emergence of ASEAN as a political umbrella under which ten
sovereign Southeast Asian states have promoted cooperation in
defined areas of political, economic, and social state activity has
given a new geo-economic identity to Southeast Asia as a region.
Southeast Asia itself as a political region dates only from World War
II in the Pacific, which gave a geographic unity to the disparate
collection of colonial realms between China and India. It was only
with the appearance of ASEAN, however, that the kind of trans-
boundary transactions and regularities appeared that characterize
functional regionalism as opposed to simply geographic proximity.2
The concept of ASEAN itself has acquired a meaning that goes well
beyond the bureaucratic limits of the workings of an
intergovernmental international organization. It has become common
to aggregate economic and social data from member states and
attribute the totals to ASEAN as if the organization were an
autonomous international actor whose policies, structures, and
central leadership were responsible for the outcomes, not the
sovereign member states independently. While this serves to give an
impressive picture of ASEAN’s importance as a global region, it
grossly exaggerates ASEAN’s role as the causal agent for the
member states’ economic growth and development.
As a geographic region, ASEAN has a total land area of 4.5 million
square kilometers (1.7 million square miles): larger than India, a third
the size of China or the United States, and about the size of the EU.
The sprawling Indonesian archipelago—more than five thousand
kilometers (three thousand miles) west to east—comprises 42
percent of ASEAN’s land space. Singapore, ASEAN’s richest
member, is also its smallest, only 716 square kilometers (276 square
miles). Within ASEAN, stubborn territorial and maritime border
disputes continue to plague ASEAN solidarity. The ASEAN
population of 640 million is nearly double that of the United States, a
little less than half that of India and China, and more than that of the
EU. This makes it, in ASEAN’s terms, the world’s third-largest
market. More than 40 percent of ASEAN’s population—261 million—
is Indonesian. The second-largest population, 104 million, is in the
Philippines. ASEAN’s smallest populations are in Singapore (5.9
million) and Brunei (444,000). Forty percent (257 million) of ASEAN’s
population is Muslim. Indonesia, Malaysia, and Brunei are Muslim-
majority countries, and there are large Muslim minorities in Thailand,
the Philippines, and Myanmar. Domestic repression of Muslim
minorities’ political rights as well as armed Muslim separatist
movements have created intra-ASEAN political tensions.
ASEAN prides itself on its economic growth. ASEAN’s GDP at
current prices stood at $2,559 billion in 2016, the third largest in Asia
after China and Japan, and sixth in the world.3 It amounted to a 3.4
percent share of the global GDP. Over the last decade, ASEAN’s
GDP grew at a rate exceeded only by China and India. It equates to
an ASEAN GDP per capita of $4,034, a 70 percent increase over a
decade. Within ASEAN, however, economic inequality continues to
define the gap between the original members and the so-called
CLMV countries (Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and Vietnam), which
have per capita GDPs well below the ASEAN average. In
international trade in goods, ASEAN in 2016 was the world’s fourth-
largest trader, behind China, the United States, and Germany, with a
6.9 percent share of global trade in goods.* About a quarter of
ASEAN trade is intra-ASEAN. ASEAN’s largest trading partner is
China. In 2017, China-ASEAN two-way trade reached a record high
of $514 billion, more than double that of Japan-ASEAN two-way
trade of $235 billion. The ASEAN-China trade balance favors China,
which in 2017 enjoyed a $44 billion surplus.4 As a region, ASEAN is
an attractive target for foreign direct investment (FDI). The FDI flow
to ASEAN in 2016 was $96.7 billion.5 Japan was ASEAN’s largest
single national investor in 2016 at $13.9 billion, followed by the
United States’ $11.9 billion and China’s $9.2 billion.
Using Southeast Asian regional aggregate economic data as a
measure of ASEAN’s economic performance leaves a false
impression that there is a single ASEAN economy. There are ten
separate economies without a common market, common financial
institutions, common currency, free movement of labor, or other
transnational evidence of regional economic integration. In the
absence of real economic integration, it is difficult to measure what
ASEAN has contributed economically to the economic growth of the
individual ASEAN states. ASEAN has contributed to the building of a
favorable political climate for the promotion of economic ties
between ASEAN members and its international partners. In addition
to trade and FDI, there have been flows of economic assistance and
development funding from ASEAN’s dialogue partners and
multilateral agencies such as the World Bank, Asian Development
Bank, and the new, China-sponsored Asian Infrastructure Investment
Bank. In the last decade, the bilateral flow of Chinese soft loans for
infrastructure and other projects has led to heavy indebtedness to
China by some ASEAN states. For example, the International
Monetary Fund reported in 2016 that Cambodia’s multilateral public
debt was $1.6 billion and its bilateral was $3.9 billion, of which more
than 80 percent was owned by China.6 The ballooning indebtedness
to China and growing market dependence on China raise the
question of the political impact on ASEAN of a heightened Chinese
economic profile in the region.
Based on geopolitical and geo-economic factors, Indonesia
historically has played a large role in ASEAN. Its relative power
attributes include size, population, economic potential, natural
resources, geostrategic location, and political stability. This bolsters
an internal Indonesian conviction that it is the “natural” leader of
ASEAN. Its place in the organization has often been described as
primus inter pares. Despite what British scholar Michael Leifer called
“a sense of regional entitlement,”7 under President Suharto (1967–
1998), Indonesia studiously avoided any hints of “big brother” in its
dealings with its ASEAN partners. Its influence was most indirectly
displayed in the so-called empat mata (four eyes) meetings between
Suharto and ASEAN counterparts where Indonesia’s positions on
ASEAN matters—particularly security issues—would be made clear.
As later chapters will show, post-Suharto efforts by Indonesia to give
direction to ASEAN have been resisted, and the prospects for
alternative leadership seem dim.
During the course of ASEAN’s history, hundreds of books and
journal articles have been written about it by authors representing
different national, theoretical, official, journalistic, and academic
perspectives. Depending on the experiences, interests, and
intellectual vantage points of the different authors who have written
about ASEAN over the years, there is a wide range of assessments
of ASEAN’s regional role and its achievements. The differences in
appreciation of the organization are great. For example, ASEAN has
been termed a “miracle” in its overcoming of the cultural divides of
the region and becoming a model for cooperative coexistence with
an important role to play in world politics.8 Some critics would say
that the “miracle” was ASEAN’s survival despite the historical,
cultural, and political odds against it. Positive evaluations of
ASEAN’s regional role can be contrasted with a harsh description of
ASEAN as an institutional shell in which nothing of substance
happens and which is increasingly irrelevant to real policymaking.9 In
fact, it is real policymaking at the national levels that has led its
members to make the political investment in ASEAN, giving it an
international identity independent of the national identities of its
members.
The attention given to the economic performance of the ASEAN
countries has obscured the political facts of ASEAN’s roots and
history. The creation of ASEAN was a conscious political reaction of
some remarkable Southeast Asian leaders in a post-colonial political
setting of domestic insecurities, communist and ethnic insurgencies,
and regional rivalries. These local security threats were embedded in
the regional theater of the U.S.–Soviet Union Cold War. Over
ASEAN’s half century, the specific sources of potential threats to
ASEAN security may have changed, but the strategic settings have
not: internal domestic conflicts in member states; intra-ASEAN
disputes and conflict; and ASEAN’s international position among
great-power rivalries for power and influence in Southeast Asia.
ASEAN faces today a potential existential crisis as it diplomatically
maneuvers to adapt to China’s challenge to the post–World War II
established role of the United States in the Asia-Pacific region. As
we examine the political responses of ASEAN to the threats
presented in its contemporary strategic environment, a question
arises as to whether the political and diplomatic tools that were
developed by ASEAN in its early history to manage conflict and
disputes will suffice as it moves into its sixth decade.
Efforts to explain and analyze ASEAN’s political development
through application of contemporary international relations theory
have had little predictive value. The theoretical nimbus in which
ASEAN has often been observed is at its core integrationist. After
fifty years, there is little evidence that there has been integrative
spillover from limited cooperative efforts in economic and social
development activities into ASEAN’s political structures. In that
respect, the principles governing the political relationship among the
member states are the same today as they were in 1967: state
sovereignty and noninterference in the internal affairs of member
states. The ASEAN world is still Westphalian and calculations of
relative power still matter. This means that the normative rules
established by ASEAN for state behavior cannot be enforced. Most
glaringly, at least in terms of ASEAN’s international image, its
declarative adherence to democracy and human rights is
contradicted by the realities of ruling regimes in more than half of the
ASEAN states.
Within Southeast Asia, ASEAN’s development has sometimes
been viewed as an expression of ASEAN’s regional cultural
predisposition to cooperation and consensus.10 Decision-making in
ASEAN, for example, is by musjawarah (deliberation) and mufakat
(consensus). This mode was at the ideological heart of the
idealization by Indonesia’s first president, Sukarno, of the traditional
village model of governance by elders, in which contest is avoided
through persistent efforts to find common ground in the unity of
consensus.11 Although Sukarno’s government was toppled in 1965–
1966—one of the events making ASEAN possible—musjawarah and
mufakat came into ASEAN with Indonesia. ASEAN documents
continue to reference ASEAN’s cultural heritage as part of its political
glue.12 In fact, the culturally significant aspect of ASEAN that has had
the most impact on its political development has been the ethno-
cultural diversity of its peoples and the histories of animosities
among them. Unlike Europe and Christianity, there was no all-
embracing transnational Southeast Asian identity. And, again unlike
Europe, after fifty years, no popular—as opposed to bureaucratic—
ASEAN regional identity has emerged to link the diverse populations
at the supranational level.
The primacy of politics in ASEAN is guaranteed by its leaders, the
foreign ministers backed by senior officials and by ASEAN-dedicated
bureaucrats. It is the ASEAN foreign ministers who have shaped the
forms, levels, and intensity of their countries’ commitment to ASEAN.
To make ASEAN intelligible, its decisions must be viewed in the
foreign policy context in which the foreign ministers are operating.
Their approach is not based on theories, but on perceptions of
national interest. In that sense, ASEAN decisions reflect a lowest-
common-denominator convergence of the national interests of its
members on specific issues. This has led to a pattern of ASEAN as a
reactive rather than a proactive organization. From the national
perspective, ASEAN membership is one of the tools in their
independent foreign policy tool boxes. This view of ASEAN collides
with that which would see ASEAN as ultimately transcending the
narrow claims of national interest in a transnational recognition of a
superseding common regional interest.
From its first decade to the present, in the absence of indigenous
real power, ASEAN’s approach to regional security has been based
on appeals to international law, the establishing of norms for state
behavior, and a declaratory zone of peace, freedom, and neutrality.
Its success, however, in maintaining ASEAN as an autonomous
actor—what ASEAN has deemed its “centrality”—has relied on a
hedging strategy in the dynamics of managing its position in a great-
power balance of power. In simple terms, it means risk avoidance by
not taking sides in the political/strategic conflicts between the great
powers, while seeking to maximize the benefits of good relations
with both China and the United States but not favoring one at the
cost of alienating the other. ASEAN’s hedging strategy has been
challenged by the strategic uncertainties in the great powers’
relationship. Furthermore, as ASEAN hedges, its member states
individually are managing bilateral relations with the great powers
that can feed back into ASEAN’s decision-making. For example,
Cambodia’s client-like dependency on China has been an important
factor as a source for ASEAN’s political incoherency in the South
China Sea crisis (chapter 10).
That ASEAN’s political hedging strategy has been successful
seems implied by the congratulatory messages to honor its fiftieth
anniversary that poured in from foreign leaders attesting to ASEAN’s
international importance and achievements. It was the political
quality of ASEAN that stood out. The then secretary of state Rex
Tillerson conveyed the United States’ congratulations, remarking that
“since 1967, ASEAN has made remarkable strides in maintaining
peace across Southeast Asia, accelerating economic growth, and
improving the life of the citizens of its 10 member states.”13 From
Beijing, President Xi Jinping extended China’s congratulations. Since
its foundation, he said, ASEAN “has played an important role in
maintaining regional peace and stability, and has become a
representative force for multipolarity development in the world.”14
Both Tillerson and Xi took the opportunity to stress the strength of
their countries’ productive relationship with ASEAN over the years
and looked forward to their future partnership with ASEAN in
advancing peace, stability, and prosperity in Southeast Asia. The
achievement of these conditions in the future will depend not only on
American and Chinese relations with ASEAN but, critically, on the
relations between the two great powers as their interests collide in
Southeast Asia.
The last major ASEAN event in the 2017 jubilee year was the
November 13–14 31st ASEAN Summit, the second of the twice-
yearly meetings of the member countries’ heads of government.
Since ASEAN began biannual summits in 2009, the first, in April or
May, is an ASEAN affair, and the second, in October or November,
demonstrates ASEAN’s international outreach. In addition to its own
summit, with the motto “Partnering for Change, Engaging the World,”
there were summits with “dialogue partners”: the United Nations, the
European Union, the United States, India, Japan, South Korea,
China, and Canada.* There were also the ASEAN + 3 Summit
(China, Japan, and South Korea) and the eighteen-member East
Asia Summit (EAS): ASEAN plus China, Japan, South Korea,
Australia, New Zealand, India, the Russian Federation, and the
United States. Packed into a two-day event, the multiple summits
were largely scripted, ceremonial sessions with the hard diplomacy
of crafting consensus statements and declarations carried out well in
advance by the foreign ministers and their senior officials.15 For
ASEAN, these annual formal meetings with its global interlocutors
are proof of ASEAN’s claim to “centrality” in its engagements with
external parties in responding to regional security challenges. It was
an expensive event to put on, costing the Philippines’ government
15.5 billion pesos (USD $28.6 million).16 This far exceeds the
ASEAN Secretariat’s annual budget of USD $20 million for a staff of
three hundred, which deals with more than a thousand meetings a
year. That budget has been stagnant, fixed by equal contributions by
each government without regard to relative economic size. This has
limited the capacity of the secretariat to expand to meet the growing
demands on it.17
In his Chairman’s Statement at the summit, President Duterte
attributed ASEAN’s centrality “to its effective and timely response to
emergency situations in the region, projecting a unified position on
issues of common interest, and ensuring that ASEAN’s collective
interests are not compromised.” However, the history of ASEAN’s
responses to “emergencies” in its region has shown that its
responses have often been neither timely nor effective. It depends
on the nature of the emergency: political, economic, or natural
disaster. Tellingly, even as Duterte’s Chairman’s Statement was
circulated, one of the greatest human tragedies of the century was
taking place inside of ASEAN. The world was aghast at the ethnic
cleansing of seven hundred thousand Rohingya Muslims from
Myanmar’s Rakhine State. This is not the kind of centrality that
ASEAN seeks. By its own strict rule of noninterference and
consensus (with Myanmar holding a veto), ASEAN was powerless to
intervene (chapter 9). Without taking note of causation, the
Chairman’s Statement encouraged humanitarian assistance, the end
of violence, and peaceful resolution. It was as if the Rohingya were
equally to blame. This was an ASEAN statement that Myanmar
could accept in an ASEAN consensus.
ASEAN’s rhetorical claim to centrality in the regional international
order is bolstered not just by the platforms it offers at its meetings,
but also by its insistence that it is “the driving force in charting the
evolution of the regional architecture,” a locution that regularly
appears in ASEAN’s descriptions of its regional international role. As
a cost-free political gesture, ASEAN’s dialogue partners are willing to
give a nod to this. For example, at the May 4, 2017, Special ASEAN-
U.S. Foreign Ministers’ Meeting in Washington, DC, the ASEAN
ministers “appreciated the U.S.’ respect and support for ASEAN
Centrality and ASEAN-led mechanisms in the evolving regional
architecture of the Asia-Pacific.”18 “Architecture” means the ASEAN
frameworks in which ASEAN’s “norms building” take place, such as
the Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia (TAC), the
ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), the EAS, and others (chapter 7).
ASEAN’s assertion of its centrality as the driving force raises the
question of whether in fact ASEAN has the capacity to influence
strategic decision-making by external powers. At the minimum,
however, ASEAN can claim to be a fixture in regional international
politics whose failure would be regionally destabilizing.
Through the course of its history, ASEAN has reinvented itself
three times as it has sought to adjust to change in regional and
international political and economic circumstances. The first
reinvention came in 1976 when, pressed by Indonesia, the heads of
government held their first summit meeting on the Indonesian island
of Bali (chapter 3). The background was the communist victories in
Indochina. It was at this meeting that issues of regional security
became openly and clearly defined as an ASEAN focus. ASEAN’s
second reinvention was marked by a drive for economic relevance.
This was signified by the adoption of the Framework Agreement on
Enhancing ASEAN Economic Cooperation at the 1992 fourth
ASEAN Summit in Singapore (chapter 7). The Framework
Agreement became the foundation for ASEAN’s future efforts in the
direction of economic integration. ASEAN’s third reinvention got
under way in 1997 with the ASEAN Vision 2020, which envisioned a
cooperative and integrative process that would build an ASEAN
Community (chapter 8). The mandate for the community was laid out
in the 2004 Bali Concord II and given a legal basis in its 2007
ASEAN Charter. It is a community without central political or
economic institutions. The members remain fully sovereign
independent actors. Of particular concern is ASEAN’s consensual
mode of decision-making, known as the “ASEAN way,” based on the
principles of sovereignty and noninterference. To operate effectively,
this assumes a nonadversarial political setting in which the decision-
makers are willing to cooperate and compromise national interest in
order to preserve comity and a sense of community. This can be
called the “ASEAN spirit.”

NOTES
1. “ASEAN Leaders’ Declaration on the 50th Anniversary of ASEAN,” August 8, 2017,
accessed at https://asean.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/ASEAN-Leaders-Declaration-on-
the-50th-Anniversary-of-ASEAN-8-August-2017-FINAL.pdf.
2. For a discussion of ASEAN’s regional identity, see Donald K. Emmerson, “‘Southeast
Asia’: What’s in a Name?” Journal of Southeast Asia Studies 15, no. 1 (1984): 1–21; Donald
E. Weatherbee, “ASEAN’s Identity Crisis,” in Ann Marie Murphy and Bridget Welsh, eds.,
Legacy of Engagement in Southeast Asia (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies,
2008), 355–58.
3. The statistics are from the ASEAN Economic Community Chartbook 2017, accessed
at https://asean.org/?static_post=asean-economic-community-chartbook-2017.
4. “China-ASEAN Trade Volume Hits Record High in 2017,” Xinhua, accessed at
http://www.xinhuanet.com/english/2018-01/28/c_136931519.htm.
5. The FDI statistics are from table 1.1 of the ASEAN Investment Report 2017, accessed
at http://asean.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/ASEAN-Investment-Report-2017.pdf.
6. Veasna Var and Sovinda Po, “Cambodia, Sri Lanka and the China Debt Trap,” East
Asia Forum, March 18, 2017, accessed at
http://www.eastasiaforum.org/2017/03/18/cambodia-sri-lanka-and-the-china-debt-trap.
7. Michael Leifer, Indonesia’s Foreign Policy (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1983),
173.
8. Kishore Mahbubani and Jeffery Sng, The ASEAN Miracle: A Catalyst for Peace
(Singapore: NUS Press, 2017).
9. David Martin Jones and M. L. R. Smith, ASEAN and East Asian International
Relations: Regional Delusions (Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar, 2006).
 10. Estrella D. Solidum, The Politics of ASEAN: An Introduction to Southeast Asian
Regionalism (Singapore: Eastern Universities Press, 2003).
11. Sukarno, “To Build the World Anew,” Address to the Fifteenth General Assembly of
the United Nations, September 30, 1960.
12. See, for example, the “ASEAN Declaration on Cultural Heritage,” accessed at
http://cultureandinformation.asean.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/ASEAN-Declaration-on-
Cultural-Heritage.pdf.
13. U.S. Department of State, Press Release, Secretary of State Rex Tillerson, “ASEAN
Day Remarks,” August 7, 2017, accessed at
https://www.state.gov/secretary/20172018tillerson/remarks/2017/08/273221.htm.
14. “Xi Extends Congratulations on 50th Anniversary of ASEAN’s Foundation,” Xinhua,
August 8, 2017, accessed at http://www.xinhuanet.com/English/2017-
08/08/c_136509181.htm.
15. The documents of the multiple summits can be accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=31th-asean-summit-manila-philippines-13-14-november-2017.
16. “PH Government Spent about P15.459 Billion for 31st ASEAN Summit,” accessed at
https://philnews.ph/2017/11/17/ph-government-spent-p15-459-billion-31st-asean-summit.
17. “No Reforms for ASEAN Anytime Soon,” Jakarta Post, November 25, 2017.
18. ASEAN Foreign Ministers’ Press Statement, accessed at https://asean.org/wp-
content/uploads/2017/05/Press-Statement-by-the-ASEAN-FMs-on-the-Special-ASEAN-
U.S.-FMM-4May2017-FIN.pdf.
*ASEAN makes this claim by disaggregating the EU’s share of trade.
*Dialogue partners New Zealand and Russia did not have an ASEAN + 1 summit in 2017.
A “dialogue partner” is a country with deep and long-standing relations with ASEAN in
support of its political, economic, and social goals.
 Chapter 2
The Founding of ASEAN
The Bangkok Declaration

On August 8, 1967, four foreign ministers and a deputy prime

minister representing five Southeast Asian countries gathered in the
reception hall of Saranrom Palace, the Bangkok home of Thailand’s
Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The countries represented were
Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand. The
occasion was the signing of the Bangkok Declaration establishing an
association for regional cooperation among the countries of
Southeast Asia to be known as the Association of Southeast Asian
Nations (ASEAN). The countries had little in common other than a
Southeast Asian geographic location and the impress of Western
imperialism followed by Japanese occupation in World War II. Four
of them became independent only after the war. Malaya became
independent in 1957. It had been part of a British colonial empire
that included Burma* and the crown colonies or protectorates of
Singapore, North Borneo, Sarawak, and Brunei. Malaya became
Malaysia in 1963 when the remaining British dependencies—except
Brunei—were incorporated into the new federal state. Singapore left
the federation in 1965, becoming an independent republic. The
Philippines’ independence from the United States came in 1946, but
Manila maintained close political, economic, and cultural ties with its
former ruler. Indonesia’s independence from the Netherlands was
proclaimed in 1945 but only won in 1949 after an armed struggle
against the Dutch efforts to reestablish their rule. Only Thailand had
escaped direct colonial rule in the age of imperialism in Southeast
Asia, but its independence was constrained by unequal treaties and
the political demands of France and Great Britain. Thailand sided
with Japan in World War II, regaining territories in Malaya and
Cambodia it had been forced to cede to British and French imperial
dependencies, only to have to retrocede them after the war.
There was great political and cultural diversity among the five
countries. Malaysia was a constitutional monarchy with Islam as its
state religion. The government is a Westminster-style parliamentary
democracy in a multiethnic setting in which Malay political
dominance is balanced by its Chinese citizens’ economic
opportunities. Singapore, with its large majority Chinese population,
is a secular illiberal parliamentary “democracy” that was dominated
by its founding prime minister, Lee Kuan Yew, until his death in 2015.
The Philippines’ political organization and culture was a transpacific
transplant of the American with a Spanish tint. The majority of the
population is Roman Catholic Christian. In 1967, President
Ferdinand Marcos was in his second year of what became a twenty-
year dictatorial reign. Thailand is a Buddhist kingdom. Its king,
Bhumibol Adulyadej, from 1946 to his death in 2016, was a symbol
of unity and stability beneath which governments alternated as
windows of democracy were closed by military dictatorship. The last
coup in 2014 was the nineteenth since the overthrow of the absolute
monarchy in 1932. Indonesia, with its Muslim-majority population,
began its national life as a liberal democracy but was transformed in
1957 by martial law into President Sukarno’s “guided democracy.”
After an attempted communist coup and military countercoup in
1965, Sukarno* was replaced by General Suharto, who ruled with
the trappings of democracy but the reality of military command of
politics until he was toppled in 1998. Despite the differences in their
governments, Sukarno and Suharto shared an appreciation of what
Indonesia’s role should be in Southeast Asia: leadership—the former
by revolution; the latter by statecraft.
 Elsewhere in Southeast Asia, Burma, independent since 1948,
pursued a singular foreign policy path of strict nonalignment,
neutrality, and isolation from regional engagements. Preoccupied
with internal armed challenges from communist insurgents and
breakaway ethnic minorities, the inward-looking government in
Rangoon was suspicious of external interventions. This became
even more pronounced after General Ne Win’s 1962 military coup.
Although membership in ASEAN was offered to Ne Win, it was
rebuffed. Membership for the Indochina states of Laos, Cambodia,
and Vietnam was politically foreclosed until the dust had settled from
forty years of Indochina wars.
The formal signing of the declaration was hosted by Thai foreign
minister Thanat Khoman. A seasoned diplomat, Thanat had been
foreign minister since 1959, first under Field Marshal Sarit Thanarat
and, since 1963, Sarit’s successor, General Thanom Kittikachorn.
Foreign Minister Thanat had a free hand from his military masters so
long as Thailand’s close military ties to the United States were not
compromised. Signing for the Philippines was Foreign Minister
Narciso R. Ramos, a professional diplomat and father of future
president Fidel Ramos. Singapore was represented by Sinnathamby
Rajaratnam (better knowm as S. Rajaratnam), who had become
Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew’s foreign minister at Singapore’s
independence in 1965. Indonesia was represented by Foreign
Minister Adam Malik, long an actor in Indonesian politics and
government. Malik served as President Suharto’s foreign minister
from 1967 to 1977, and then as vice president from 1978 to 1983.
He had been a key figure in the normalization of Indonesia’s
relations with Malaysia after Indonesia’s 1964–1966 undeclared war
against its cross-straits neighbor. Malik’s opposite number in the
peacemaking was Tun Abdul Razak,* and it was Razak who signed
the Bangkok Declaration for Malaysia. His official position was
deputy prime minister and minister of defense. He became prime
minister in 1970 after the retirement of Prime Minister Tunku Abdul
Rahman, who concurrently held the foreign affairs portfolio, and
served until 1977. Today, the five ministers who signed the Bangkok
Declaration are honored by their successors as ASEAN’s “founding
fathers.”
 The formalities of the Bangkok signing had been preceded by four
days of work and play at the Gulf of Thailand coastal resort town of
Bang Saen, where the principals occupied Field Marshal Sarit’s
“bungalow.” There, with interruptions for golf and dining, the
plenipotentiaries and their official aides worked out the final details of
a document laying out a program of cooperation in areas of common
interests that could overarch the deep divisions of history, culture,
politics, religions, and ethnicity separating them. Hailed as a new
beginning for Southeast Asian interstate relations, ASEAN’s
conceptual and institutional roots can be traced back over a decade
of consultations, negotiations, and embryonic institution building in a
foreign policy process marked by dead ends, political alarms, and an
undeclared war. What was really new was the inclusion of Indonesia
in the process.

ASEAN’S ANTECEDENTS
In the mid-1950s, Southeast Asia’s independent countries,
geographically identified as a region, had no regional political or
economic identity. Their foreign political and economic policies linked
them to governments and international groupings outside of
Southeast Asia, not to one another. The intrusions of the Cold War
heavily influenced Southeast Asian interstate relations. For the pro-
West Southeast Asian states, the Soviet Union was viewed as the
promoter of communist aggression and subversion in the region. The
emergence of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) seemed to
increase the communist threat. There were armed communist
insurgencies in Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines. It was only
later that Beijing’s interests and policies were recognized as different
from Moscow’s. The United States had brought its global strategy of
“containment” to Southeast Asia. The epicenter of the Southeast
Asian front of the Cold War was former French Indochina, where the
1954 Geneva Accords ended the French effort to restore its colonial
rule (the First Indochina War). The agreement partitioned Vietnam at
the seventeenth parallel of latitude—supposedly temporarily—into
communist-ruled North Vietnam (Democratic Republic of Vietnam
[DRV]) and South Vietnam (Republic of Vietnam [ROV]) and
theoretically neutralized the kingdoms of Laos and Cambodia. After
the ROV, backed by the United States, abandoned the Geneva-
promised plan for elections to unify the country, the DRV, backed by
Moscow and Beijing, turned to force in a military campaign for the
unification of Vietnam. This was the Second Indochina War, in which
the United States enlisted its Southeast Asian allies to resist what it
called communist aggression from the North, but which the DRV and
its friends and allies described as an anti-imperialist struggle for
national liberation.
United States policy was informed by the so-called domino theory
of geostrategic thinking that held that the loss of any single country
in Southeast Asia to communism would lead to the submission or
alignment by the other Southeast Asian countries to the communists.
From Washington’s point of view, “Comunist domination, by
whatever means, of all Southeast Asia would seriously endanger in
the short term, and critically endanger in the longer term, United
States security interests.”1 To prevent this, the United States
mobilized allies in the September 1954 Southeast Asia Collective
Defense Treaty (Manila Pact) in which the parties recognized that
aggression by armed attack in the treaty area on a party to the treaty
or any state or territory unanimously designated by the parties to the
treaty was a threat to all.2 In that event, they agreed to act to meet
the common threat. By a separate protocol, the nonsignatory states
of South Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia were designated as covered
by the treaty.
Only two Southeast Asian countries signed the Manila Pact:
Thailand and the Philippines. The Philippines already had a bilateral
defense treaty with the United States. The other signatories were
Australia, France, Great Britain, New Zealand, and Pakistan, which
lost interest when the United States specified that “aggression” in the
treaty meant “communist” aggression, which ruled out Pakistan’s
perceived threat from India. The Manila Pact was given institutional
life in the creation of the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization
(SEATO), the name of which echoed Europe’s NATO, but without
any real military capabilities. It did, however, provide a regionalized
framework to link the existing U.S. alliance with Australia and New
Zealand (ANZUS Pact) to Southeast Asia. The Philippines’ and
Thailand’s membership in SEATO marked the political division
between aligned and neutral or nonaligned Southeast Asian states.
Malaysia’s and Singapore’s positions were ambiguous because,
even though they were not part of SEATO, they had strong military
ties to SEATO’s three British Commonwealth members.
In contrast to the Cold War maneuverings of the great powers, an
April 1954 meeting in Colombo (Ceylon [Sri Lanka]) of Asian prime
ministers began to prepare a conference to promote cooperation
among newly independent Asian and African nations. The attendees
were the leaders of Burma, Ceylon, India, Indonesia, and Pakistan.
A second, follow-up, preparatory meeting of the prime ministers was
held in Bogor, Indonesia, in December 1954. Both Burma and
Indonesia had resisted American efforts to enlist them in its
emerging Southeast Asia security strategy. American pressure on
Indonesia linking economic assistance to a mutual security
agreement caused a pro-Western government to fall. Burma’s anger
at U.S. support to Chinese Nationalist forces operating against the
PRC from Burmese bases led to a shutdown of American economic
assistance to Burma.
The Bandung (Indonesia) Asian-African Conference was opened
on April 18, 1955, with a speech by Indonesia’s president Sukarno.
The conference put Indonesia as host on the international stage for
the first time and gave Sukarno a claim to a leadership role in
Southeast Asia. Delegates from twenty-nine countries attended:
twenty-three Asian and six African. The conference took place
before post-1975 decolonization of sub-Saharan Africa. Besides
Indonesia and Burma, Southeast Asia was represented by
Cambodia, the DRV, Laos, the Philippines, the ROV, and Thailand.
The PRC made its debut as a regional political actor at the Bandung
Conference. At that time, Indonesia and Burma were the only
Southeast Asian states that diplomatically recognized the PRC
government. Premier Zhou Enlai tried to convince his Southeast
Asian counterparts that China had only peaceful intentions. His
Southeast Asian audience was not reassured, however, by Beijing’s
insistence on separating China’s official foreign policy from the
activities of the Chinese Communist Party and its links to fraternal
communist parties and insurgents in Southeast Asia.
 The Bandung Conference was designed to showcase the
emergence and importance of the new, postcolonial non-Western
states of the world with political, economic, and social interests
independent of the Cold War antagonisms of the great powers. The
twin themes of the conference were anti-imperialism and peaceful
coexistence. The conference’s final communiqué was clearly a
compromise document that toned down the more strident anti-
Western themes that abounded in the rhetoric of a number of the
delegations.3 The conference’s conclusions were summed up in the
famous “Bandung Principles” promoting peace and cooperation
among the nations of the world. Over ASEAN’s history, the Bandung
Principles have remained a touchstone in ASEAN’s statements and
declarations, providing a normative guide for the member states’
international behavior—no matter how deviant the behavior might be
in practice. Among the principles that became embedded in future
Southeast Asian security policy was Principle 6a: “abstention from
the use of arrangements of collective defense to serve the particular
interests of any of the big powers.”
Following the Bandung Conference, in 1961 stricter views of anti-
imperialism and Cold War bloc relations were adopted at the
Belgrade Conference of the Heads of States or Governments of the
Non-Aligned Movement (NAM).4 The attendees from Southeast Asia
were Indonesia’s president Sukarno, Burma’s prime minister U Nu,
and Cambodia’s head of state Prince Norodom Sihanouk. Cambodia
had become independent in 1953 within the French Union, which it
left in 1955. Burma quit the NAM in 1979 as the group’s agenda was
driven by friends of the Soviet Union like Cuba and Vietnam, no
longer truly nonaligned. In the post–Cold War era, the NAM was
transformed into a “developing world” international advocacy group
and now includes all ten ASEAN states. Two policy guidelines for the
future ASEAN can be traced back to Bandung and Belgrade with
respect to dealing with great-power rivalries. The first is do not take
sides; the second, maintain a united front in dealing with the great
powers.
The political fragmentation of the geographic region was paralleled
by the regional economies. In large measure, their international
economic activities in trade, finance, and development assistance
were linked in old patterns to former colonial rulers, new Western
partners, and Japan. Intraregional economic exchange was minimal.
The economic pattern was described by critics of the continued
economic ties to former rulers as “neocolonialism.” The export
sectors of the regional economies were competitive rather than
complementary, being primarily agricultural and mineral products.
The flow of economic and technical development assistance to
Southeast Asia was largely uncoordinated and based on bilateral
donor-recipient relationships, often with conditions. At a South and
Southeast Asia regional level, the British Commonwealth–backed
Colombo Plan was the only multilateral inter-the Pacific. Originated
at the 1950 British Commonwealth Conference held in Colombo, the
plan was launched in 1951, and by 1957 Indonesia, Malaysia, the
Philippines, and Thailand were members.
To the Cold War and economic forces dividing the region, it is
necessary to add the historical and cultural factors that worked
against political and economic regionalism. Thailand in particular
stood at the center of a history of conflict with its continental
neighbors that carried over to the post–World War II era. The
Christian and Americanized Philippines seemed an outlier from the
Islamic Malay-Indonesian maritime world and Buddhist continental
Southeast Asia. In Indonesia, Sukarno’s propagandist Ruslan
Abdulgani had invoked the re-creation of the supposed maritime-
continental empire of the fourteenth-century Javanese Majapahit
kingdom as Indonesia’s manifest destiny. All in all, the prospect for
regionalist projects in Southeast Asia did not seem promising.

The Southeast Asia Friendship and Economic Treaty

(SEAFET)
In identifying a Southeast Asian statesman to credit with planting the
political seed that grew into ASEAN, the likeliest candidate is
Malaya’s Tunku Abdul Rahman, who as chief minister led Malaya
into independence in 1957, becoming its first prime minister.
Malaya’s independence had been delayed as Malayan and British
Commonwealth forces fought a primarily ethnic Chinese communist
insurgency—known in Malaya as the “emergency”—from 1948 to
1960. The Tunku, as he was known, a thoroughly Anglicized Malay
prince, was pro-West and anticommunist and believed that Malaya’s
economic success would be tied to regional economic development
and cooperation. He saw economic and social progress as the most
effective tools to challenge the domestic appeal of the communists.
He also saw regional cooperation as enhancing Malaya’s real
independence by reducing Malaya’s dependence on Great Britain
and Commonwealth partners with their Cold War ties.
In 1958 the Tunku began canvassing the region’s other leaders for
ways they could jointly promote regional economic and social
cooperation.5 While his argument to his peers was couched in
regionalist terms, the Tunku also had his eye on Malaya-Indonesia
relations. A regionalist multilateral framework for relations could
offset to some degree the political inequalities in the bilateral
relationship in which Kuala Lumpur was seen from Jakarta to be a
junior partner, still not completely free from British imperialism. It
could also act as a line of defense against radical pan-Indonesia
nationalism that seemed to have Sukarno’s support. In visits to the
Philippines and Thailand, the Malayan prime minister found kindred
spirits in President Carlos Garcia and Foreign Minister Thanat.
Garcia led a country that seemed primed to possibly become
Southeast Asia’s leading economy. He foresaw opportunities in
Southeast Asian markets. Thanat’s vision of regionalism was
political. He wished “to arouse the conscience of as many Southeast
Asian nations as possible to the necessity of combining their
strength, of working closely together and presenting a solid front to
anyone daring to entertain evil designs against them.”6 In a visit to
Jakarta, however, the Tunku was stonewalled by Foreign Minister
Subandrio, who made it clear that Indonesia preferred bilateral ties in
the region and that the kind of regional grouping conceived by
Malaya would be too close to SEATO.
The idea that economic cooperation could become the basis for
regional association was crystallized in Tunku Abdul Rahman’s 1959
proposal for a Southeast Asia Friendship and Economic Treaty
(SEAFET). To promote SEAFET, he contacted the leaders of Burma,
Indonesia, Laos, Cambodia, and South Vietnam. The only support
came from Thailand and the Philippines. Thailand’s Thanat was also
actively courting support for cooperative relationships in Southeast
Asia. He found the results, in his words, “depressingly negative.”7
The reluctance beyond the core three states to embrace SEAFET’s
vague vision of Southeast Asian economic regionalism was based
on both economic and political considerations. Without a plan or
blueprint, it was difficult to make a case for what would be the
economic fruits of SEAFET. Prospective members did not want to
jeopardize their existing arrangements through speculative
commitments. Nonaligned Cambodia and Burma were concerned
that membership might compromise their Cold War stance, given the
pro-Western orientations of SEAFET’s primary backers.
Indonesia was a special case. In 1958, President Sukarno, with
army backing, swept aside the democratic limits on presidential
authority in favor of a semi-authoritarian “guided democracy” in
which the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) legally participated.
The president’s management of the tensions between the PKI and
the army was at the dynamic center of guided democracy. Under the
stewardship of Foreign Minister Subandrio, foreign policy became an
instrument of a global anti-imperialist struggle informed by radical
nationalism.8 Indonesia’s professed nonalignment was ideologically
entangled in Indonesia’s self-proclaimed leadership of the struggle of
the “New Emerging Forces” (NEFO) against the “Old Established
Forces” (OLDEFO).9 This was exemplified by its allegiance to the
Jakarta-Phnom Penh–Hanoi–Beijing–Pyongyang axis. Sukarno’s
nonalignment was transmogrified into policy alignment with the
communist bloc. As far as Indonesia was concerned, SEAFET was a
stalking horse for American policy. Moreover, Jakarta saw in the
Malaya-led plan a challenge to its own claims to regional influence
and leadership.

The Association of Southeast Asia (ASA)

By the end of 1960, it had become apparent even to the Tunku that
SEAFET was a non-starter. There was no political cement to unify
the proposed members, and the promise of future economic cement
was too weak. The inspiration, however, remained alive. One of the
lessons of the SEAFET diplomacy was that it would have been more
attractive if the central idea of economic cooperation had been
fleshed out with structural agencies. Rather than a treaty, Malaya,
Thailand, and the Philippines resolved to move forward with a
multilateral framework for project cooperation. After the Philippines’
president Garcia and Thailand’s foreign minister Thanat visited
Kuala Lumpur in February 1961, a working group was established to
set up an organization for regional economic cooperation. The
tripartite working group met in June 1961 and, on July 31, a
declaration was announced in Bangkok establishing the Association
of Southeast Asia (ASA).10 It was an agreement signed by Foreign
Minister Thanat Khoman, Prime Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman, and
Secretary of Foreign Affairs Felixberto M. Serrano. The three
countries pledged common action in furthering economic and social
progress in Southeast Asia.11 The signers claimed that ASA was not
connected to any outside power and was open to accession by the
other regional states. Nevertheless, the same issues that had
scuttled SEAFET were raised against ASA despite its claim to
political neutrality. ASA, like SEAFET, could not get out from under
the shadow of SEATO and Western alignment.
Organizationally, ASA was a loose grouping with no binding policy
commitments that might threaten the sovereign independence of its
members. Leadership was assigned to the foreign ministers, who
would meet annually in their ASA function. Continuity would be given
by a standing committee chaired by the foreign minister of the
rotating host country and the resident ambassadors of the other
countries. The substantive work of ASA would be carried out by the
working groups and committees tasked with planning projects in
agreed areas of activities. These would be backed up by national
secretariats in each member country. It was hoped that once in
operation other Southeast Asian countries would recognize the
benefits of cooperation.
Even as ASA was taking form, Thailand tightened its security ties
to the United States. Concerned about the vulnerability of northeast
Thailand to communist Pathet Lao cross-Mekong advances,
Thailand and the United States bilateralized the SEATO
commitments in the March 1962 Rusk-Thanat communiqué. This
effectively established a military alliance that, notionally at least, still
exists. ASA never had a chance to prove itself as, after only the
second ASA Foreign Ministers’ Meeting in 1962, Malaya and the
Philippines became embroiled in a rancorous diplomatic and
territorial dispute that, while putting ASA on ice, led to the creation of
a second, short-lived Southeast Asian regional organization that
excluded Thailand but included Indonesia.

MAPHILINDO
On May 27, 1961, Prime Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman announced
the British-Malayan plan for the decolonization of the British
territories on the island of Borneo (North Borneo [Sabah], Brunei,
and Sarawak) and Singapore by incorporating them as states in a
Federation of Malaysia. The three Borneo territories shared the
island with Indonesia’s Kalimantan (Borneo) provinces. The official
proclamation of the new Malaysia state was scheduled for August
31, 1963. Brunei ultimately opted out, becoming independent over
Malaysia’s objections, and an ASEAN member in 1984 (chapter 5).
The two years leading up to the creation of Malaysia were roiled by
political, legal, and military challenges to its formation from both the
Philippines and Indonesia. On June 22, 1962, President Diosdado
Macapagal announced that the Philippines had informed Great
Britain of its legal claim to Sabah (North Borneo) and intended to
take the case to the International Court of Justice (ICJ).12 The
Philippine intervention brought progress in ASA to a halt. The
Philippines based its claim to British North Borneo as the successor
to the Sultan of Sulu who had leased (or sold?) his sovereign rights
in North Borneo to the British North Borneo Company in 1878. The
company sheltered under a British protectorate from 1888 until the
rights were transferred to the British crown colony of North Borneo in
1946. It was the transfer of these rights to Malaysia rather than their
reverting back to the Philippines as the Sulu sultan’s successor that
Manila protested.
Rather than history or legal rights, Indonesian hostility to the
creation of Malaysia proceeded from a complex of political and
geostrategic perceptions held in Jakarta. The proposed Malaysia
was termed a neocolonial plot to maintain imperialist influence in the
region. Further, rather than an Indonesia-Borneo border of three
small states amenable to Jakarta’s interests, a large and successful
Malaysia would alter the regional distribution of power with the
prospect that Malaysia could rival Indonesia’s self-proclaimed
regional leadership. Of the two states opposed to the Malaysia
scheme, Indonesia presented the greater problem. Manila’s case
against Malaysia was legal but, while jeopardizing regional
cooperation, it was subject to established forms of peaceful
resolution. Jakarta’s animus was political, backed by the threat of
force. Indonesia’s potential to intervene in the Malaysia project was
demonstrated in December 1962 by its clandestine support for the
so-called North Kalimantan National Army (Tentera Nasional
Kalimantan Utara) in a Brunei revolt that was quickly put down by
British forces (chapter 5). The goal was to unite Brunei and North
Borneo into an independent state, thus foiling Malaysia.
On the diplomatic front, in February 1963 President Macapagal
initiated a process to multilateralize consultation on the formation of
Malaysia, placing the bilateral issues in the broader context of
regional stability, peace, and economic progress. The centerpiece of
the “Macapagal plan” was to be a new regional grouping of members
having in common their Malay ethnic heritage. This would clearly
distinguish it from the ASA, to which Indonesia had not subscribed
and, in the process, diminish Thailand’s regionalist role. The foreign
ministers of the Philippines, Malaya, and Indonesia met in Manila
from June 7 to 11, 1963, for the “purpose of achieving common
understanding and close fraternal cooperation among themselves.”
The Philippines host, Vice President and Secretary of Foreign Affairs
Emmanuel Pelaez, was joined by Malaya’s deputy prime minister
and foreign minister Tun Abdul Razak and Indonesia’s minister of
foreign affairs Subandrio. The ministers, “in a spirit of common and
constructive endeavor,” exchanged views on the proposed
Federation of Malaysia and the Philippine claim to North Borneo.
The result of the “exchanges” was an agreement known as the
Manila Accord.13 In it, the ministers agreed to the Macapagal plan to
establish “common organs” for the three Malay nations to work
together for peace, progress, and prosperity, but specifically “without
surrendering a portion of their sovereignty.” Pending a central
secretariat, each country was to set up a national secretariat to
coordinate and cooperate in frequent and regular consultation. In this
framework, it was agreed that the foreign ministers and the heads of
government would meet at least once a year to consult on matters of
importance and common concern. As the consulting mechanism,
they adopted the Indonesian concept of musjawarah and mufakat
(chapter 1). A central element of the consultations was to be the
future status of the Borneo territories. In the Manila Accord,
Indonesia and the Philippines stated that they would welcome the
formation of Malaysia if the will of the people of the Borneo territories
was ascertained by an independent and impartial authority like the
United Nations secretary-general. The Philippines made it clear that
the inclusion of North Borneo in Malaysia did not prejudice Manila’s
claim or its rights to pursue peaceful resolution of its claim.
The Manila Accord and MAPHILINDO (Malaysia, Philippines,
Indonesia) came into force when signed by the three heads of
government—Macapagal, Tunku Abdul Rahman, and Sukarno—on
July 31, 1963, during a Manila summit conference.14 Two other
documents reflecting their common will and interests were also
signed at the summit. The first was the Manila Declaration.15 The text
bears the political fingerprint of Sukarno in enlisting Malaysia and the
Philippines in the “new emerging forces” in the struggle against the
vestiges of colonialism and imperialism in the region. The operative
paragraph of the Manila Declaration was to initiate MAPHILINDO by
calling for regular consultations at all levels of government. In their
“Joint Statement” of August 5, 1963, the leaders detailed the
procedures to be adopted in implementing the Manila Accord.16 A
framework for UN oversight of a North Borneo act of self-
determination was set forth, including observers from Indonesia and
the Philippines. Paragraph 11 of the Joint Statement exposed
Indonesia’s political concern over the military ties that the Philippines
and Malaya had to the United States and Britain. It stated that the
heads of government agreed that “foreign bases—temporary in
nature—should not be allowed to be used directly or indirectly to
subvert the national independence of any of the three countries.” It
also invoked the Bandung Conference formulation, noted above,
providing for the three countries’ “abstention from the use of
arrangements of collective defense to serve the particular interests
of any of the big powers.” This was more than just reflexive
nonalignment. It showed Jakarta’s appreciation of a distribution of
regional power operating to Indonesia’s disadvantage.
At the request of the three governments, on August 8, 1963, UN
Secretary-General U Thant established a UN mission to ascertain
the wishes of the people of North Borneo and Sarawak. This was
done largely through interviews with local indigenous leaders. In a
relatively short time, the result was conveyed by U Thant on
September 14. The conclusion was that the majority of the peoples
of the territories had expressed their wish to join the peoples of
Malaya and Singapore in the new federation.17 Two days later,
September 16, 1963, the Federation of Malaysia was proclaimed.
Particularly galling for Indonesia and the Philippines was that the
proclamation date was announced before the results were in, as if
the outcome were known in advance.
The Philippines accepted as a political fact the existence of
Malaysia but did not, and has not, abandoned its claim to Sabah
(chapter 9). As a result, Malaysia severed official diplomatic relations
with the Philippines. Continued ASA contact between Macapagal
and the Tunku was facilitated by Thanat, but ASA’s program
implementation ended. Sukarno’s Indonesia refused to recognize
Malaysia and began a political and military cross-straits undeclared
war called “konfrontasi” (“confrontation”) in a campaign to “crush”
Malaysia. In increasing international isolation, Sukarno even quit the
UN when Malaysia was elected in 1965 to a nonpermanent seat on
the UN Security Council. The Indonesian actions put an end to
MAPHILINDO even before it really began. The last gasp was a
Japan-facilitated, Macapagal-mediated effort to end konfrontasi at a
failed June 1964 Tokyo MAPHILINDO Summit.18
Behind the scenes in Indonesia, a different confrontation was
being mounted between the PKI and the anticommunist military. The
domestic political struggles climaxed in the September 30, 1965,
PKI-supported attempted coup and a military countercoup. In the
fierce purge that followed, the PKI was destroyed and party
members and alleged sympathizers were killed or imprisoned, a
bloodbath unparalleled in Southeast Asia until the victory of the
Khmer Rouge in Cambodia in 1975. Sukarno was stripped of power
and replaced by army general Suharto as acting president in 1967
and constitutional president in 1968. Suharto’s government accused
Beijing of complicity in the PKI-backed coup and on October 9, 1967,
suspended diplomatic relations with China, a freeze that lasted until
1990. The change of government in Indonesia cleared the way to
ending konfrontasi. Secret peace feelers had been opened by the
Indonesian military as early as July 1965. After the change of
government, Suharto and his primary political aides, Ali Moertopo
and Benny Moerdani, moved swiftly to prepare the ground for formal
peace talks that began on May 1, 1966. They were led by Tun Abdul
Razak for Malaysia and Foreign Minister Adam Malik for Indonesia,
and hosted in Bangkok by Foreign Minister Thanat. By June, the
principle terms of the settlement were worked out. The agreement
officially came into force at an August 12, 1966, Jakarta ceremony.
At the beginning of konfrontasi, Singapore had been part of the
Malaysian federation. The union lasted only two years. Singapore
split from Malaysia on August 9, 1965. There was no political fit
between Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. Malaysia was based on
Malay dominance. Politics in Singapore, with its majority ethnic
Chinese population, was secular. As relations deteriorated, Prime
Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman decided on separation, which
essentially meant expelling Singapore from the federation. The
divorce was messy, with many loose ends that have plagued the
bilateral Malaysia-Singapore relationship to the present (chapter 9).
Independent Singapore had to deal with Indonesia, its recent
konfrontasi adversary. In the August 1966 peace agreement,
Indonesia recognized Singapore’s sovereignty, but full diplomatic
relations were not established until September 1967, one month
after ASEAN’s birth.
Normal relations between Singapore and Indonesia were quickly
interrupted, however, as an event from the konfrontasi period came
back to haunt them. On March 10, 1965, two Indonesian marines,
Usman and Harun, set off a bomb at a Singapore bank, killing three
people and wounding others. Caught and convicted of murder, the
Indonesian marines were hanged on October 17, 1968. An angry
mob in Jakarta sacked the new Singapore embassy, and Indonesia
suspended diplomatic relations with its new ASEAN partner. It was
five years before relations were normalized when, in May 1973,
Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew placed flowers on the graves of the
two marines in Indonesia’s National Heroes Cemetery. The issue
surfaced again in 2014 when Singapore protested the naming of a
new Indonesian navy frigate after the two marines. Indonesian
foreign minister Marty Natalegawa assured Singapore that no ill will,
malice, or unfriendliness was intended; but no official apology was
forthcoming. The frigate Usman-Harun sails today, but not in
Singapore waters.
Even as peace between Indonesia and Malaysia was being
negotiated, the United States and its Asian friends and allies kept the
idea of regional cooperation based on anticommunism and
containment alive through the Asia and Pacific Council (ASPAC).
With Foreign Minister Thanat out front and U.S. secretary of state
Dean Rusk behind him, ASPAC was launched in June 1966 linking
East Asia (South Korea, Japan, and Taiwan), Southeast Asia
(Malaysia, the Philippines, Thailand, and South Vietnam), Australia,
and New Zealand. ASPAC, which has been described as “simply a
debating society,”19 folded in 1976. Thanat alleged that its collapse
was caused by the PRC replacing Taiwan in China’s UN seat, “which
made it impossible for some of the [ASPAC] council members to sit
at the same conference table [with Taiwan].”20 Three other factors
seem a more likely explanation. The war in Indochina was over and
the DRV had won. The United States and China moved toward
normalization of relations in the 1972 Nixon–Zhou Enlai Shanghai
Communiqué, and ASEAN was up and running. The containment of
communism no longer provided the political cement for multilateral
cooperation. SEATO, too, quietly shut down in 1976 even though the
Manila Pact remained in force.

THE BIRTH OF ASEAN

Thai foreign minister Thant Khoman recalled that it was at the
Bangkok banquet celebrating the successful conclusion of the
Malaysia-Indonesia peace talks that he raised with his Indonesian
counterpart, Adam Malik, the subject of forming a new
organization.21 Thus, by this account, began a year of consultations
among the five foreign ministers on expanding and refocusing the
patterns of regional Southeast Asian cooperation that had emerged
in the previous decade. The key difference now was Indonesia’s
participation and commitment to regional multilateralism. In one
sense, the internal diplomatic dynamic in the making of the Bangkok
Declaration was Thanat’s working with Malik to ensure that Jakarta
stayed on board. The simplest approach would have been to
reactivate ASA with an expanded membership. In March 1966,
prodded by Thanat, the ASA Standing Committee (the Thai foreign
minister and the ambassadors of Malaysia and the Philippines) met.
They decided to revive the Joint Working Committee. A month later,
the third ASA Ministerial Meeting took place after a four-year hiatus.
At the outset of negotiations, Malik made it clear that Indonesia
would not become a party to the ASA because of its—from Jakarta’s
viewpoint—politically tainted past. For nonaligned Indonesia, ASA
was compromised by its association with the U.S. war in Vietnam. A
joint U.S.-Thailand communiqué on February 15, 1966, issued by
Prime Minister Thanom Kittikachorn and Vice President Hubert
Humphrey, stated that the war against communism was being fought
on both a military and an economic front. With respect to the
nonmilitary front, Humphrey and Thanom “agreed that organizations
such as the Association of Southeast Asia could play a valuable role
in fostering new cooperative institutions.”22 Secretary of State Dean
Rusk echoed this a few months later. Answering a question at the
Council on Foreign Relations in New York, he said: “We’ve been very
much interested in the drawing together of countries in the region
themselves to build, on a basis which they themselves might
discover, regional solidarity without the complicating presence of the
United States. For example the ASA.”23
Malik envisioned a Southeast Asia regionalism “which can stand
on its own feet, strong enough to defend itself against any negative
influence from outside the region.”24 In December 1966, the Thai
foreign ministry produced a draft declaration for a new regional
organization to be called the Southeast Asia Association for
Regional Cooperation (SEAARC). In most respects it was a
repackaging of the major elements of ASA and MAPHILINDO. The
negotiations over SEAARC centered on keeping Indonesia involved,
since the success of any new organization in establishing a
significant international identity depended on the inclusion of the
region’s largest country.25 Thanat and Malik shaped the course of the
negotiations. After circulation and tweaks, the final SEAARC draft
was what the ministers and their staffs massaged at Bang Saen,
except the name SEAARC had been changed to ASEAN. It has
been said that Malik approached Thanat and informed him that when
SEAARC was pronounced as a word, it sounded like a Malay
obscenity. In fact, the term Association of Southeast Asian Nations
was apparently first used by American academic Russell H. Fifield in
a 1963 Council on Foreign Relations study and was acknowledged
as such in remarks after the signing of the Bangkok Declaration.26
Three weeks after the inauguration of ASEAN, the ASA foreign
ministers dissolved the organization and transferred its few projects
to ASEAN.

The Bangkok Declaration

The document signed in Bangkok by the foreign ministers was a
short—two-page—statement of ASEAN’s rationale, aims, and
bureaucratic structure.27 It was designed to strengthen the
foundations for regional solidarity in the pursuit of mutual and
common interests in peace, progress, and prosperity. To that end, it
laid out policy areas in which ASEAN would establish and promote
cooperative endeavors and collaboration: economic, social, cultural,
technical, scientific, and administrative fields. It called for greater and
more effective collaboration in agriculture, industries, and the
expansion of trade. The declaration sketched out a minimal
bureaucratic structure for the achievement of the lofty aims and
goals to which the members had pledged. It should be emphasized
that the Bangkok Declaration was not a treaty giving ASEAN
international legal standing. Furthermore, ASEAN’s decisions did not
supersede domestic laws and regulations, not having been ratified
as such by national sovereign authorities. It was a statement of an
intention to cooperate in the pursuit of common interests, but without
binding rules, commitments, or institutions.
 Like its ASA and MAPHILINDO predecessors, ASEAN’s so-called
machinery was, at the interstate level, simple, leaving the real
working level to the individual states. The foreign ministers stood at
ASEAN’s apex. Their collective authority was to be wielded through
an annual ASEAN Ministerial Meeting (AMM), which rotates
alphabetically by country, with special foreign ministers’ meetings to
be called when necessary. The AMM functioned as the policy-
making and executive authority of ASEAN. Although not specified as
such in the declaration, the annual host foreign minister became the
ASEAN chair, heading the ASEAN Standing Committee (ASC),
which was tasked with carrying out the work of ASEAN between the
AMMs. The ASC was composed of the current ASEAN chair and the
ambassadors to the host country from the other ASEAN countries.
Permanent and ad hoc committees were to be established in specific
interest areas. In each country an ASEAN national secretariat was
established to support the ASEAN responsibilities of its foreign
minister and, in the case of the chair, to service the AMM, the
Standing Committee, and the ad hoc and permanent committees.
In the second and third AMMs (Jakarta 1968, Kuala Lumpur
1969), the ministers began to put some flesh on the ASEAN skeleton
with the establishment of committees. The permanent committees
included food and fisheries, finance, commerce and industry,
tourism, transport, and communications. Several characteristics of
ASEAN’s “machinery” contributed to the organization’s slow
development and functional ineffectiveness in its early years. There
were no structural links for coordination or consultation between the
ASEAN national secretariats. The organization was designed to be
run by the foreign ministers. The declaration makes no reference to
the heads of government. It was not until 1976, on Indonesia’s
initiative, that the first ASEAN Leaders’ Summit took place in Bali
(chapter 3). This gave ASEAN a kind of reboot. The practice of
annual summit meetings did not begin until 1995, and semiannual
summits began in 2009.
The foreign ministers oversaw an organization whose stated
programmatic mission had little to do with foreign policy. It was only
years later that the ministers heading the national bureaucracies
overseeing ASEAN’s functional areas of cooperation were officially
plugged into the ASEAN process. The first, the ASEAN Economic
Ministers’ (AEM) Meeting, was established in 1977, a decade after
the Bangkok Declaration. The foreign ministers have remained the
governors of ASEAN, now organized under the 2007 ASEAN
Charter (chapter 8) as the ASEAN Coordinating Council, which has
in its purview the sectored ministerial activity. The annual rotation of
the AMM chairmanship led to poor bureaucratic continuity and
coordination since there was no central ASEAN administrative
structure. The backstopping of the chair was done by national
secretariats and changed annually. An ASEAN Secretariat was not
established until 1977 (chapter 3). The annual rotation meant that at
least once every five years an ASEAN country’s foreign minister
would be first among equals and his bureaucracy in control of
ASEAN’s affairs, including agenda-setting and giving direction to
ASEAN. With the five-member ASEAN, this was a lesser problem
than in today’s ten-member ASEAN with its much greater political
and economic diversity.
The Bangkok Declaration left the association open for participation
by all Southeast Asian states subscribing to its aims, principles, and
purposes. The leaders of Burma and Cambodia were personally
briefed on the project in May 1967 by Indonesia’s Malik, but the
SEATO links of Thailand and the Philippines offended their
nonaligned posture. The possibility of opening ASEAN to
extraregional partners was considered. Singapore lobbied
unsuccessfully for the inclusion of Ceylon. The prospect of “the
more, the merrier” may have had some appeal for Singapore and
Malaysia, but it would have diluted Indonesia’s expected leadership
within ASEAN’s real geographical Southeast Asia boundary.
Expansion had to wait (chapter 5).
The operating code of ASEAN was the same as that of ASA and
MAPHIL-INDO. No portion of sovereignty was delegated to ASEAN.
The corollary to sovereignty was nonintervention in the domestic
affairs of a member state. As sovereign states, the members of
ASEAN were coequal in all organizational matters. In the decision-
making mode of musjawarah and mufakat, the pressure for
consensus gave the stronger hand to the naysayers, for without
consensus, no matter how lowest-common-denominator it might be,
there would be no decision at all. ASEAN’s mode has been
epitomized as the “ASEAN way,” in which organizational unity is
achieved by avoiding making decisions in issue areas that might
threaten it.
The organizational format of ASEAN and the commitments to it by
its members made it an example of “soft regionalism” in which there
were no central institutions or integrative goals. It was a loosely
connected intergovernmental organization to promote cooperation in
functional policy areas of common interest. ASEAN created no legal
obligations on the part of the member states. Although it expressed,
in the words of its authors, the “collective will of the nations of
Southeast Asia to bind themselves together in friendship and
cooperation,” the binding was voluntary. What made it work was that
the notional national commitments to ASEAN were essentially cost-
free in terms of any sacrifice of member nations’ rights and
capabilities to pursue their own national interests, even if they
threatened the comity of ASEAN. For example, Sabah remained an
irritant in Philippine-Malaysian relations. In October 1968, President
Marcos declaimed that Sabah was a “test” of the Philippines’
independence.28 A month later, diplomatic relations between
Malaysia and the Philippines collapsed again over the Sabah issue
and their embassies were shut down, but ASEAN moved forward
because the issue was never placed on the agenda.
In the round of self-congratulatory comments made by the foreign
ministers after the signing of the Bangkok Declaration, only
Singapore’s foreign minister, S. Rajaratnam, struck a sober note.
Two of the issues he raised became important in shaping ASEAN’s
political evolution.29 The first dealt with the relationship between
national interests and the regional interests embodied in ASEAN.
“We must now think on two levels,” he advised. “We must think not
only of our national interests but posit them against regional
interest.” Pointing out that sometimes interests at the two levels
might conflict, he cautioned that if ASEAN was going to be
successful, “painful adjustments” to state practice and thinking would
have to be made. Over ASEAN’s half-century course, however,
conflicts between the levels of interests were often not resolved as
the painful adjustments were not made. The Singapore foreign
minister’s second theme was a warning against the “balkanization” of
Southeast Asia by outside powers with vested interests who might
seek to divide Southeast Asia. This was said in a Cold War context,
but it is just as relevant in the contemporary regional geostrategic
context.

ASEAN’s Political Dimensions

The formation of ASEAN was an expression of the common interests
of the leaders of the five founding countries in regional peace,
stability, and economic development. The organization was created
outside of and, in part, as a reaction to the Cold War–driven
structuring of the regional security environment in which the great
powers’ interests threatened the policy autonomy of the regional
states. The adoption of the ASA model—though not the name—
provided an alternative approach through which the domestic
interests of the member states could be aggregated, advanced, and
internationally magnified in an autonomous organization independent
of Cold War ties or leanings. The mechanism centered on functional
cooperation in nonpolitical areas of state activities. It would be
disingenuous, however, to argue that political cooperation in the
search for security was not a basic objective of ASEAN simply
because it was not specified in the Bangkok Declaration and
ASEAN’s “machinery.” It was fully displayed in the Third Indochina
War (chapter 4), but its genesis was rooted in the security
considerations of the mid-1960s. Tun Ghazali Shafie, who as
permanent secretary of the Malaysian Ministry of Foreign Affairs
accompanied Tun Abdul Razak to Bangkok and was himself later a
Malaysian foreign minister, made it clear that the creation of ASEAN
was the political response of the noncommunist states to the
perceived common threat posed by communist insurgency, the war
in Indochina, and Sino-Soviet competition in the region.30
The creation of ASEAN itself was a political act of the foreign
ministers that at the minimum provided them a diplomatic framework
for political cooperation. Even though political cooperation may not
have been singled out as an area of cooperation, it was, in fact,
implicit in the Bangkok Declaration’s statement that the ASEAN
countries were “determined to ensure their stability and security from
external interference in any form or manifestations.” By design, the
foreign ministers’ public discussion of ASEAN focused on the
economic development dimension of their new multilateral grouping
even though in its first quarter century ASEAN’s managers were
focused on the issues of regional peace and stability. In 1967, the
foreign ministers had three political imperatives originating in the
Cold War context of ASEAN’s founding. The first was to integrate
post-Sukarno Indonesia into a network of nonthreatening regional
relations through which Indonesia could play a constructive regional
role. The second was to buffer, if possible, against the uncertain
outcome of the war in Indochina. The third was to face what was
seen as the looming threat of Maoist China, then in the throes of the
Cultural Revolution, and its export of “people’s wars” to Southeast
Asia.
In addition to the proffered common interests, each country had
national political interests that were to be furthered through
membership in ASEAN. For Indonesia, ASEAN was important for the
normalization of its regional relations after the turmoil of the Sukarno
era. It was also an opportunity for Indonesia to assert regional
leadership in a nonthreatening, collegial way, becoming a primus
inter pares. This was a role that Indonesia did play for the first two
decades, corresponding with the Suharto government. The new
Indonesian regional role was particularly important for Singapore and
Malaysia, which had been under the gun of konfrontasi. Malaysia,
which shares ethnicity, language, and religion with Indonesia, was
validated as a coequal, despite the great difference in population.
This was strategically important given the Indonesian air and sea
space between East and West Malaysia. Singapore is an ethnic
Chinese nut between the jaws of an Indonesian-Malaysian
geographic nutcracker. This was famously described in 1999 by
Indonesia’s president Habibie, who, irritated by Singapore’s
reluctance to help bail Indonesia out of its financial difficulties,
pointed to a map showing Singapore, a little red dot in a sea of
Indonesian-Malaysian green. ASEAN was a normative political
security blanket, with its promise of good behavior by its often
unfriendly neighbors. ASEAN gave the Philippines a regional identity
as an independent, sovereign state, not simply a transpacific
dependency of the United States. Also, the joint membership of the
Philippines and Malaysia acted as a factor mediating their testy
relationship, partially bridging the bilateral coldness between the two
states over Sabah. Thanat basked in his Southeast Asian states-
manship that enhanced Thailand’s key continental position and
regionally offset in ASEAN the hard line of the Thai-American Cold
War military alliance.
The reaction of the Cold War great-power antagonists to ASEAN’s
appearance on the regional stage illustrated the difficulty ASEAN
would have in establishing an international identity independent from
the pro-Western orientations in the bilateral ties of its members. The
Soviet Union and China saw ASEAN, like SEATO, as part of
American security policy in Asia. Mao Zedong considered it a
“running dog” of American imperialism.31 In words reminiscent of
Secretary Rusk’s appreciation of ASA, a U.S. government–
connected analyst welcomed ASEAN as giving the Southeast Asian
states the “opportunity to join in a purely Asian endeavor without the
participation, and thereby the direction, of non-Asian powers,
allowing them an independent voice in regional affairs.”32 Two
paragraphs later, however, the same author puts ASEAN right back
in the Cold War context, writing that “there is a growing area of
agreement between the objectives of ASEAN and the objectives of
SEATO.”
Some American strategists wondered if ASEAN could move in the
direction of becoming a defense alliance, adding military cooperation
to the functional agenda. The memberships of Thailand and the
Philippines were suggestive with their ties to the United States, as
were those of Malaysia and Singapore with their residual ties to
British Commonwealth forces. Even though Indonesia’s new
government’s anticommunism and suspicion of China’s regional
objectives were now akin to those of its new partners in the ASEAN
project, Jakarta brought into ASEAN its strict nonaligned status.
Indonesia had insisted that the Bangkok Declaration affirm “that all
foreign bases are temporary and remain only with the express
concurrence of the countries concerned and are not intended to be
used directly or indirectly to subvert the national independence and
freedom of States in the area or prejudice the orderly processes of
their national development.” This was the same language that
Sukarno had inserted into MAPHILINDO’s “Joint Statement.” This
was not a suggestion of ideological identity between Sukarno and
the army generals who now ran Indonesia. It reflected a still-
prevailing Indonesian national interest in limiting great-power
presence that might diminish Indonesia’s putative claim to regional
leadership. Of course, ASEAN’s leaders were fully conscious of the
fact that the Philippines was the anchor of the American strategic
presence in Southeast Asia, the credibility of which was given by
forward deployment of U.S. forces at Clark Air Base and the navy
facilities at Subic Bay. This was, in a sense, the Philippines’ most
important contribution to ASEAN’s security.
As ASEAN evolved over the next two decades, it was the
collective response to the regional political and security challenges
originating in its external international environment that provided
ASEAN’s organizational cement. For ASEAN’s bureaucratic owners
—the foreign ministers—peace and stability had priority over
economic development since regional security was considered a
necessary condition for the achievement of ASEAN’s cooperative
goals.

NOTES
1. U.S., National Security Council, “United States Objectives and Courses of Action with
Respect to Southeast Asia [April 1953],” document no. 2 in The Pentagon Papers as
Published by the New York Times (New York: Bantam Books, 1971), 27–31. President
Dwight D. Eisenhower is credited with the domino metaphor.
2. 6 UST 81, U.S. Department of State, Treaties and Other International Acts Series
3170.
3. The final communiqué of the conference can be accessed at
https://content.ecf.org.il/files/M00822_BandungConference1955FinalCommuniqueEnglish.p
df.
4. “1961 Belgrade Declaration of Non-Aligned Countries,” accessed at
https://content.ecf.org.il/files/M00822_BandungConference1995FinalCommuniqueEnglish.p
df.
5. For a detailed analysis of Tunku Abdul Rahman’s regionalist diplomacy, see Nicholas
Tarling, “From SEAFET and ASA: Precursors of ASEAN,” International Journal of Asia
Pacific Studies 3, no. 1 (May 2007): 1–14.
6. Thanat Khoman, “Which Road for Southeast Asia?” Foreign Affairs 42, no. 4 (July
1964): 628–39.
 7. Thanat Khoman, “ASEAN Conception and Evolution,” accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=asean-conception-and-evolution-by-thanat-khoman.
8. Frederick P. Bunnell, “Guided Democracy Foreign Policy: 1960–1965; President
Sukarno Moves from Non-Alignment to Confrontation,” Indonesia 2 (October 1966): 37–76.
In the transfer of power from the Sukarno regime to the military-backed Suharto government
in the aftermath of the 1965 attempted coup and countercoup, Subandrio was tried by a
military court and found guilty of aiding the communists. He was jailed until 1995.
9. Donald E. Weatherbee, Ideology in Indonesia: Sukarno’s Indonesian Revolution (New
Haven, CT: Yale University Southeast Asia Studies, 1966).
10. Vincent K. Pollard, “ASA and ASEAN, 1961–1967: Southeast Asian Regionalism,”
Asian Survey 10, no. 3 (March 1970): 244–55.
11. The official text of the ASA “Bangkok Declaration” was published by the Bangkok
Post, August 1, 1961.
12. Although a Philippines legal team was sent to The Hague, the case was never put on
the ICJ docket.
13. “Manila Accord between the Philippines, the Federation of Malaysia, and Indonesia.
Signed at Manila on 31 July 1963,” United Nations Treaty Series, no. 8029, 1965.
14. A contemporary analysis of MAPHILINDO is Alastair M. Taylor, “Malaysia, Indonesia
and Maphilindo,” International Journal 19, no. 2 (1968): 155–71.
15. “Manila Declaration by the Philippines, the Federation of Malaya and Indonesia,
signed at Manila on 3 August 1963,” United Nations Treaty Series, no. 8029, 1965.
16. “Joint Statement by the Republic of the Philippines, the Federation of Malaya and
Indonesia. Signed at Manila, on 5 August 1963,” United Nations Treaty Series, no. 8029,
1965.
17. United Nations Malaysia Mission Report, “Final Conclusions of the Secretary-
General,” September 14, 1963, accessed at
http://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/1963/09/page/3.
18. James Llewelyn, “Japan’s Diplomatic Response to Indonesia’s Policy of Confronting
Malaysia (Konfrontasi) 1963–1966,” Kobe University Law Review 39 (2005): 39–68.
19. Evelyn Colbert, “Regional Cooperation and the Tilt to the West,” Proceedings of the
Academy of Political Science 36, no.1 (1986): 46.
20. Thanat Khoman, “ASEAN Conception and Evolution,” accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=asean-conception-and-evolution-by-thanat-khoman.
21. ASEAN, “History: The Founding of ASEAN,” accessed at
https://asean.org/asean/about-asean/history.
22. “Vice President Reviews Asian Problems with Thai Premier,” U.S. Department of
State, Bulletin 54, no. 1394 (March 14, 1966): 396–97.
23. “Organizing the Peace for Man’s Survival,” U.S. Department of State, Bulletin 54, no.
1407 (June 13, 1966): 933.
24. ASEAN, “History,” op. cit.
25. A detailed analysis of the diplomacy of the negotiation of SEAARC is in Nobuhiri
Ihara, “The Formation and Development of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations
(ASEAN), 1966–1969: An Historical Institution Approach” (PhD diss., University of
Melbourne, 2010), 43–169.
26. This was stated by a former permanent secretary of the Singapore Ministry of Foreign
Affairs in the lecture “Debating ASEAN Centrality,” accessed at https://india-
seminar.com/2015/670/670_bilahari_kausikan.htm.
27. The text with facsimiles of the signatures can be accessed at https://asean.org/the-
asean-declaration-bangkok-declaration-bangkok-8-august-1967.
 28. “Speech of President Marcos, Sabah: The Test of Our Independence, September 26,
1968,” accessed at https://officialgazette.gov.ph/1968/09/26/speech-of-president-marcos-
sabah-the-test-of-our-independence-september-26-1968.
29. ASEAN, “History,” op. cit.
30. Tun Moh. Ghazali bin Shafie, “ASEAN: Contributor to Stability and Development,”
Journal of Malaysia Foreign Affairs 14, no. 4 (December 1981): 334–58. In an interview with
the author in July 1984, former foreign minister Ghazali said of ASEAN, “It was always
about security.”
31. Yuan Feng, “China and ASEAN: The Evoluion of Relationship under a Dis-cursive
Institutional Perspective,” Journal of China and International Relations 3, no. 1 (2015): 88.
32. Donald E. Nuechterlein, “Prospects for Regional Security in Southeast Asia,” Asian
Survey 8, no. 9 (September 1968): 814.
* Burma was the official name of the country until it was changed in 1989 to Myanmar.
The two names are etymologically related. This book uses the name Burma for pre-1989
events and Myanmar for post-1989. At the same time the name Rangoon, the capital, was
changed to Yangon. A new capital was established at Nay Pyi Taw in 2005.
*President Sukarno, like many Indonesians, had only one name. This was also true of his
successor, General Suharto.
*The Malay honorifics tun, tunku, and tengku denote noble ancestry.
 Chapter 3
ASEAN’s First Reinvention
The 1976 First ASEAN Summit

The years following the Bangkok Declaration were anticlimactic in

terms of moving forward in the areas of functional cooperation listed
by the foreign ministers. They had promoted the economic
dimension of ASEAN as its primary policy thrust, leaving in the
background its real priority: the search for regional security. Prime
Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman, addressing the 1969 second AMM,
held in Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands, bemoaned the fact that
ASEAN had been “dormant,” with little activity.1 By ASEAN’s tenth
anniversary in 1977, the consensus was that “nothing substantial
was achieved by way of regional economic cooperation.”2 At
ASEAN’s 1976 first summit meeting, held on the Indonesian resort
island of Bali, the leaders attempted to reinvigorate economic
cooperation, but the results were disappointing. As one analyst
concluded in 1980, “the record to date has not lived up to earlier
expectations.”3
The Tunku attributed ASEAN’s inaction to the political
impediments of persistent intra-ASEAN suspicions, jealousies, and
squabbles that, as subsequent chapters will show, persisted through
the decades. For his part, the Malaysian prime minister, in a
demonstration of the need for ASEAN goodwill, announced that
Malaysia would resume its suspended diplomatic relations with the
Philippines. While the kinds of intra-ASEAN bilateral political issues
cited by the Tunku may have hindered cooperation, the major
obstacles were the competitive economic strategies and nationalist
views of the member states. There was no ASEAN effort to
coordinate, let alone integrate, domestic national planning into an
ASEAN framework. In competitive export-led development
strategies, domestic markets were protected. Rather than
cooperation, a kind of beggar-my-neighbor attitude existed in
domestic economic nationalisms. At the 1972, Singapore, fifth AMM,
Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew noted that ASEAN’s main
achievement was goodwill among the participants at ASEAN
meetings. This is an early appreciation of the value of ASEAN as a
“talk shop” rather than a supranational actor. In 1969, the foreign
ministers did solicit expert help to launch an ASEAN economic
cooperation plan. They commissioned a team of United Nations
development economists to advise them. The team’s
recommendations were presented in 1972 and adopted in principle
by the ASEAN leaders at the Bali Summit.4
ASEAN’s unimpressive performance in the areas of its claimed
competence led critics to deride the organization as a foreign
ministers’ club whose meetings were worked around golf outings.
This overlooked an important personal dynamic in the relations
among the five foreign ministers within the framework of ASEAN: an
emerging, but fragile, spirit of cooperation in addressing external
challenges to ASEAN’s common interests. They wanted ASEAN to
have a coordinated international political face. At the March 1971
fourth AMM, the foreign ministers insisted on “the necessity of close
cooperation among their representatives at regional and international
forums so that the members of ASEAN would always present a
united stand to advance their interests.” The ambassadors of
ASEAN countries became an ASEAN caucus working together on
matters determined to be in ASEAN’s regional interest at the UN as
well as other multilateral fora and in the capital cities of ASEAN’s
dialogue partners. The ASEAN countries also agreed on support to
be given to specific ASEAN nationals’ candidacy to posts in
international organizations.
 While struggling to fulfill the failing promise of ASEAN as an
engine for regional economic growth, the foreign ministers’ attention
increasingly was given to the shifting currents of great-power
relations in Southeast Asia. The changes that were taking place in
the regional geostrategic environment were beyond ASEAN’s
influence but had sharpened the security concerns underlying the
original stimulus for ASEAN’s creation. In 1969, the American
president’s “Nixon Doctrine” announced that America’s friends and
allies would have the major responsibility of defending themselves.
President Nixon began a “Vietnamization” program of withdrawing
American combat troops from South Vietnam. In the same year,
Nixon’s national security advisor, Henry Kissinger, had talks in Paris
with the DRV’s Le Duc Tho. This was the beginning of the Paris
peace talks that resulted in the January 12, 1973, Paris Peace
Accords ending American participation in the war. Nixon was also
sending back-channel signals to Beijing that the American hard line
on China was softening. In July 1971, Kissinger secretly visited
China, paving the way for the February 1972 Nixon–Zhou Enlai
“Shanghai Communiqué,” beginning the process of normalizing U.S.-
China relations.
Nixon’s policy initiatives seemed to serve notice to Southeast Asia
that the U.S. containment strategy would no longer be a shield
against communist advances in Southeast Asia. The shadow of a
new kind of great-power conflict was lengthening as the regional
implications of the Sino-Soviet split became apparent. Soviet leader
Leonid Brezhnev’s call in 1969 for an Asian collective security
system seemed directed against China. The two-pronged problem
for the ASEAN countries was how they could collectively react to the
security issues involved in dealing with a Russian-backed victorious
communist Vietnam and a “rising” China and its regional ambitions.
Adding to the political impact of uncertainty about American policy, in
October 1971 the British Far Eastern Command left Malaysia and
Singapore, a delayed move originally scheduled for 1968. The British
had played a crucial role in defeating the communist insurgency in
Malaya as well as in Indonesia’s konfrontasi against Malaysia. The
Malaysian answer to the unknowns of the looming alterations in the
great powers’ relationships was to promote a policy that would,
symbolically at least, isolate ASEAN from great-power politics in a
Zone of Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality (ZOPFAN).

ZOPFAN
On November 27, 1971, at a special ASEAN foreign ministers’
meeting, the Kuala Lumpur Declaration was proclaimed, stating that
ASEAN was “determined to exert the initially necessary efforts to
secure the recognition of, and respect for, Southeast Asia as a Zone
of Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality, free from any form or manner of
interference by outside powers.”5 The rationale was to ensure the
conditions of peace and stability indispensable to independence and
economic and social well-being. The ZOPFAN declaration was a
landmark event for the organization, signaling that ASEAN was
claiming a role in shaping its own security environment as an
autonomous international actor. The ZOPFAN was a coming-out
party for ASEAN’s foreign policy interests, which for more than a
decade became more important for ASEAN than managers’ flagging
economic cooperation.
In the press release accompanying the declaration, the ministers
emphasized their intention to pursue a common ASEAN policy,
agreeing “to consult each other with a view to foster an integrated
approach on all matters and developments which affect the
Southeast Asia region.”6 The ministers underlined the seriousness of
the ZOPFAN by recommending a summit meeting of ASEAN leaders
—which would have been the first—to manifest their concern for
peace and stability. It was not until 1976, however, that the first
summit took place (discussed below). Finally, the ASEAN foreign
ministers encouraged the other countries of Southeast Asia to
associate themselves with the aspirations and objectives of
ZOPFAN. Prime Minister Tun Abdul Razak traveled to Rangoon in
February 1972, hoping that the ZOPFAN could persuade General Ne
Win to join ASEAN. Ne Win’s response was that Burma was already
neutral and would join ASEAN when the organization became
neutral.7
ZOPFAN’s Political History
The “father” of ZOPFAN was Tun Dr. Ismail Abdul Rahman. He, with
the Tunku and Deputy Prime Minister Abdul Razak, set the path for
newly independent Malaysia’s foreign policy during its early years. In
a 1968 parliamentary speech, Tun Ismail set out the principles for
new Malaysian Cold War policy. The time, he said, “was ripe for the
countries of the region to declare collectively the neutralization of
Southeast Asia.”8 To be effective, it would require, first, the
guarantees of the great powers including China. Second, the
countries of the region should sign nonaggression pacts among
themselves. Finally, the countries of the region should follow a policy
of peaceful coexistence and not interfere in the internal governments
of one another, accepting whatever form of government a country
should adopt. Under Prime Minister Abdul Razak, who succeeded
the retiring Tunku in 1970, Tun Ismail’s neutralization proposal
became Malaysia’s official policy line. Tun Ismail, as Malaysia’s
deputy prime minister, presented it to the March 1971 fourth AMM,
where the process of ASEANizing it for a consensus statement
began. This took place outside of the official ASEAN institutional
framework but led to an “informal” foreign ministers’ meeting in
October 1971 in New York on the sidelines of the UN General
Assembly session. In ASEAN diplomacy, the “informal” and “special”
foreign ministers’ meetings format allowed “close consultation and
cooperation” on issues of regional peace and stability while
maintaining the formal nonpolitical institutional facade of the
organization.
It was the consensus version of the original Malaysian proposal
that was announced at the special foreign ministers’ meeting. The
final version reflected the concerns raised by the Philippines and
Thailand with respect to their security ties to the United States.
Rather than the great-power guarantees of neutrality—a legal
condition—it called for recognition and respect for the ZOPFAN, a
political condition that depended on the relationships among the
great powers. The declaration did not suggest what the “initial
efforts” to secure the recognition of the zone might entail. There was
no program for implementing it. It was understood that the ZOPFAN
was not an immediate prospect. This had been made explicit by Tun
Ismail himself, who, in a 1970 policy speech at the United Nations,
reiterated Malaysia’s call for the neutralization of Southeast Asia, but
stated: “Of course, my Government is aware that we are still a long
way away from attaining that objective.”9 The ZOPFAN was an
expression of an aspiration for a future regional security condition.
Speaking to the Indonesian parliament in August 1972, President
Suharto stated: “We are convinced that the nations in Southeast
Asia have the ability to plan their own stability and futures provided
they have the moral strength and real power to avoid being dragged
into the arena of conflict and the influence of other countries—
particularly the Big Powers.”10 At ASEAN’s 1976 first Heads of
Government Summit, the leaders noted “their satisfaction with the
progress made on the effort to draw up the necessary steps to
secure the recognition and respect for the zone.”11 Actually, the great
powers ignored the ZOPFAN as a factor in their political and military
strategies in the region. The only countries for which ASEAN made
acceptance of the zone a prerequisite for relations were ASEAN’s
future members, who must abide by all of ASEAN’s previous actions.
A former senior Singapore diplomat described ZOPFAN as
“superficially attractive but entirely delusionary” if it were expected
that regional security could be based on excluding the major powers
from Southeast Asian affairs.12
The moral strength to which Suharto alluded was not matched by
the necessary real power to make a declaratory ZOPFAN a
functioning security system. In the absence of any enforcement
capability, the mechanisms for establishment of a ZOPFAN would be
voluntary respect for the ZOPFAN by external powers and the
ASEAN states’ relinquishing their extra-regional security ties, neither
of which was a real prospect. Beneath the ASEAN consensus on
ZOPFAN as a goal, the ASEAN states continued to make decisions
on security relations on the basis of national interest. Singapore was
the least keen for a ZOPFAN. Both sea- and air-locked by potentially
unfriendly ASEAN neighbors, the tiny island state wanted to keep its
security links to the United States and Commonwealth allies open
and clear. It was understood by ASEAN security managers that for
the maintenance of a regional balance of power it was necessary to
keep the United States engaged, both in bilateral security relations
and as a regional power presence. The most obvious signs of that
presence were the United States’ Philippines’ Clark Air Base and the
naval base at Subic Bay. The Cold War intrusion into the region was
heightened after 1979 by Vietnam’s grant of a twenty-five-year lease
to the Soviet Union on the former American bases at Danang and
Cam Ranh Bay.
Given the unreality of ZOPFAN as a working system to restrain the
behavior of the great powers, it can be asked why ASEAN has
doggedly pursued the ZOPFAN political will-o’-the-wisp over the
decades. As a political goal, the ZOPFAN became an integral part of
ASEAN’s self-defined international identity. Its strategic
insignificance is offset for ASEAN by its foundation for the building of
what ASEAN calls the regional normative architecture that is the
basis of its contemporary claim to “centrality” in regional international
relations. Also, the concept of the ZOPFAN was nonideological. It
applied equally to communist and noncommunist countries without
threatening one or the other. This led to the hope that the ZOPFAN
could be a foreign policy tool in trying to accommodate diplomatically
the communist states that had emerged the winners of the Second
Indochina War. The ZOPFAN was a conceptual denial of a
permanent strategic division between Indochina and ASEAN as part
of the great powers’ penetration of Southeast Asia.

ASEAN’s ZOPFAN Dilemma

The ZOPFAN declaration recognized “the right of every state, large
or small, to lead its national existence free from outside interference
in its internal affairs as this interference will adversely affect its
freedom, independence, and integrity.” Even though the political
objective of the ZOPFAN was directed to potential interventions by
extraregional states, the principles invoked as the basis for regional
peace and stability by logic—if not politics—would apply to the
ASEAN states themselves acting within Southeast Asia. This did not
turn out to be the case.
In December 1975, Indonesia invaded and occupied the former
Portuguese overseas territory of East Timor, which shared the island
of Timor, deep inside the Indonesian archipelago, with Indonesia’s
province of West Timor. After months of trying to destabilize the
nascent Democratic Republic of East Timor (DRET), Jakarta
displaced the new indigenous Timor government by force of arms
and eventually incorporated East Timor into the Indonesian state as
its twenty-seventh province. DRET had been established by the
radical nationalists of the Revolutionary Front for an Independent
East Timor (FRETILIN*), which had emerged victorious in the
struggle for power between rival groups in the collapse of four
hundred years of Portuguese rule. From Jakarta’s strategic view, the
possibility of a China- and Vietnam-blessed “communist” state in the
heart of the Indonesian archipelago could not be allowed.
The issue of Indonesia’s invasion of East Timor was quickly raised
at the United Nations, and on December 12, 1975, the General
Assembly passed a resolution on “the Question of East Timor” that
“strongly deplored” Indonesia’s military intervention and called for its
immediate withdrawal and an act of self-determination for the East
Timorese people.13 The resolution was passed by a vote of 72 to 10
with 43 abstentions. Four of the ASEAN countries voted no, but,
disconcertingly for Jakarta, Singapore abstained. When the
resolution was renewed at the 1976 UN General Assembly session,
Singapore was absent from the vote. Singapore’s reluctance to take
a stand reflected its balancing the appreciation of the vulnerability of
small nations and the importance of the UN norms in defending the
rights of small nations and the political consequences in ASEAN of
voting to support the resolution against Indonesia’s action.
Singapore’s breaking of ASEAN unity was duly noted by Jakarta and
became one more item on Indonesia’s list of grievances against the
island republic. Singapore’s voting in subsequent annual renewals of
the resolution followed the ASEAN (Indonesian) line. By 1982,
support for the UN General Assembly’s Timor resolution had eroded.
That year the vote was 52–46–46. No further votes were taken on
the question. The UN Security Council seized the “Question of East
Timor” at the end of December 1975 and basically restated the UN
General Assembly’s resolution, including the call for Indonesian
troop withdrawal.14 No ASEAN country was a nonpermanent
member that session.
 For more than two decades, ASEAN acquiesced in Indonesian
policies in East Timor. At the 1976 AMM, his fellow foreign ministers
expressed “appreciation” for Foreign Minister Malik’s explanation of
Indonesia’s East Timor policies, and there the question rested until
the violent separation of East Timor from Indonesia in 1999 (chapter
5). Despite not being directly involved in or having responsibilities in
East Timor, ASEAN’s acceptance of Indonesia’s invasion,
occupation, and annexation of the country led Western liberal
politicians and rights groups to charge ASEAN with countenancing
what was viewed as Indonesian oppression of the East Timorese.
For many governments and liberals around the world, Indonesia in
East Timor and later the cruel military dictatorship in Myanmar
(chapter 5) tarnished ASEAN’s political image, particularly with some
key dialogue partners.

ZOPFAN and ASEAN Engagement with Vietnam

The fall of Saigon on April 20, 1975, was a shock to ASEAN—not
because it happened, but because it came so quickly as a military
victory rather than as a negotiated settlement. There were
ungrounded fears in ASEAN capitals that, in a revolutionary fervor,
Vietnam’s large and battle-hardened military might fall on
noncommunist Southeast Asia. There was also concern that
Vietnam’s victory might inspire and be a model for communist
insurgents elsewhere in Southeast Asia. Thailand’s northeastern
provinces bordering Laos were the most vulnerable to this threat.
The truth was that Hanoi’s attention was focused on the need to
restore its shattered economy while at the same time trying politically
and administratively to absorb the population of the south into the
unified communist state. Furthermore, the tensions of the Sino-
Soviet rivalry were already showing a regional aspect in the
deteriorating Vietnam-Cambodia relationship. The American election
of President Jimmy Carter in 1976 and his defense policy that would
have reduced the U.S. presence in the Pacific alarmed ASEAN
security managers.15 It was only with the election of President
Ronald Reagan in 1980 and a surging military buildup that included
the Pacific Fleet that full confidence in American staying power was
renewed.
ASEAN had not coordinated a common position for dealing with
the emerging new international order in Indochina. In 1969, the DRV
had created a Provisional Revolutionary Government of South
Vietnam (PRGSV) as an alternative to Saigon’s ROV and an
international front for the Viet-cong. It was recognized only by
communist allies of the DRV, Cambodia, and the Non-Aligned
Movement. The PRGSV replaced the defeated ROV as the DRV
proxy until the national elections that reunified the country in July
1976. Only Malaysia immediately recognized the PRGSV
government while Indonesia and Singapore cautiously hung back.
Indonesia lagged ten days behind its ASEAN colleagues in granting
recognition to Democratic Kampuchea (Cambodia).* Diplomatic
recognition of the Lao People’s Democratic Republic (LPDR) was a
seamless transfer from the ASEAN states’ recognition of the
Kingdom of Laos to the LPDR. The five ASEAN foreign ministers
presented a unified position at their May 1975 eighth AMM, when
they called for a friendly and harmonious relationship with each of
the Indochina communist states on the basis of “strict adherence to
the principles of peaceful coexistence and mutual beneficial
cooperation, respect for sovereignty and territorial integrity, equality
and justice in the conduct of their relations with one another.”
The ASEAN criteria for peaceful relations seemed to coincide with
what had been laid out by Hanoi as the four governing principles for
its relations with the other states of Southeast Asia:

• respect for each other’s independence, sovereignty and territorial

integrity, nonaggression, noninterference in each other’s internal
affairs, equality, mutual benefit and peaceful coexistence,
• not to allow any foreign country to use one’s territory as a base for
directed or indirect aggression and intervention against the other
country or other countries in the region,
• establishment of friendly and good-neighborly relations, economic
cooperation and cultural exchanges on the basis of equality and
mutual benefit, settlement of disputes among the countries of the
 region through negotiations in a spirit of equality, and mutual
understanding and respect,
• development of cooperation among the countries of the region for
building prosperity in keeping with each country’s specific
conditions and for the sake of independence, peace and genuine
neutrality in Southeast Asia thereby contributing to peace in the
world.16

In most respects, the Vietnamese outline for proper relations

between Hanoi and the noncommunist states of the region could
have been borrowed from ASEAN documents, including the
Bangkok and ZOPFAN Declarations. What was unclear was the
exact meaning of “genuine neutrality,” which seemed from Hanoi’s
vantage to include removal of American bases and severance of
defense ties to the United States.
Hanoi moved quickly to normalize its bilateral relations with the
ASEAN states. Indonesia had established diplomatic relations during
the Sukarno government in 1955 and maintained its Hanoi embassy
through the war even during the U.S. bombings. Singapore
recognized the DRV on April 1, 1973, after the signing of the 1973
U.S.-Vietnam Paris Peace Accords. The other ASEAN states
established diplomatic relations with Vietnam in 1976: Malaysia on
March 30, the Philippines on August 6, and Thailand on August 8.
The latter two came in the wake of a Southeast Asian tour by
Vietnam’s deputy foreign minister Phan Hien who, while remaining
on message on Hanoi’s four principles, seemed to equivocate on
“noninterference.” Responding to a question of whether Vietnam
would cease supporting communist insurgencies in Southeast Asia,
he answered: “The path taken by each country should be decided by
the people of that country.”17
Reacting to post–Vietnam War restructuring of the regional
security environment, three of the ASEAN states hedged against
future alterations in great-power relations by opening diplomatic
relations with China, a move long delayed because of American
objections. The decision was now easier because of the Nixon 1972
visit to China and the Shanghai Communiqué, even though formal
establishment of U.S.-China relations did not occur until January 1,
1979. Malaysia and China established diplomatic relations on May
31, 1974, during an official visit to China by Prime Minister Tun Abdul
Razak. On June 9, 1975, Philippines’ president Ferdinand Marcos
opened Philippines-China relations in Beijing. Thailand followed on
July 1 during Prime Minister Kukrit Pramoj’s visit to China. The three
joint communiqués announcing the normalization of relations
contained similar language that, while not explicit, suggested that
China was prepared to cease support to communist insurgents in the
region.18 The Southeast Asian parties accepted the “one China”
policy and agreed to close their official representative offices in
Taiwan. The communiqués contained the “antihegemony” clause that
was in the Sino-American Shanghai Communiqué, stating that the
governments were “opposed to any attempt by any country or group
of countries to establish hegemony or create a sphere of interest in
any part of the world.” This was viewed by the USSR as a Chinese
attempt to limit Soviet influence in the region. Indonesia, which had
broken relations with China in October 1967, still viewed China as a
threat, and it was not until August 1990 that relations were restored.
Singapore, alert to Indonesia’s possible reaction, diplomatically
waited for Indonesia to act before it established relations with China
in October 1990. It was only then, when all of the ASEAN states had
normal relations with China, that Beijing could have an official
dialogue relationship with ASEAN, something the United States,
Japan, and other partners had had since 1977 (chapter 7).
In addition to their maneuvering between the great powers, in
normalizing relations with China, the Southeast Asian countries had
specific national interests in mind as well. For Malaysia, scarred by
May 1, 1970, race riots, it was important that China affirmed its
nonrecognition of dual nationality and called on those retaining
Chinese citizenship to respect the laws and customs of Malaysia. In
the Philippines, President Marcos saw in improved relations with
China a lever to use in his dealings with the United States. The Thais
saw a possible power balancer to the threat posed by Vietnam as
well as a possible cessation of Chinese support for communist
insurgents in Thailand.
ASEAN countries’ concern about Vietnam’s revolutionary
intentions seemed justified by the bellicosity of Hanoi’s propaganda
attacks on ASEAN, terming it a running dog of American imperialism.
For Hanoi, ASEAN countries’ counterinsurgency programs against
domestic armed communist movements were a “terrorist campaign
against the people” by the Thai and Malaysian cliques, “as part of
the anticommunist scheme coordinated by the countries of
ASEAN.”19 Nevertheless, the ASEAN nations persisted in pressing
the ZOPFAN as a framework for regional relations. At the 1973
fourth Nonaligned Summit in Algeria, attended by Indonesia,
Malaysia, and Singapore, the neutralization of Southeast Asia was
endorsed in the movement’s political statement. Three years later, at
the fifth Nonaligned Summit in Colombo, new members Vietnam and
Laos opposed any reference to ASEAN’s ZOPFAN and proposed
instead a statement calling for the full support of the NAM for the
“legitimate struggle of the peoples of Southeast Asia against
neocolonialism.”20 In the absence of consensus, no mention of
Southeast Asia’s neutralization was included in the summit’s final
political statement.
As Vietnam’s relations with Kampuchea and China worsened in
1977 and 1978, its attitude toward ASEAN and the ZOPFAN
softened. The invective was dropped and a peace offensive
launched. To the ASEAN states’ surprise, at the June 1978 United
Nations General Assembly Special Session on Disarmament,
Vietnam unveiled a proposal for a Southeast Asian Zone of Peace,
Genuine Independence, and Neutrality (ZOPGIN). Vietnam now
viewed ASEAN as a legitimate organization for economic
development rather than a tool of American imperialism. In
September and October, Prime Minister Pham Van Dong toured the
ASEAN capitals seeking bilateral economic engagements and
showing willingness to dialogue with ASEAN without preconditions.
As far as the competing “zones” proposals were concerned, he
assured ASEAN that a mutually acceptable wording could be worked
out. Deputy Foreign Minister Phan Hien, addressing the UN General
Assembly in October 1979, claimed that Vietnam had taken the
initiative in making direct contact with the ASEAN countries “with a
view to establishing together a zone of peace, independence,
freedom and neutrality.”21 Then, again listing the four principles of
Vietnam’s relations with Southeast Asian countries, he inserted a
new principle: “abstaining from all forms of subversion, direct or
indirect.” Presumably, this would include abandoning support for
regional communist insurgencies. By then, however, it was too late
for ASEAN-Vietnam reconciliation.
The ASEAN-Vietnam peace initiatives came to an end with the
November 1, 1978, signing of the Vietnam-USSR Treaty of
Friendship and Cooperation, followed by Vietnam’s December 25,
1978, invasion and occupation of Democratic Kampuchea (DK). For
ASEAN, Soviet support for Vietnam was proof of Moscow’s strategic
ambitions in Southeast Asia. As Vietnam’s army drove toward the
DK-Thai border, some in ASEAN wondered if the first “domino” had
fallen. The Third Indochina War was underway, which for the next
decade would politically and strategically monopolize ASEAN’s
attention and decision-making (chapter 4).

ASEAN AND THE INDOCHINESE REFUGEES

Even as ASEAN’s ZOPFAN was becoming a new war zone, ASEAN
leaders faced a different kind of challenge as a massive influx of
refugees from the Indochina countries threatened to overwhelm their
economic, social, and cultural capabilities to deal with them.
Between 1975 and mid-1979, 550,000 Indochinese refugees had
been registered in the ASEAN countries of first asylum, of whom
only 200,000 had been resettled in third countries, leaving 350,000
in ASEAN countries’ refugee centers. On Thailand’s northeastern
border, tens of thousands of Cambodian refugees had moved in, the
first wave fleeing the cruelties of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge “killing
fields,” and the second, Khmer Rouge elements retreating from
Vietnam’s invasion. Adding to Bangkok’s burden were ethnic Hmong
refugees from Laos. The Hmong had allied with the United States in
the so-called secret war against the Pathet Lao and North Vietnam’s
supply line—the “Ho Chi Minh trail”—to South Vietnam. World
attention, however, was centered on the Vietnamese “boat people,”
mostly ethnic Chinese, an unknown number of whom drowned as
they fled or were expelled from the Socialist Republic of Vietnam
(SRV). Deprived of their livelihood by communist economic policy
and viewed as unpatriotic PRC sympathizers, thousands left the
country in an uncontrolled exodus officially facilitated by the
Vietnamese government.
At a Bangkok special ASEAN foreign ministers’ meeting on
Indochinese refugees held on January 13, 1979, the foreign
ministers labeled the alarming proportions of the outflow of people
from Indochina a problem for regional stability, peace, and
harmony.22 For the international community, the Indochinese
refugees in the ASEAN countries were a humanitarian crisis. For
ASEAN it was a security problem. Alluding to the heavy burden that
had been put on them, the ministers called for increased departures
of the refugees to countries of permanent resettlement. They
stressed the need for guarantees that their countries would not be
left with “residual problems.” Who the guarantors might be was not
stated, but the demand was aimed at the office of the UN High
Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and the Western countries
that were pressing the ASEAN countries to accept the refugees and
allow international access to them for humanitarian aid. The
underlying fear in the first asylum countries—ASEAN preferred
“transit” countries—was that they would be left with the political
problem of integrating an alien Chinese refugee minority into their
own unwelcoming communities. As the numbers of boat people
increased, there was growing domestic political backlash. On the
east coast of Malaysia, there were cases of local villagers forcing
refugee boats back to sea. In Indonesia, there were complaints that
the refugees were getting better nutrition and medical care than
many poorer Indonesians. From ASEAN’s point of view, the refugee
problem had been created by Vietnam’s policy and ASEAN was not
going to be held responsible for solving it.
As the refugee influx continued unabated—54,000 arriving in June
1979—ASEAN’s stance hardened. At the June 13, 1979, 12th AMM,
the foreign ministers expressed their “grave concern over the deluge
of illegal immigration . . . which has reached crisis proportions and
has caused severe political, socioeconomic and security problems in
ASEAN countries.” Holding Vietnam responsible for the “unending
exodus,” the ministers accused Hanoi of not taking any effective
steps to stop the flow of illegal immigrants. They also referenced
Vietnam’s armed intervention into Kampuchea as causing the influx
of Khmer refugees into Thailand. Saying they had “reached the limits
of their endurance,” the ministers decided that they would no longer
accept new arrivals. They added that they would “send out” illegal
immigrants in their existing camps should they not be accepted for
resettlement or repatriation within a reasonable time frame. They did
not specify what “send out” implied, but it was clear that they were
ready to take firm measures against future and existing refugees,
including forced repatriation, unless third countries accelerated and
increased resettlement.
ASEAN’s new position threatened the UNHCR’s framework for
humanitarian assistance to the refugees. Galvanized into action, UN
secretary-general Kurt Waldheim convened on July 20–21, 1979, a
Geneva conference on Indochina refugees attended by sixty-five
countries. It generated significantly higher pledges for resettlement
as well as promises of increased cash or kind for support of the
camps. Ultimately four countries—the United States, Australia,
Canada, and France—resettled 90 percent of the refugees. The
conference also led to a major political breakthrough in Vietnamese
policy. Waldheim received Hanoi’s agreement to a moratorium on
uncontrolled emigration that promised “that for a reasonable period
of time it would make every effort to stop illegal departures.”23
The immediate crisis was over. Regional arrival rates of refugees
fell dramatically. The illegal flow from Vietnam became a trickle. In
the following eighteen months, 450,000 refugees had been resettled.
The issues involved in the in-country processing and administration
during the crisis were dealt with in bilateral settings, but this was
backed by the political weight of ASEAN policy coordination and
unified positions in dealing with the foreign stake-holders. ASEAN’s
handling of the refugee crisis added to its credibility as an actor in
Southeast Asian regional international relations.
By the mid-1980s, however, it was clear that the 1979
mechanisms were failing as boat-people arrivals increased due to
relaxed Vietnamese controls and the prospect of resettlement to the
West improved. A July 4, 1988, AMM “Joint Statement on Indochina
Refugees” warned that an enormous increase in the arrivals of
Vietnam boat people was creating severe difficulties affecting
regional security. Although not directly connected as a “push” factor,
the new round of departures from Vietnam took place as Vietnam
was militarily mired in Cambodia in the Third Indochina War and
economically sanctioned by the world’s democracies. A new
Memorandum of Understanding between the UNHCR and Vietnam
was signed in December 1988 calling for greater Vietnamese
cooperation in stemming the flow. A second Geneva international
conference on Indochina boat people was held in June 1989. The
result was a Comprehensive Plan of Action that contained new
commitments by both countries of first asylum and resettlement
countries. By the end of the second crisis, the UNHCR tabulation of
total boat-people arrivals since 1975 was 796,310, with the highest
number, 32 percent, arriving in Malaysia; 15.3 percent in Indonesia;
14.7 percent in Thailand; 6.5 percent in the Philippines; and 4.1
percent in Singapore. The second-highest number of arrivals was in
Hong Kong, with 24.6 percent.24

THE CONCEPT OF NATIONAL AND REGIONAL

RESILIENCE
In the threatening security environment of perceived American
retreat, Soviet and Chinese strategic advances, and a potential
regionally predatory Vietnam, the ASEAN states were not going to
depend on a passive hortatory call for a ZOPFAN to defend their
interests. Following the lead of Indonesia, ASEAN adopted an
approach to self-defense—although it did not call it that—known as
“national and regional resilience.” The concept originated in
Indonesian military think tanks and can, depending on context, be
viewed as doctrine, strategy, or ideology. National resilience called
for increasing the state’s political, economic, and security capabilities
to meet internal and external security challenges. A 1977
Indonesian-sponsored ASEAN “special course” defined it:
National resilience is the dynamic condition of a nation, including tenacity and
sturdiness, which enables it to develop national strength to cope with the challenges,
threats, obstructions, and disturbances coming from outside—as well as from within the
country—directly endangering the national existence and the struggle for national
goals.25
 At that level of generalization, the invocation of “national
resilience” could be used to justify any policy a government wishes
to pursue. The challenge to be given priority was succinctly put by
Indonesia’s minister of defense, General Maraden Panggabean:
“ASEAN faces a common communist subversive threat from within
and without, regardless of the state of national resilience in each
member country.”26 The policy question was how to translate national
resilience into ASEAN regional resilience; or was it simply to be
considered the cumulative outcome of uncoordinated national
efforts? In terms of ASEAN cooperation, it was more specific. The
term “regional resilience” became the ASEAN code word for
increasing political and security cooperation among the members.
The building of ASEAN’s “regional resilience” was to be done without
an ASEAN road map or planning document since it was not formally
part of the mandate of the Bangkok Declaration.
The concrete threat, as postulated by Indonesia and shared with
varying degrees of immediacy by its ASEAN partners, was perceived
as communist subversion and potential aggression from communist
states. Priority was given to security and in particular to
strengthening regional armed forces. Among the ASEAN states, an
increasingly sophisticated web of formal and informal bilateral
security links was established, including intelligence sharing, training
and exchange of officers, and joint military exercising, and in the
Malaysia-Thailand relationship, joint patrolling.27 The pattern of
exercising that emerged was Indonesia-centric, with Indonesia being
the most common bilateral partner. Since the ASEAN states’ defense
industrialization was in its infancy, acquisitions of major weapons
systems created complex military assistance dependence with
Western suppliers. For example, the defense relationship between
the nonaligned government of Indonesia’s Suharto and the United
States was described as “one of the clearest cases of limited
alignment in Southeast Asia.”28 No nation wanted to be left behind in
the race for military modernization for fear its neighbors would
change the local balance of power. In a kind of mini–arms race, the
benchmark as such was Singapore, whose armed forces became
the best-equipped, best-trained, and most technically advanced in
the region. While Indonesia and Malaysia might ask why a small
country like Singapore needed such a great investment in defense,
Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew’s answer was that “countries which
have, in the past, not taken the trouble to prepare themselves for
defense, have been overrun by foreign countries.”29 And he was not
just thinking of Indochina.
To avoid being accused of the militarization or “SEATOization” of
ASEAN, the ASEAN governments insisted that their cooperative
activities to strengthen the security component of regional resilience
be carried out on a non-ASEAN basis. There was no ASEAN
institutional structure that linked the ASEAN states’ security
managers in an ASEAN consultative framework. This did not appear
until 2006 and the inauguration of the ASEAN Defense Ministers’
Meeting (ADMM). There were five national strategies and no
regional strategy for an integrated defense system. Nevertheless, at
least from the Malaysian perspective, there was a cumulative impact:
Bilateral [security] cooperation between Malaysia and Indonesia, Thailand and
Singapore would be a contribution towards strengthening regional resilience. This in
turn would act as a bulwark against any attempt to bring the region under communist
influence and hegemony.30

While the bilateral security arrangements were designed to

enhance regional resilience and expressly stipulated being outside
the official ASEAN framework, they were considered part of
ASEAN’s “collective political defense.”31 Hanoi saw the security
component of regional resilience as proof that ASEAN was plotting
against the legitimate interests of the people of Southeast Asia.
Vietnam’s official Communist Party newspaper, Nhan Dan,
thundered:
It must be further said that some ASEAN countries are feverishly promoting bilateral
alliances under the signboard of anticommunism. This will turn ASEAN into a de facto
or military alliance in opposition to the Southeast Asian people’s aspirations for
independence, peace, and genuine neutrality, and will create tensions in the region.32

The concept of national and regional resilience is still featured as

the intangible ASEAN dynamic that allows the organization “to
achieve and enhance capacity to collectively respond and adapt to
current challenges and emerging threats.”33 Through the
strengthening of national and regional resilience, ASEAN envisioned
that Southeast Asia in 2025 “in full reality” would be a Zone of
Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality.34 This is unlikely.

The Bali Concord I (ASEAN Concord I)

The 1975 communist victories in Indochina were the catalyst for
ASEAN to move to the heads-of-government level of collaborative
decision-making. At Indonesia’s urging, the five ASEAN leaders met
on Indonesia’s fabled island of Bali in February 1976. It was not as if
the leaders needed to be introduced to one another. Over the years,
the leaders had regularly met in bilateral settings. In 1975, for
example, Thai prime minster Kukrit Pramoj traveled to the capitals of
his four counterparts. Malaysian prime minister Hussein Onn visited
Thailand, Singapore, and Indonesia. His omission of Manila was
because of the ongoing political damage of the Sabah dispute.
Singapore’s Lee Kuan Yew visited Thailand, and the Philippines’
president Ferdinand Marcos was in Jakarta. The frequency of
Suharto’s meetings with his fellow heads of government during his
twenty-two-year incumbency prompted an Indonesian label for the
encounters: “empat mata” (four eyes). Hussein Onn and Kukrit
Pramoj were relatively new to the leaders’ group. Hussein had been
Prime Minister Abdul Razak’s deputy prime minister (and brother-in-
law) and succeeded him after his sudden death in January 1975.
Kukrit became Thai prime minister on April 25, 1975, succeeding his
brother Seni Pramoj. This was in the short-lived democratic space
between the overthrow of Thanom Kittikachorn’s coup government in
October 1973 and a new military coup in October 1976. Anxious to
readjust Thai policy to the reality of communist neighbors, in May
1975 the Kukrit government terminated the American air force bases
in Thailand, with the last of the 27,000 U.S. airmen leaving the
country in March 1976.
The 1976 Bali Summit was the first of three historic Bali summits—
Bali I, II (2003), and III (2011)—each of which, as later chapters will
show, gave new energy and direction to the organization. The
preparatory work for Bali I was concluded at two pre-summit foreign
ministers’ meetings in Pattaya, Thailand, on February 10 and in Bali
on February 21, where the scripting and the details of the agenda
and decisions to be taken were finalized. At the summit, the leaders
signed two important documents—the Bali Concord and the Treaty
of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia—providing an explicit
political blueprint for the harmonization of ASEAN foreign policies in
the search for regional peace, stability, and security as the basis for
economic growth and prosperity. In a sense, Bali I was ASEAN’s
second launch, with the door open to normalizing relations with
Indochina. At the same time, it generalized to ASEAN Indonesia’s
security concerns.

Declaration of Bali Concord I (ASEAN Concord)

The Bali Concord was an effort to consolidate ASEAN’s
achievements and to expand cooperation in political, economic, and
social spheres in the pursuit of peace, progress, and prosperity.35
The political stability of member states was emphasized. It was
resolved to eliminate threats to stability from subversion, thus
strengthening national and regional resilience. It laid out a program
of action as the framework for future ASEAN cooperation. The
concord reflected the leaders’ belief that it was essential to move to
higher fields of cooperation in all areas of action, including political.
Controlling the agenda, the Suharto government’s security policy
became ASEAN’s.
In the “political” section of the concord, the leaders agreed that
future summits could be held as and when necessary and to improve
ASEAN machinery to strengthen political cooperation. The concord
called for “political solidarity” through the strengthening of
harmonization of views, coordinating positions, and taking common
actions. As subsequent chapters will show, solidarity was difficult to
establish in cases where the political and strategic interests of the
member states clashed. The leaders called for immediate action to
gain recognition and respect for the ZOPFAN and for signing the
TAC (discussed below). The leaders agreed to study the
development of judicial cooperation, including an ASEAN extradition
treaty. The background to this was Indonesian pursuit of “hot money”
that, allegedly, wealthy ethnic Chinese had illegally moved to safe
harbor in Singapore, which had no bilateral extradition treaty with
Indonesia. After four decades and the transnational criminal activities
of drug lords, traffickers in persons, and terrorism, the ASEAN law
ministers are still studying a model ASEAN Extradition Treaty.
A one-sentence statement on security cooperation in ASEAN was
given its own separate heading in the concord’s declaration:
“Continuation of cooperation on a non-ASEAN basis between
member states in security matters in accordance with their mutual
needs and interests.” The incorporation of officially non-ASEAN
bilateral security cooperation into the concord’s ASEAN framework
was one more piece of evidence for Hanoi that ASEAN was a front
for American imperialism.
The economics components of the ASEAN Concord focused on
commodity sharing, industrial cooperation, and trade. In terms of
commodities, priority was given to acquisition of basic commodities
such as food and energy by exports from member countries. The
model for industrial cooperation was, although not directly
referenced, that of the 1969 UN economic team. The ill-fated ASEAN
Industrial Projects were the centerpiece. Only two of the five planned
actually were completed, both of which were renamed national
projects. On trade, the leaders looked to expand intra-ASEAN trade
by establishment of preferential trading arrangements (PTA) as a
long-term objective. Perhaps the most fruitful of the summit
decisions with respect to economic cooperation was bringing the
economic ministers into the ASEAN house. The first ASEAN
Economic Ministers’ (AEM) meeting took place in Kuala Lumpur in
March 1976.

The Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia

(TAC)36
The TAC is a formal codification in the form of a legally binding treaty
of the normative rules of international behavior to which the member
states had theoretically been socialized. In its documentary
background were sources that included the Charter of the United
Nations, the Bandung Principles, the Bangkok Declaration, and
ZOPFAN. In the political foreground was the stimulus of building
bridges to Vietnam. Signed by the ASEAN members, it was left open
to adherence by the other Southeast Asian states. The purpose of
the treaty (Article 1) was “to promote perpetual peace, everlasting
amity and cooperation among their peoples which would contribute
to their strength, solidarity and closer relationship.” Article 2 listed the
six fundamental principles that would guide the actions of the High
Contracting Parties:

a. Mutual respect for the independence, sovereignty, equality,

territorial integrity and national identity of all nations
b. The right of every State to lead its national existence free from
external interference, subversion or coercion
c. Noninterference in the internal affairs of one another
d. Settlement of differences or disputes by peaceful means
e. Renunciation of the threat or use of force
f. Effective cooperation among themselves

The following articles laid out the areas of cooperation that would
contribute to peace, stability, and resilience in Southeast Asia. Article
10, without being specific, relates to the concerns reflected in
“principle c”: “Each High Contracting Party shall not in any manner or
form participate in any activity which shall constitute a threat to the
political and economic stability, sovereignty, or territorial integrity of
another High Contracting Party.” What was innovative in the TAC
was the creation of a regional structure and process to give
functional effect to principles for pacific settlement of disputes.
Articles 14 and 15 established a High Council of the TAC comprised
of representatives at the ministerial level from each signatory state
who are “to take cognizance of the existence of disputes or
situations likely to disturb regional peace and harmony.” In the event
that negotiations for a settlement fail, the High Council could
recommend appropriate means of settlement as well as offer its own
good offices, constituting itself into a committee of mediation, inquiry,
or conciliation. When necessary the High Council could recommend
appropriate measures to prevent the deterioration of the dispute or
situation. The High Council could act only if all parties to a dispute
agreed to its intervention (Article 16). As a conflict-management
mechanism, the application of the tools of the TAC’s High Council
was seen as a last resort. While considered an integral element of
ASEAN’s ZOPFAN, the foreign ministers were in no hurry to activate
it. It was a quarter of a century—July 23, 2001—before the rules of
procedure for the High Council were promulgated and, although
designed as a continuing body, the High Council has yet to be
constituted.
Accession to the TAC was opened to states outside of Southeast
Asia by amending protocols in 1987, which allowed them to become
a signatory, subject to the approval of all of the Southeast Asian
states. This was considered by ASEAN to be the first major step in
the implementation of the ZOPFAN. However, non–Southeast Asian
states could become part of the High Council process only in
disputes that directly involved them. Papua New Guinea was the first
outside state to sign on in February 1989 in the hope of
strengthening its case for ASEAN membership (chapter 5). China
and India were the next to accede in October 2003 and Russia in
2004. By 2016, twenty-five nonregional states had acceded, with
Chile, Egypt, and Morocco being accepted at the September 2016
ASEAN Summit. The European Union became a member through an
amending protocol that allowed state-based nonstate organizations
to accede. Despite the urgings of its ASEAN friends and allies, the
United States, although claiming to respect the TAC’s principles and
spirit, hesitated to become a party to it. There were concerns that it
could limit American strategic independence. The rise of China’s
political profile in ASEAN’s multilateral diplomacy and growing
ASEAN doubts about the credibility of the U.S. commitment to
regional security led President Obama to approve American
accession to the TAC in 2009. One clear political gain for the United
States was admission to ASEAN’s highest level of summitry, the
East Asia Summit (chapter 7).
The ASEAN foreign ministers commemorated the fortieth
anniversary of the TAC in July 2016 at their 49th AMM in Vientiane,
Laos. In their statement on the occasion, they reaffirmed the TAC as
“the key instrument governing relations between States to
maintaining regional peace and stability.”37 The ministers called for
the High Contracting Parties, including those from outside of
Southeast Asia, “to continue to fully respect and promote the
effective implementation of the TAC, especially the purposes and
principles contained therein.” The record of state behavior in
Southeast Asia, however, does not support the laudatory claims in
the ASEAN ministerial pronouncements. It cannot be demonstrated
that the TAC has been instrumental in conflict resolution or
avoidance or has functioned as a political constraint on threat or use
of force in Southeast Asia when vital interests are at play.

ASEAN’s Machinery
The Bali Concord also dealt with what was called “improvement of
ASEAN machinery.” It announced the signing of an agreement to
establish an ASEAN Secretariat. The Philippines and Indonesia vied
to be host country for the secretariat, but Manila gave way to
Jakarta, which once led Indonesian foreign minister Retno Marsudi
to describe Jakarta as ASEAN’s capital. The Agreement on the
Establishment of the ASEAN Secretariat provided for a secretary-
general with a term of two years, rotating alphabetically through the
member states. By amending protocols, the term of office for the
secretary-general was extended to three years in 1985 and then to
five years in 1992. In addition to lengthening again the term of the
secretary-general, the 1992 protocol amending the 1976 agreement
considerably enhanced the status and responsibilities of the
secretary-general. The role was elevated to the ministerial level and
the title changed to Secretary-General of ASEAN. The secretary-
general’s mandate was expanded to initiate, advise, coordinate, and
implement all of ASEAN’s activities. He was also tasked as
spokesman and representative of ASEAN on all matters.
The enlargement of the authority of the secretary-general made it
possible for an activist secretary-general, Surin Pitsuwan (2008–
2012), to influence policy as well as manage the organization’s
bureaucratic operations. The majority of the thirteen ASEAN
secretaries-general have been distinguished diplomats in their
countries’ foreign offices, but only Surin had been a former foreign
minister (Thailand 1997–2001). As if a coequal of ASEAN foreign
ministers, Surin became the public international face of ASEAN. He
pressed for the democratic and human rights elements of the
political components of the 2007 ASEAN Charter (chapter 8). This
was viewed with suspicion by Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and
Vietnam but had the discreet backing of Indonesian president Susilo
Bambang Yudhoyono’s foreign ministers Hassan Wirajuda (2004–
2009) and Marty Natalegawa (2009–2014).
In appointing the secretary-general, the nominating country is
responsible for assessing the qualifications of its national candidate.
Although the issue of terminating the tenure of a secretary-general is
not touched upon by the basic agreement and its amendments, the
one precedent shows that he serves at the will of the appointing
country, not ASEAN. As first secretary-general, President Suharto
named retired Indonesian general Hartono Rekso Dharsono.
Dharsono came into Suharto’s domestic political disfavor, however,
when he supported student protests against Suharto’s bid for a third
term in office. Suharto “fired” him from ASEAN in February 1978,
replacing him as ASEAN’s secretary-general with Umarjadi
Notowijono, a diplomat who had been Indonesia’s first permanent
ambassador to the UN in Geneva. Umarjadi served out the last four
months of the term.
In at least two cases, the secretary-general’s nationality has
affected his ASEAN role. During Surin’s term of office, Thai and
Cambodian armed forces clashed over sovereign rights to the
ancient Khmer temple of Preah Vihear (chapter 9). The confrontation
with Cambodia was ignited by ultranationalist policies of the
Democrat Party (DP) government of Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva.
Surin had been a deputy leader of the DP and had been foreign
minister during the DP government of Prime Minister Chuan Leek-
pai. Surin’s links to the DP made him suspect in Phnom Penh,
particularly after a newspaper circulated a photograph showing him
with Abhisit at a DP function. Surin was succeeded as secretary-
general by Vietnamese national Le Luong Minh, a deputy foreign
minister. Minh came to office as Vietnam and China were embroiled
in a bitter war of words over China’s encroachment into Vietnam’s
maritime zone (chapter 10). As ASEAN wrestled with the formulation
of a common position on China’s South China Sea claims, Beijing
challenged Minh’s impartiality. In a 2014 interview, Minh accused
China of violating the 2002 Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in
the South China Sea (DOC), saying China had to leave Vietnam’s
waters.38 In an angry response, China replied that Minh’s comments
were “a Vietnamese provocation” and that “in advocating a certain
country’s claim” Minh was sending the wrong signal on ASEAN’s
position of not taking sides.39
A second item in the concord, under the caption “machinery,” was
the call for a study of the desirability of a new constitutional
framework for ASEAN. This recognized that if the goals put forward
by ASEAN were to be realized, the organization had to move from
an informal foreign ministers’ meeting to an institutional structure
with an autonomous legal basis. It took more than three decades,
however, for studies to be transformed into action and the drafting
and adoption of the ASEAN Charter (chapter 8).
The Bali Summit was a milestone in ASEAN’s history for a number
of reasons. It validated at the heads-of-government level the foreign
ministers’ initiatives and authority in fashioning a regionalist
approach to further common interests. The summit’s decisions
began to put flesh on the bare bones of the Bangkok Declaration. It
strengthened the organization’s international identity. Both Japan
and Australia had requested meetings in conjunction with the
summit. It gave new emphasis to ASEAN economic cooperation
even though it was more than a decade before real results could be
observed. Security as an ASEAN goal came into the open, and the
emphasis on coordinated policy anticipated the initial ASEAN
response to Vietnam’s invasion of Cambodia.

THE 1977 KUALA LUMPUR SECOND ASEAN SUMMIT

In 1977, ASEAN commemorated its tenth anniversary with a second
summit on August 2–4 in Kuala Lumpur. Coming only eighteen
months after the achievements of the Bali Summit, the Kuala Lumpur
Summit was somewhat anticlimactic. The Bali Summit was
declaratory and forward looking. The Kuala Lumpur Summit was
stocktaking and implementing. Three of the attending heads of
government—Suharto, Lee, and Marcos—had led their countries for
the full decade of ASEAN’s existence. As noted above, in Malaysia,
Prime Minister Hussein Onn had succeeded Tun Abdul Razak in
1975. The only new face was Thailand’s prime minister Thanin
Kraivixien, who had been installed after an October 1976 coup led by
General Kriangsak Chomanan terminated Kukrit Pramoj’s short
tenure. Six weeks after the summit, another coup ousted Thanin,
and Kriangsak became prime minster. Of the founding foreign
ministers, only Indonesia’s Adam Malik and Singapore’s S.
Rajaratnam were still serving.
In an effort to ease the strain in Philippine-Malaysian relations,
President Ferdinand Marcos surprised his coleaders when, in his
initial remarks, he announced that the government of the Philippines
was taking definite steps to eliminate one of the burdens on ASEAN,
the claim of the Philippines to Sabah. This was only a verbal
commitment. The Malaysian government asked for two specific
actions: amendment of the 1973 Philippines constitution to delete the
phrase “territory belonging to the Republic by historic right or legal
title” and to repeal the 1968 Philippines Republic Act RA 5446, which
defined the archipelago’s maritime baselines but stated that this
“was without prejudice to the delimitation of the baselines of the
territorial sea around the territory of Sabah situated in North Borneo
over which the Republic of the Philippines has acquired domain and
sovereignty.”40 These steps were not taken, giving the Malaysian
government further evidence of Manila’s bad faith. The post-Marcos
1987 Philippines constitution adopted by plebiscite during President
Corazon Aquino’s administration is ambiguous with respect to
Sabah. Article I defines the Philippines’ territory as the Philippine
archipelago “and all other territories over which the Philippines has
sovereignty or jurisdiction.” As far as RA 5446 is concerned, a new
baselines act was passed in 2009, RA 9522, but it did not repeal RA
5446. In other words, Marcos’s words at the Kuala Lumpur Summit
to conclusively end the claim were not followed by acts in his or
future Philippines presidencies.
Between the first and second summits, there had been three
foreign ministers’ meetings following up on Bali and preparing for
Kuala Lumpur: the ninth AMM, June 1976 in Manila; a special
ASEAN foreign ministers’ meeting, February 24, 1977,
commemorating the Bali Summit, also in Manila; and the 10th AMM
in Singapore, July 5–8, 1977. With the Second Indochina War over,
the great-power strategic environment in which ASEAN had been
born seemed less fraught. Southeast Asia’s position as a Cold War
stage was giving way to the Middle East and Africa. Normalization of
relations with China and Vietnam’s peace offensive had eased
concerns about their immediate future relations with ASEAN. In
Kuala Lumpur, the leaders “noted with satisfaction the exchanges of
diplomats and trade visits at high level have enhanced the prospects
of improved relations between ASEAN countries and the countries of
Indochina.”

Economics to the Fore

In the political tranquility of the moment, ASEAN attention could turn
to the neglected areas of cooperation, particularly the ASEAN
economies. The economic ministers had held six meetings between
the Bali and Kuala Lumpur Summits. Bali’s incorporation of the
economic ministers into the ASEAN machinery gave new stimulus to
ASEAN for developing projects, programs, workshops, and other
activities that could be given an ASEAN label and be notionally
“owned” by ASEAN even though executed within national
frameworks. The joint communiqués of the AMMs read like an
inventory and review of these items.
In the interval between the two summits, the final details of the
package of what had begun as the UN team’s recommendations
were in place and ready for adoption. At the February 1977 special
foreign ministers’ meeting, an Agreement on the Establishment of
ASEAN Preferential Trading Arrangements (PTA) negotiated by the
economic ministers was signed along with the rules of origin. At the
summit, the leaders urged that the PTA be promptly and fully
implemented. The results were disappointing. In the first decade of
the PTA’s operations, only 5 percent of the goods offered in the
scheme were actively traded, and the goods traded under the PTA
accounted for just 2 percent of total intra-ASEAN trade.41 Also
disappointing, as noted above, was the outcome of the ASEAN
leaders’ endorsement of the ASEAN Industrial Projects. The ASEAN
Chamber of Commerce and Industry found ASEAN’s economic
performance since the 1976 Bali Summit to be in a “decrescendo.”42
 The attention given to the economic ministers as ASEAN’s drivers
seemed to challenge the foreign ministers’ leading role in ASEAN.
They headed this off by inserting a statement in the summit’s
communiqué that “changes in the organizational structure of ASEAN
should be effected without altering the status of the ASEAN
Declaration as the basic document.” This was a diplomatic assertion
of the primacy of the foreign ministers. The foreign ministers also
resisted Indonesian foreign minister Malik’s push to strengthen the
secretariat’s role in program implementation and give more
executive authority to the secretary-general. In ASEAN fashion, the
leaders avoided decisions by putting them off, directing that “efforts
be continued to review the organizational structure of ASEAN with a
view to increasing its effectiveness.”

The “Dialogues” Begin

ASEAN relations with external partners blossomed in 1977. At the
summit, the heads of government reaffirmed “ASEAN’s readiness to
consider the establishment of formal dialogue with other countries,
groups of countries and international organizations on the basis of
mutual benefits.” For ASEAN, these benefits were viewed as trade
opportunities and development assistance from donor dialogue
partners. The dialogues were given political significance by ASEAN
leaders’ meetings in Kuala Lumpur with the prime ministers of
Australia, New Zealand, and Japan. The Australian and New
Zealand dialogues began in 1974 and 1975, respectively. Japan’s
dialogue status began with the ASEAN-Japan Forum in March 1977.
The political hangover of Japan’s World War II invasion and
occupation of Southeast Asia constrained Japan’s relations with the
ASEAN states.
Japan’s prime minister Takeo Fukuda attended the 1977 ASEAN
Summit and after the meeting visited all of the ASEAN countries,
plus Burma. In a summary speech on August 18 in Manila, his last
stop, Fukuda identified the principles of Japan’s foreign policy in
Southeast Asia, which came to be known as the “Fukuda Doctrine.”43
In it, Japan foreswore a military role in Southeast Asia and defined
the Japan–Southeast Asia relationship as a partnership of equals
based on mutual confidence and trust. He promised to double
economic assistance to help establish a stable regional international
order. Fukuda pledged to the leaders and people of ASEAN that “the
government and people of Japan will never be a skeptical bystander
in regard to ASEAN’s efforts to achieve increased regional resilience
and greater regional solidarity but will always be with you as good
partners, walking hand in hand with ASEAN.” Tokyo sought to
maximize its economic power, but without political and military
content. Japan’s regional role, while important, did not factor into
ASEAN’s maneuverings among the great powers in pursuit of
security. Although the Fukuda Doctrine denied a Japanese military
role in Southeast Asia, U.S. pressure on Japan for defense “burden
sharing” raised concern in Southeast Asia about American “burden
shifting.” Foreign Minister Mochtar parsed the problem for
Indonesia’s parliament in 1983: “Indonesia is of the view that Japan
has the right to enhance its military power, but that Indonesia does
not want Japan to play the role of policeman in the Asia-Pacific
region.”44
ASEAN’s other dialogue partners in 1977 were Canada, the
European Economic Community, and the United States. The United
Nations Development Programme (UNDP) became a noncountry
dialogue partner. The dialogue process was institutionalized at the
foreign minister level at the 1981 14th AMM with the introduction of
the Post-Ministerial Conference (PMC). After the AMM, at the PMC,
the ASEAN and dialogue partners’ foreign ministers met first as a
group (PMC + 10) and then with each dialogue partner individually
(PMC + 1). The Republic of Korea (ROK, South Korea) was elevated
to a dialogue partner at the 1991 24th AMM. India became a sectoral
dialogue partner in 1992.* Its candidacy for full dialogue-partner
status had been pushed by Singapore, but New Delhi’s political
support for Russia’s invasion of Afghanistan and Vietnam’s invasion
of Cambodia put it on the wrong side of Indonesia, in particular. It
only became a full dialogue partner at the fifth ASEAN Summit in
December 1995. China and Russia, balancing each other, became
full dialogue partners at the 1996 29th AMM. A moratorium was
imposed on new dialogue partners in 1999, capping it at ten. Each
dialogue partner is paired with an ASEAN member-coordinator on a
three-year rotation. Pakistan, which had been a sectoral dialogue
partner since 1993, was locked out of promotion to full dialogue-
partner status. It attributed this to Indian diplomatic opposition, but it
also reflected ASEAN’s reluctance to bring the India-Pakistan enmity
into ASEAN. Even so, Pakistan is the only country other than the ten
dialogue countries that is listed with a link to its relations with ASEAN
under the External Relations heading on the ASEAN internet home
page. The “dialogue partnership” has been transformed, beginning in
2003 with China into “strategic partnerships” for six of the dialogue
partners. This recognizes the depth and breadth of cooperative
activities in political, economic, social, and cultural fields of concern
to ASEAN. In addition to China, the strategic partners are Australia
(2014), Japan (2011), New Zealand (2011), South Korea (2010), and
the United States (2015).
After Kuala Lumpur in 1977, the foreign ministers next met at the
June 1978 11th AMM hosted by Thailand. After eleven years,
Indonesia was no longer represented by Adam Malik, who had been
tapped as Suharto’s vice president in 1977. He was replaced by
Professor Mochtar Kusumaatmadja, an international lawyer and
former minister of law, who became an ASEAN stalwart for the next
decade. In their discussion of regional international relations, the
foreign ministers’ cautious optimism of the previous year had shifted
to concern about continuing conflict between Vietnam and
Kampuchea and the tensions between China and Vietnam. They
expressed the hope that these problems would be solved through
peaceful means in the near future. That near future was six months
away, December 1978, when Vietnam invaded Kampuchea, an
event that transformed ASEAN’s international political profile.

NOTES
1. “Opening Statement of Hon’ble Prime Minister Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra at the
ASEAN Foreign Ministers Meeting at Cameron Highlands on 16 December 1969,” Foreign
Affairs Malaysia 4, no. 43 (December 1969): 39.
2. Chia Siow Yue, “ASEAN Economic Cooperation—Developments and Issues,” in Chia
Siow Yue, ed., ASEAN Economic Cooperation (Singapore: ISEAS, 1980), 5.
3. Russell H. Fifield, “ASEAN: The Perils of Viability,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 2,
no. 2 (December 1980): 207.
 4. “Report of a United Nations Team, ‘Economic Cooperation among Member Countries
of the Association of South East Asian Nations,’” Journal of Development Planning 7
(1974).
5. Text of the ZOPFAN declaration can be accessed at
http://www.mfa.go.th/asean/contents/files/other-20130527-163245-351392.pdf.
6. Text accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=joint-press-statement-special-asean-
foreign-ministers-meeting-to-issue-the-declaration-of-zone-of-peace-freedom-and-neutrality-
kuala-lumpur-25-26-november-1971.
7. As cited in Robert H. Taylor, General Ne Win: A Political Biography (Singapore:
ISEAS, 2015), 401.
8. As cited by Johan Saravanamuttu, The Dilemma of Independence: Two Decades of
Malaysia’s Foreign Policy, 1957–1977 (Penang: Penerbit Universiti Sains Malaysia, 1983),
74–75.
9. “Tun Ismail’s Address at U.N. General Assembly,” Malaysia Foreign Affairs 3, no. 2
(December 1970): 58–59.
10. Emphasis added. As cited in Michael Leifer and Dolliver Nehru, “Conflict of Interest in
the Straits of Malacca,” International Affairs 49, no. 2 (April 1973): 203.
11. “Joint Communiqué of the First ASEAN Heads of Government Meeting, Bali. 11–12
February 1976.”
12. Bilahari Kausikan, “Southeast Asia and ASEAN,” 2015/16 Nathan Lectures: Lecture
III, accessed at https://ikyspp.nus.edu.sg/news-events/details/2015-16-ips-nathan-lectures-
lecture-iii-(southeast-asia-and-asean).
13. “The Question of Timor,” A/RES/3485(XXX). All UN General Assembly resolutions on
East Timor (1975–1982) can be accessed at https://etan.org/etun/genasRes.htm.
14. Security Council resolution S/RES/384, accessed at
https://undocs.org/S/RES/384(1975).
15. In mid-January 1977, I had a four-hour conversation in Bangkok with Supreme
Commander Kriangsak Chomanan, which was joined—at Kriangsak’s summons—by
Foreign Minister Upadit Pachariyangkun. They decried what they saw as U.S. abandonment
of its historical mission of guaranteeing the Asia-Pacific balance of power. They warned that
this would drive Southeast Asia into China’s hands.
16. As stated by Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs Nguyen Duy Trinh
in an interview with the Vietnam News Agency (VNA), July 5, 1976, reported in Foreign
Broadcast Information Service, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, July 14, 1976 (hereafter cited
as FBIS).
17. As reported by Singapore domestic service, July 13, 1976, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia
and Pacific, July 14, 1976.
18. The texts of the communiqués are collected in Appendices 8, 13, and 16 in Leo
Suryadinata, China and the ASEAN States (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1985),
183–85, 198–99, 207–9.
19. Hanoi Radio, January 19, 1977, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, January 21,
1977.
20. Straits Times, August 19, 1976, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, August 26,
1976.
21. “Text of Phan Hien’s Speech at the Thirty-Fourth UN General Assembly, October
1979,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 2, no. 4 (March 1981): 362.
22. Text of “joint press statement,” accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=joint-press-
statement-the-special-asean-foreign-ministers-meeting-on-indochinese-refugees-bangkok-
13-january-1979.
 23. As cited in Barry Stein, “The Geneva Conferences and the Indochina Refugee Crisis,”
International Migration Review 13, no. 4 (Winter 1979): 718.
24. UNHCR, The State of the World’s Refugees 2000: Fifty Years of Humanitarian Action
(January 2000), 80, accessed at https://www.unhcr.org/publications/sowr/4a4c754a9/state-
worlds-refugees-2000-fifty-years-humanitarian-action.html.
25. Definition by a Jakarta ASEAN symposium on national resilience, as reported by
Antara, February 23, 1977, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, February 24, 1977.
26. Gen. Maraden Panggabean, quoted by Antara, February 23, 1977, in FBIS, Daily
Report, Asia and Pacific, February 24, 1977.
27. Donald E. Weatherbee, “ASEAN Defense Programs: Military Patterns of National and
Regional Resilience,” in Young Whan Kihl and Lawrence E. Grinter, eds., Security, Strategy,
and Policy Responses in the Pacific Rim (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1989), 189–
220.
28. John D. Ciorciari, The Limits of Alignment: Southeast Asia and the Great Powers
(Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2010), 136.
29. As quoted in the Straits Times, December 18, 1981.
30. Home Minister Ghazali bin Shafie, as quoted in Kuala Lumpur International Service,
February 11, 1977, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, February 11, 1977.
31. Foreign Minister Air Chief Marshal Siddhi Savetsila, “ASEAN Contribution to Asian
Security,” ISIS [Thailand] Bulletin 1, no. 2 (October 1982): 13.
32. Nhan Dan, August 4, 1977, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, August 4, 1977.
33. ASEAN Secretariat, ASEAN 2025: Forging Ahead Together, 113, accessed at
https://asean.org/?static_post=asean-2025-forging-ahead-together.
34. “ASEAN Vision 2020,” accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=asean-vision-2020.
35. “ASEAN Concord,” accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=declaration-of-asean-
concord-indonesia-24-february-1976.
36. Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia, accessed at
https://asean.org/treaty-amity-cooperation-southeast-asia-indonesia-24-february-1976/.
37. “ASEAN Foreign Ministers’ Statement on the Occasion of the 40th Anniversary of the
Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia (TAC),” accessed at
https://asean.org/storage/2016/07/Statement-of-the-40th-Anniversary-of-the-TAC-
ADOPTED.pdf.
38. “China Must Exit Disputed Waters, ASEAN Leader Says,” Wall Street Journal, May
15, 2014.
39. “China Demands ASEAN Neutrality over South China Sea,” Straits Times, May 19,
2014.
40. RA 5446, accessed at
https://www.lawphil.net/statutes/repacts/ra1968/ra_5446_1968.htm.
41. Trade statistics from Ooi Guat Tin, “ASEAN Preferential Trading Arrangements: An
Assessment,” and Gerald Tan, “ASEAN Preferential Trading Arrangements: An Overview,”
in Noordin Sopie et al., eds., ASEAN at the Crossroads (Kuala Lumpur: Institute of Strategic
and International Studies [Malaysia], 1989).
42. ASEAN Chamber of Commerce and Industry, Review of ASEAN Development (Hong
Kong: ASEAN CCI, November 1981).
43. Speech by Prime Minister Takeo Fukuda, August 18, 1977, accessed at
http://worldjpn.grips.ac.jp/documents/texts/docs/19770818.S1E.html.
44. As reported by Antara, February 8, 1983, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific,
February 9, 1983.
*Frente Revolucionária do Timor-Leste Independente
 *Kampuchea is the Khmer name for the country known to the French as Cambodge—in
English, Cambodia—and was used as the official name of the country from 1976 to the
restoration of the Kingdom of Cambodia after the Third Indochina War (chapter 4).
*A sectoral dialogue functions below the foreign ministers’ level and is carried out through
a Joint Cooperation Sectoral Committee.
 Chapter 4
The Third Indochina War
The Situation in Kampuchea

On December 25, 1978, Vietnam invaded Khmer Rouge–ruled

Democratic Kampuchea (DK). Phnom Penh, the capital, fell on
January 7, 1979, and a week later the People’s Army of Vietnam
(PAVN) was at the Thai-Kampuchean border. As the PAVN advanced
westward, thousands of Khmer refugees, including retreating Khmer
Rouge fighters, fled into Thailand. This not only exacerbated
ASEAN’s existing Indochina refugee problem (chapter 3), it made
northeast Thailand a base for recruitment of anti-Vietnamese Khmer
resistance movements. Vietnam justified the attack under the guise
of a humanitarian rescue of the Khmer people from the brutality of
Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge regime, but this was not Hanoi’s real casus
belli. Since the Indochinese communist victories in 1975, the bilateral
relations between the DK and the Socialist Republic of Vietnam
(SRV) were inflamed by historical ethnic antipathies, ideological
competition, territorial disputes, cross-border Khmer Rouge raiding,
and competitive great-power patrons playing out their political and
strategic antagonisms on the Southeast Asian regional stage. For
Moscow-allied Hanoi, Beijing’s support for the DK was an outflanking
maneuver and strategic threat. Under Vietnamese occupation and
political tutelage, a new government of the People’s Republic of
Kampuchea (PRK) replaced the DK. It was led by ex–Khmer Rouge
(KR) cadres who, in intra-KR disputes, had defected to Vietnam. For
ASEAN, the PRK was an illegal Vietnamese puppet. Hanoi
appointed Heng Samrin president of the PRK’s State Council and
secretary-general of the Kampuchea People’s Revolutionary Party
(KPRP). The government installed by Vietnam was known to ASEAN
as the “Heng Samrin regime.” Hun Sen, a twenty-six-year-old ex–
Khmer Rouge official, was named foreign minister.
What Hanoi thought would be a swift and irreversible fait accompli
provoked an intractable political and military standoff. A unified
ASEAN supported Khmer insurgent warfare against the Vietnamese
occupation and marshaled international opposition to Vietnam’s
breach of Cambodia’s sovereignty and independence. What was
called in ASEAN diplomatic parlance “the situation in Kampuchea”
dominated ASEAN’s calendar and Southeast Asian regional
relations for the next decade, consuming ASEAN’s energies and
political capital. To a shocked and dismayed ASEAN, the
Vietnamese conquest of Cambodia presented a worst-case regional
scenario in which, as stated by Singapore’s defense minister Goh
Keng Swee, “the dominant feature in the relationship between the
Indochinese and ASEAN states is the superiority of the armed forces
of the DRV over those of ASEAN singly or collectively.”1
The tentative hopes for a peaceful regional accommodation
between ASEAN and Indochina had been dashed. Vietnam’s battle-
hardened army had driven to the region’s continental heart. Was
Thailand to become ASEAN’s first “domino”? This question
wrenched defense planning for “regional resilience” from just
defeating domestic communist insurgents to contingencies of
external aggression waged by conventional armed forces. The
Bandung Principles had been trampled on. Southeast Asia had
become a new zone of conflict. The proposed ZOPFAN became
even more remote, if not fanciful, as China and the United States
backed the Khmer resistance and the USSR supported Vietnam. As
the ASEAN foreign ministers fashioned policies to confront the
military and political challenges of what was declared to be
Vietnam’s aggression, their purpose was not to defend or restore Pol
Pot’s DK government. ASEAN’s goals were to uphold the norms of
state behavior, force the withdrawal of Vietnamese troops from
Cambodia, and allow free elections for the Khmer people to
determine their own government.

ASEAN’S RESPONSE
Indonesia’s foreign minister Mochtar Kusumaatmadja chaired the
ASEAN Standing Committee at the time of the SRV’s strike against
the DK. On January 9, 1979, Mochtar issued a statement on behalf
of ASEAN regretting the impact of the armed conflict on peace and
stability in Southeast Asia. It called upon the parties to honor the
principles of the United Nations Charter and the Bandung Principles
and urged the United Nations Security Council to take steps to end
the conflict.2 Three days later a Special ASEAN Foreign Ministers’
Meeting was held in Bangkok that hardened the ASEAN line. The
foreign ministers reaffirmed Mochtar’s earlier statement on ASEAN’s
behalf and deplored Vietnam’s armed intervention against
Kampuchea’s independence, sovereignty, and territorial integrity.
Saying that the Kampuchean people had the right to self-
determination without foreign intervention or influence, the ASEAN
foreign ministers called for the immediate and total withdrawal of
foreign forces from Kampuchean territory.3 The insistence on
Kampuchean self-determination implicitly assumed that the Khmer
people, given free choice, would reject the Khmer Rouge. ASEAN’s
bottom line was that a total withdrawal of Vietnamese forces had to
precede negotiations on Kampuchea’s future. ASEAN did not
suggest a mechanism to guarantee that the Khmer Rouge would not
move to fill by force the vacuum if the PAVN withdrew.
ASEAN’s refusal to recognize the status quo in Cambodia
coincided with China’s active support to the building of a Khmer
Rouge resistance force on the Thai-Cambodian border. The strategic
interests of the two were different. ASEAN viewed the situation in
Kampuchea in the context of regional peace and stability in the
creation of the ZOPFAN. China saw Vietnam’s action as part of the
USSR’s anti-China policy. The PAVN’s December 1978 Cambodian
invasion followed the November USSR-Vietnam Treaty of Friendship
and Cooperation guaranteeing Soviet military assistance to Hanoi. A
new dimension was added to the conflict when, on February 17,
1979, China launched an attack on the northern provinces of
Vietnam “to teach Vietnam a lesson.”4 China’s attack was not so
much to rescue the DK or to defend ASEAN as to prevent Russian
encirclement of China. If the seventeen-day border war had been
meant to reduce Vietnam’s military pressure on the Thai border, it
had little effect. ASEAN was alarmed by the implications of a
widening conflict in Southeast Asia. There was the threat of a great-
power proxy war that would involve ASEAN. Furthermore, China’s
willingness to use military force as a policy instrument in Southeast
Asia raised existing levels of suspicion about Beijing’s ultimate
ambitions in Southeast Asia. This was felt most acutely in Jakarta.
Reacting to the China-Vietnam border war, the ASEAN foreign
ministers held another Special Foreign Ministers’ Meeting in
Bangkok on February 20, 1979. There, they expressed grave
concern about the escalating expansion of conflict in the Southeast
Asian region. They called for the end of all hostilities and the
withdrawal of all foreign troops from the areas of conflict in
Indochina.5 This was inclusive of Vietnam in Kampuchea and China
in Vietnam.
A new tone of alarm from the foreign ministers appeared at the
12th AMM held June 22–28, 1979, in Bali. Grave concern was
expressed about the worsening of the Kampuchean crisis. The
foreign ministers singled out “the explosive situation on the Thai-
Kampuchean border,” where the conflict could expand over a greater
area. They agreed that any further escalation of the fighting in
Kampuchea or any incursion of any foreign forces into Thailand
would directly affect the security of the ASEAN member states and
would endanger the peace and security of the whole region. In this
regard, the ASEAN countries reiterated their firm support and
solidarity with the government and people of Thailand or any other
ASEAN country in the preservation of its independence, national
sovereignty, and territorial integrity. The statement was notable for
being the first to express the indivisibility of security in ASEAN: a
threat to Thailand was a threat to all ASEAN states. Thailand’s
border had become ASEAN’s strategic front line and a trip wire,
although there was no official suggestion at any point that ASEAN
would act as a military alliance and join Thailand on the front line.
Foreign Minister Mochtar was to identify the four ASEAN statements
on Cambodia between January and June 1979, plus the June
refugee statement (chapter 3), as the key elements giving policy
reality to ASEAN’s political qualities.6 It provided ASEAN’s first
opportunity to give substance to the Bali Concord’s injunction to
strengthen political solidarity, coordinate positions, and take common
actions in a crisis situation. In a phrase attributed to Thanat Khoman,
it expressed “collective political defense.”

The Kuantan Principle

Within ASEAN, however, there were differences on how far solidarity
should go and how uncompromising ASEAN’s negotiating positions
should be. Indonesian president Suharto and Malaysian prime
minister Hussein Onn met on March 26–28, 1980, at Kuantan on
peninsular Malaysia’s east coast to explore the possibilities of a
political solution to the ASEAN-Vietnam face-off. Indonesia’s
strategic thinking was longer range, fastened on Chinese penetration
of Southeast Asia. Malaysia saw a stalemate not only as a wasting
outcome for Vietnam but also for ASEAN’s own development as
envisioned in the Tunku’s original vision of regional cooperation. The
two leaders saw the crux of the problem as competitive Chinese and
Russian interests working out through the contest in Kampuchea. A
main premise in their approach was that a solution to the regional
contest would have to recognize Vietnam’s real security interests
with regard to China. The lure for Vietnam would be peaceful
relations with ASEAN and access to the West’s economies. The
approach came to be known as the Kuantan Principle. It was a kind
of bargain: a Vietnamese client state in Kampuchea in return for a
peaceful Thai-Kampuchean border in a ZOPFAN.
The Suharto–Hussein Onn Kuantan Principle was the earliest
overt sign of an emerging “doves” and “hawks” division in ASEAN
underneath the pledges of ASEAN solidarity. The Kuantan Principle
did not win ASEAN approval. Bangkok, influenced by China,
perceived a direct strategic threat from Vietnam that could not be
rewarded. Singapore consistently supported an uncompromising
position. From its own geostrategic perspective, the norms that
protected small states should be enforced. In the Philippines,
geographically far removed from the Cambodia conflict, President
Marcos, although not a major player in ASEAN decision-making, had
an eye on his domestic political dependence on Washington, which
supported the Thai-Chinese line. For the fledgling “doves,” policy
disagreements within ASEAN were not so fundamental as to disrupt
the consensus established in ASEAN’s original response to the
crisis.
It had been agreed by the foreign ministers that the ASEAN chair
would be ASEAN’s official contact with Hanoi on Kampuchean
issues. This did not rule out bilateral contacts in which the
Kampuchean question could be addressed and ideas floated with
the results brought back to ASEAN. In May 1980, after the Kuantan
meeting, President Suharto dispatched his military intelligence chief,
General L. B. “Benny” Moerdani, to see what interest the
Vietnamese might have in finding a compromise settlement. The
result was disappointing. Vietnam’s position was unchanged. The
status quo in Kampuchea was “irreversible.” Moerdani’s mission was
the first example of what became known as Indonesia’s “dual track
diplomacy”—that is, to pursue the ASEAN diplomatic path in dealing
with Hanoi while carrying out a bilateral dialogue with the
Vietnamese to try to break the deadlock at the ASEAN level.

ASEAN Joins the Cold War

The Kuantan Principle became moot when, in June 1980,
Vietnamese military units crossed into Thailand. Vietnam’s incursion
happened just a few days before the 13th AMM, June 25–26 in
Kuala Lumpur. At the AMM, the ministers denounced the
Vietnamese “act of aggression” against Thailand, which posed a
grave threat to Thailand and ASEAN. This was a clear statement of
the security interdependencies of the ASEAN states. In a lengthy
indictment of Vietnam’s role in Kampuchea, ASEAN again insisted
that the total withdrawal of Vietnam’s forces from Kampuchea was
the prerequisite to any negotiations for a political settlement on
Kampuchea’s future. Despite their misgivings about the statement’s
categorical rejection of the basis of the Kuantan Principle, Indonesia
and Malaysia went along. Also at the AMM, the foreign ministers
reacted to the USSR’s December 1979 invasion of Afghanistan. The
ministers asserted that the situations in Afghanistan and Kampuchea
had a common denominator: the use of force to subjugate a small
independent country. They compared ASEAN’s struggle against
Russian-backed Vietnam in Kampuchea to the international
resistance against the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.
ASEAN’s explicit linking of Kampuchea with Afghanistan gave
ASEAN’s anti-Vietnam campaign a global perspective. Its dialogue
partners in particular gave political support for ASEAN’s stand
against Vietnam and under ASEAN pressure applied economic
sanctions to the SRV with different degrees of severity. American
sanctions against Vietnam were already in place as the diplomatic
process of U.S.-Vietnam normalization of relations stalled on the
issue of accounting for American servicemen missing in action
(MIA). The negotiations were dropped when the Jimmy Carter
administration gave a higher priority to normal relations with China.
Meeting with his ASEAN counterparts at the Kuala Lumpur 13th
AMM, President Carter’s secretary of state, Edmund S. Muskie,
promised American political support to ASEAN and nonlethal aid to
the noncommunist Khmer resistance. American support for ASEAN’s
policy was in the Cold War context of seeking to prevent the Soviet
Union from altering the regional strategic balance. Singapore prime
minister Lee Kuan Yew put it bluntly: “The main issue is: are the
Soviets to become a major power or influence in the region because
of Vietnam?”7 At a Bangkok press conference in July 1982,
Vietnamese foreign minister Nguyen Co Thach pointedly alluded to
Vietnam’s military relations with the USSR. This prompted Malaysian
foreign minister Tan Sri Ghazali Shafie to assert: “A Soviet military or
strategic base in Vietnam cannot by any stretch of imagination be for
Vietnam’s self-defense.”8 He went on to add that as a threat, it
brought with it the possibility of a catastrophe for Southeast Asia.
Ghazali Shafie was speaking for the government of Prime Minister
Mahathir, who came into office in July 1981 and brought a less
“dovish” line on Kampuchea into ASEAN conclaves than his
predecessor.
 ASEAN’s acknowledgment of the indivisibility of ASEAN security
was less important to Thailand than China’s military assistance.
Thailand’s deepening military ties to China—worrisome to Jakarta—
were embraced by the new government of General Prem
Tinsulanonda, who succeeded Prime Minister Kriangsak in 1980.
Prem’s foreign minister was Air Chief Marshal Siddhi Savetsila, who
pursued to the end of the decade a nearly inflexible approach to the
problem of Vietnam in Cambodia. China gave Thailand an explicit
security commitment that ASEAN could not. At the end of a nine-day
visit in February 1983, People’s Liberation Army (PLA) chief of staff
Gen. Yang Dezhi pledged that “if Vietnam dares to make an armed
incursion into Thailand, the Chinese Army will not stay idle. We will
give support to the Thai people to defend their country.”9 This
emphasized the assurance given to Prime Minister Prem by Chinese
premier Zhao Ziyang during his state visit to Thailand in November
1982. Zhao promised that if Vietnam should invade Thailand, “the
Chinese government and people will stand firmly by the side of
Thailand.”10 Leaving aside the question of how credible these
assurances might have been, they were perceived as another
setback for ASEAN’s ZOPFAN. Foreign Minister Siddhi was well
aware of the disquiet of some ASEAN partners about Thailand’s
military links to China. Siddhi argued that Bangkok “had worked to
maintain ASEAN unity, but if some blame us for being too close [to
China], we feel that we are acting as a bridge of understanding. We
cannot disregard China. It is a big power.”11
Part of the ambivalence felt elsewhere in ASEAN about China’s
new regional role as an ally in the campaign to reverse the
“irreversible” in Cambodia related to China’s connections to regional
Maoist insurgencies. The assurances given by Beijing in the mid-
1970s normalization agreements had been equivocal (chapter 3).
Eager to assuage the doubts of ASEAN members, Premier Zhao
traveled in the region in August 1981 with a calming message: “The
Communist parties in various countries are purely internal matters of
those countries. How each and every country handles such a matter
is an affair of its own, and China does not want to interfere.”12 Zhao’s
and other Chinese officials’ efforts to influence ASEAN directly as
well as through Bangkok were hampered by the absence of
diplomatic relations with Indonesia, broken off in 1967. Indonesia-
China diplomatic relations were not renewed until 1990. Only then
did China gain a formal relationship with ASEAN (chapter 7).
ASEAN’s diplomatic solidarity was not paralleled by solidarity in
the mounting of an armed resistance to Vietnam’s fait accompli.
There were three separate resistance forces headquartered and
logistically supplied on the Thai side of the border. The main force
was Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge DK forces holding out in northwest
Kampuchea and in Thai border sanctuaries. Because of the global
notoriety attached to his name, Pol Pot moved into the political
background and the DK front men were Khieu Samphan and Ieng
Sary. The other two armed groups were drawn from former prince
Norodom Sihanouk’s Front Uni National pour un Cambodge
Indépendent, Neutre, Pacifique, et Coopératif (FUNCINPEC*) and
the Khmer People’s National Liberation Front (KPNLF) led by Son
Sann, a longtime anticommunist and political adversary of Sihanouk.
The only political commonality among the three resistance factions’
leaders was their anti-Vietnamese nationalism. The armed strength
of the resistance forces was estimated in 1985 to be DK, 25,000–
30,000; KPNLF, 15,000; and FUNCINPEC’s Armeé Nationale
Sihanoukiste (ANS), 11,500.13 Their Thai bases along the border
housed 230,000 Khmer refugees. Facing them were 160,000–
180,000 PAVN regulars and the newly recruited forces of the
Kampuchean People’s Republic Armed Forces (KPRAF).
The question of military assistance to the Khmer armed forces was
a test for ASEAN’s consensual decision-making. Indonesia opposed
a direct arms link between ASEAN and the anti-Vietnamese forces. It
feared that an ASEAN militarization of the diplomatic confrontation
with Vietnam would only confirm Hanoi’s view that ASEAN was an
American stooge and drive Vietnam deeper into the arms of the
Soviet Union. Foreign Minister Mochtar seemed trapped in the
success of the Bali Concord’s insistence on solidarity and common
positions. As a behind-the-lines state in support of Thailand’s
frontline position, Jakarta had effectively ceded leadership to, or at
least was willing to give way to, Thailand’s lead. For Jakarta,
Bangkok’s facilitation of China’s supply access to the Khmer Rouge
was opening a strategic window for China into Southeast Asia. The
growing Chinese-Thai military and diplomatic collaboration alarmed
Indonesian strategic planners, who looked beyond the immediate
issue to a future in which both Vietnam and Indonesia would face a
strategic challenge from China. Jakarta’s dilemma was that if
assistance to the KPNLF and the ANS were limited to humanitarian
aid and refugee relief, China-supplied DK would dominate the
resistance.
Without a consensus, the issue of military assistance was left to
the ASEAN states dealing bilaterally with the resistance groups and
as intermediaries for external supporters. Singapore was the only
ASEAN country that was an important weapons supplier to the
KPNLF. The principal weapons flow came from China to the Khmer
Rouge in close association with the Thai military that controlled the
Khmer camps on the Thai side of the border. PLA officers were on
the ground in Thai uniforms. In the course of time, there were
clandestine deliveries of American weapons indirectly transferred to
Khmer resistance forces through Thai army channels. The Khmer
armed resistance, with its rear echelons based in northeast Thailand,
was a major factor in the conflict, giving muscle to ASEAN’s
diplomatic resistance. From an operational point of view, even
though ASEAN could utilize the reality of the resistance in its
international diplomacy, it had no control over it. That was in the
hands of Beijing and Bangkok, both of which had policy interests and
goals independent of ASEAN.

ASEAN DIPLOMACY IN THE INTERNATIONAL ARENA

ASEAN’s first reaction to the Vietnamese invasion was to call for UN
intervention, but the foreign ministers’ application to the UN Security
Council was fruitless. ASEAN submitted on March 13, 1979, a draft
resolution on the “Situation in Southeast Asia and Its Implications for
International Peace and Security.” It asked for an endorsement of the
points made in the ministers’ January 12 Bangkok statement. The
resolution was considered at the Security Council’s March 24
session. By this time, however, the ASEAN resolution had become
entangled in the issue of the China-Vietnam border war. The
proceedings in the council’s chamber became a slanging match
pitting Vietnam and the Soviet Union against China. When the verbal
dust had settled, the Soviet ambassador used his veto to defeat the
ASEAN resolution in a vote of 13–2, the Czech representative voting
with the Russian.14
ASEAN had greater success in the UN General Assembly
(UNGA). At the UNGA’s plenary session on November 14, 1979, an
ASEAN draft resolution on “The Situation in Kampuchea”
(A/RES/34/22) was considered.15 The text restated ASEAN’s
concerns and called for the withdrawal of foreign forces and
scrupulous respect for Kampuchea’s independence and territorial
integrity. It was passed by a vote of 91–23–19. The twenty-three
opposing votes were from the Soviet bloc, Vietnam, Laos, and the
bloc’s friends. A resolution with essentially the same wording was
adopted by the UNGA every following year with ever larger
affirmative votes. In 1987, it was 117–21–16 (A/RES/42/3). On all of
the Kampuchea votes India abstained. New Delhi’s decision not to
support ASEAN’s Kampuchea position and to recognize the
Afghanistan government installed by the December 1989 Russian
invasion cast a decade-long pall over ASEAN-India relations.
ASEAN was also able to muster strong majorities in favor of keeping
the DK as the credentialed legitimate holder of the Kampuchean seat
at the UN. The October 1979 vote was 71–34–38 (A/RES/34/2A).* A
more inclusive DK kept the seat for the next decade. The PRK was
shut out of the world body, its interests represented by Vietnam.
Moscow and Hanoi claimed that the votes in the UNGA’s Credentials
Committee were the result of diplomatic bribery and collusion
between the United States and China, not acknowledging the
diligence and skills of ASEAN’s UN lobbying.
The 1980 reaffirmation of the UNGA resolution added a call for the
secretary-general to convene an international conference having the
goal of finding a comprehensive political settlement of the
Kampuchea problem. Pursuant to the resolution, a United Nations
International Conference on Kampuchea (ICK) was held in Paris July
13–17, 1981, attended by ninety-three countries, of which seventy-
nine were full participants. It was boycotted by the Soviet bloc and
the Indochinese states. The ICK’s declaration began with the
premise that the situation in Kampuchea resulted from the violation
of the principles of respect for its sovereignty, independence, and
territorial integrity.16 In the conclusion of the ICK’s declaration, the
international community basically accepted ASEAN’s terms for a
comprehensive political settlement that would require:

1. A cease-fire and withdrawal of all foreign forces under UN

supervision and verification,
2. Arrangements to ensure that armed Kampuchean factions would
not be able to prevent or disrupt free elections,
3. Appropriate measures to ensure law and order in Kampuchea
after the withdrawal of foreign forces and before the holding of
elections,
4. Holding of free elections under UN supervision.

Hanoi’s reaction to the ICK declaration was unambiguous. Hanoi

insisted that the ICK’s declaration was illegal and without validity. A
Vietnam foreign ministry statement denounced the ICK as “a
unilateral gathering held with the intention of furthering the criminal
schemes against the Kampuchean people.”17 Hanoi had always
insisted that “there is absolutely no Kampuchean issue: there is only
the question of the Beijing hegemonic expansionists colluding with
the imperialist and other reactionaries [i.e., ASEAN] and the use of
the genocidal Pol Pot clique and other Khmer reactionaries to
oppose the Kampuchean people.”18
In addition to the UNGA and the ICK, Vietnam suffered another
diplomatic setback engineered by ASEAN at the seventh Nonaligned
Summit in September 1979 in Havana. Three years after the Khmer
Rouge’s DK had been hailed by the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM),
its right to Kampuchea’s seat was challenged by the Vietnam-backed
PRK. In its deliberations, the conference recognized three positions
with respect to the question: the seat should devolve on the PRK;
the seat should devolve on the DK; the seat should go to neither.
Despite Fidel Castro’s intervention in favor of the PRK, it was
decided to leave the Kampuchea seat vacant.19 The NAM’s political
statement was silent about the Kampuchean conflict. There was a
generalized call for peace and stability in Southeast Asia, and the
ZOPFAN was endorsed.
 ASEAN-INDOCHINA BLOC POLITICS
The fact that Hanoi rejected ASEAN’s internationalization of its
campaign against Vietnam’s Kampuchea invasion did not mean that
it did not want a political settlement to a costly political and economic
military adventure. Even as Hanoi rained invective on ASEAN’s
“reactionary” leaders, it reached out to ASEAN with olive branches
that, if not politically realistic, might stress ASEAN’s solidarity with
Thailand. Vietnam’s rejection of the ICK was accompanied by the
statement that “all issues pertaining to Southeast Asia must be jointly
discussed and agreed to by the Southeast Asian countries on the
basis of equality, mutual respect, non-imposition and without
interference from outside.”20
In dealing with ASEAN as a bloc, the Indochinese foreign
ministers structured their own consultative framework of a biannual
Indochina Foreign Ministers’ Conference—a sort of Indochina AMM.
The first was held at Hanoi in January 1980. The PRK foreign
minister was Hun Sen. Unlike his colleagues, Nguyen Co Thach and
Phoune Sipraseuth, Hun Sen had no role in the ASEAN and UN
diplomatic arena since the PRK was not recognized as a sovereign
state. At their third meeting in January 1981, in an effort to head off
the ICK, the Indochinese foreign ministers proposed a regional
Southeast Asian conference to counter China’s “schemes of
interference and division.” According to the Indochinese principals,
the conference was designed
to build relations of friendship and cooperation between the peoples of the two groups
of countries in order to transform Southeast Asia into a zone of peace, stability and
prosperity. Such a conference between ASEAN and Indochina should be held to
discuss problems of mutual concern according to the principle on non-imposition of the
will of one group on the other, and in the interest of peace, stability, friendship and
cooperation in Southeast Asia. If such a conference results in the signing of a treaty of
peace and stability in Southeast Asia, a broad international conference will convene for
the purpose of recognizing and guaranteeing that treaty.21

The Indochinese-proposed regional conference outside of the ICK

framework was dismissed by ASEAN as unacceptable because it
ignored the root cause of the problem—Vietnam in Kampuchea. The
rejection was reinforced at the June 1981, Manila, 14th AMM, where
the foreign ministers “stressed that the Kampuchean conflict was the
root cause of the threat to the peace and stability of Southeast Asia,
and as the Kampuchean conflict involved not only countries in the
region but also outside powers, it therefore had international
dimensions. Hence, the proposed regional conference could not
provide an appropriate forum for any useful discussion that could
lead to a durable solution.”
Indonesia’s Mochtar, while joining the ASEAN consensus rejecting
the Indochina conference proposal, did not want to rule out
compromise. He said that Indonesia would firmly uphold ASEAN’s
resolutions on settling the Kampuchea conflict, adding that “the door
is open to any proposals provided they were constructive for the
settlement of the Kampuchean problem.”22
Lao People’s Democratic Republic (LPDR) foreign minister
Phoune Sipraseuth, speaking for Indochina at the 1981 UNGA’s 36th
plenary session, discussed six principles constituting the basis for
relations between ASEAN and Indochina.23 Two main themes were
cooperative peaceful coexistence and noninterference in regional
relations from outside powers (i.e., the United States and China).
The details were drawn from the Bandung Principles and the NAM.
To implement the principles, Phoune proposed the creation of “a
standing body in charge of the dialogue and consultation” between
the two groups that would eventually include Burma.24 He suggested
that this new regional body would hold annual meetings to resolve
problems in relations between the two sides as well as extraordinary
meetings in case of emergency or crisis. Unlike ASEAN’s vision of
an inclusive Southeast Asian regionalism, the Hanoi-centered
Indochina group was proposing a politically partitioned regional
future. From ASEAN’s point of view, the olive branches offered in this
and subsequent Indochinese proffers for peace making were
diversionary and ignored the basic issue of Vietnam’s invasion and
occupation of Kampuchea. Moreover, ASEAN was not going to fall
into the trap of accepting the PRK as a conference partner.
ASEAN’s diplomatic success in denying the PRK international
recognition as the legitimate government of Kampuchea was
countered by the problem of its support for the ousted DK, the
government of the internationally reviled Khmer Rouge. Even though
Pol Pot himself was internationally invisible, the DK front men, Khieu
Samphan and Ieng Sary, had leading roles in the genocidal regime
that claimed up to 1.7 million lives. The Western supporters of
ASEAN’s sponsorship of the resistance were unhappy about
ASEAN’s Khmer Rouge connection. ASEAN seemed to be facing a
political Hobson’s choice: the Khmer Rouge’s DK or Vietnam’s client
PRK. If ASEAN were to frustrate Vietnam’s fait accompli, it had to
keep the anti-Vietnam forces in the field, the main element of which
was the Khmer Rouge. On the other hand, Vietnam was not going to
withdraw unilaterally to leave the field open to the KR. Realistically,
any political settlement acceptable to Vietnam would require
assurance that the KR not return to power.
ASEAN’s promises of Kampuchean self-determination and fair
elections did not specify how the KR would be disarmed and
prevented from seizing power again. ASEAN’s conundrum was how
to politically and diplomatically disassociate itself from the Khmer
Rouge’s DK and still keep the KR as the main force of the armed
resistance. This would require Chinese assent. If a reluctant
Malaysia or Indonesia were to withdraw ASEAN’s support of the DK
by blocking consensus, there was no guarantee that Thailand, with
China, would not continue the struggle. This would strike at the heart
of the Bali Concord and perhaps be fatal to ASEAN. The politics of
the relations among China, Thailand, and reluctant Malaysia and
Indonesia were complicated by the fact that their policy goals were
different. China wanted to bleed Vietnam, and the DK was its tool.
Thailand wanted security on its borders and a pliant Kampuchean
regime. Indonesia and Malaysia wanted a political settlement in
which Vietnam’s security interests could be accommodated in a
neutralized Khmer people’s self-determined Kampuchean
government that excluded the Khmer Rouge.

THE COALITION GOVERNMENT OF DEMOCRATIC

KAMPUCHEA (CGDK)
ASEAN’s political task was to rid itself of the public onus of the
Khmer Rouge without alienating China. One spur was the threat that
the DK might lose its UN seat because of the repugnancy of the KR.
Already, in successive visits to Beijing in October and November
1980, Thailand’s prime minister Prem Tinsulanonda and his
Singapore counterpart, Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew, had sought to
convey to Premier Zhao Ziyang that Pol Pot and his lieutenants were
not internationally viable in the long run as the face of Khmer
resistance. ASEAN’s strategy, with Singapore at the point, was to
bring the three independent anti-Vietnamese resistance forces under
the same tent by transforming the Khmer Rouge’s government of
Democratic Kampuchea into a tripartite Coalition Government of
Democratic Kampuchea (CGDK) united against a common enemy,
even if their postconflict political ambitions were different. This tactic
would solve the conundrum by being an alternative to Pol Pot’s DK
or the PRK, both of which were lose-lose for ASEAN.
The scheme was quickly embraced by Sihanouk, who, although
FUNCINPEC was the weakest force in the field, was tapped by
ASEAN to be projected as the future head of the coalition. Sihanouk
was well known in international diplomatic circles as a former king
and prime minister, and a familiar neutral-ist face in both Beijing and
Moscow. The Khmer Rouge and KPNLF were not enthusiastic about
the choice. Son Sann in particular found it difficult to overcome the
pre-1970s animosities of Cambodian politics. He feared that his
KPNLF would be relegated to the sidelines by deals between
Sihanouk and Khieu Samphan. The two had already explored
cooperation at a meeting in Pyongyang before Singapore stepped in.
China was assured that it could operate with the Khmer Rouge in a
business-as-usual model. The Khmer Rouge, who “owned” the DK,
was reluctant to share power but had little choice since its host,
Thailand, and patron, China, had agreed to ASEAN’s plan. Another
problem in building a Khmer coalition government to ASEAN’s
blueprint was that the factions’ interests were different from
ASEAN’s. The factions’ goal was to unseat the Heng Samrin regime.
ASEAN’s goal was to recast the image of Democatic Kampuchea in
order to sustain international support and enhance its bargaining
position with Hanoi in the search for a political—not military—
solution to “the situation in Kampuchea.”
Singapore deputy prime minister S. Rajaratnam announced on
February 4, 1981, that ASEAN was creating a “Third Force” uniting
the resistance groups to keep the pressure on Hanoi.25 At the 14th
AMM in June 1981 the foreign ministers welcomed the consultations
among the Kampuchean factions with a view to setting up a Coalition
Government of Democratic Kampuchea to pursue the liberation of
the country from foreign occupation and domination. They did not
suggest, however, that this was a replacement government for the
PRK. That had to await a truly representative government to be
decided by the people of Kampuchea. Pressed on by Rajaratnam, a
summit meeting of the resistance groups took place in Singapore in
September 1981. Although not conclusive, the summit led to
agreement that a CGDK would be formed to continue the struggle
against Vietnam’s aggression and occupation of Kampuchea.
ASEAN blessed the coalition at a December 1981 Special Foreign
Ministers’ Meeting at Pattaya, Thailand. Indonesia put aside its
reservations for the sake of consensus.
The lengthy, and at points contentious, consultations on building
the coalition involved three groups: ASEAN and the noncommunist
Khmer factions, ASEAN and the DK, and ASEAN and their
extraregional partners. The KPNLF’s reluctance to come under the
banner of the DK was overcome by the pragmatic fact that it was the
DK that was recognized by the UN. It was not until July 22, 1982,
that, under the eye of Foreign Minister Ghazali Shafie, the three
Khmer factions signed in Kuala Lumpur the agreement establishing
the Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea. Signing the
declaration for the three factions in their new CGDK roles were
President Norodom Sihanouk, Prime Minister Son Sann, and Deputy
Prime Minister for Foreign Affairs Khieu Samphan. The CGDK was a
loose coalition, less a government than a tactical alliance. This was
clear from its basic operating principles:
Each member participant in the Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea shall
retain its own organization, political identity, and freedom of action, including the right to
receive and dispose of international aid specifically granted it; the Coalition
Government of Democratic Kampuchea shall have no right to take any decision
infringing or restricting this autonomy.
The work of the Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea shall be guided by
the principles of tripartism, equality and non-preponderance.26
 Two weeks after the Kuala Lumpur signing ceremony, Sihanouk
and Son Sann were escorted by Khieu Samphan into a Khmer
Rouge liberated zone in the jungles of western Cambodia to
proclaim the CGDK on Cambodian soil. The expedition, under KR
protection, was designed to give credibility to the CGDK, but it also
demonstrated the reality of the distribution of real power in the
alliance. Afterward, at a Sihanouk press conference, his role in the
CGDK was compared to putting a lamb in with a starving,
bloodthirsty wolf. Sihanouk replied: “Son Sann is also a lamb and the
majority of the people who are now supporting us, they are also
lambs. But, the question is this: whether to be eaten by Khmers or to
be eaten by Vietnamese.”27
Despite the CGDK emphasis on power sharing and political
equality, on the international stage Prince Sihanouk was attributed
the status of primus inter pares. The international diplomatic success
of the ASEAN gambit was quickly apparent. The October 1982
UNGA vote on the DK’s credentials was 90 to 29, a gain of 13 from
1981. Just as impressive was the vote of 105 to 23 reaffirming the
ICK’s settlement terms. This was while Khieu Samphan was strolling
the UN halls as the CGDK’s foreign minister and having his photo
taken with American secretary of state Alexander Haig. The success
did not spill over into the 1983, New Delhi, NAM Summit, where a
vigorous ASEAN lobbying campaign and Sihanouk’s eminence were
not successful in filling the vacant DK seat. The ASEAN members
present—Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore—were pleased to see
the NAM’s political statement on Southeast Asia reflect the ICK’s
(ASEAN’s) position, even though host India tried to derail it. Warning
of the escalation of tensions over a wider area, the NAM urged the
need for “a comprehensive political settlement which would provide
for the withdrawal of all foreign military forces, thus ensuring full
respect for the sovereignty, independence and territorial integrity of
all States in the region, including Kampuchea.” It also reaffirmed the
rights of the people of Kampuchea “to determine their own destiny
free from foreign interference, subversion, and coercion.”28
Notwithstanding the diplomatic success of the CGDK’s acceptance
at the UN as the legitimate government of the sovereign DK, the
CGDK was not a government in exile. Its godfather, Singapore’s S.
Rajaratnam, made this clear. After the withdrawal of the Vietnamese,
the future government in Kampuchea, he said, “would be decided
not by the coalition government but by the people of Cambodia.”29
Malaysia was the only ASEAN country to diplomatically recognize
the CGDK. On May 1, 1983, the Malaysian resident ambassador in
Thailand, together with colleagues from China, North Korea,
Bangladesh, and Mauritania, crossed the border into KR-held
territory to present their credentials to President Sihanouk.
Indonesia, on the other hand, received Sihanouk only as a private
citizen when he visited as guest of Vice President Adam Malik, the
former foreign minister.
ASEAN’s sponsorship of the CGDK guaranteed continued access
for the resistance to Western support. President Reagan authorized
American military assistance to the KPNLF. For China, the CGDK
opened the opportunity to broaden its influence with the
noncommunist partners. In December 1983, at the annual CGDK-
China summit meeting, FUNCINPEC and the KPNLF promised
greater cooperation with the Khmer Rouge in return for increased
Chinese assistance.30 The ANS, KPNLF, and Khmer Rouge’s
renamed National Army of Democratic Kampuchea, still operating
independently, showed greater coordination. Not only did they
withstand PAVN’s annual dry-season offensives, the insurgency
moved deeper into the country from the border areas. The
strengthening of the resistance forces served ASEAN’s interests by
raising the cost for Vietnam. This, ASEAN hoped, would force Hanoi
to compromise in a political settlement. It was the impact of these
costs on Vietnam’s future role in Southeast Asia that worried Jakarta.
Finally, the emergence of the CGDK added a new player in the
developing regional three diplomatic dyads: CGDK-PRK, ASEAN-
Vietnam, and PRC-USSR.

Blurring Hard Lines

While ASEAN was cobbling the CGDK together, Vietnam was
embarking on a peace offensive. At the sixth Indochina Foreign
Ministers’ Conference in Ho Chi Minh City in July 1982, Vietnam’s
foreign minister, Nguyen Co Thach, offered for ASEAN’s
consideration a smorgasbord of initiatives that repackaged many of
the same proposals it had earlier floated:31

1. Total withdrawal of Vietnamese troops from Kampuchea once the

threat disappears
2. A “safety zone” on the Thai-Kampuchean border; patrolled by the
KPRAF on the Kampuchean side and by Thai troops on the Thai
side after the removal of the Khmer Rouge and other anti-PRK
forces from the border
3. A nonaggression treaty to ensure that Vietnam does not threaten
Thailand
4. A partial withdrawal of Vietnamese troops if China ceased using
Thai territory to support Pol Pot and other reactionary forces
5. Recognition of a role for the UN if it withdraws recognition of the
Pol Pot clique [DK]
6. A regional conference between ASEAN and Indochina and a
subsequent international conference to include Burma, the USSR,
China, the United States, France, Great Britain, and India

For ASEAN, the proposals were not a basis for negotiation.

Vietnam was not going to withdraw as long as the threat of China-
backed armed resistance to the PRK continued. It was that armed
resistance, however, that was ASEAN’s lever on Vietnam.
Furthermore, the proposals assumed that the PRK was an
Indochinese negotiating partner. It also made the problem of Thai
border security a bilateral Thai-PRK issue. Further specifics were
given in a letter sent by LPDR foreign minister Phoune Sipraseuth to
the ASEAN foreign ministers in September 1982. It stated as
conditions that Bangkok cease giving sanctuary to Pol Pot and other
“reactionary forces” and that Vietnamese troops could be stationed
up to the edge of the proposed “safety zone.”32 For Hanoi, the
problem was the Thai-Kampuchean border crisis, not, as ASEAN
and the UN would have it, “the situation in Kampuchea.” In February
1983, the Indochinese heads of government held their first summit
meeting in Vientiane. At the session, the PAVN forces in Kampuchea
were officially termed “volunteers.” In a statement on the
“volunteers,” the leaders announced that all of them would be
withdrawn from Kampuchea once they were assured that the
Chinese threat and the use of Thailand as a base against the PRK
had totally ceased.33
On September 21, 1983, ASEAN launched “An Appeal for
Kampuchea’s Independence.”34 The appeal was issued
simultaneously in the five ASEAN capitals and was reaffirmed by
subsequent AMMs. Through the appeal, ASEAN was anxious to
maintain the diplomatic initiative and to demonstrate to its
international backers and doubtful “doves” that ASEAN’s rejection of
Hanoi’s initiatives was principled, reasonable, and flexible, not just
standpat. The appeal focused on the suffering of the Khmer people
and the need for a comprehensive political settlement before
humanitarian aid and development assistance could begin the
rehabilitation process. Although the ICK still provided the basic
blueprint for peace, the appeal left open the format for international
consultation on the settlement and, for the first time, emphasized a
necessary role for the great powers. The appeal incorporated
practical steps to be taken in the pursuit of the comprehensive
settlement. The first would be a verifiable phased withdrawal of
Vietnamese troops on a territorial basis, starting in the westernmost
territory along the Thai-Cambodian border. The timetable for
completion of the withdrawal remained to be worked out as part of
the political settlement. It was only after the appeal that ASEAN
began to examine seriously the question of mechanisms that might
be acceptable to Hanoi for verification, observation, peacekeeping,
and forestalling a resurgent Khmer Rouge.
Tying the completion of a phased withdrawal of the PAVN from
Kampuchea to the political settlement represented a significant
retreat from ASEAN’s established position that a total withdrawal
was a prerequisite for negotiations. Phased withdrawal of Vietnam’s
forces was part of China’s March 1, 1983, five-point proposal for
normalizing its bilateral relations with Vietnam. If Vietnam declared a
withdrawal of all forces from Kampuchea after the withdrawal of the
first batch, China “would be willing to resume negotiations. As further
withdrawals took place, China would take practical steps to improve
relations with Vietnam.”35 Unlike its ASEAN partners, Beijing singled
out the USSR’s assistance as a major support factor for Vietnam’s
aggression in Kampuchea. The first round of Sino-Soviet
normalization talks had taken place in October 1982. China had
identified the USSR’s support of Vietnam’s invasion and occupation
of Kampuchea as one of the three obstacles to normalization. The
others were the Soviet role in Afghanistan and Soviet forces on the
Chinese border. Hanoi had to worry about the point at which
Moscow’s interest in a peaceful Chinese border would take priority
over Vietnam’s Kampuchean adventure.
Entering the sixth year of the war in 1984, there seemed to be no
end in sight. ASEAN’s regular restatements of the ICK’s declaration
and the ASEAN appeal’s terms for settlement were met by Vietnam’s
implacable resistance. In the field, the PAVN and the KPRAF
inconclusively engaged the Khmer Rouge and their CGDK allies in a
stubborn insurgency. With Russian assistance and Vietnamese
political guidance, the PRK was extending and deepening its
administrative capabilities. A new factor had emerged to stir Khmer
nationalists of whatever political allegiance. This was the swelling
number of Vietnamese immigrants into Cambodia. At its July 9,
1984, 17th AMM, ASEAN warned of Vietnamese colonization of
Kampuchea as—according to ASEAN—more than half a million
Vietnamese settlers had moved in. Some of the immigrants were in
fact returning Vietnamese who had been driven from the country by
the Khmer Rouge.

The “Five Plus Two” Initiative

For Malaysia and Indonesia, there was a sense of opportunities
missed in the name of ASEAN solidarity. The first post–Kuantan
Principle glimmer of a possible rethink of the ASEAN frontline-state
strategy had come on the sidelines of the March 1983, New Delhi,
NAM Summit. There, Malaysian foreign minister Ghazali Shafie met
his Vietnamese counterpart, Nguyen Co Thach, to explore the
possibility of talks between ASEAN, Vietnam, and the LPDR. This
became known as the “five plus two” format, excluding the PRK. The
proposed agenda would be limited to the Kampuchea issue. It also
would have been the first time that ASEAN agreed to confer with
Vietnam on Kampuchea outside of the ICK formula. In addition, it
indicated a startling willingness by Hanoi to leave the PRK out of
talks about the PRK’s future. This suggested further that Thach
wanted to begin a process to extract Vietnam from what was
becoming a costly stalemate.
Not surprisingly, despite Malaysian and Indonesian interest and
Thach’s initial endorsement, the “five plus two” approach was a no-
go. After intra-Indochina consultation (with Soviet input), the
Vietnamese foreign minister retreated to Hanoi’s existing position on
conferencing: the participation of the PRK and no preconditions on
the agenda. Ghazali’s “breakthrough” was also flatly rejected by
ASEAN. The Philippines’ foreign minister called it a gimmick. Foreign
Minister Siddhi in Bangkok viewed it as a deadly trap. Backing up the
naysayers, Beijing dismissed the idea as a political trick. At a special
foreign ministers’ meeting in Bangkok on March 23, 1983, ASEAN
closed ranks, formally rejecting “bloc to bloc” talks and holding firm
to the ICK.36
The Indonesian military’s frustration with ASEAN’s, and by
association Foreign Minister Mochtar’s, Vietnam policy dead ends
was politically dramatized by armed forces chief General Benny
Moerdani’s February 13–18, 1984, visit to Hanoi. This trip, unlike his
two previous visits at President Suharto’s request, was an official
military-to-military exchange. His schedule was independent of the
foreign ministry and without notice to ASEAN. Speaking in Hanoi,
Moerdani stated, “Some countries say that Vietnam is a threat to
Southeast Asia, but the Indonesian Army and people do not believe
it.”37 If this were not enough of a challenge to ASEAN’s position,
Moerdani was also later quoted as saying that Vietnam’s intervention
in Kampuchea was “a question of survival” aimed at defending itself
from a Chinese threat.38 This was a direct rebuttal of ASEAN’s
charge of Vietnamese aggression. Moerdani’s views reflected the
growing policy division within Indonesia’s foreign and security policy
community. Foreign Minister Mochtar, the 1984 ASEAN chairman,
tried to brush aside the implications of Moerdani’s statements. He
assured a startled ASEAN and China that there was no change in
Indonesia’s policy. In Hanoi, however, Premier Pham Van Dong
hailed Moerdani’s visit as marking “a new step in friendship and
cooperation between the two countries.”39 There were growing
expectations in Jakarta that beneath the official position of
adherence to ASEAN’s Kampuchea policy, greater flexibility and
willingness to compromise were in Indonesia’s national interest.
In a March 1984 stop in Bangkok on his way to Indonesia and
Australia, Vietnam’s foreign minister Nguyen Co Thach said that in
the search for a peaceful settlement in Kampuchea, “both sides must
make concessions and compromises.”40 In Jakarta, a month after
Moerdani’s Hanoi visit, Thach missed his opportunity to exploit
Indonesia’s wavering on the wisdom of ASEAN’s course. Mochtar’s
hope that a productive bilateral dialogue would ensue was dashed.
His Vietnamese opposite number showed no sign of a substantive
shift in Hanoi’s policies. A disappointed Mochtar announced that “all
of Indonesia’s proposals have been rejected by Thach.”41 The
Vietnamese diplomat did succeed in embarrassing his Indonesian
counterpart by claiming that the two countries shared the common
view that China was the primary threat to Southeast Asia, forcing
Mochtar to deny that Indonesia subscribed to this view. In a joint
statement, the two sides did “recognize that a solution [to the
Kampuchean problem] would be beneficial to all countries of
Southeast Asia while the failure to settle the problem will only benefit
third parties.”42 The most important “third party” was China.
Thach’s trek to Bangkok, Jakarta, and Canberra was reviewed at
an “informal” ASEAN foreign ministers’ meeting in Jakarta on May 8,
1984. President Suharto welcomed the meeting “as an opportunity to
show the world the complete unity of ASEAN on the Kampuchean
problem.” The ASEAN ministers noted that immediately after
Thach’s return to Hanoi, new cross-border attacks were launched by
Vietnam on Khmer civilian encampments. The joint communiqué
reaffirmed ASEAN’s frontline positions on the issues but then
softened the message by stating that “ASEAN was willing to consult
with all parties concerned on a comprehensive settlement of the
Kampuchean problem.”43 In such a consultation, did “all parties”
include the PRK and the CGDK? While the communiqué accepted
that the total withdrawal of foreign forces was essential for
Kampuchea’s self-determination and national reconciliation, it was
not stated as a precondition to negotiations, reinforcing the appeal’s
acceptance of phased withdrawal.
 Despite frustrations, Mochtar kept the Jakarta-Hanoi diplomatic
window open. At the end of his July 1983–July 1984 tenure as
chairman of the ASEAN Standing Committee, the Indonesian foreign
minister was designated by his colleagues as ASEAN’s official
“interlocutor” with Vietnam in the search for a comprehensive
political settlement in Kampuchea. In a now dual role, Mochtar
visited Hanoi in March 1985. Although the trip bore no concrete
political fruit for resolving the Kampuchean conflict, it did contribute
to a warming Indonesia-Vietnam bilateral relationship. In April 1985,
Vietnam’s defense minister, General Van Tien Dung, made an official
visit to Indonesia, reciprocating Moerdani’s 1984 visit to Vietnam.
The discussions of areas of military cooperation rattled ASEAN, and
Mochtar had to again reassure his colleagues that Indonesian policy
had not changed.
The gap between diplomacy and what was happening on the
ground in Cambodia was made clear by Vietnam’s punishing 1985
spring offensive. In a February 1985 statement issued from
Bangkok, the ASEAN foreign ministers deplored and regretted what
they called Vietnam’s latest demonstration of its pursuit of a military
solution in Kampuchea that “contradicted the professions of Vietnam
for a negotiated solution.”44 The ministers placed Vietnam’s actions
in an international context of improving Sino-Soviet relations, Soviet-
U.S. relations, and Sino-U.S. relations. Vietnam’s actions in
Kampuchea, ASEAN alleged, worked against current efforts to
reduce international tensions. They also accused Hanoi of
undermining ASEAN’s initiative to engage in a meaningful dialogue
with Vietnam through its interlocutor, Indonesia’s Mochtar.

The “Proximity Talks” Initiative

In April 1985, a new term—“proximity talks”—entered the ASEAN
diplomatic lexicon. The scheme was generated by Malaysia’s foreign
minister, Tengku Ahmad Rithauddeen, then chairman of the ASEAN
Standing Committee. As originally conceived, the “proximity talks”
would entail indirect communication between the Cambodian parties
to the conflict—CGDK and PRK—to explore possible avenues for
peaceful resolution to the conflict. The indirect exchanges would be
conducted through a neutral intermediary. For Bangkok and Beijing,
this would open a back door to political recognition of the Heng
Samrin regime and reframe the conflict as a civil war, not
Vietnamese aggression.
By the time the proposal emerged from ASEAN consultations, the
“proximity talks” had been transformed. At their July 9, 1985, Kuala
Lumpur AMM, the ministers expressed appreciation for Foreign
Minister Rithauddeen’s efforts in the search for a political settlement.
Claiming to be in pursuit of his objective, ASEAN offered an
alternative to the Malaysian “proximity talks” proposal. The ministers
called on Vietnam “to accept the reality and strength” of the CGDK
and urged Vietnam “to have talks with the CGDK which might take
the form of indirect or proximity talks which could be attended by
representatives of Heng Samrin* as part of the Vietnamese
delegation.”
The ASEAN proposition was unacceptable in Hanoi. From the
beginning of the search for settlement, Vietnam had made
elimination of the “Pol Pot clique” a precondition of any negotiations.
The question can be raised as to why, if it was sure to be a
nonstarter, the overture had been made. Within ASEAN, Thailand
had to be responsive to the spirit (if not the substance) of the
Malaysian initative, if only to avoid further strains on ASEAN
solidarity. Second, by adding a new wrinkle to its approach, ASEAN
sought to sustain international support by demonstrating its
innovative flexibility. Finally, it put the ball in Vietnam’s court, with
ASEAN’s expectation that Hanoi’s response would again
demonstrate to the international community its inflexibility and
intransigence. Unsurprisingly, the Thai-shaped ASEAN formula was
derided by Hanoi as a trick, but at the August 16, 1985, 11th
Indochina Foreign Ministers’ Conference, the ministers agreed that
the idea of proximity talks deserved examination, and the PRK
declared that it was prepared to talk with various Khmer opposition
groups and individuals.45 The caveat, however, was that it could take
place only after the elimination of the genocidal Pol Pot clique.
Importantly, it was at this conference that Vietnam announced its
intention to withdraw all of its forces from Cambodia by 1990.
 THE END GAME
At their August 1985 meeting, the Indochinese foreign ministers
were expectantly awaiting Nguyen Co Thach’s August 21–24, 1985,
visit to Jakarta. Hanoi invested it with special significance since
Vietnam attributed to Foreign Minister Mochtar, ASEAN’s
“interlocutor,” a plenipotentiary role greater than ASEAN had in fact
given him. Hanoi’s casting of Mochtar as ASEAN’s “negotiator” was
in part a wedge-driving exercise to exploit the divisions in ASEAN. It
also reflected awareness of changing economic and political
conditions that gave greater urgency to finding a peaceful
settlement. Vietnam’s stagnant domestic economy had left it behind
ASEAN. A year later, Hanoi abandoned Stalinist planning in a
centralized economy in favor of the market-oriented economic
approach of doi moi (“renovation”). Internationally, the leadership
succession in the Soviet Union to reformist Mikhail Gorbachev in
March 1985 had changed the Soviet foreign policy playbook. His
conciliatory policy toward Deng Xiaoping–led China seemed to
threaten future Soviet military and economic assistance to Vietnam.
In Indonesia, Thach not only met Mochtar but had a session with
President Suharto. He also flew to Bali for a meeting with General
Moerdani. This was in the same week that Thai military chief
General Arthit Kamlang-ek made a flying visit to Bali to meet with
Moerdani. At the conclusion of his Indoneisa visit, the Vietnamese
foreign minister stated that common ground had been found
between ASEAN [actually Indonesia] and Vietnam and that “the
progress was very encouraging.” Mochtar was less effusive, saying
that the talks had been “positive,” but little substantive progress had
been made. He did acknowledge, however, that Vietnam’s promised
troop withdrawal from Cambodia by 1990 had improved the
atmosphere.46
The sticking point as Thach and Mochtar inched the diplomatic
process forward was finding a format for consultations that could
satisfy all of the parties involved, including the Khmer Rouge. There
were Thai and Chinese concerns that Mochtar might freelance in his
dealings as interlocutor. The Indonesian foreign minister had
flexibility but kept colleagues informed. Thach’s diplomatic limits
were set by Vietnam’s politburo. Mochtar’s limits were ultimately set
by Indonesian national interest. The possibility that Indonesia might
go it alone if Bangkok (and China) should thwart Mochtar’s
peacemaking efforts could not be ruled out by ASEAN. During a Bali
special foreign ministers’ meeting in April 1986, Mochtar’s
colleagues took note of “the tireless efforts of the Indonesian foreign
minister to explore and broaden the options and opportunities
available in the search for a political solution to the Kampuchean
problem.”47 The foreign ministers’ meeting commemorated the tenth
anniversary of the first ASEAN summit. It had special significance
because U.S. president Ronald Reagan joined them. President
Reagan stopped in Bali to meet President Suharto while on his way
to a Philippines state visit. In this first meeting of an AMM with an
American president, Reagan expressed to the foreign ministers
continuing American support for ASEAN’s resistance to Vietnamese
aggression and the search for a settlement.48

The “Cocktail Party” Initiative and the Jakarta Informal

Meetings
Even as Mochtar and Thach were seeking ways to break the
diplomatic deadlock, the ever unpredictable Prince/President
Sihanouk came up with the idea (or had it suggested to him by
France’s Quai d’Orsay) of a “cocktail party,” an informal, nonofficial
get-together of all parties with interests in the conflict, including the
great powers. The notion of an informal format was seized upon by
Mochtar, who, in November 1985, offered to host a “cocktail party,”
with the guest list limited to the Cambodian parties for a discussion
on the terms of national reconciliation.49 The idea was rejected by
Hanoi once ASEAN (Thailand backed by China) insisted that
Vietnam be included. While the contending Cambodian factions and
their ASEAN and Indochinese backers made little progress in their
exchanges of demands and proposals, Indonesian and Vietnamese
officials worked at the practical task of breaking through the
stalemate. The results were announced in the final communiqué of
the July 27–29, 1987, Mochtar-Thach meeting in Hanoi. The two
sides agreed “that an informal meeting between the Cambodian
sides be held without preconditions or labels.”50 The absence of
political identification (label) seemed to finesse the issue of Khmer
Rouge participation. The initial meeting would be followed by a later
meeting at which Vietnam and other concerned countries would be
present.
When presented with the scheme at a Bangkok, August 16, 1987,
special ASEAN foreign ministers’ meeting, Thailand and Singapore
strongly objected. They saw the two-stage and temporally separate
meetings as decoupling Vietnam from the Heng Samrin regime, thus
reducing the conflict to a civil war. They insisted that any “informal
meeting” should include Vietnam at the outset. This is reflected in
the joint press release on the meeting that Mochtar had to accept.
The ASEAN consensus was that the informal meeting was for a
dialogue between Vietnam and the Kampuchean factions that should
follow immediately on the initial Kampuchean factions’ meeting.51
The ASEAN ministers added that they awaited a “positive” response
from Vietnam. That response was not forthcoming. Hanoi saw the
ASEAN action as a counterproposal that was not in accord with the
agreement it reached in Hanoi with Mochtar. The Jakarta Post
grumbled that “it is high time to spell out clearly to our ASEAN
partners . . . that we simply cannot afford the endless prolonging of
the Kampuchea conflict.”52 For the sake of ASEAN solidarity,
Mochtar accepted the setback, saying, “I don’t think my colleagues
would like it if I just went ahead. The price would be too high
because a split would develop within ASEAN.”53
ASEAN retreated from its August 16 position when the foreign
ministers met in New York at the UNGA. They composed a
September 28, 1987, “joint explanatory note” that was given to
Secretary-General Pérez de Cuéllar and circulated informally to the
delegates. Not wanting to appear to be obstructionist, ASEAN said it
had agreed to an informal meeting of the Cambodian factions
without preconditions, after which host Indonesia would invite
concerned countries, including Vietnam, to join the meeting.54 The
turnabout seemed to reflect several factors: the need to keep
Indonesia on board; the upcoming UNGA debate on the annual
ASEAN Kampuchean resolution in which Vietnam was going to take
part after a four-year boycott; and a tentative indirect Sihanouk–Hun
Sen dialogue taking place outside of the ASEAN-Vietnam dialogue.
The 1987 UNGA vote on the annual renewal of ASEAN’s resolution
was approved 117–21–16 (A/RES/42/3). In 1988, the resolution,
A/RES/43/19, added for the first time a statement promising “the
non-return to the universally condemned policies and practices of a
recent past.” It was endorsed by a vote of 122–19–13, a gain of five.
ASEAN also continued to be successful in advocating its position to
the NAM. The political statement, at the 1986, Harare, eighth NAM
Summit, adopted the same language as it had at the New Delhi
summit three years before (discussed above).
In an international political atmosphere in which the great-power
patrons of the contestants wanted a political settlement and ASEAN
and Vietnam were wearying of the diplomatic impasse, Prince
Sihanouk, discreetly encouraged by Indonesia and France, arranged
a face-to-face meeting with Hun Sen. Technically on a leave of
absence from his CGDK presidency, Sihanouk met the PRK prime
minister outside of Paris from December 2–4, 1987. In their joint
communiqué, they agreed on the desirability of negotiations among
the Cambodian factions on the terms to end the conflict and
reconstitute Cambodia. After agreement was reached, an
international conference could be held to guarantee the agreement.
No mention was made of Vietnam’s role in the dispute.55 The talks
between Sihanouk and Hun Sen resumed on January 27, 1988.
Supposedly they were to thresh out the details, but the talks
foundered on three issues: the timetable for Vietnamese troop
withdrawal; the composition of the new coalition government; and
the nature of international guarantees. Nevertheless, the Sihanouk
initiative gave new life to Mochtar’s “cocktail party.”
On March 21, 1988, Foreign Minister Mochtar retired from office,
to be succeeded by Ali Alatas, Indonesia’s permanent representative
to the UN since 1982. Alatas seamlessly picked up Mochtar’s
Cambodia policy and conveyed invitations for a Jakarta Informal
Meeting (JIM) to be held in Bogor, West Java, on July 24–28, 1988.
Hopes for success were raised by Hanoi’s April 5, 1988,
announcement that it intended to withdraw all forces from Cambodia
by the end of September 1989. The ASEAN foreign ministers
blessed the undertaking in advance at their July 4–5, 1988, 21st
AMM. They underlined the “untiring efforts” of former foreign minister
Mochtar in laying the groundwork for the JIM, which, in a separate
statement, they termed a “focal point” in a search for a political
solution to the Kampuchean problem.56 The format was that agreed
to in the Mochtar-Thach 1987 joint communiqué as amended by
ASEAN: a first meeting of the Cambodian factions to be followed
immediately by the participation of Vietnam, Laos, and the ASEAN
countries. This gave Vietnam the same diplomatic standing as
ASEAN as a “concerned” country, not the aggressor.
The significance of JIM I was that it actually occurred. For the first
time, Cambodian factions, ASEAN, and the Indochina backers of the
PRK were brought to the conference table. Although Alatas tried to
put the best face on it in the final communiqué, intransigence rather
than compromise was the spirit. There were no substantive
breakthroughs on key issues: Vietnamese troop withdrawal, a
coalition government, dismantling of the PRK, international
peacekeeping, and exclusion of the Khmer Rouge. The conferees
did agree to set up a senior officials’ working group to prepare for a
second conference, JIM II, on February 19–21, 1989. When held,
JIM II was no more successful than its predecessor, as both the
Khmer Rouge and the PRK held to their nonnegotiable positions.
Between JIM I and JIM II, a momentous change had taken place
in the intra-ASEAN political dynamic with the peaceful transfer of
Thailand’s government from Prem Tinsulanonda to Prime Minister
Chatichai Choonhavan on August 8, 1988. Chatichai took office with
the express purpose of turning the battlefields of Indochina into a
marketplace. In concert with Thai army chief General Chavalit
Yongchaiyudh and backstopped by an advisory group critical of
ASEAN policy, Prime Minister Chatichai took Indochina policy into
his own hands. He effectively cut Foreign Minister Siddhi out of
decision-making on Indochina. Thailand’s “hard line” was erased.57
Chatichai pressed for the economic opening of Indochina for Thai
trade and investment, which coincided with the evolving Thai
military’s concept of Thailand Suvarnnaphumi (“Golden Land”).
Projecting Thailand as the the leader of continental Southeast Asia,
Chatichai’s approach seemed to give priority to Thailand’s
geopolitical and economic interests in Indochina above its
commitment to ASEAN.
Chatichai’s most stunning move was his decision to invite Hun
Sen to Bangkok, this without notice to ASEAN or his own foreign
ministry. The PRK prime minister flew to Bangkok on a Thai military
plane, accompanied by members of Chatichai’s “kitchen cabinet.” In
Bangkok on January 22–24, 1989, the PRK leader was received with
the political status—but not the ceremonial protocol—of a head of
government. In response to criticism of the de facto recognition of
the legitimacy of the Vietnam-installed PRK, Chatichai’s defenders
pointed to Indonesia’s “dual track” diplomacy—but without
Indonesia’s indirection and ASEAN consultation. Thailand’s new
stance was apparent at JIM II, where only Singapore and the CGDK
refused to accept Alatas’s final communiqué. Thailand’s new
orientation was put on view at an April 1989 Bangkok conference on
“Indochina: From War Zone to Trade Zone,” where Chatichai,
Nguyen Co Thach, and Hun Sen shared the platform. The foreign
ministry’s concern that the prime minister’s policies threatened
ASEAN unity and undermined a decade of ASEAN policy toward the
Kampuchean crisis fell on deaf ears at Government House.

The Paris International Conferences, PICC I and II

After JIM II, ASEAN’s leadership role in seeking a settlement of the
“situation in Kampuchea” was supplanted by or bolstered by,
depending on the critical vantage, its transfer to the international
level, particularly the changes in great-power interest. With the
failure of the JIM process, ASEAN took note of a French initiative to
hold an international conference on Kampuchea. This, the ministers
thought, would be complementary to ASEAN’s ten-year search for a
comprehensive political settlement. For ASEAN, such a conference
should build on the modalities, issues, and principles established in
the JIMs.58 France’s foreign minister Roland Dumas and Foreign
Minister Alatas, the JIMs’ chairman, organized and cochaired a July
30–August 30, 1989, Paris International Conference on Cambodia
(PICC). The attendees, in addition to the four Cambodian factions,*
ASEAN, Vietnam, and the LPDR, were Canada, France, China,
India, Japan, the USSR, the United Kingdom, the United States,
Australia, and Zimbabwe as the current NAM chair. UN Secretary-
General Pérez de Cuéllar also was present.
Much smaller than the 1981 ICK, the PICC was focused on
compromise, not demands. However, the same kinds of issues that
deadlocked the JIMs stalled the PICC: power sharing, constitutional
forms, international peace-keeping, and verification of Vietnamese
troop withdrawals. The PICC, like the JIMs, had identified all of the
problems, but also like the JIMs could not find solutions acceptable
to the Cambodian factions. The PICC was suspended, as far as ever
from a comprehensive settlement. As a kind of coda to the PICC,
Hanoi announced on September 23, 1989, that all of its troops had
left Cambodia. It was at this point that Australia provided a new
game plan.
Since 1983, Australia’s Bob Hawke government and its foreign
minister Bill Hayden had been on the fringes of the Kampuchean
crisis. Canberra was on Sihanouk’s and Thach’s itineraries. Australia
was at the PICC, now represented by Foreign Minister Gareth
Evans, who had come into office in September 1988. He had
developed a good working relationship with Ali Alatas while forging
the Indonesia-Australia Timor Gap Treaty, signed in December 1989.
The Australians had come away from the PICC convinced that the
crucial issue was the CGDK’s insistence on a quadripartite
transitional government, a demand that Hun Sen and his backers
rejected. To break this impasse, Evans unveiled to the Australian
Senate on November 24, 1989, an Australian peace plan designed
to sidestep the power-sharing issue and constrain the Khmer
Rouge.59 It proposed UN involvement in a transitional administration
as well as peacekeeping and overseeing free and fair elections.
Evans attributed the idea of UN administrators to American
congressman Stephen Solarz,* who had found little interest in the
idea in Washington.
The Australian plan was favorably received when it was circulated
among the PICC participants. The progress was such that Alatas
convened a February 22–24, 1990, Informal Meeting on Cambodia
(IMC), which in terms of its participants could have been called a JIM
III-plus, the plus being an Australian “resource” delegation. The
agenda was a 155-page “working paper” that became the new
starting point for the final peacemaking phase of the “situation in
Kampuchea.”60 It contained a detailed outline of an enhanced role for
the United Nations in Cambodia. A proposed IMC consensus
statement failed on its reference “to prevent a recurrence of
genocidal policies and practices.”61 The Khmer Rouge could not
prevent the reference from being inserted in the 1988 annual UN
resolution, but it had a veto power at the IMC.
While the ASEAN regional track had been derailed, a second—
and in political terms, much more significant—track had been
opened. The UN Security Council’s Permanent Five (P-5) members
had seized the negotiating agenda. They were represented at the
PICC, and in January 1990 they began a series of meetings in New
York and Paris on a settlement of the Cambodian problem. From that
point forward, ASEAN was on the sidelines of the negotiations that
would determine the political outcome. Great-power cooperation was
a by-product of the normalization of Sino-Soviet relations and a
relaxation in USSR-U.S. relations as part of Soviet leader Mikhail
Gorbachev’s policies of glasnost and perestroika (openness and
reconstruction). A key event had been the May 15–18, 1989,
Gorbachev–Deng Xiaoping summit meeting. The Cambodian conflict
was a topic discussed at greatest length in the meeting’s final
communiqué.62 It was clear that both sides were seeking a way to
decouple their bilateral relationship from their Southeast Asian
clients.
The Australian plan was the starting point for the P-5. After further
refinements, the P-5 announced at their sixth meeting on Cambodia,
August 27–28, 1990, a framework agreement for a comprehensive
settlement. This was conveyed to the Khmer factions by copresident
of the PICC Alatas at a September 10, 1989, informal meeting in
Jakarta. At the meeting, it was agreed that a Supreme National
Council (SNC) with Sihanouk as president would provide a unified
leadership of the Cambodia factions for negotiating purposes. The
UN Security Council endorsed the framework agreement in its
Resolution 668 (1990) on September 20. The resolution welcomed
the acceptance of the agreement by the Cambodian parties at the
Jakarta meeting as well as the SNC as Cambodia’s “unique
legitimate body and source of authority.”63 Under the watchful eye of
Alatas, Sihanouk and Hun Sen became the principal SNC
negotiators. On November 26, 1990, the P-5’s final draft of the
comprehensive settlement was ready. It was nearly another year,
however, before the diplomatic process, shepherded by Alatas,
culminated in the reconvening of the PICC (II). On October 23, 1991,
the PICC ratified the signing of the “Comprehensive Agreement on
the Political Settlement of the Cambodian Conflict.”64 The final
paragraph in the preamble to the document recognized “that
Cambodia’s tragic recent history requires special measures to
assure protection of human rights, and non-return to the policies and
practices of the past.” The Khmer Rouge refused to participate in the
SNC’s coordination with the United Nations. Deprived of Chinese
assistance and expelled from Thai sanctuaries, the KR’s hard core
dug into its northwest Cambodia bases, from where it posed a latent
threat of renewed violence but gradually withered away. The United
Nations Transitional Authority for Cambodia (UNTAC) was officially
established by the Security Council on February 28, 1992.
The Third Indochina War was over. The road to peace only
became possible when the great powers, in their own national
interests, disengaged from their regional surrogates in the
overlapping Sino-Soviet rivalry and the U.S.-Soviet Cold War.
ASEAN had been in search of a peaceful settlement for more than a
decade when the P-5 intervened. ASEAN’s opposition to Vietnam’s
role in Cambodia had a dual basis: its search for security and its
defense of the normative principles embedded in the ZOPFAN. The
latter was achieved in a peace agreement recognizing Cambodia’s
sovereignty, independence, territorial integrity, and neutrality. With
respect to security, the threat of Vietnamese aggression had
vanished, and Vietnamese and Chinese support for communist
insurgencies had abated. ASEAN’s new task was to reset its
relations with the Indochinese states by bringing them into the
ASEAN structural and normative political tent.

NOTES
 1. Goh Keng Swee, “Vietnam and Big-Power Rivalry,” in Richard H. Solomon, ed., Asian
Security in the 1980’s: Problems and Policies for a Time of Transition (Santa Monica: Rand
Corporation R-2492-ISA, 1979), 148–65.
2. “Statement of Indonesian Foreign Minister Mochtar Kusumaatmadja as the Chair of
the ASEAN Standing Committee on the Escalation of the Armed Conflict between Vietnam
and Kampuchea, January 9, 1979,” as reported by Antara, January 10, 1979, cited in FBIS,
Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, January 11, 1979.
3. “Joint Statement the Special ASEAN Foreign Ministers Meeting on the Current
Political Development in the Southeast Asia Region Bangkok, 12 January 1979,” accessed
at https://asean.org/?static_post=joint-statement-the-special-foreign-ministers-meeting-on-
the-current-political-development-in-the-southeast-asia-region-bangkok-12-january-1979.
4. For the Sino-Vietnam conflict, see Xiaoming Zhang, Deng Xiaoping’s Long War: The
Military Conflict between China and Vietnam, 1979–1991 (Chapel Hill: University of North
Carolina Press, 2015).
5. “ASEAN Statement on the Vietnam-China Border War,” February 20, 1979, as given
by Bangkok Radio in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, February 23, 1979; Document IV
in Donald E. Weatherbee, ed., Southeast Asia Divided: The ASEAN-Indochina Crisis
(Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1985), 101.
6. Author’s interview with Foreign Minister Mochtar Kusumaatmadja, July 1982. When
asked how he put the initial statement together, he answered: “Simple, I picked up the
telephone.”
7. As quoted in Far Eastern Economic Review, January 13, 1983, 30.
8. Malaysia Monthly News Bulletin, August 1982.
9. As reported in Bangkok World, February 5, 1983.
10. As quoted in Beijing Review, November 29, 1982, 7.
11. As quoted in John McBeth, “Ready—and Waiting,” Far Eastern Economic Review,
September 29, 1983, 26.
12. As cited in FBIS, Daily Report, China, August 1, 1981.
13. Force strength as given in Peter Schier, “Kampuchea in 1985: Between Crocodiles
and Tigers,” Southeast Asian Affairs 1986 (Singapore: ISEAS, 1986), 139–61.
14. The text of the vetoed resolution can be accessed at
http://www.un.org/en/ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=S/13162. The record of the Security
Council session in which it was discussed can be accessed at
http://www.un.org/en/ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=S/PV.2129(OR).
15. The text of the resolution can be accessed at
http://www.worldlii.org/int/other/UNGA/1979/46.pdf.
16. The ICK declaration’s text can be accessed at UNGA, A/CONF.109/L.1.Add.1, July
18, 1981. It was also published in the UN Monthly Chronicle 18, no. 9 (September–October
1981): 37–39, and in Weatherbee, Southeast Asia Divided, Document VII, 108–10.
17. “Text of Foreign Ministry Statement,” Vietnam Radio, July 18, 1981, in FBIS, Daily
Report, Asia and Pacific, July 23, 1981.
18. Vietnam Radio, May 1, 1981, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, May 1, 1981.
19. “Declaration of the Conference on the Question of the Representation of
Kampuchea,” Eighth NAM Summit, Harare, accesed at
http://cns.miis.edu/nam/documents/Official_Document/8th_Summit_FD_Harare_Declaration
_1986_Whole.pdf.
20. See note 16 supra.
21. Nhan Dan, January 28, 1981, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, January 29,
1981.
22. As cited by Antara, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, February 7, 1981.
 23. Text of the speech as given by Vientiane Radio as reported by FBIS, Daily Report,
Asia and Pacific, October 7, 1981. The six principles are excerpted in Weatherbee,
Southeast Asia Divided, Document VIII, 111–13.
24. Ibid.
25. Straits Times, February 2, 1981.
26. “Declaration of the Formation of the Coalition Government of Democratic
Kampuchea,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 4, no. 3 (December 1982): 410–12.
27. As quoted in “Return to Kampuchea: Sihanouk’s Unlikely Coalition,” Business in
Thailand, August 8, 1982, 8.
28. “Final Declaration of the Seventh NAM Summit,” New Delhi, 1983, 35, accessed at
http://cns.miis.edu/nam/documents/Official_Document/7th_Summit_FD_New_Delhi_Declar
ation_1983_Whole.pdf.
29. Straits Times, November 22, 1981.
30. Straits Times, December 27, 1983.
31. “Communiqué of the Sixth Indochinese Foreign Ministers Conference,” July 6, 1982,
in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, July 7, 1982.
32. Press release of the LPDR Washington, DC, embassy, as cited by Karl Jackson,
“Indochina in Early ’84: Doves of Peace or Dogs of War,” in Weatherbee, Southeast Asia
Divided, 33.
33. Hanoi Radio, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, February 24, 1983. The
statement on Vietnamese “volunteers” is included in Weatherbee, Southeast Asia Divided,
Document IX, 114–17.
34. Straits Times, September 22, 1983; Document XII in Weatherbee, Southeast Asia
Divided, 121–22.
35. Chinese Foreign Ministry statement on Five-Point Proposal, March 1, 1983, in FBIS,
Daily Report, China, March 4, 1983; included in Weatherbee, Southeast Asia Divided,
Document X, 118–19.
36. The text of the Special Foreign Ministers’ Meeting statement as given by Agence
France-Presse is reported in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, March 23, 1983, and is
included as Document XI in Weatherbee, Southeast Asia Divided, 120.
37. U.S. Embassy [Jakarta] Translation Unit, Press Summary 34/1984, February 17,
1984.
38. Ibid., 53/1984, March 18, 1984.
39. Ibid., 35/1984, February 21, 1984.
40. As quoted in Straits Times, March 10, 1984.
41. U.S. Embassy [Jakarta] Translation Unit, Press Summary 56/1984, March 22, 1984.
42. As quoted in Susumu Awanohara, “Up Against the Wall,” Far Eastern Economic
Review, March 22, 1984, 12.
43. Emphasis added. Text of the “informal” AMM communiqué accessed at
https://asean.org/?static_post=the-informal-meeting-of-the-asean-foreign-ministers-to-
discuss-the-recent-political-and-military-developments-with-regards-to-the-kampuchean-
problem-jakarta-8-may-1984.
44. Bangkok, February 12, 1985, statement accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=statement-on-Kampuchea-issued-by-the-asean-foreign-ministers-bangkok-12-
february-1985.
45. “Communiqué of the 11th Indochina Foreign Ministers’ Conference,” press release of
the Permanent Vietnam Mission to the United Nations, April 2, 1985.
46. “Mochtar, Thach Get Down to Brass Tacks,” Straits Times, August 24, 1985.
47. Emphasis added. The joint communiqué, accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=joint-communique-of-the-special-asean-ministerial-meeting-bali-29-april-1986.
 48. “Address to the Ministerial Meeting of Association of South East Asian Nations in Bali,
Indonesia, May 1, 1986,” accessed at
https://www.reaganlibrary.gov/research/speeches/50186c.htm.
49. “Just Khmer for Cocktail Party,” Straits Times, November 19, 1985.
50. Joint communiqué of the Mochtar-Thach meeting, July 29, 1985, as reported by
Radio Jakarta, July 30, 1985, in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific, July 31, 1985.
51. The joint press release, accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=joint-press-
release-of-the-informal-asean-foreign-ministers-meeting-bangkok-16-august-1987.
52. Jakarta Post, August 19, 1987.
53. As quoted in the Straits Times, August 22, 1987. Thailand’s foreign ministry was well
aware of Indonesian frustration over Thai intransigence. During an interview with the author
in June 1987, Arsa Sarasin, Permanent Secretary of the Thai Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
with reference to Jakarta, commented: “They think I’m the bad guy, don’t they?”
54. The “joint explanatory note” is cited and discussed in Justus M. van der Kroef,
“Cambodia: The Vagaries of Cocktail Diplomacy,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 9, no. 4
(March 1988): 19.
55. Nayan Chanda, “Cambodia in 1987: Sihanouk on Center Stage,” Asian Survey 28,
no. 1 (January 1988): 113–15.
56. The foreign ministers’ statement can be accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=statement-of-the-asean-foreign-ministers-on-the-jakarta-informal-meeting-
bangkok-thailand-3-july-1988.
57. In 1988–1989, the author was a Senior Fellow in Bangkok’s Chulalongkorn
University’s Institute of Strategic and International Studies. He had the opportunity to have
numerous discussions of Thai policy with Prime Minister Chatichai’s advisers, as well as the
prime minister himself, in informal settings. A more detailed analysis of the sharp break in
Thai policy is in Donald E. Weatherbee, “Thailand in 1989: Democracy in the Golden
Peninsula,” Southeast Asian Affairs 1990 (Singapore: ISEAS, 1990), 347–52.
58. The January 1989 informal ASEAN AMM’s statement, accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=joint-press-statement-asean-foreign-ministers-meeting-bandar-seri-begawan-
21-january-1989.
59. Gareth Evans, “Cambodia: The Peace Process—and After,” presentation to
Cambodian Round Table, Monash University, November 2, 2012, accessed at
http://gevans.org/speeches/speech498.html.
60. “Cambodia: An Australian Peace Proposal,” working paper for the Informal Meeting
on Cambodia, Jakarta, February 26–28, 1999 (Canberra: Dept. of Foreign Affairs and
Trade, 1990).
61. Evans, “Cambodia: The Peace Process—and After,” op. cit.
62. The communiqué was published in FBIS, Daily Report, China, May 18, 1989.
63. S/RES/668 (1990) can be accessed at
http://un.org/en/sc/documents/resolutions/1990.shtml.
64. PICC document can be accessed at http://www.cambodia.org/facts/?
page=1991+Paris+Peace+Agreements.
*National United Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful, and Cooperative Cambodia
*The vote was on the Credentials Committee’s report. The committee’s debate and vote
is document A/34/2A.
*In 1985, Hun Sen had gathered in real power in the PRK and served as prime minister
and foreign minister.
*In May, the PRK had changed its name to State of Cambodia (SOC), both to obscure its
origins and to flex its nationalism.
 *Solarz chaired the Asia and Pacific Subcommittee of the House of Representatives
Foreign Affairs Committee.
 Chapter 5
The Expansion of ASEAN
From Five to Ten

ASEAN’s founders in 1967 did not consider their newly launched

enterprise to be an exclusive club. The Bangkok Declaration opened
the association to participation by all states in the Southeast Asia
region subscribing to its principles and purposes. This was later
interpreted by their successors to be a clear vision of regional unity
encompassing all of the regional states. The concept is today
captured in ASEAN’s motto: “One Vision, One Identity, One
Community.” After the ending of the Third Indochina War (chapter 4),
the goal of an inclusive ASEAN was pursued as the region’s
manifest destiny, almost an end in itself. This was carried out without
regard to how intra-ASEAN politics and ASEAN’s external relations
would be altered. In 1967, the prospects for expansion were limited.
The foreign ministers who led the embryonic and politically fragile
grouping wished to stay clear of entanglements in the unsettled
political and military situations in Indochina. The one other Southeast
Asian state that might have been ripe for membership, Burma, was
not interested in an ASEAN invitation. Elsewhere in the region,
Brunei was still a British protectorate, and the two countries currently
aspiring to membership, Timor-Leste and Papua New Guinea (PNG),
were still dependent territories of, respectively, Portugal and
Australia.
Before the 2007 ASEAN Charter was adopted (chapter 8), there
were no formal criteria for new membership beyond the Bangkok
Declaration’s statement. The consensual decision to admit a new
member was based on the foreign ministers’ collective judgment that
a candidate state had the commitment and capacity to carry out the
obligations of membership. As procedures for expansion evolved, it
was expected that a necessary step would be accession to the
Southeast Asia Treaty of Amity and Cooperation (TAC) as well as a
period of “observer” status to prepare the candidate state to handle
the diplomatic and administrative burdens of full participation in
ASEAN’s multilateralism. Through membership, the joining state was
bound to all existing ASEAN declarations and agreements. There
was no provision for reservations. In preparing for membership in the
established ASEAN framework, the new members faced a host of
logistical problems, technical issues, budgetary strains, limited
human resources, and other bureaucratic and legal burdens as they
adjusted to the uniformities of ASEAN procedure and harmonized
with ASEAN norms. A particular strain on human resources was the
need to support and staff ASEAN affairs with speakers of English,
ASEAN’s common language. The candidate states were presented a
“road map” to membership and were supported, briefed, tutored, and
tracked by ASEAN senior officials and the ASEAN Secretariat, to
which officials from the candidate states were attached for training.
According to the July 1996, Jakarta, 29th AMM, the realization of
an ASEAN 10 would mean that all Southeast Asian states would be
“living harmoniously under a single roof.” As is often the case, the
vision did not necessarily match reality. Rather than harmony, new
discordant elements came into play in the absence of any new
political cement to bind divergent national interests to an integral
common purpose in both intra-ASEAN relations and ASEAN’s
external relations. The founding generation of ASEAN leaders
consisted of a like-minded group. They were anticommunist and
market oriented, and they maintained close explicit and implicit
defense ties to the West. Despite the obvious diversity among the
founding five—colonial background, ethnicity, religion, political
organization, and so on—the overarching similarities of the core five
member states’ political economies, foreign policies, and security
perceptions made ASEAN possible. With expansion, ASEAN’s
political cohesion has been tested as an even more complex
diversity of leadership styles, national interests, and external ties
was brought into the ASEAN process. Consensus decision-making
almost guaranteed that, in critical areas of politics and security,
ASEAN’s internal divisions would lead to either ineffectual lowest-
common-denominator outcomes or immobility. The dilution of
political cement in postexpansion ASEAN was accentuated by the
economic development gap that separated the original core
members from the CLMV countries (Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and
Vietnam). Although new members were expected to have the
capability to take part in all of ASEAN’s economic cooperation
structures and activities, ASEAN found it necessary to make
concessionary allowances to accommodate the economic
development lag between the CLMV states and their more
developed partners. This led to the emergence of a two-tiered
ASEAN as an economic unit as opposed to the sovereign equality of
its political architecture.
By joining ASEAN, the new members expressed their commitment
to the common interests underlying ASEAN: peace, stability,
economic development, and resistance to external intervention. This
was demonstrated by adherence to the Bangkok Declaration and
formal accession to the TAC. In addition to ASEAN’s common
interests, the new members brought with them national interests,
domestic agendas, and intra-ASEAN contention and disputes that
would further complicate the already delicate diplomatic task of
maintaining a common ASEAN political front to external challenges.
This was particularly evident as the waves of globalism swept over
ASEAN’s regionalism. As ASEAN absorbed and accommodated its
new members, it was confronted by the political challenges of the
international demands of standards of human and political rights and
other nontraditional foreign policy–issue areas. Expansion
complicated ASEAN’s ability to respond to these kinds of global
imperatives as its identity shifted from the ASEAN 5 to 10. ASEAN
moves at the pace of its slowest member, and in addressing the
nontraditional issues, the CLMV countries lagged, affecting ASEAN’s
image with its democratic dialogue partners.
As outlined in chapter 2, ASEAN’s origins were to be found in the
regional challenges of the Cold War and the political rehabilitation of
Indonesia. As the member states maneuvered to defend their
national interests, they found mutual trust and strength in the
shaping and articulation of common positions for collective political
defense through ASEAN. This would not have been possible without
Indonesia. ASEAN’s greatest regional political test was the Third
Indochina War (chapter 4). Despite internal policy discords, a high
level of policy unity was maintained. A different geostrategic
environment existed in the 1990s when the CLMV countries were
brought into ASEAN. The Cold War was over, but it had been
supplanted by the U.S.-China rivalry, which was no less dangerous
to ASEAN’s autonomy than the Cold War. While the U.S.-USSR
great-power book was closed on the ASEAN 5, a new one opened
on the ASEAN 10. It was uncertain if the concept of collective
political defense had any more relevance to the challenge presented
by China’s political ambitions in Southeast Asia and the uncertainties
of the historical American commitment to the security of the region.

BRUNEI DARUSSALAM (ABODE OF PEACE)

ASEAN’s first new member, in 1984, was Brunei. Its admission had a
twofold significance. It terminated British imperial history in
Southeast Asia and it put an end to Malaysian-Indonesian tensions
over Brunei’s future. Brunei’s independence was declared on
January 1, 1984. This was followed on January 7 by a special
ASEAN foreign ministers’ meeting in Jakarta at which Brunei
acceded to the TAC and became ASEAN’s sixth member. Brunei’s
candidacy for membership had been officially announced at the June
1981, Manila, 14th AMM, at which it was awarded “observer” status.
The integration of Brunei into ASEAN was a politically important step
for Brunei and ASEAN, ending what had been a contentious
decolonization process involving the interests not just of Brunei and
Great Britain, but Malaysia and Indonesia as well.
 Brunei is an oil-rich mini-state with a population of only 217,000
(currently 423,000) at independence, living on a land area of 5,765
square kilometers (2,226 square miles). Brunei’s coast is on the
South China Sea and its land borders are with Malaysia’s Sarawak
state. It is ruled as a Malay Islamic Monarchy (Melayu Islam Beraja).
Its absolute ruler since October 1967 has been Sultan Hassanal
Bolkiah, ASEAN’s longest-serving head of government. Brunei’s
Islamic quality was underlined by the official imposition of Sharia
penal law in May 2014. Prior to independence, Brunei had been a
British protectorate, established in 1906. As Britain wound up its
Asian empire after World War II, the last vestige in Southeast Asia
was Brunei. Brunei was given a constitution and internal self-
government in 1959. One plan for decolonization was to have Brunei
join Malaya, Singapore, and the other two British Borneo territories,
North Borneo (Sabah) and Sarawak, in the Malaysian federation.
The negotiations between Malaya and the Brunei sultan foundered
on issues of the division of Brunei’s oil and gas revenue and Sultan
Omar Ali Saifuddin’s reluctance to join the ceremonial ranks of the
other relatively powerless nine traditional rulers of the Malay royal
states.
The political arrangements under the 1959 constitution gave
democratic space to the left-leaning Brunei People’s Party (PRB
[Partai Rakyat Brunei]) led by A. M. Azahari. The PRB challenged
the aristocratic basis of the sultanate and called for democratic
elections and immediate independence. Its program rejected, in
December 1962 Azahari led the PRB into revolt. President Sukarno’s
Indonesian government gave the revolt political support and
sponsored the intervention of a North Kalimantan National Army
(TNKU [Tentera Nasional Kalimantan Utara]) as part of Indonesia’s
campaign against the formation of Malaysia (chapter 2). The uprising
was crushed by British Commonwealth military forces. The lasting
political outcomes of the PRB revolt were the reinforcement of
absolutist royal rule and a heightened awareness of Brunei’s
strategic vulnerability.
Once it was clear in 1963 that Brunei refused to join Malaysia, the
British chivvied reluctant Sultan Omar down the road to
independence. This was made easier by the sultan’s abdication in
October 1967 in favor of his eldest son, Crown Prince Hassanal
Bolkiah. The father remained influential behind the diplomatic scene
until his death in 1986. The 1959 agreement was altered in 1971,
leaving only external defense and foreign policy in British hands.
Negotiations on terminating the protectorate were completed in a
January 1979 exchange of notes establishing a five-year transition
period to independence. In the background, Malaysia’s prime
minister Tun Abdul Razak, displeased by Brunei’s opt-out from
Malaysia, pursued a kind of “cold war” against the sultanate, which
included harboring Azahari in exile and clandestinely aiding the PRB.
At the international level, over Brunei’s objections, Kuala Lumpur
brought the question of British colonialism in Brunei to the United
Nations Special Political and Decolonization Committee (Fourth
Committee) and from there in December 1975 to the UNGA. A
resolution was passed by a UNGA vote of 119–0–12 calling for Great
Britain, in consultation with the Brunei government, expeditiously to
carry out free elections in an act of self-determination. The election
would include the participation of political exiles—in other words,
Azahari and the PRB.1 Of the ASEAN 5, only Singapore abstained
from the vote, an indication of a policy difference with Malaysia. The
feeling in Kuala Lumpur was that Brunei should rightfully be part of
Malaysia. Malaysia’s support for Indonesia’s intervention in East
Timor raised suspicions in some quarters that Brunei might become
Malaysia’s East Timor.2
Tun Razak’s death in 1976 brought into office Prime Minister Tun
Hussein Onn, who sought to establish normal relations with Brunei.
After the 1979 signing of the Brunei–United Kingdom independence
agreements, Tun Hussein sent Foreign Minister Rithauddeen to
Bandar Seri Begawan to convey the hope for a new era of
friendship. This was the first visit of a Malaysian federal official since
the coronation of the new sultan in 1968. Post-Sukarno Indonesia
under President Suharto was anxious that Brunei should not become
a strategically vulnerable source of threats to Indonesia’s Borneo
provinces. Suharto’s concerns were made clear to Prime Minister
Hussein in a May 1978 empat mata (“four eyes”) meeting on the
island of Labuan, at the southern tip of Sabah. There, Suharto
discussed Indonesia’s support for Brunei’s ASEAN membership in
the regional context of security and stability.3 A month later, in a
Suharto–Lee Kuan Yew empat mata meeting, the Indonesian
president asked the Singapore prime minister to convey to Sultan
Hassanal Bolkiah the message that Brunei would be welcome to join
ASEAN.4 Obviously, this had been cleared with Hussein at the
Labuan meeting with Suharto. The sultan made an unofficial visit to
Jakarta in April 1981, where he was assured of support for Brunei’s
ASEAN membership because of its “significance in shaping a
regional order based on peace, stability, and harmonious relations.”5
At the 1981 14th AMM that accorded Brunei ASEAN “observer”
status, the sultan’s brother and future foreign minister, Prince
Mohamed Bolkiah, took special note of President Suharto’s “firm
support” of Brunei’s ASEAN membership.6 Indonesian sponsorship
of Brunei’s independence in an ASEAN framework helped Brunei to
redefine its diplomatic relationship with Malaysia. In a process that
moved forward surprisingly fast, relations between the two nations
not only normalized but became truly cooperative. Much of the credit
goes to Prime Minister Hussein. Despite lingering political, territorial,
and maritime boundary issues, Hussein sought to build viable
working relations on the basis of mutual interest and political
equality. In February 1979, he attended the wedding of the sultan’s
sister. In July 1980, the sultan went to Malaysia, ostensibly for the
installation of the new sultan of Pahang. This was the first visit by a
Brunei sultan since 1963. In four working days, the Bruneian official
party and the Malaysian officials established a satisfactory basis for
a pattern of political, social, and economic cooperation and
exchanges that in a few short months made Malaysia an important
partner of Brunei, no longer a potential threat. Singapore also
promoted Brunei’s ASEAN membership, seeing in the sultanate
similarities to Singapore’s strategic position as a small state
surrounded by large states with which it had a history of political
issues. Singapore had important economic ties to Brunei and
became a close security partner with military training facilities in the
sultanate. Malaysia and Singapore mentored the fledgling Brunei
foreign office in the technical, administrative, and diplomatic details
of ASEAN membership as well as its entry into international
multilateralism, including the United Nations. Although its ASEAN
tutors had different bilateral interests in the newly independent
country, they wanted its seamless integration into ASEAN.

THE CLMV COUNTRIES

The realization of the vision of an ASEAN 10 had to await the
resolution of the Third Indochina War and domestic change in
Burma. Even though old issues no longer divided Southeast Asia,
the incoming members brought with them new issues, some of them,
as later chapters will describe, having a serious impact on shaping
ASEAN’s future. ASEAN was not simply a geographical concept. It
represented a political consensus that defined a regional political
economy. The value basis underpinning ASEAN was not shared by
the Marxist-Leninist socialist states of Indochina or the bizarre
“Burmese Way to Socialism” of its military authoritarian rulers.
Considerations of the political implications of membership expansion
were not part of the bureaucratic admission process.
ASEAN welcomed Vietnam as its seventh member at the July
1995, Bandar Seri Begawan, 28th AMM. The foreign ministers of the
aspiring CLM (Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar) countries attended as
guests of the AMM. Another precedent was set at the December
1995, fifth ASEAN Summit in Bangkok, at which the CLM heads of
government were guests. In the summit’s final declaration, the
ASEAN leaders pledged to work to facilitate and expedite the
realization of an ASEAN comprising all of the Southeast Asian
countries by the year 2000. The November 1996, Jakarta, first
ASEAN Informal Summit* decided that, even though they had
different lead times, all of the CLM countries would be admitted
simultaneously at the December 1997, Kuala Lumpur, second
ASEAN Informal Summit’s celebration of ASEAN’s thirtieth
anniversary. However, the debut of the ASEAN 10 turned out to be
an ASEAN 9, since Cambodia’s entry was to be delayed for two
more years because of the spillover into ASEAN of Cambodian
domestic politics.

Vietnam
ASEAN had dangled the prospect of future membership in ASEAN
before Vietnam as a political enticement for a comprehensive
settlement of the Cambodian conflict. Indonesia used it as a
bargaining tool in its “dual track” diplomacy. The lure of membership
was rejected by Vietnam’s leaders, who depicted ASEAN as a tool of
Western imperialism. Hanoi negotiated the region’s future on a bloc-
to-bloc Indochina-ASEAN basis, not the Indochina states in ASEAN
(chapter 4). Well before the 1991 Paris Agreement, Hanoi had
changed its view of ASEAN, approaching the organization and its
members in a two-track strategy: enhanced bilateral economic
relations with the ASEAN states leading to a consolidation of those
relations in the multilateral undertakings of ASEAN.
The two tracks were clear when, on November 19, 1990,
President Suharto arrived in Hanoi for a three-day state visit. The
timing of the visit was between PICC I and II, but in anticipation of
peace. This was the first visit by an Indonesian head of government
(who in the Indonesian system is also head of state) since President
Sukarno’s exchange of visits with Ho Chi Minh in 1959. More
immediately significant for regional politics, it was the first meeting
between an ASEAN leader and his Vietnamese counterpart since
Pham Van Dong had met Prime Minister Kriangsak Chomanan in
Bangkok in October 1978. When Suharto stepped down from his
Garuda Indonesia Airways DC-10 onto the red carpet at Hanoi’s Noi
Bai International Airport, he was greeted by Prime Minister Do Muoi.
In an exchange of views, the two sides agreed that they were not
going to allow their relationship to be held hostage to the Cambodian
conflict. Do Muoi told Suharto, “We wish to join ASEAN very much.”7
This was translated into a more official statement in the joint
communiqué at the end of the Indonesian president’s Hanoi visit:
Prompted by the desire to contribute to the consolidation of peace, stability, and
cooperation in the region, the Vietnamese leaders reiterated Vietnam’s wish to accede
to the Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia signed in 1976, and at a later
stage to join ASEAN. President Suharto welcomed Vietnam’s intentions to participate
more actively in regional cooperative endeavor.8

These sentiments were conveyed by Deputy Prime Minister Vo

Van Kiet during tours of the ASEAN region in October/November
1991 and January/February 1992. In the first round, he visited
Indonesia, Singapore, and Thailand, followed by Malaysia, Brunei,
and the Philippines. In the course of his peregrination through
ASEAN, Kiet emphasized Hanoi’s readiness to sign the TAC and
participate in ASEAN’s economic cooperation activities. Vo Van Kiet
became prime minister in 1991 and led Vietnam into ASEAN.
ASEAN’s readiness to admit Vietnam was among the topics in Thai
prime minister Anand Panyarachun’s return visit to Hanoi in January
1992. The first step was taken when Vietnam acceded to the TAC
and became an ASEAN “observer” at the July 1992 AMM. In 1994,
Hanoi was sure enough of its relations with the existing ASEAN
members and its preparations for assuming the obligations of
membership to officially apply for ASEAN membership.
Since ASEAN was not treaty-based, accession was a political act
—not legal—through which Hanoi normatively committed to the 1967
Bangkok Declaration, the Bali Concord, ZOPFAN, and all other prior
acts and consensual decisions of the collective body. The terms of
many ASEAN pronouncements had been invoked in the past decade
to denounce Vietnam. Given its past antipathy toward ASEAN, to
what can its change of heart be attributed? The answer is pragmatic
statesmanship when confronted by two policy challenges: economic
renovation (doi moi) and Vietnam’s changed place among the great
powers.
Vietnam’s post-1975 economy declined steadily year after year in
a Stalinist-Maoist planning model of collective agriculture and
industry. After 1979, the costs of supporting an army in Cambodia
added further drag on the economy. By the mid-1980s, the economy
was at the point of collapse. To Vietnam’s north, the post-Maoist
leader Deng Xiaoping was already wrenching China to its new
economic track. To the west, the growing ASEAN economies
portended future power inequalities between Vietnam and ASEAN.
In 1986, the Vietnamese politburo instituted domestic economic
reforms called doi moi designed to restructure the economy into a
new “socialist-market” economy. Doi moi did not carry with it political
change. For doi moi to be successful, and to catch up with the
ASEAN economies, Hanoi understood that it had to have access to
international markets, investment, and development assistance. In
the international political framework of the Cambodian conflict,
Vietnam’s road to the world economy seemed to run through ASEAN
and its dialogue partners.
In the lead-up to Vietnam’s ASEAN admission, Hanoi actively
sought to partner economically with its former adversaries. At the
end of the Suharto Vietnam visit, the two countries signed
agreements on economic and trade cooperation. To cap it, they
agreed to set up a ministerial-level joint commission to promote
further ties between them.9 In 1978, such a joint commission had
been established between Vietnam and Thailand for trade and
investment promotion but was derailed by Vietnam’s invasion of
Cambodia. As part of his policy of turning the battlefields of
Indochina into a marketplace (chapter 4), Prime Minister Chatichai
Choonhavan dispatched Deputy Prime Minister Pichai to Hanoi in
November 1989 to pick up economically where the countries had left
off a decade earlier. Foreign Minister Nguyen Co Thach called for a
revival of the joint commission.10 During Vo Van Kiet’s stop in Kuala
Lumpur in January 1991, a Vietnam-Malaysia joint commission was
announced to expand functional ties between them. This followed
from negotiations on bilateral trade and economic matters begun in
Hanoi in February 1990.11 Only Singapore hung back from an early
embrace of Hanoi. Meeting Vo Van Kiet in Davos, Switzerland, in
February 1990, Prime Minister Lee told the Vietnamese deputy
prime minister that a resumption of cooperation and economic
relations between the two countries depended on the Cambodian
settlement.12 In October, Singapore announced that its block on
trade and investment with Vietnam would be lifted on the signing of a
peace agreement. At admission into ASEAN, bilateral economic
relations between Vietnam and its new partners were fully
established and the Southeast Asian requisites of doi moi were in
place.
Separate from the economic imperatives that propelled Vietnam
toward ASEAN, there was an important political/security urge as
well. ASEAN membership was part of Hanoi’s postconflict
adjustments in managing its relations with China. As Gorbachev
pursued Russian rapprochement with China, a worried Hanoi made
tentative, but unrequited, overtures toward Beijing. The collapse of
the Soviet Union, once its balance against China, left Vietnam
exposed to a China with which it had a long history of grievances,
the war over Cambodia and expulsion of ethnic Chinese boat people
being the latest. Hanoi moved rapidly for full functional normalization
of bilateral relations with China. One casualty of this was Foreign
Minister Nguyen Co Thach, whose wartime anti-China stance
seemed inappropriate in the new environment. In part, China’s new
higher profile in ASEAN added to ASEAN’s welcome to Vietnam. A
“greater ASEAN” would have greater weight in its dealings with the
great power—that is, so long as unity could be maintained.
Vietnam would be a full partner in ASEAN’s collective dealings
with Beijing, which would reduce the power inequalities inherent in
the bilateral relationship. Vietnam brought into ASEAN its maritime
disputes with China. Already in 1975, China had used force to expel
South Vietnam from the Parcel Islands, which Hanoi believed were
part of its patrimony and still claims. Vietnam’s sensitivity to maritime
zones’ vulnerabilities was demonstrated in the fourth point of its
October 1981 principles for Indochina-ASEAN relations: to respect
the sovereignty of the coastal countries of the South China Sea over
their territorial waters as well as the sovereign rights over their
exclusive economic zones and continental shelves.13 When Vo Van
Kiet visited the Philippines in 1992, the discussions with President
Corazon Aquino were not so much on economic relations as on their
common interest in peaceful settlement of territorial disputes in the
Spratly Islands. China’s use of force against Vietnam in 1988 at
Johnson South Reef in the South China Sea initiated what became
ASEAN’s decades-long political preoccupation with China’s South
China Sea claims, beginning with the 1992 ASEAN Declaration on
the South China Sea (chapter 10).

Laos (Lao People’s Democratic Republic [LPDR])

The LPDR submitted its instrument of accession to the TAC at the
same time as Vietnam. It had been the intention that both states gain
membership in 1995 at the Bandar Seri Begawan 28th AMM. In
1995, Foreign Minister Somsavat Lengsavad conveyed a letter to
ASEAN postponing induction to 1997, along with Cambodia and the
Union of Burma. Laos was just not ready to assume the burdens of
membership. Its bureaucratic structure, civil service, and diplomatic
corps required expansion and upgrading. Through ASEAN-
sponsored workshops, seminars, and sending of personnel to the
ASEAN Secretariat and ASEAN governments for training, the human
resources were strengthened as an ASEAN affairs section was
created in the LPDR foreign ministry. The small pool of English-
speakers was a particular handicap. When Laos did join ASEAN in
1997, the significance of the event was celebrated in a radio address
to the nation by Prime Minister Khamtai Siphandon.
For the LPDR, the most important bilateral relationship within
ASEAN was with Thailand. Despite ethnic and cultural affinities, their
relations were fraught with historical and contemporary political
flashpoints. The two countries share a 1,745-kilometer (1,084-mile)
border inflamed through the 1980s with territorial and resource
disputes. In 1987–1988, a seven-month military confrontation cost a
thousand lives. Laotian refugee camps in Thailand, particularly
Hmong, were viewed by Vientiane as bases for anti-LPDR
insurgency. Laos was sensitive to a long historical record of Thai
intervention in Laotian affairs. A geo-economic fact was that Laos
depended on Thailand’s road and rail network for access to the sea.
This concern was expressed in the 1981 principles for Indochina-
ASEAN relations, cited above: “To ensure favorable conditions for
the land-locked countries in the region [Laos] regarding the transit to
and from the sea.” For Laos, ASEAN provided a platform for political
equality with Thailand and a commitment to cooperation.

Kingdom of Cambodia
Under the mandate of the United Nations Transitional Authority in
Cambodia (UNTAC), Hun Sen’s State of Cambodia was replaced by
the restoration of the Kingdom of Cambodia, a constitutional
monarchy headed by King Norodom Sihanouk as the symbolic head
of state. UNTAC was responsible for organizing and administering
national elections for a new, democratic Cambodian government.
The elections were held May 22, 1993. The main contestants were
FUNCINPEC, led by Prince Norodom Ranariddh, who succeeded his
father as party president, and Hun Sen’s Cambodian People’s Party
(CPP), the tag “revolutionary” dropped from its old name. Both
parties had their roots in opposing sides of the recently settled
conflict. Despite violence, intimidation, and bad weather, 90 percent
of registered voters made it to the polls. The outcome gave
FUNCINPEC 58 of the 120 seats in the new National Assembly and
51 seats to the CPP. Hun Sen, reluctant to give up power as prime
minister to Ranariddh, protested the results. In a tense political
atmosphere with the palpable threat of renewed violence by the
CPP, UNTAC, in the spirit of reconciliation, brokered a power-sharing
arrangement of co–prime ministers, with Ranariddh as the first prime
minister and Hun Sen as the second. With a new constitution
promulgated on September 21, 1993, UNTAC’s mandate expired,
leaving a country still deeply divided. This was the government that
was supposed to take Cambodia into ASEAN.
Foreign Minister Prince Norodom Sirivudh, the king’s half brother,
joined the 1994, Bangkok, 24th AMM as a guest. This, as previously
noted, was the first AMM at which all ten ASEAN and non-ASEAN
Southeast Asian foreign ministers were present. Although welcoming
Cambodia as a potential new member, the AMM “noted with concern
that peace and stability in Cambodia has not been fully realized.”
The next year, at the July 1995, Bandar Seri Begawan, 25th AMM,
Cambodia, represented by Foreign Minister Ung Huot, acceded to
the TAC and became an ASEAN “observer.” Ung Huot was a
FUNCINPEC parliamentarian with CPP leanings who would later
defect to Hun Sen’s party. Cambodia made its official application for
membership in March 1996 and was expected to be part of the 1997
CLM package to be inducted as full ASEAN members at the
December 1997, Kuala Lumpur, second ASEAN Informal Summit.
There is a photograph of the co–prime ministers together in Jakarta
at the 1996 first informal summit at which the ASEAN entry date for
the CLM countries was announced. Clad in traditional Indonesian
Javanese batik shirts, smiling, they are standing in a line with the
other ASEAN leaders, arms upraised and hands clasped with their
soon-to-be ASEAN peers. The smiles did not last long.
What seemed to be a smooth path to Cambodia’s ASEAN
membership came to a sudden halt in a July 6, 1997, quasi-coup. By
force of arms, Hun Sen dismissed his co–prime minister, bringing
down the fragile structure of power sharing that was the governing
basis of the Cambodian state. Rather than power sharing, Hun Sen
seized power from First Prime Minister Prince Ranariddh, taking by
force what he could not win by ballot. The internal political crisis had
been in the making since UNTAC had forced the power-sharing
scheme on FUNCINPEC leaders. From the beginning, Second
Prime Minister Hun Sen worked to undermine and oust his co–prime
minister. In the politically toxic environment leading up to scheduled
1998 elections, both FUNCINPEC and the CPP mobilized armed
backers. Hun Sen was advantaged by the fact that he had refused to
relinquish the CPP’s hold on local and district administrations and
the security forces. Fleeing the country, Ranariddh sought
international diplomatic support while FUNCINPEC supporters
prepared for armed resistance.
ASEAN quickly responded to events in Cambodia. The concern
was not with the assault on democracy but with regional stability and
a return to the status quo ante. At a hastily arranged July 10 special
meeting, the foreign ministers issued a statement that said, “In light
of the unfortunate circumstances which have resulted from the use
of force the wisest course of action is to delay the admission of
Cambodia into ASEAN until a later date.”14 ASEAN’s refusal to
accept Hun Sen’s unilateral upending of Cambodia’s government as
a fait accompli was based on possible consequences for the ASEAN
states. Although ASEAN leaders were affronted by Hun Sen’s use of
force to undo political arrangements that had been endorsed by
ASEAN, it was considerations of real interests that moved them to
intervene. The collapse of the Cambodian government and possible
lapse back into civil war would have negative political and strategic
implications for bordering states. In the north and northwest of the
country, armed forces loyal to Ranariddh held out through the
summer and fall. Despite ASEAN calls for a cease-fire, the fighting
persisted with the possibility of cross-border exchanges. Thailand
expected a new influx of Cambodian refugees, perhaps 20,000 by
UNHCR estimate. The deteriorating domestic economy raised
questions of Cambodia’s economic fitness for ASEAN.
At the July 10 foreign ministers’ meeting, ASEAN designated its
current chair, Philippine foreign minister Domingo Siazon, and
immediate past and future chairmen Indonesia’s Ali Alatas and
Thailand’s Prachuab Chaiyasan (who was replaced by Surin
Pitsuwan in November) to act on ASEAN’s behalf as mediators
between Ranariddh and Hun Sen. The ASEAN troika met ailing King
Sihanouk in Beijing on July 16. The next day they were in Bangkok
with Prince Ranariddh, from where they went on July 19 to Phnom
Penh to face Hun Sen, now the self-declared first prime minister.
Sihanouk and Ranariddh had welcomed ASEAN’s help in finding a
peaceful resolution to the affair. On the other hand, Hun Sen
adamantly rejected ASEAN’s meddling in Cambodia’s internal
affairs. This hard line was softened when a few days later Foreign
Minister Ung Huot attended the Kuala Lumpur, 1997, 30th AMM.
There in Cambodia’s “observer” role, his message was more
conciliatory in the hope of reversing ASEAN’s decision to put
Cambodia’s membership on hold. He said that Cambodia welcomed
an ASEAN role in helping to restore political stability in the country.
The AMM, while pleased by the change in policy, reiterated that the
circumstances were not such that Cambodia was ready for ASEAN
membership. They agreed to continue the mediation efforts of the
troika.
In its dealings with Foreign Minister Ung Huot, the troika was in a
delicate diplomatic position. Hun Sen had tapped Ung Huot,
nominally a FUNCINPEC member, to replace Ranariddh as second
prime minister. This was constitutionally approved by a CPP-tamed
legislature. This allowed Hun Sen to claim that the government was
running normally with co–prime ministers. Rallying support abroad,
Ranariddh insisted on recognition that he still was first prime
minister. In its diplomacy, ASEAN recognized only Ung Huot’s
position as foreign minister. On the other hand, the troika did not
make the return of Ranariddh as first prime minister a condition for
the resolution of the conflict and Cambodia’s admission to ASEAN.
What emerged as the central element of ASEAN’s negotiations was
the holding of free and fair scheduled elections in 1998 in which
Ranariddh and his FUNCINPEC party could participate.
As direct diplomacy between ASEAN and Phnom Penh via the
troika sputtered, attention shifted to New York and the 1997 UN
General Assembly session, at which two rival delegations claimed to
represent Cambodia. Because of opposition mobilized by ASEAN to
the seating of the Hun Sen–backed delegates, the UNGA’s
Credentials Committee postponed a decision on the dispute,
effectively leaving Cambodia’s UN seat vacant until a new
government was elected in 1998. At the UN, the troika met with
Ranariddh, Hun Sen, and Ung Huot as well as UN officials and the
Security Council’s Permanent Five. Beyond the UN and friendly
government circles, the ASEAN diplomats consulted and
coordinated with the donor nations of the “Friends of Cambodia.”
Hun Sen’s government was faced with a crippling reduction in non-
humanitarian project aid. Japan, Cambodia’s largest donor,
suspended aid and withdrew its personnel. The United States cut aid
by two-thirds. In September, the IMF and World Bank suspended aid
to Cambodia. Internationally isolated and under pressure from even
within his own CPP, Hun Sen grudgingly negotiated a compromise
with the ASEAN troika that provided for internationally monitored
elections to a new National Assembly in which Ranariddh’s
FUNCINPEC could compete.
The national election was held on July 25, 1998. Of the 122 seats
at stake in the National Assembly, the CPP won 64, FUNCINPEC
43, and the Sam Rainsy Party 15. Ung Huot, spurned by
FUNCINPEC and the CPP, ran on a minor party list and did not win a
seat, forcing him to give up his government posts. The weakness in
Hun Sen’s position was that the Cambodian constitution required a
two-thirds majority for a vote of confidence to form a government,
which the CPP still did not have. In the postelection unsettled
conditions, the ASEAN foreign ministers extended the life of the
troika. After three months of tense negotiations with the ever-present
threat of renewed violence, the troika hammered out a compromise
CPP-FUNCINPEC coalition government with Hun Sen the sole prime
minister and Ranariddh president of the Assembly. The ASEAN
troika’s work was finished.
The outcome was blessed by ASEAN when, on April 30, 1999, at
a special ceremony in Hanoi, Foreign Minister Hor Namhong signed
the protocol for Cambodia’s accession to ASEAN. Hor Namhong had
replaced Ung Huot in November 1998 and served until March 2016.
With seventeen years in the post, Hor Namhong became ASEAN’s
longest-serving foreign minister. His first appearance as an ASEAN
minister was at the July 1999, Singapore, 32nd AMM, where his
presence was greeted as a “milestone” in fulfilling the founders’
vision.
Prime Minister Hun Sen joined an ASEAN summit for the first time
at the November 1999, Manila, third Informal Summit. Hun Sen’s
ASEAN legitimacy was confirmed when, in 2002, he hosted in
Phnom Penh the eighth ASEAN Summit. After the 1998 elections
and entry into ASEAN, Hun Sen moved quickly to eliminate
democratic opposition. The 2003 elections increased the CPP
majority, but still not to the necessary two-thirds. Ranariddh quit the
National Assembly and country in 2006. The 2008 elections gave the
CPP ninety National Assembly seats in a campaign that gutted
whatever was left of the Paris settlement’s commitment to free and
fair elections. Beginning with his prime ministerial roles in the
PRK/State of Cambodia (SOC), he has ruled Cambodia for more
than three decades in a style characterized by international rights
organizations as violent, repressive, and corrupt. After Brunei’s
sultan, Hun Sen is the second-longest-serving ASEAN head of
government.
Following up on the claimed success of the intervention of the ad
hoc ASEAN troika, the ASEAN leaders at the Manila 1999 third
Informal Summit agreed to Thai prime minister Chuan Leekpai’s
proposal “to set up an ASEAN Troika at the ministerial level in order
that ASEAN could address more effectively and cooperate more
closely on issues affecting peace and security in the region.”15 The
scheme was fleshed out in a “concept paper” setting out the
principles, purposes, and procedures of the ASEAN troika. It was
adopted by the foreign ministers at the July 2000, Bangkok, 33rd
AMM. The troika would include the immediate past, the present, and
the immediate future foreign minister chairs of the ASEAN Standing
Committee. The troika would be called into action by ASEAN
consensus in the event a situation of common concern arose likely to
disturb regional peace and harmony. It would be specifically barred
from “addressing issues that constitute the internal affairs of ASEAN
member countries” and would act in accordance with ASEAN’s core
principles of consensus and noninterference. In the Cambodian
precedent, Cambodia was not yet an ASEAN member. The
restriction surrounding the operational mandate of any future troika
means that it has never been called into service despite ASEAN’s
encounters with the kind of circumstances that could prompt troika
activity. In fact, if Cambodia had already been a member of ASEAN
when Hun Sen executed his 1997 coup, ASEAN would never have
called him to account. Nevertheless, the institutional memory of the
troika structure persists. The bureaucratic futurology of the ASEAN
Secretariat’s 2015 “ASEAN Political-Security Community Blueprint
2025” calls for the organization to “activate the ASEAN Troika to
address urgent situations affecting regional peace and stability in a
timely manner.”

Myanmar
At the 1994 AMM, Malaysia’s foreign minister Abdullah Badawi (later
a prime minister) impatiently declared that ASEAN “must become 10
—the sooner the better.”16 It was not, however, until 1996 that
Myanmar obtained ASEAN “observer” status and was fast-tracked to
membership at the 1997 30th AMM in Kuala Lumpur. The rush,
compared to the Indochinese membership paths, was propelled by
three factors: the desire to complete the process of rounding out
ASEAN (thwarted by the Cambodian coup); the celebration of
ASEAN’s thirtieth birthday; and preempting growing objections to
Myanmar’s ASEAN membership from some of ASEAN’s most
important dialogue partners. The strong support for Myanmar’s entry
by Malaysia’s prime minister Mahathir Mohamad overcame the
hesitancy of some of the ASEAN members.
After a quarter century of military rule, by 1988, while their ASEAN
neighbors dreamed of being economic “little tigers,” Burma had been
reduced to the ranks of the poorest countries of the world on the
United Nations’ list of Least Developed Countries. General Ne Win’s
“Burmese Way to Socialism’s” internationally isolated command
economy had brought the country to economic collapse. In March
1988, Ne Win disestablished the institutions of his one-party
government. This was followed by months of political protest in
Rangoon and other cities that were ruthlessly suppressed by the
army (Tatmadaw). It was in this political milieu that Daw Aung San
Suu Kyi emerged as the emblematic face of democracy. In
September, the Tatmadaw stepped in to again directly rule Burma
through the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC). One
of the economic consequences of the imposition of the SLORC’s
repressive rule was reduction of economic assistance from donor
nations, particularly Japan, the United States, and Australia. On
June 20, 1989, Burma was officially renamed Myanmar “to reflect its
ethnic diversity.”17
In November 1988 the SLORC took the first steps to open the
economy with a law permitting foreign investment and stimulating the
private sector. In May 1990, the SLORC felt secure enough to permit
multiparty national elections for the People’s Assembly, from which a
new constitution would be issued. The SLORC wrongly expected
their party, the National Unity Party (NUP), to win. To the Tatmadaw’s
dismay, Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD)
won 80 percent of the assembly’s seats. The SLORC’s response
was to ignore the popular will and to arrest and imprison NLD
leaders, including Suu Kyi, followed by a harsh two-decade regime
of political and human rights abuse. Shunned by the world’s
democracies, the first of the annual UNGA condemnatory resolutions
on “The Situation in Myanmar” was passed on December 17, 1991
(A/RES/142/132).
The reasons for Myanmar’s new desire to become an ASEAN
member seem clear. Membership in ASEAN would be helpful in
bringing investment from ASEAN states. Furthermore, it would give
the SLORC political cover as its leaders participated as legitimate
equals to their ASEAN counterparts. Less clear and more complex
were ASEAN’s motives in accepting the international political risks to
ASEAN’s image and external relations by taking Myanmar in. At its
first opportunity to welcome Myanmar, ASEAN declined. It had been
suggested that Myanmar be invited as a guest to the July 1992 AMM
in Manila. Malaysia, among others, objected. Foreign Minister
Abdullah Badawi was quoted as saying that “it is their desire to come
out of isolation, but they will have problems if their credentials on
human rights and freedom are bad.”18 The Myanmar foreign minister
did get access to the AMM as a guest at the 1994 AMM. In 1995,
Myanmar acceded to the TAC and gained “observer” status the next
year. By then, in a reverse of Malaysia’s earlier position, Prime
Minister Mahathir had emerged as Myanmar’s most vocal champion.
This was as external pressure against Myanmar’s membership
mounted. After Myanmar’s induction, the SLORC changed its name
to State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), but policies
remained the same.
From the initiation of Myanmar’s progress toward membership,
ASEAN was warned that Myanmar’s membership would tarnish its
image and inflict damage on ASEAN relations with important
external partners in North America and Europe. Of course, the same
kinds of issues raised against Myanmar could have been raised
against some of the existing ASEAN states, as well as Cambodia’s
candidacy. As ASEAN welcomed Myanmar, international economic
sanctions regimes were being built against its newest member.
When ASEAN found it necessary to delay Cambodia’s entry, one of
the three scheduled for the Kuala Lumpur July 1997 AMM, Thailand
and the Philippines raised the possibility of deferring all three; but
this was Malaysia’s ASEAN thirtieth anniversary show, and the show
went on. Prime Minister Mahathir was outspoken about the Myanmar
issue in his speech greeting the AMM foreign ministers:
It is regrettable that there are those who would not have seen the obvious. Instead of
encouraging ASEAN to accept all Southeast Asian countries as soon as possible,
ASEAN has been urged to pass judgment, deny membership and apply pressure on a
potential candidate so as to force the country to remain poor and therefore unstable.
ASEAN must resist and reject such attempts at coercion.19

In the face of the threat of a downgrading of relations with the

organization—but not the member states—ASEAN’s acceptance of
Myanmar was not simply a demonstration of independence of action.
A strong motive for Malaysia, Thailand, and Singapore was to open
a wider door to economic access to Myanmar. There was also a
security and ZOPFAN aspect to completing an inclusive ASEAN
continental Southeast Asian membership. Continuing to isolate
Myanmar could open opportunities for great-power strategic
penetration—specifically by China—at ASEAN’s back door. Rather
than isolating Myanmar, ASEAN argued, “constructive engagement”
of Myanmar in ASEAN and its norms and practice would eventually
induce domestic political changes in the country. This knowingly
echoed the Clinton administration’s American “constructive
engagement” with China policy. On Myanmar’s entry into ASEAN,
President Clinton’s secretary of state, Madeleine Albright, told
ASEAN that Burma’s* problems were now ASEAN’s problems. As
following chapters will show, after two decades of ASEAN
membership the problems still persist.
Cambodia’s ASEAN membership brought closure to the post-1975
divided Southeast Asia: anticommunist ASEAN and communist
Indochina. However, the declarative unity of Southeast Asia
represented by the ASEAN 10 was a diplomatic contract among
sovereign nations. ASEAN unity was not political union. Far from it.
Underneath ASEAN’s proclaimed regionalism, the member states
pursued often contending political and economic national interests.
These interests in turn spurred different geostrategic and geo-
economic perceptions of threat and opportunities both within ASEAN
and the East Asian and Pacific regional international order. The
expansion from five to ten made the task of reaching consensus
decisions that could have real effect—as opposed to platitudes—
difficult.

KNOCKING ON THE DOOR

ASEAN membership has remained at ten since 1999, but there are
candidates mentioned for future expansion: one probable, one
possible, and others improbable, such as Bangladesh, Fiji, and Sri
Lanka. The probable candidate is Timor-Leste. The possible is
Papua New Guinea (PNG). Candidate members will have to meet
criteria formalized in Article 6 of the 2007 ASEAN Charter: (a)
location in the geographic region of Southeast Asia; (b) recognition
by all member ASEAN states; (c) agreement to be bound and to
abide by the Charter; and (d) ability and willingness to carry out the
obligations of membership. Admission would be decided by
consensus of the ASEAN summit, acting on the recommendations of
the ASEAN Coordinating Council (ACC)—in other words, the foreign
ministers.
Timor-Leste
The independent country of Timor-Leste was created by the transfer
of sovereignty from Indonesia through the United Nations
Transitional Administration in East Timor (UNTAET) on May 22,
2002. East Timor became an Indonesian province after Indonesia’s
1976 invasion and occupation of what had been the Portuguese half
of the island of Timor, driving the partisans of the post-Portuguese
leftist government into domestic insurgency and international
campaigning against Indonesia’s rule (chapter 3). In 1999, President
B. J. Habibie, President Suharto’s successor, unilaterally announced
an internationally supervised referendum on the province’s future.
His government, buffeted by the political and economic shocks of the
collapse of Suharto’s two-decade rule, wanted to put Timor behind it
as it sought international support for Indonesia’s economic recovery.
Under the eye of the United Nations Assistance Mission in East
Timor (UNAMET), the referendum was held on August 30, 1999. The
East Timorese people overwhelmingly chose separation from
Indonesia. This was followed by a terrifying rampage by Indonesian
army-backed pro-Indonesia militias with mass killings, destruction,
and uprooting of thousands of people. The situation in East Timor,
which Foreign Minister Ali Alatas had once described as a “pebble in
the shoe,” had become an Indonesian diplomatic disaster.20 This
prompted a UN-sanctioned Australian-led military intervention—the
International Force for East Timor (INTERFET)—to restore order and
be the peacekeepers for the subsequent UNTAET.
The political and humanitarian crisis in East Timor jeopardized
ASEAN’s credentials as the steward of stability and security in
Southeast Asia. For more than twenty years, Indonesia’s ASEAN
partners had observed the ASEAN norm of noninterference, and in
ASEAN solidarity had diplomatically backed Indonesia against
challengers of its record in East Timor. Even as the situation in East
Timor was plunging into anarchy, ASEAN clung to its principles. This
led to severe international criticism because of “the stark inability of
ASEAN to respond to or stem the violence and gross human rights
violations in Timor.”21 It was only when foreign intervention loomed
that ASEAN put East Timor on its agenda. The prospect of Australia
—with American offshore backing—leading a UN-sanctioned
international military force operating in Southeast Asia seemed to
mock the ZOPFAN. It was only after the beleaguered Habibie
government gave its nominal permission for INTERFET to enter East
Timor that ASEAN was moved to action. During the September 1999
meeting of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) forum in
New Zealand, the ASEAN foreign ministers held a meeting to
consider how ASEAN should relate to the INTERFET. Although it
was too late to put an ASEAN face on INTERFET, they hoped that a
regionalist context could be preserved even though the chains of
command led back to Canberra and New York. Thai foreign minister
Surin Pitsuwan, the AMM chair, traveled to Jakarta to ensure
Indonesian support for the participation of ASEAN countries in
INTERFET. Ultimately, Thailand and the Philippines contributed
battalion-size military units to INTERFET along with token Malaysian
and Singapore elements. They were not part of an ASEAN force but
national contingents dedicated to the international force. ASEAN
closed the books on Indonesian Timor at the July 2000 33rd AMM,
where the foreign ministers “commended Indonesia for all of its
efforts in resolving the East Timor issue.”
After the turbulent transfer of sovereignty from Indonesia, during
the years of UN oversight of Timor-Leste, ASEAN was relatively
indifferent to the country’s development, implicitly acknowledging the
primary interests of Australia and Indonesia. Timor-Leste and
Australia wrestled diplomatically and legally over the division of oil
and gas reserves in their overlapping maritime sphere with a final
maritime border settlement only reached in 2017. Indonesia and
Timor-Leste had to normalize relations while dealing with the claims
of Indonesian human rights abuses in the violence of East Timor’s
separation from Indonesia. Even under the UN umbrella, the
fledgling state continued to be destabilized by internal political
rivalries. In 2006, again under UN authority, a 3,000-man, Australian-
led International Stabilization Force (ISF) intervened to restore
peace and order. Malaysia participated in the ISF independently of
any ASEAN action. Deputy Prime Minister and Defense Minister
Najib Abdul Razak suggested that it was the absence of ASEAN
concern that prompted Kuala Lumpur to take part.22 It was not until
2012 that the ISF and the UN’s mission ended.
Possible future ASEAN membership was on the agenda of Timor-
Leste’s new leaders in their capital, Dili, almost from independence.
Membership was seen as opening economic opportunities and, like
Brunei and Singapore, providing a layer of political security for a
small state. In 2002, Timor-Leste was given observer status in
ASEAN. It was represented at the AMM by Foreign Minister José
Ramos-Horta, a Nobel Peace Prize co-winner.23 In exile, fiercely
opposed to Indonesia’s invasion and occupation of the country,
Ramos-Horta had denounced ASEAN as Indonesia’s accomplice.
Timor-Leste joined the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF) in 2005 and
signed the TAC in 2007. Indonesia has insistently pressed for Timor-
Leste’s ASEAN membership. From Jakarta’s geostrategic
perception, an isolated Timor-Leste embedded deep in the
Indonesian archipelago would be vulnerable to political and
economic penetration by external powers. Jakarta is sensitive to
rising Chinese influence in Dili. During his January 2016 state visit to
Timor-Leste, President Joko Widodo again reaffirmed Indonesia’s
commitment to Timor-Leste’s membership in ASEAN.24
At the March 2011 18th ASEAN Summit in Jakarta, Timor-Leste
officially applied for ASEAN membership. The response was tepid. It
was felt that the application needed more consideration.
Nevertheless, Jakarta held out hope that it might be approved that
year. However, at the November 19th ASEAN Summit in Bali,
despite Indonesian president Yudhoyono’s urgings to support Timor-
Leste’s membership, the leaders tasked the ACC with establishing
an ACC Working Group (ACCWG) to examine all aspects of the
application and its implications for ASEAN and to make
recommendations to the ACC on whether Timor-Leste met the
requirements of Article 6 of the ASEAN Charter. The principal issue
the ACCWG was concerned with was the criterion of ability to carry
out ASEAN obligations. The more cautious ASEAN states,
Singapore in particular, worried that Timor-Leste could become a
political and economic drag on ASEAN, making consensus even
more difficult than it already was. At the September 2016, Vientiane,
28th and 29th simultaneous ASEAN summits, the chair, LPDR prime
minister Thongloun Sisoulith, noted the completion of the ACCWG’s
studies. The leaders were looking forward, he said, to continued
discussion by the ACCWG, taking into account the findings of the
studies, but without suggestion of a timetable.
Four months earlier the Indonesian ambassador to ASEAN was
quoted as saying that Timor-Leste would become an ASEAN
member in 2017.25 This would correspond with ASEAN’s fiftieth
anniversary, and for the first time the political concept of “one
Southeast Asia” would encompass its geographic reality. In 2017,
the ASEAN chairmanship was held by the Philippines, a long-
standing promoter of Timor-Leste’s membership. Nevertheless, the
April 29, 2017, Chairman’s Statement at the 30th ASEAN Summit
merely noted that Timor-Leste’s application for ASEAN membership
was still under study. Despite Dili’s hopes, its membership was
passed over again at the November 2017 31st ASEAN Summit, with
the Chairman’s Statement only noting that the ACCWG was
continuing to explore Timor-Leste’s relevant capability-building
activities. The 2018 ASEAN chairmanship passed to Singapore,
known to be skeptical of Dili’s membership application.

Papua New Guinea (PNG)

PNG, a former dependency of Australia in an international United
Nations trust territory status, became independent on September 11,
1975. Occupying the eastern half of the island of New Guinea, PNG
shares a land border with Indonesia’s Papua Province. Nine months
after independence, PNG made its first ASEAN appearance as a
Special Observer at the open sessions of the 1976 ninth AMM. A
1981 PNG foreign policy “White Paper” called for an expanded role
in ASEAN. Successive PNG governments have expressed the wish
to become ASEAN’s eleventh member. PNG’s ASEAN membership
is viewed as giving it greater economic access to ASEAN markets
and, through the network of ASEAN Free Trade Areas (FTAs), wider
international trade opportunities. Furthermore, membership in
ASEAN would broaden PNG’s international identity beyond its critical
political and security ties to Australia and Indonesia. When, in 1988,
ASEAN opened the TAC to nonmembers, PNG was the first external
state to accede. It was one of the eight non-ASEAN nations at the
founding meeting of the ASEAN Regional Forum in 1994. As a
possible step forward, at the 1996 29th AMM, the PNG foreign
minister unsuccessfully proposed that PNG become an “associate
member,” a category that did not exist.
After four decades, at the 2017, 50th AMM, PNG’s status was
“guest of the chair,” barred from the integral elements of ASEAN
cooperation. For ASEAN, PNG does not seem to be a fit. A primary
obstacle is that it is a geographic outlier from what is generally
recognized as the Southeast Asian region. Its geopolitical orientation
is to the Southwest Pacific. Its population is Melanesian with few
cultural affinities with the populations of ASEAN. PNG’s short
national history has been marked by political instability, intergroup
violence, social disorder, criminality, and corruption. The domestic
record raised questions concerning PNG’s capacity to meet the
obligations of membership. PNG has argued that it could be a bridge
between ASEAN and the island nations of the Southwest Pacific.
Indonesia would have problems with a PNG dual membership in
ASEAN and the Melanesian Spearhead Group (MSG) that supports
separatists in Indonesia’s Papuan province. The MSG has awarded
official observer status to the United Liberation Movement for West
Papua.

NOTES
1. UNGA 30th Session, “Question of Brunei,” A/RES/3434 (XXX), December 8, 1975.
2. Michael Leifer, “Decolonization and International Status: The Experience of Brunei,”
International Affairs 54, no. 2 (April 1978): 274–78.
3. As cited by Jakarta Radio, May 24, 1978, and reported in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia
and Pacific, May 25, 1978.
4. Jatswan S. Sidhu, Historical Dictionary of Brunei Darussalam, 3rd ed. (Lanham, MD:
Rowman & Littlefield, 2016), 70.
5. Borneo Bulletin, April 18, 1981.
6. The text of Prince Mohamed Bolkiah’s address to the AMM is printed in Pelita Brunei,
June 24, 1981.
7. As quoted in Murray Hiebert, “Vietnam: Into a Wider World,” Far Eastern Economic
Review, November 22, 1990, 17.
8. Hanoi Radio, November 22, 1990, as reported in FBIS, Daily Report, East Asia,
November 23, 1990.
9. “Jakarta and Hanoi Sign Accords,” Straits Times, November 23, 1990.
 10. “Thach Calls for Summit to Boost VN-Thai Relations,” Bangkok Post Weekly Review,
November 9, 1990.
11. “Malaysia and Hanoi to Expand Economic Ties,” Straits Times, February 11, 1990.
12. “Vice Minister Calls on PM Lee in Davos,” Straits Times, February 10, 1990.
13. As cited in chapter 4, n. 23.
14. The special meeting’s statement, accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=joint-
statement-of-the-special-meeting-of-the-asean-foreign-ministers-on-cambodia-kuala-
lumpur-malaysia-10-july-1997.
15. The Chairman’s Press Statement, accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=chairman-s-press-statement-on-asean-3rd-informal-summit-manila-philippines-
28-november-1999.
16. As quoted in the Nation (Bangkok), July 23, 1994, in FBIS, Daily Report, East Asia,
July 23, 1994.
17. “Burma Takes Another Name: Now the Union of Myanmar,” New York Times, June
20, 1989.
18. “Malaysia against Inviting Myanmar to ASEAN Meeting,” Straits Times, July 28, 1992.
19. The Mahathir speech can be accessed at
https://mahathir.com/malaysia/speeches/1997/1997-07-24.php.
20. Ali Alatas, The Pebble in the Shoe: The Diplomatic Struggle for East Timor (Jakarta:
Aksara Kaunia, 2006).
21. Mely Caballero-Anthony and Holly Hayward, “Defining ASEAN’s Role in
Peacebuilding Operations: Helping to Bring Peacebuilding ‘Upstream.’” Civil-Military
Working Papers 3/2010 (Australian Government Asia Pacific Civil-Military Centre of
Excellence), 6.
22. Yang Razali Kassim, “COO6046/Timor as a Failed State a Slap in the Face for
ASEAN?” RSIS Commentary, June 6, 2006, accessed at https://www.rsis.edu.sg/rsis-
publication/idss/801-timor-as-a-failed-state/#.W5pjMehKsjiU.
23. Ramos-Horta’s co-winner was Carlos Filippe Ximenes Belo. The citation was “for their
work towards a just and peaceful solution to the conflict in East Timor.”
24. “RI, Timor Leste Agree to Boost Ties, Border Talks,” Jakarta Post, January 17, 2016.
25. “Timor Leste to Join ASEAN in 2017,” accessed at
https://en/antaranews.com/news/104864/timor-leste-to-join-Asean-in-2017.
*The 1995, Bangkok, fifth ASEAN Summit decided that in the years between the ASEAN
summits, which then met every three years, an informal summit of shorter duration would be
held without the many side meetings of the formal summit. Four informal summits were
held: 1996 and 1997, between the fifth and sixth ASEAN summits, and 1999 and 2000,
between the sixth and seventh. After the seventh ASEAN Summit in 2001, the summits
were held on an annual basis until 2009, after which the summit meetings occurred
semiannually.
*The U.S. government still officially uses Burma rather than Myanmar, and Rangoon
rather than Yangon.
 Chapter 6
Adapting to Peace
The 1988 Third ASEAN Summit

The high politics of the Third Indochina War gave ASEAN an

international political identity that established it as a regional—but
subordinate, despite its later claim to “centrality”—actor in the
Southeast Asian balance of power. Its diplomatic stance in resisting
Vietnam’s invasion of Cambodia lifted ASEAN’s international
reputation “to its highest point.”1 The solidarity of purpose and policy
demonstrated by the ASEAN 5 (later 6), although tested at times,
reflected common strategic interests in the defense and stability of a
regional international order of sovereign states. U.S. secretary of
state George Shultz praised ASEAN’s stalwart stand against
Vietnam, stating that “with each passing year you [ASEAN]
demonstrate new vitality and cohesion, earning the admiration of the
global community.”2 ASEAN’s intervention in the Cambodian conflict
had no direct connection to the economic and functional cooperative
goals of the Bangkok Declaration. It was a politically reflexive
response to what the ASEAN foreign ministers perceived to be a
direct challenge to regional security. The speed and resolve initially
displayed by the foreign ministers was facilitated by their decade-
long collaborative activities as ASEAN ministers. It is unlikely that
what was accomplished in a few days in January 1979 could have
happened without the ASEAN mechanism.3 The issue for ASEAN’s
future was whether the “ASEAN spirit” that flowered in the struggle
against Vietnam could be transferred to the nonsecurity-related
areas of cooperation spelled out in the Bangkok Declaration.
While the ASEAN ministers were deeply engaged in the Indochina
issues, progress in what economists viewed as ASEAN’s real
purpose languished. ASEAN did not become a single-issue
organization—Vietnam in Cambodia—but there was a lack of real
direction for coordinated policies, programs, and structures crucial to
making ASEAN a key player in regional economic development.
After twenty years, there was a sense of drift and opportunities lost
at a time when the region was buffeted by economic uncertainties:
falling commodity prices, growing protectionism, rising external debt
burden, and large current account deficits. One knowledgeable
Filipino critic wrote in 1986: “Measured against the expectations of
economic cooperation born of the expansive rhetoric of ASEAN
leaders . . . ASEAN economic cooperation has yet to move off
Square One.”4 The judgment of Malaysia’s prime minister Mahathir
was unforgiving when he said in 1985 that ASEAN’s achievements in
trade and economic cooperation had been “mediocre or worse.”5 For
the strict constructionists of the Bangkok Declaration, ASEAN was
failing. For the foreign ministers, however, it was a successful
diplomatic concert.
Some proponents of intensified and accelerated regionalist
cooperation attributed the slow pace of ASEAN’s organizational and
programmatic development to the neglect of its political managers,
the foreign ministers, who were preoccupied with ASEAN’s external
engagements rather than intra-ASEAN affairs. This argument was
based on an unproven assumption that if it had not been for the
Third Indochina War, ASEAN’s economic and functional cooperation
would have flourished. The counterargument was that from its origin
ASEAN was about security. If it had not been for the challenge to
security there would not have been an ASEAN.6 Two different visions
of paths ASEAN should have followed on the Bangkok Declaration
road map had emerged. The first, determined by the foreign
ministers, was designed to defend sovereignty and noninterference
in the affairs of member states. In this vision inter-governmental
cooperation was limited by the autonomy of the member states’
pursuit of national interests. The second path was cooperative
engagements that in stages would lead to integrative activities and
the breakdown of national economic boundaries. Championed by
economists, technocrats, academic think tanks, and international
business, the integration-ists looked to the European Economic
Community (EEC) for inspiration, not the Westphalia tradition.
In a new effort to jump-start ASEAN cooperation, at the 1982 15th
AMM, the foreign ministers established an ASEAN Task Force on
ASEAN Cooperation to review ASEAN’s performance, recommend
policies to maximize the attainment of ASEAN’s goals, and identify
new areas of cooperation. It was chaired by Anand Panyarachun, a
future Thai prime minister, but then head of the ASEAN Chamber of
Commerce and Industry (CCI). The task force, made up of three
experts from each ASEAN country, reported its results to the 1984
17th AMM. The heart of the report was forty-one paragraphs of
detailed policy recommendations for enhanced ASEAN economic
and functional cooperation covering the whole range of ASEAN’s
activities.7 The task force’s strategy for cooperation did not deviate
significantly from that of the 1976 Bali I blueprint. It was in many
ways a compromise report that, according to the AMM, confirmed
“that the basic direction of ASEAN is sound and should be pursued
with renewed vigor.”8 As for the recommendations, the foreign
ministers consigned the politically sensitive ones to “further study.”
For the foreign ministers, it was business as usual. The AMM’s
actions on the task force report underscored a critical conclusion of
the report: “Behind all aspects of cooperation lies the political will to
cooperate. ASEAN experience had shown that in the first two
decades there was neither the political will nor the coincidence of
national and regional interests to move ASEAN forward.” Anand
complained that ASEAN “doesn’t know what it wants to be in the
year 2000—there is no master plan.”9
In contrast to the laissez-faire position of ASEAN’s political
stewards, other voices were calling for renewal and rejuvenation of
the “ASEAN spirit” inherent in the Bangkok Declaration. Meeting in
Jakarta in July 1986, the ASEAN CCI proposed that there should be
a radical rethinking of ASEAN’s direction, calling on the six
governments to “adopt meaningful measures that will have the
practical effect of integrating ASEAN markets.”10 Former ASEAN
secretary-general Narciso G. Reyes said that for ASEAN to respond
to its critics in a meaningful way would require “almost a new vision
and a new sense of dedication on the part of ASEAN heads of
government. Vision, dedication and, above all, a fresh infusion of
political will.”11 It was in the discussions and debates over the future
of ASEAN that Bangkok and Manila lobbied for a third heads-of-
government summit to begin to set a post–Indochina War course for
ASEAN. As one ASEAN official put it: “This may be our last chance
to reinvigorate the grouping.”12
The summit its proponents had in mind was an economic summit
that would move ASEAN beyond the politics of the 1976 Bali Summit
(chapter 3). The kind of results that Thai “integrationists” wanted was
most influentially framed by Boonchu Rojanastien, who argued in
1982 that ASEAN’s goal should be to create a common market by
the year 1990.13 Such a goal, he said, is a natural counterpart to the
unity exhibited by ASEAN in foreign policy. Accusing ASEAN’s
leaders of a nineteenth-century pace toward the end of the twentieth
century, Boonchu challenged the foreign ministers to change their
course from “cooperation” to “integration.” This, he admitted, would
“involve some short-term sacrifice for long-term gains.”14 The
economic integrationists’ vision collided with the reality of
Indonesia’s objections to major structural or procedural reform.
Indonesia’s coolness toward proposed ASEAN goals of a common
market or free trade was based on the noncompetitive weakness of
its economy compared to its ASEAN partners. The differences in
perspectives were clear in the Thai and Indonesian statements at the
1986 19th AMM. The Thai deputy foreign minister called for a
“quantum leap” if ASEAN was to sustain its momentum. There would
be no quantum leap for Indonesia. Foreign Minister Mochtar warned
of the dangers in haste. “The slow pace of integration,” he cautioned,
“is the price we have to pay for ASEAN’s cohesion and success.”15
Jakarta’s unwillingness to share its market—the largest in ASEAN—
was buttressed by the oligopolistic political ties between government
and private capital in Indonesia.
 Indonesia’s hesitation was understood by its ASEAN partners.
Solita Monsod, Philippine minister of economic planning, commented
that “the problem is some countries are scared,” pointing out “the
fact that there is tremendous disparity in growth rates and levels of
income makes some countries more cautious than others in adopting
something on a common basis because they feel that they might be
prejudiced.”16 Of all the ASEAN countries, to use the task force’s
words, Indonesia had the least measure of political will and
recognition of the coincidence of national and regional economic
interests to make a political move to market openness.

THE ROAD TO THE THIRD ASEAN SUMMIT

President Ferdinand Marcos was the first to call for a third ASEAN
summit in his address opening the May 20, 1982, 13th ASEAN
Economic Ministers’ Meeting, where he said that a summit would
provide “fresh impetus” for greater cooperation.17 In Bangkok, Thai
foreign minister Siddhi Savetsila broached the subject at the 1983
16th AMM. The following year, at the 17th AMM, he called attention
to the fact that the twentieth anniversary of ASEAN was
approaching, and he told his peers: “It may be appropriate for us to
begin thinking of another set of guide lines for the next generation of
ASEAN cooperative endeavors.”18 Siddhi’s suggestion coincided with
President Marcos’s urgings for a summit. Manila, like Bangkok, felt it
had the most to gain from greater ASEAN cooperation, particularly
trade. Marcos had other motives as well. By ASEAN rotation, a
summit would be held in Manila. The hosting of an ASEAN summit
would burnish his political image, badly tarnished by the
assassination of his rival, Benigno “Ninoy”Aquino, in August 1983.
From that point on, Marcos’s domestic difficulties led to a joking tag
of the “ASEAN five and a half.”
Prospects for a Manila summit were dimmed by a lack of
enthusiasm from Malaysia and Indonesia. In Kuala Lumpur, Prime
Minister Mahathir made it clear that he would not officially visit
Manila as long as the Philippines continued to claim sovereignty over
East Malaysia’s Sabah State. Although Marcos had verbally
renounced the Philippines claim at the 1977 Kuala Lumpur Summit,
as noted in chapter 3, there had been no constitutional or statutory
follow-through by the Philippines’ government. For Indonesia, which,
as noted above, was most protective in defending its economy from
regionalization, a third summit geared to greater liberalization of
ASEAN economies would not be in its national interest. In that case,
no summit was better than a failed summit, which might be
disastrous for ASEAN unity.
One aspect of the proposed summit that might appeal to Indonesia
was an attack on the inequities in the region’s dealings with the
markets and economic institutions of the developed world. This was
a theme that had been most radically articulated by Prime Minister
Mahathir. In this respect, ASEAN was prepared for Thai elder
statesman Kukrit Pramoj’s August 1984 appeal—with reference to
Boonchu’s vision—for an urgent summit that would draw up an
ASEAN treaty of integration that would “send a strong warning to the
industrialized countries that ASEAN with its 258 million people will
not sit idly by to watch the fruits of their development be destroyed
by international economic deterioration and growing protectionism.”19
It was left to Thai prime minister Prem to convince President Suharto
to go along with the summit proposal. In an empat mata meeting in
September 1985, Suharto told Prem that Indonesia would study the
proposal for a summit, but that there was no urgent need. The
Indonesian president said, “A summit can be held once a decade,
and if that is the case, the next one will be held in 1987.”20
Finally, in December 1985, the Thai foreign minister could
announce that agreement in principle had been reached for an
ASEAN heads-of-government meeting, but without naming a date or
venue. One obstacle to the summit had been removed. Prime
Minister Mahathir agreed to attend a Manila meeting as long as it
was understood that he was attending an ASEAN meeting with no
Malaysia-Philippines bilateral context. However, even as the ASEAN
senior officials were working out the details of the summit meeting,
the collapse of the Marcos government in the Philippines stunned
ASEAN’s leaders.

The “People Power” Revolution and ASEAN

As previous chapters have shown, a key word in ASEAN official
lexicon is “stability.” This includes the modalities of regime change. It
is not surprising then that the 1986 ousting of President Ferdinand
Marcos from his two-decades-long presidency was met with
consternation by his ASEAN fellow heads of government. Marcos
was a founding ASEAN leader. During his tenure, his ASEAN
counterparts were indifferent to the political quality of his
government, approving its anticommunism, commitment to the
ASEAN way, and hosting of American military bases. The
destruction of the Philippines’ democracy was considered to be a
domestic matter outside of ASEAN’s brief—that is, until its
consequences threatened ASEAN itself.
Growing popular protests against President Marcos focused on
Corazon “Cory”Aquino, the widow of the martyred “Ninoy” Aquino.
The tipping point for ASEAN came with the February 7, 1986, snap
election, which pitted Marcos against Aquino. The election was
rigged and stolen by Marcos, who was declared winner by his
packed legislative accomplices. The mass protests of the “People
Power” revolution were underway. As one Singaporean official put it,
there had been hope that the vote would create stability, but “now we
have the worst of both worlds.”21 It soon became obvious that the
polarization of politics in the Philippines reflected in the political,
economic, and social cleavages motivating the anti-Marcos
movement could not be bridged by grudging concessions and that
forceful repression could lead to widespread violence. The ASEAN
leaders were faced with possible outcomes that could cripple
ASEAN. Direct American intervention either to save or topple Marcos
would undermine the ZOPFAN and ASEAN’s historical
anticolonialism. Although some in ASEAN might welcome it, a
Philippine army takeover could lead to civil war. Yet, a prolonged
crisis and civil conflict could open the door to a leftist government
backed by a resurgent Communist Party of the Philippines. This
would disrupt the ASEAN consensus and threaten the American
bases. Finally, there was concern about a spillover of the
phenomenon of a popular uprising into the domestic politics of other
ASEAN states. These aspects of the crisis were reflected in a
Jakarta Post editorial, often a mirror of Indonesia’s foreign ministry’s
views: “ASEAN cohesion and Indonesia’s internal stability will be
affected by the worsening crisis.”22
Given the possible alternatives, once it became clear that Marcos
could not salvage the situation without plunging the country into
political chaos, the ASEAN leaders realistically accepted the fact that
a peaceful transfer of the Philippines’ presidency, with all of its
political unknowns, was preferable to a Marcos attempt to remain in
power at all costs, which could be regionally destabilizing. In an
unprecedented departure from ASEAN’s norm of noninterference,
the ASEAN foreign ministers coordinated a joint statement that was
released simultaneously from five ASEAN capitals on February 23,
1986:23
As member states of ASEAN, Brunei Darussalam, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and
Thailand have followed with increasing concern the turn of events following the
presidential elections in the Philippines. A critical situation has emerged which portends
bloodshed and civil war. The crisis can be resolved without widespread carnage and
political turmoil. We call on all parties to restore national unity and solidarity so as to
maintain national resilience. There is still time to act with restraint and bring about a
peaceful resolution of the crisis. We hope that all Filipino leaders will join efforts to pave
the way to a peaceful solution to the crisis.

Even though the foreign ministers refrained from calling upon

Marcos to step down, the fact that the ASEAN ministers had formally
and publicly addressed the crisis demonstrated their appreciation of
the gravity of the moment. By implicitly holding Marcos responsible,
ASEAN placed the political burden on him. A Thai foreign ministry
spokesman said: “The situation in the Philippines reflects the fact
that politics in the ASEAN countries is not like 15 to 20 years ago,
when one man can dictate.”24 Opinion in Jakarta was more direct:
“The political crisis in the Philippines has worsened to such an extent
in the past few days that violence and bloodshed can now be
avoided only if Mr. Marcos steps down from the presidency he so
questionably claimed after the last election.”25
It was with no small sense of relief that the ASEAN leaders
welcomed the departure of Marcos and family to Honolulu at the
urging of U.S. president Ronald Reagan and the presidential
ascendency of Corazon Aquino. Foreign Minister Rithauddeen said
in a statement that Malaysia was gratified and relieved by the
developments and “congratulates the Filipino people in their hour of
triumph and fulfillment after such a determined and courageous
struggle.”26 Prime Minister Prem, speaking for his government and
the Thai people, was less effusive but still warm: “We respect and
admire the Philippine people for their struggle which resulted in a
peaceful change of government.”27 While not disclosing the contents
of President Suharto’s congratulatory message to Aquino, Foreign
Minister Mochtar admitted that the outcome in Manila had afforded
ASEAN “relative relief.”28 There were questions in some ASEAN
quarters about whether the new, untested government in Manila
would be prepared to assume the burden of an ASEAN summit.
President Suharto made it clear that the summit should go forward
as a sign of ASEAN solidarity in its support for the Philippines’ new
president. Singapore prime minister Lee Kuan Yew acknowledged
this in his opening remarks at the summit, telling President Aquino
that Suharto set the example: “President Suharto wanted us to show
united ASEAN support for your government at a time when there
were attempts to destabilize your government.”29

On to the Summit
President Aquino was a political unknown to ASEAN’s leaders. She
had not been part of ASEAN’s circulating elite. The new government
made its ASEAN debut at the April 1986, Bali, Special Foreign
Ministers’ Meeting, where Salvador “Doy” Laurel, the Philippines’
vice president—concurrently foreign minister—joined his new
colleagues in meeting U.S. president Reagan (chapter 4). During her
election campaign, Aquino had pledged a special effort to revitalize
the Philippines’ relationships with its ASEAN neighbors. She
reiterated this two days after taking office when, meeting with the
ASEAN ambassadors to the Philippines, she promised that her
government would work closely with ASEAN.30 She underlined the
region’s importance for her administration by choosing in August to
make her first overseas official presidential visit to Indonesia and
Singapore, not the United States, the country’s historical ally.
Prime Minister Mahathir had hoped that President Aquino would
relinquish the Sabah claim as falsely promised by Marcos. Although
not pursued vigorously by Manila, it still clouded Malaysia-
Philippines relations as ASEAN partners. In extending his
congratulations to President Aquino, the Malaysian prime minister
said, “It is our hope that Malaysia and the Philippines will be able to
gather fresh impetus to examine various aspects of our relationship
in the interest of even deeper friendship between us.”31 In his first
major statement on Philippine foreign policy, Foreign Minister Laurel
addressed the issue, declaring the government was prepared to
undertake new negotiations to resolve the dispute. “In the process,”
he stated, “ASEAN also would be greatly strengthened. The final
resolution of the Sabah question would signal the beginning of a new
era in the relations between the two countries concerned, while
reinforcing the growth of close ties and cooperation among all
ASEAN members.”32 Malaysian foreign minister Rithauddeen echoed
his Filipino counterpart, saying that this would not only improve the
bilateral relationship but would be in line with ASEAN objectives.33
Despite Manila’s acknowledgment that the resolution of the Sabah
dispute was a necessary condition for closer ties with Malaysia,
there was no renunciation of the claim. President Aquino’s policy
simply picked up where Marcos left off. The question for Malaysia
was what is there to negotiate. President Aquino’s position was that
her government would engage in “sincere and forthright dealings”
with Malaysia in seeking a solution based on the principles of self-
determination and justice.34 For Malaysia, self-determination and
justice were served in the process of incorporating Sabah into the
Malaysian federation. The Philippines’ reluctance to abandon the
claim had become embedded in Philippines nationalism.
Settling into office, President Aquino had two upcoming ASEAN
tasks: hosting the 19th AMM in June 1986, followed by the third
ASEAN summit originally scheduled for July 1987. With both
Indonesia and Malaysia on board and the “situation in the
Philippines” peacefully resolved, the joint communiqué of the 19th
AMM led off with the announcement that the summit would be held
in Manila in July 1987. Strikingly, given that Kampuchea was still on
the AMM’s agenda, the AMM’s foreign ministers agreed that “the
most significant aspect of the meeting was that it laid the foundation
for the summit.” Singapore prime minister Lee Kuan Yew was the
first ASEAN head of state to meet President Aquino on an official
visit to Manila in June 1986. He emphasized to his hostess how
important the summit was, both internationally in terms of the
economic issues to be addressed and as a symbolic expression of
ASEAN support for the Aquino government.35
President Aquino’s approach to the economic issues in ASEAN
conformed to the Philippines’ established strategy of promoting the
opening of the regional economies for intra-ASEAN trade. Her style
was different, however. In her speech opening the 19th AMM on
June 23, 1986, she lectured the foreign ministers, reciting a litany of
ASEAN’s failed expectations and aspirations.36 Looking forward to
the summit, she urged them to consider how far short of their goals
of economic and functional cooperation ASEAN had fallen. She
called on them to reexamine the problems that threatened to render
meaningless continued association. “After 19 years of existence,”
she said, “ASEAN should already be evaluating the impact of
economic cooperation instead of endlessly discussing how to get it
off the ground.” She took the rostrum to a standing ovation; she left it
to polite applause. Some establishment ASEAN officials felt that her
rhetorical “blast” was inappropriate and ill-timed for someone so new
to the organization, but it did reflect the views of the many
proponents of regional integration that the organization had slipped
into a malaise.
Two months later, on August 26, President Aquino opened the
18th ASEAN Economic Ministers’ Meeting. Her message was
essentially the same, but more measured and moderate. She noted
that almost all of the steps that were essential for the attainment of
ASEAN’s economic objectives had failed, but that peace and stability
reigned. ASEAN would endure regardless of the speed of
cooperation.37 The lesson she had learned, she said, was that the
real essence of ASEAN was in the region’s peace and stability and
the friendship among its members. Knowingly or not, Aquino’s
remarks disconnected economic cooperation from ASEAN’s political
qualities and assigned ASEAN’s primacy to the latter. This was a
retreat from her position two months earlier that failure in economic
cooperation would render ASEAN meaningless.
Not only did Aquino have complaints, she had a plan that put her
squarely on the side of ASEAN’s integrationists. It was unveiled in
the conceptually inhospitable environment of Jakarta. During her
August 1987 visit, she called for a duty-free ASEAN common market
by the year 2000. The agenda was similar to Boonchu’s, but perhaps
more realistically, having a decade longer timetable. The Philippines’
exuberant and energetic secretary of trade and industry, José
Concepcion, chairing the Economic Ministers’ Meeting, tried to make
it the centerpiece. In his opening address, Concepcion told his fellow
ministers: “What is crucial to remember is that the ASEAN dream
can finally be a reality in 14 years, in the year 2000, if we are
prepared to take the steps towards it today.”38 The ministers were not
so prepared. Concepcion drove the discussions into contentious
areas of economic policy but without gaining a consensus. At the
end, the final communiqué stated: “The concept of intra-ASEAN free
trade was also discussed and will be further studied.”
In the course of the political run-up to the third summit, it was clear
that Indonesia would not accept an integrationist revolution in
ASEAN’s economic strategy. Jakarta was not going to open
Indonesian markets to its more competitive ASEAN co-members.
Since decision-making was by consensus, the programs offered by
Thai and Filipino economists could not advance. In an effort to give
ASEAN space to the integrationists, Singapore’s foreign affairs
minister Suppiah Dhanabalan, speaking at the 19th AMM, introduced
the “ASEAN-minus-X” formula in economic decision-making. This
would allow agreement among some members of ASEAN to go
forward without other members so long as the interests of the
nonparticipant(s) were not harmed and future participation was
allowed. This would give ASEAN a flexibility it lacked. On first
inspection, this seemed a pragmatic way of moving forward.
Realistically, however, if Indonesia were a consistent “X,” it could
prove fatal to ASEAN’s solidarity and coherence, providing for
functional economic secession while maintaining a political role.
Although the proposal did not move forward at the time, the seed of
the idea sprouted in the future and became institutionalized in the
ASEAN Economic Community (AEC), where it is limited by the
requirement of ASEAN consensus before the ASEAN-minus-X
formula can be applied.
The Herzog Incident
As the preparations for the third ASEAN summit were well underway,
it was threatened again with derailment when diplomatic relations
between Singapore and Indonesia and Malaysia collapsed. Carl
Trocki wrote in 1980 that “Islam may be seen as a threat to the
stability of ASEAN.”39 The threat was realized when Israel’s president
Chaim Herzog paid an official visit to Singapore in November 1986,
provoking a storm of protest in Muslim Southeast Asia. Manila had
already canceled Herzog’s planned Philippines visit in anticipation of
controversy endangering the summit. Malaysia recalled its high
commissioner from Singapore and Indonesia, its ambassador. In its
note to the Singapore foreign ministry, Jakarta “regretted Singapore’s
lack of sensitivity towards the position of some ASEAN countries in
relation to Israel and was concerned over the repercussions this
could have on ASEAN solidarity.”40 In Malaysia, Singapore was
condemned as a base for Zionist subversion. As Malaysian protests
mounted, there were veiled threats to Singapore’s water supply,
sourced in Malaysia, and calls to expel Singapore from ASEAN, or at
least cancel the summit. The anti-Singapore reactions of its ASEAN
neighbors have to be considered in the context of existing bilateral
irritations. Malaysian anger fit into Prime Minister Mahathir’s view of
ethnically Chinese Singapore being a base for anti-Muslim plots. In
Singapore, Foreign Affairs Minister Dhanabalan tried to put the
question of Singapore-Israel ties in a different perspective by
comparing the different relations of ASEAN states with Israel to
different relations with China.41 This ignored the Malay-Chinese
ethnic cleavage that gave special tensions to the states’ bilateral
relations.
The impact on ASEAN of the Herzog crisis was profound. For the
first time, the ASEAN norm of noninterference in the affairs of other
ASEAN states was given a corollary: so long as the political
sensibilities of other states are not offended. Singapore senior
statesman S. Rajaratnam responded to Singapore’s critics by
saying, “If you can have friends to help you, good. If not, just depend
on youself.”42 This was pouring gasoline on the fire. The Malaysian
media was unleashed: “As Mr. Rajaratnam’s arrogant statement
must reflect the view of the Singapore government, it would be wise
for countries in this region, particularly for those desiring justice for
the Palestinians, to reconsider their ties with Singapore.”43 Those
ties, of course, included ASEAN. As anti-Singapore opinion
mushroomed amid concerns about possible Malaysian refusal to
attend a summit with Singapore, voices counseling restraint were
heard. Thai foreign minister Siddhi called for the media “to play down
the controversy, hoping that ultimately ASEAN unity will prevail.”44
Indonesia’s Mochtar echoed Bangkok’s sentiments, expressing his
belief that ASEAN solidarity would survive. He warned, however, that
ASEAN might not be so fortunate in the future if a similar episode
were to repeat itself.45
The July 1987 date for the third summit was postponed to August
in order to coincide with ASEAN’s twentieth anniversary. It was
postponed again to December, ostensibly because the preparatory
work involved in fashioning a consensus joint statement was going
slowly. Also, Malaysia was hanging back, piqued by the Aquino
government’s lack of action on erasing the Sabah claim. The long-
awaited third ASEAN summit did not live up to the expectations of
the Thai and Filipino free traders. It was a foregone conclusion that a
conservative view of ASEAN economic strategy would prevail.
Indonesia chaired the summit’s steering committee set up by the
1986 19th AMM to manage the summit. A bold move forward on
trade was no longer on the table. President Suharto, on a post-
Herzog-incident fence-mending visit, had met with Prime Minister
Lee in February 1987. Discussing the summit’s agenda, they ruled
out consideration of either a common market or free-trade area.46 In
the six meetings between October 1986 and November 1987, the
steering committee kept well within the boundaries of established
economic policy. Rather than blazing a new integrative trail, the
summit called for enhancing the Preferential Trading Arrangement
(PTA), which, as noted in chapter 3, had only marginally increased
intra-ASEAN trade. The leaders took cognizance of the different
levels of economic development in ASEAN, and that certain
countries (i.e., Indonesia) could be phased into the improved PTA
over a period of time. They also recognized the need to encourage
better coordination between the foreign and economic ministers by
authorizing—not mandating—joint ministerial meetings (JMM) “to be
held as necessary.” The JMM did not become a regular part of
ASEAN’s operations, nor have the economic ministers become co-
equals of the foreign ministers in directing ASEAN.
In a nod to ASEAN promoters of more structurally significant trade
liberalization measures, the heads of state did commit to “a long-
term goal of expansion of intra-ASEAN trade.” Buried in the joint
statement, there was a prophetic reference to what would evolve to
be ASEAN’s largest economic partner. The summit “noted the
changes around ASEAN that open up opportunities and challenges
for their countries including the modernization program of China.” As
promised, the ASEAN leaders deplored their international trading
partners’ protectionism and unfair practices. Finally, rather than
adopt Suharto’s position on decennial summits, the leaders called for
summits every three to five years.
Even though, in the end, Indonesia’s pace for change controlled
ASEAN’s economic strategy, the discussions and debate on ASEAN
economic policy had been important in raising the issues of
liberalizing ASEAN trade regimes to the highest leadership levels,
where it would stay. One criticism of the debate was the attention
given to a proposal for a common market. Malaysia’s minister of
international trade and industry complained that the focus on a
common market had blinded ASEAN member nations to other forms
of economic cooperation.47 Even a refocused argument would not
have moved Indonesia at that time. The emergence of ASEAN’s
economic dimension in a search for new relevance would only find
policy agreement when Indonesia’s leaders recognized the
coincidence of their national and international interests. The
uniqueness of Indonesia’s place in ASEAN’s economy was
described by one of its leading political economists:
ASEAN is too small for Indonesia when we speak of economic relations and
cooperation. Therefore it is difficult for Indonesia to get a fair economic share from
regulations within ASEAN. This is because the potential of the Indonesian market is
much bigger than that of the other ASEAN countries. Yet, Indonesia’s big weight tends
to cause ASEAN to be pushed down by Indonesia, unconsciously of course.48

While economics was on center stage in Manila in December

1987, the summit took place against a backdrop of a changing
regional geostrategic environment. Not only had “People Power”
brought Cory Aquino the presidency, it propelled the nationalist
campaign against the American bases in the Philippines.

ASEAN AND THE AMERICAN PHILIPPINES BASES

With Cory Aquino ensconced in Malacañang Palace, the Philippines
presidential residence, Filipinos turned to the restoration of
democracy and economic growth. One issue in particular provoked
the same kinds of passions as the anti-Marcos movement. This was
the negotiation of a renewal of the 1947 U.S.-Philippines Military
Bases Agreement (MBA) due to expire in 1991. At its greatest
extent, the MBA covered twenty-three sites, the most important of
which were the naval base facilities at Subic Bay and Clark Air Base.
It was originally negotiated in the framework of the Philippines’
independence and had a ninety-nine-year term (2045). It was
amended in 1959 to twenty-five years, but the clock on that did not
start until the 1959 agreement was ratified in 1966. In 1983, it was
agreed that the MBA would be reviewed every five years. Coming
into office, Aquino was confronted with two dates: 1988, the second
five-year review; and September 16, 1990, the expiration of the one-
year prior notice in the termination clause of the agreement.
From its inception, the MBA was a lightning rod for Filipino
nationalism. To its foes, the MBA was a neocolonial degradation of
Philippine sovereignty and independence. For them the bases
served only American national interest. Defenders of the MBA
viewed it as a guaranty of the special relationship with the United
States and a flow of assistance and trade privileges. At the height of
their usage, the bases’ employment was second only to the
Philippines’ government and contributed 3 percent of the Philippines’
gross national product (GNP). For the United States, the Philippines
bases were an integral part of its Cold War East Asian and Pacific
deterrent and defense system. On a bilateral level, the bases’
presence backed up the U.S.-Philippine Mutual Defense Treaty
(MDT). For both Manila and Washington, the bases were viewed as
a key element in the maintenance of the regional balance of power
and, as such, contributing to ASEAN’s goal of regional peace and
stability.
During the Marcos years, the bases became political hostages for
American support of his regime. Despite the urgings by human rights
advocates and congressional grumblings, the American
administrations continued to embrace the Marcos government. U.S.
vice president George H. W. Bush, in Manila for President Marcos’s
1981 third inauguration, toasted him, saying: “We love your
adherence to democratic principles and the democratic process.”49
President Reagan, toasting Marcos at a state dinner on Septemer 6,
1982, emphasized the two countries’ security ties: “Today a strong
defense alliance is a major factor in contributing to the security of the
Philippines and to the maintenance of peace and security in Asia.”50
For the anti-Marcos protesters, the bases became a symbol of
American collusion with a corrupt oppressor. If Marcos had to go, so
too did the American bases.
As the domestic issue of post-1991 renewal of the U.S. bases
sharpened, the United States made the strategic implications of the
loss of the bases clear to ASEAN. American ambassador to
Indonesia Paul Wolfowitz pointed out two realities about the U.S.
presence in the region. The first was the great distance separating
the United States and the region, which meant that if the United
States were to have a presence in the region, it required access to
the facilities of friends and allies. The second was that in the
absence of a “steady course” in the region, “American involvement
should not be taken for granted as something that will simply be
forced on unwilling partners.”51 Regional security managers were
conscious that an American retreat and strategic isolation from the
region would lead to what was euphemistically a defense imbalance:
the Soviet Union’s presence in Vietnam; China’s regional ambitions;
and Japan with no alternative but to bolster its presence.
The Philippines’ ASEAN partners looked on nervously as the
future of the bases was questioned in the post-Marcos political
environment. The anti-American left and radical nationalists opposed
any renewal of base rights. The Manila foreign- and security-policy
elite had an outlook that placed the bases in a broader context than
solely a matter of U.S.-Philippines bilateral relations. According to
Emmanuel Pelaez, a former vice president and Aquino’s
ambassador to the United States, the Philippines had to consider the
regional balance of power and security in Southeast Asia and the
interest of ASEAN and other Asia-Pacific neighbors.52 The problem
for the advocates of the argument for the bases’ regional security
function was that, while unofficially acknowledged in ASEAN, it had
never been explicitly expressed by ASEAN. In fact, at the public
level, the possible termination of the bases seemed for some
ASEAN countries, particularly Malaysia, to fit logically into ASEAN’s
emphasis on the ZOPFAN. USSR leader Mikhail Gorbachev had
stirred the ZOPFAN promoters when, in his famous July 1986
Vladivostok speech announcing new Soviet Asian policy, he stated:
“I would like to say that if the U.S. were to give up its military
presence in the Philippines, let’s say, we would not leave this step
unanswered.”53
Raul Manglapus, Cory Aquino’s secretary for foreign affairs,
commented that ASEAN must come to a common position and
accept an American military presence as a joint political position.54
This became Manila’s official position. Traveling in the ASEAN
countries in November 1987, Michael Armacost, U.S. undersecretary
of state, said that “ASEAN countries must decide for themselves
whether the U.S. bases in the Philippines contribute to their security
and whether and how to communicate that to the Philippine
government.”55 Leading up to the third summit, Foreign Secretary
Manglapus lobbied his fellow foreign ministers for an ASEAN
consensual statement supporting the continuation of U.S. bases in
the Philippines. Without ASEAN backing, Manglapus said, “as of
now, I do not see it possible that the [Philippine] Senate will ratify a
renewal of the [MBA] treaty with the U.S.”56 Trying to put the onus for
failure on ASEAN, Manglapus went further, arguing that if ASEAN
was not willing to assume joint political responsibility for the bases
and decided that the ZOPFAN was not served by the U.S. presence,
“then the rest of ASEAN should join with the Philippines in asking the
U.S. to withdraw.”57
Indonesia and Malaysia strongly opposed an ASEAN joint
statement of support. The issue was not defense relations with the
United States since every ASEAN state had bilateral security ties to
the United States and was politically allied with the United States in
the Third Indochina War. Jakarta was particularly concerned that
such a statement of formal ASEAN endorsement of U.S. bases in
Southeast Asia would undermine progress toward the ZOPFAN.
Another factor was President Suharto’s ambition to lead the NAM.
An ASEAN-U.S. defense tie, even if not an alliance, would damage
his prospects. Furthermore, Washington’s diplomatic support for
Manglapus’s ASEAN lobbying was viewed as driving a wedge
between Indonesia and its ASEAN partners. The public explanation
was that the matter was a U.S.-Philippines bilateral question and
subject to the ASEAN noninterference norm. This ignored the fact
that it was the Philippines itself that was seeking ASEAN
engagement. The lack of consensus left Manila isolated and, in fact,
was seized upon by the MBA’s opponents as proof that an
agreement would be contra-ASEAN.
In August 1989, President Aquino was still appealing personally to
ASEAN to take a stand on whether the bases contributed to regional
security. “It would be good,” she said, “for ASEAN members to
express clearly whether they agree with such a position” and
whether they consider it to be “in the interest of the region to
continue having U.S. facilities [in the Philippines].”58 Only Singapore
and Thailand gave an unqualified favorable response. These two
countries were the hard-liner states in ASEAN’s resistance to Soviet-
backed Vietnam in the Third Indochina War. Although it was not
expressed publicly, there was the feeling in some Philippine official
circles that ASEAN was getting a “free ride,” enjoying the regional
strategic stability in which the U.S.-Philippines alliance relationship
had an important part but without paying the political costs.
The Aquino government wanted burden sharing in ASEAN for the
supposed geostrategic regional benefits of forward-deployed U.S.
military forces. The issue of burden sharing was not a technical
question. It was political. Malaysian security analyst Muthiah
Alagappa put it succinctly: “Although the ASEAN states value the
bases, they don’t want to host them.”59 Only Singapore was willing to
support Aquino through burden sharing. On August 4, 1989, George
Yeo, minister of state for finance and minister of state for foreign
affairs, announced that the government was prepared to host some
U.S. military facilities in order “to make it easier for the Philippines to
continue to host the U.S. bases.”60 To the expected criticism that this
was counter to Singapore’s endorsement of the ZOPFAN and
nonalignment, the response was that until the ZOPFAN was
achieved, the U.S. presence was necessary to strengthen regional
stability. This was the beginning of a long, durable U.S.-Singapore
security relationship. In 1990, a U.S.-Singapore memorandum of
understanding allowed American access to naval and air facilities in
Singapore. Malaysia was quick to object to the Singapore decision.
Although Kuala Lumpur’s opposition was couched in terms of
ZOPFAN and heightening great-power rivalry in Southeast Asia,
other interests were at play. Given the political volatility of their
bilateral relations, the prospect of a foreign military presence in
Singapore was not greeted warmly by its cross-causeway neighbor.
The final MBA negotiations in 1991 led to a ten-year agreement.
The urgency the United States had historically felt about the bases
had eased as the Cold War wound down. An eruption of Mt.
Pinatubo had rendered Clark Air Base unusable. The primary issue
was the compensation package for Subic Bay. The settlement
reached was on U.S. terms. Article 18:25 of the 1987 democratic
constitution provided that any foreign military base, troops, or
facilities shall not be allowed unless by treaty concurred with by the
Philippine Senate. In the Senate, after a bitter and emotional debate,
the agreement was rejected by a 12–11 vote. The Philippines offered
a three-year phase-out period. This was shortened by the United
States to one year, the end of 1992. The alternative for the United
States in Southeast Asia was to find “places,” not “bases,” in ASEAN
countries for access and developing a robust bilateral program for
military cooperation. In 2014, the United States and the Philippines
signed an Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement, which, after
twenty-two years, allowed the U.S. military access to Philippines
bases in the context of a different regional great-power threat
environment.

SOUTHEAST ASIA NUCLEAR WEAPON–FREE ZONE

Although the conferees at the 1987 third ASEAN Summit in Manila
failed to address the question of the U.S. bases in the Philippines,
they did reassert their goal of an early realization of a Southeast Asia
Nuclear Weapon-Free Zone (SEANWFZ) as the first step in the
implementation of the ZOPFAN. The seed for a regional NWFZ had
been planted in the 1971 Kuala Lumpur ZOPFAN Declaration
(chapter 3). In it, ASEAN took cognizance “of the significant trend
towards establishing nuclear free zones.” It referenced the 1967
Tlatelolco Treaty for the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons in Latin
America and the Caribbean and, in error, the 1970 Lusaka
Declaration proclaiming an African nuclear-free zone.* A later and
more relevant zone as model was the 1985 Rarotonga Treaty
establishing the South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone (SPNFZ).
Malaysian foreign minister Rithauddeen explained that “the concept
of a nuclear-weapon-free-zone, of course is inherent in the ZOPFAN
concept and would constitute one of the attributes or prerequisites
for a Zone of Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality in Southeast Asia.”61
Indonesia’s enthusiasm for a declaratory SEANWFZ was not shared
by the Philippines and Thailand, America’s Cold War allies. They
questioned the practicality of making the scheme operational. U.S.
senior officials visiting the region made clear Washington’s
objections to the proposed nuclear weapon–free zone. American
defense partners in the region were well aware that New Zealand’s
1984 Nuclear Free Zone effectively terminated the Australia–New
Zealand–United States (ANZUS) pact.
Unfazed, Indonesia, backed by Malaysia, kept a proposed NWFZ
politically alive on the ASEAN agenda. By ASEAN rotation,
Indonesia chaired the July 1984 17th AMM, giving it the opportunity
to revitalize the NWFZ as an ASEAN priority. The ministers charged
the ZOPFAN Working Group, chaired by Indonesia, with studying the
elements of an NWFZ. By the July 1986 19th AMM, at Indonesia’s
urgings, the foreign ministers tasked their senior officials with
drafting a treaty. Indonesia had hoped a draft treaty would be ready
to be signed at the Manila summit. ASEAN, however, moving at the
pace of the slowest member, was not ready for that. Jakarta had to
content itself with the summit’s joint communiqué statement:
 ASEAN should intensify its efforts towards the early establishment of a Nuclear
Weapon Free Zone in Southeast Asia, including the continuation of the consideration of
all aspects relating to the establishment of the Zone and of an appropriate instrument to
establish the Zone.

With the summit statement, Foreign Minister Mochtar could

correctly assert that the SEANWFZ “is not only Indonesian, it is an
ASEAN thing now.”62 Indonesia, with the assistance of Malaysia, had
been able to place the proposed SEANWFZ as a first step toward
implementing the ZOPFAN near the top of ASEAN’s political agenda,
second only to the settlement of the Third Indochina War. The most
reluctant ASEAN member to endorse the SEANWFZ had been the
Philippines, host to the U.S. bases. President Marcos had been
amenable to American objections to the SEANWFZ initiative.
Corazon Aquino’s government changed that. Article 2:8 of the 1987
constitution read: “The Philippines, consistent with the national
interest, adopts and pursues a policy of freedom from nuclear
weapons in its territories.”63 This declaration, together with the base
closures, removed what had been a major block to an ASEAN
consensus on a SEANWFZ.
Before the third summit, ASEAN had looked to a vague, indefinite
future time frame for realization of the SEANWFZ. President
Suharto, addressing fellow leaders, tried to speed it up: “ASEAN
effort to create the elements of a zone, which will make important
contributions to peace and security in our region should be continued
and intensified even though the Cambodian issue has not been
settled.”64 Suharto qualified his efforts to press ASEAN forward by
noting that “ASEAN will certainly continue to take into account the
interests of other countries concerned.” For the great powers, the
interests were strategic mobility. It was not until 1995 that the
SEANWFZ treaty was signed (chapter 7). Suharto’s sense of
urgency reflected, in part, Indonesia’s diplomatic efforts to broker a
peace settlement in Cambodia (chapter 4). The ZOPFAN and
SEANWFZ were among the arguments Jakarta used to convince
Hanoi of ASEAN’s peaceful intentions.
During the course of the intra-ASEAN negotiations on the
SEANWFZ, a Bangkok editorial writer commented: “The fact an
ASEAN country is actively pursuing it [NWFZ] indicates that a
beachhead has already been established.”65 In pushing for the
SEANWFZ, Indonesia was not just any ASEAN country. Indonesia’s
drive for the zone was another example of its leading role in ASEAN.
Through the proposal for ASEAN adoption of an NWFZ, Indonesia
was pressing its own interest in the reduction of regional
dependence on external military power. Any reduction in great-power
presence in the region could only increase Indonesia’s regional
relative power. President Suharto, in a low-key fashion, had
assumed the position of ASEAN’s senior statesman. This was not
without some pushback, especially from Malaysia’s Mahathir.
Indonesia’s political weight could tip the scales for ASEAN’s
development, as in the case of the NWFZ, or act as a brake, as in
the case of trade liberalization. Indonesia’s ASEAN partners, while
structurally not required to follow Indonesia’s lead, understood that
Indonesian membership and cooperation were essential if ASEAN
was to succeed. Indonesia’s role in ASEAN enhanced its
international profile as a rising regional aspirant middle power,
affirming its position in the world.
By the time of the third summit, Indonesia’s Suharto government
had been in power for twenty years. Now, on a domestic platform of
political stability and economic growth, it was ready to emerge from
its original low-profile foreign policy approach to a more assertive
stance. For ASEAN, Indonesia’s appreciation of its national interests
and capabilities meant that Jakarta would no longer just “go along to
get along.” This was apparent in Mochtar’s Vietnam policy (chapter
4), trade policy, and the SEANWFZ. Jakarta’s willingness to follow its
own lead caused questions to be raised as to the depth of
Indonesia’s commitment to ASEAN. Was Indonesia outgrowing
ASEAN as it sought a regional leadership role consonant with its
relative power and political confidence? British scholar Michael Leifer
wrote: “There is a growing willingness in Jakarta to think about the
unthinkable because ASEAN is seen as holding Indonesia back.”66
This was put succinctly by a leading Indonesian analyst of ASEAN in
the Suharto years: “ASEAN needs Indonesia more than Indonesia
needs ASEAN.”67
 NOTES
1. Donald K. Emmerson, “Goldilocks’s Problem: Rethinking Security and Sovereignty in
Asia,” in Sheldon W. Simon, ed., The Many Faces of Asian Security (Lanham, MD: Rowman
& Littlefield, 2001), 96.
2. Secretary George Shultz, “The U.S. and ASEAN: Partners for Peace and
Development,” U.S. Department of State, Current Policy, no. 722 (July 1985).
3. In a June 1982 interview with the author, Indonesian foreign minister Mochtar
Kusumaatmadja emphasized the ease, frequency, and informality of exchanges among
ASEAN foreign ministers.
4. David SyCip, “ASEAN Economic Cooperation and Regional Security,” Foreign
Relations Journal [Manila] 1, no. 1 (January 1986): 175.
5. As quoted in the Straits Times, February 8, 1985.
6. In a July 1988 interview, former Malaysian foreign minister Ghazali Shafie reiterated
to the author that ASEAN had always been about security.
7. The sixty-six-page Report of the ASEAN Task Force to the ASEAN Ministerial Meeting
was never released as an ASEAN document. The author obtained a copy from the
Indonesian ASEAN National Secretariat.
8. “Press Release on the Recommendations of the ASEAN Task Force in the
Seventeenth ASEAN Ministers’ Meeting,” July 9–10, 1984.
9. As quoted in Evans Young, “An Indigenous Agenda for ASEAN Cooperation,” paper
delivered at the annual meeting of the Association for Asian Studies, March 21–23, 1986.
10. As reported by the Asian Wall Street Journal, July 14, 1986.
11. Narciso G. Reyes, “The ASEAN Summit Syndrome,” Foreign Relations Journal
[Manila] 1, no. 2 (June 1986): 73.
12. As quoted in James Clad, “Rising Sense of Drift: Foreign Ministers Agree ASEAN Has
Reached a Plateau,” Far Eastern Economic Review, July 10, 1986, 15.
13. Text of a March 31, 1982, speech as published in the Straits Times, April 5, 1982.
14. Ibid.
15. Straits Times, June 24, 1986.
16. As quoted in the Nation [Bangkok], August 31, 1986.
17. Straits Times, May 21, 1982.
18. As quoted in Paisal Sricharatchanya, “New Cement for the Bloc,” Far Eastern
Economic Review, September 5, 1984, 54.
19. Ibid. Kukrit, a former prime minister, led the Social Action Party, the largest party in
Prime Minister Prem Tinsulanonda’s Thai government.
20. Straits Times, September 10, 1985.
21. Straits Times, February 26, 1986.
22. Jakarta Post, February 24, 1986.
23. “ASEAN Joint Statement on the Situation in the Philippines,” February 23, 1986, text
as given in the Straits Times, February 26, 1986.
24. As quoted in the New York Times, February 26, 1986.
25. Straits Times, February 26, 1986.
26. BERNAMA, February 26, 1986, as reported in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific,
February 27, 1986.
27. “Voice of Free Asia,” February 26, 1986, as reported in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and
Pacific, February 28, 1986.
28. Jakarta Post, February 28, 1986.
29. As quoted in the Far Eastern Economic Review, December 27, 1987, 8.
 30. BERNAMA, February 27, 1986, as reported in FBIS, Daily Report, Asia and Pacific,
February 28, 1986.
31. “Malaysia’s Good Wishes for the New Philippines Government,” Malaysian Digest
(January–March 1986): 1.
32. Salvador H. Laurel, “New Directions in Philippines Foreign Policy,” address delivered
before the Philippine Council for Foreign Relations, April 10, 1986, text as given in Foreign
Relations Journal [Manila] 1, no. 2 (June 1986): 3–4.
33. “Full Cooperation to Solve Phlipppines Sabah Claim Issue,” Malaysian Digest (May
1986): 2.
34. As quoted in the Straits Times, March 4, 1986.
35. “What PM and Aquino Spoke About,” Straits Times, July 2, 1986.
36. The text of the speech, “Time Is Well Past for Talking,” was published in theDiplomatic
Post [Manila] (July–September 1986): 89.
37. Straits Times, August 29, 1986.
38. As quoted in the Bangkok Post, August 29, 1986.
39. Carl A. Trocki, “Islam Threat to ASEAN Region Unity?” Current History (April 1980):
149.
40. Straits Times, November 18, 1986.
41. Straits Times, December 10, 1986.
42. As quoted in “The Herzog Mistake,” Far Eastern Economic Review, November 27,
1986, 24.
43. Editorial, Berita Harian Malaysia, reprinted in the Straits Times, November 27, 1986.
44. Straits Times, November 28, 1986.
45. Ibid.
46. Nigel Holloway, “Stressing Solidarity,” Far Eastern Economic Review, February 10,
1987, 41.
47. Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah, as quoted in “Coherence on ASEAN Common Market:
Step by Step Approach for Free Trade,” Malaysian Digest (November 1986).
48. Hadi Soesastro, “A Drop of Pacific for ASEAN,” Tempo, July 14, 1984.
49. New York Times, July 10, 1981.
50. “Toasts of President Reagan and President Ferdinand C. Marcos of the Philippines at
the State Dinner,” accessed at https://reaganlibrary.gov/research/speeches/91682f.
51. Paul Wolfowitz, address to the Singapore International Herald Tribune Conference,
November 11, 1987, text as printed in the Straits Times, November 16, 1987.
52. Emmanuel Pelaez, “The Military Bases in the Philippines: The Past and the Future,”
Foreign Relations Journal [Manila] 1, no. 1 (January 1986): 30.
53. Text as given in Current Digest of the Soviet Press 38, no. 30, August 27, 1986.
54. Statement made at the Tufts University Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy
conference, “A New Road for the Philippines,” October 5–7, 1986.
55. “Decide for Yourselves, ASEAN Told,” Straits Times, November 6, 1987.
56. As quoted in Nayan Chanda, “Coping with Nationalism,” Far Eastern Economic
Review, December 3, 1987, 48.
57. Ibid.
58. New Straits Times [Kuala Lumpur], August 22, 1989.
59. Muthiah Alagappa, U.S.-ASEAN Security Co-operation: Limits and Possibilities (Kuala
Lumpur: ISIS Research Note, 1986), 2.
60. Straits Times, August 5, 1989.
61. As quoted by J. Soedjati Djiwandono, Southeast Asia as a Nuclear-Weapons-Free
Zone (Kuala Lumpur: Institute of Strategic and International Studies ASEAN Series, 1986),
2.
 62. As quoted in “A Bumpy Road to the Summit,” Asia Week, December 11, 1987, 12.
63. The constitution can be accessed at
https://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/constitutions/1987-constitution.
64. As reported on Jakarta Domestic Service, December 14, 1987, in FBIS, Daily Report,
East Asia, December 14, 1987.
65. “Soviet Subterfuge on a Plan for Peace,” Bangkok Post, June 17, 1987.
66. Michael Leifer, “Indonesia in ASEAN—Fed Up Being Led by the Nose,” Far Eastern
Economic Review, October 3, 1985, 26.
67. Dewi Fortuna Anwar, Indonesia in ASEAN: Foreign Policy and Regionalism (New
York: St. Martin’s Press, 1995), 57.
*The NAM Lusaka Declaration does not mention an African NWFZ. The only reference in
it to a nuclear-free area was to the Indian Ocean. The African NWFZ was established by the
1995 Treaty of Perlindada.
 Chapter 7
ASEAN’s Second Reinvention
The 1992 Fourth ASEAN Summit

For more than a decade, ASEAN’s foreign ministers had expended

great political energy on managing their collective resistance to
Vietnam’s invasion and occupation of Cambodia (chapter 4). After
the 1992 Paris Agreement and UNTAC’s reconstitution of the
Kingdom of Cambodia’s government, the incorporation into ASEAN
of the three Indochinese states and Myanmar fulfilled ASEAN’s
visionary goal of a fully inclusive Southeast Asian ASEAN (chapter
5). The enlargement brought with it new intramural problems of
accommodating the joining members to ASEAN’s political culture—
the so-called ASEAN spirit. The ASEAN foreign ministers were
known political figures to one another. Their domestic political
backgrounds and professional careers were far different from that of
their new Indochina colleagues, whose previous ministerial relations
with their ASEAN counterparts had been adversarial, not the ASEAN
mode of compromise for consensus. ASEAN’s rotating chairmanship
became a ten-year cycle. The maintenance of ASEAN comity
became more difficult as the new members brought with them intra-
ASEAN disputes and grievances, adding to those already troubling
the founding members (chapter 9).
 The disparities in levels of economic growth, institutional
capacities, and legal systems between the old and new members
exaggerated the already challenging task of ASEAN cooperation.
The adoption of delayed timetables for the CLMV countries to
implement economic policies adopted by ASEAN, while not a “minus
X” formula, created a two-tiered economic organization. The
allowances made for their economic lag had no effect on the new
members’ political equality in the organiztion. ASEAN’s lowest-
common-denominator decision-making consensus was lowered
further as the mix of political, economic, and cultural interests
represented in ASEAN became more complicated and diffuse.
Politically, the ASEAN 10 was qualitatively different from the ASEAN
5 or 6. Rather than easing, the differences became even sharper
over time. For the ASEAN leaders, however, what was important
was not the details of the workings of ASEAN, but that all ten states
were under the same umbrella, no matter how politically leaky it
might be.
The end of the Third Indochina War meant not only that ASEAN’s
relations with the Indochinese states were transformed, but that
there were also significant changes in ASEAN’s relationships to the
great powers. A crumbling Soviet Union no longer acted as
Vietnam’s enabler in Cambodia, even though Russian military bases
remained in Vietnam until 2002. The United States’ necessary role
and China’s crucial role in backing ASEAN against Vietnam in
Cambodia had served their purpose. A residual impact of China’s
involvement was lasting military-to-military links between Thailand
and China that Bangkok could fall back upon in times of stressed
relations with the United States. This was the case when U.S.
military assistance was cut to Thailand as a sanction against Thai
military coups, most recently in 2014.
Two key alterations in bilateral great-power–ASEAN relations had
major implications for ASEAN. The first, discussed in chapter 6, was
the termination of U.S. base rights in the Philippines, ending
American forward military deployments in Southeast Asia. This was
viewed, at least from Jakarta and Kuala Lumpur, as moving the
ZOPFAN forward. The second bilateral change, and more directly
consequential for ASEAN, was the normalization of Indonesia-China
relations. The first thaw in the freeze in relations that had existed
since 1967 came in April 1985 when Chinese foreign minister Wu
Xueqian traveled to Indonesia to attend the thirtieth anniversary of
the Bandung Conference. This was the first visit to Indonesia by a
high-level Chinese official in eighteen years. Although a hoped-for
Wu–President Suharto meeting did not take place, Foreign Minister
Mochtar and Wu finalized the plan for resuming Indonesia-China
direct trade. Mochtar’s successor, Foreign Minister Ali Alatas, was
more successful than his mentor in convincing Suharto—and
through Suharto, the generals—that if Indonesia were going to play a
leading regional role, it would require normalization of relations with
China.1 The normalization process began in Tokyo in February 1989
at Emperor Hirohito’s funeral. There, Suharto met China’s foreign
minister Qian Qichen. They reached an understanding on the
principles for the restoration of relations. With the details worked out,
Alatas and Qian met in Beijing in July 1990 to sign an agreement on
restoration of relations. On August 8, 1990, a “Memorandum of
Understanding on the Resumption of Diplomatic Relations” was
signed during Premier Li Peng’s state visit to Indonesia.2 The
normalization process was capped by Suharto’s reciprocal state visit
to China in November 1990, the first by an Indonesian leader since
Sukarno’s in 1956. Singapore also normalized its relations with
China. Although having economic relations and informal political ties,
in political deference to Indonesia, Singapore had not opened
diplomatic relations with China. In the wake of Jakarta’s changed
policy, in July 1990 Singapore began negotiations with Beijing that
led on October 3, 1990, to a joint communiqué by Singapore’s
foreign minister Wong Kan Seng and his Chinese counterpart Qian
Qichen announcing the establishment of diplomatic relations.3
For China, normal relations with Indonesia was the key to unlock
the door to ASEAN’s multilateral mechanisms and a full diplomatic
voice in Southeast Asian affairs, something the United States,
Japan, Australia, and the other dialogue partners had enjoyed for
more than a decade. Although China had a prominent role in backing
ASEAN in the Third Indochina War, its contributions were processed
through its bilateral relationship with Thailand. The first opportunity
for China to make its ASEAN debut was the July 1991 24th AMM at
which Foreign Minister Qian was a guest of Malaysia, the host
government. His presence as a guest was balanced by fellow guest
Yuri Maslyukov, the Russian Federation’s deputy prime minister. The
appearance of the two guests signaled that ASEAN was
repositioning itself to equidistance from the great powers. The United
States had been a dialogue partner and part of the Post-Ministerial
Conferences (PMC) since 1977, a status that China and Russia
were accorded in 1996. In 2003 China became the first great power
to sign the TAC. Russia and the United States became signatories in
2009.
With the Indochina War ended and Vietnam no longer an enemy,
communist insurgency abated, and a post–Mao Zedong China, the
threat perceptions that had catalyzed ASEAN’s foundation had been
replaced by what ASEAN delicately called “changed circumstances.”
The question then became what new cement could be found to bind
ASEAN together. The first opportunity to answer it was the 1992
fourth ASEAN Summit hosted by Singapore. Expectations were high
for the prospect of a purposeful and progressive restructuring of
ASEAN to give greater content to the regionalist promise of the
Bangkok Declaration. A summit without new initiatives would be
viewed as a failed summit. If the third summit had been the “last
chance”4 for ASEAN’s rein-vigoration, the fourth summit was the next
last chance. It offered, according to one observer, “the chance to
transform the regional association from a club of convenience into an
effective framework for the articulation of common economic and
security concerns.”5 Singapore’s distinguished ambassador-at-large
Tommy Koh was of the opinion that the summit “gave our leaders the
opportunity to evolve a consensus on the steps which ASEAN must
take to strengthen its cooperation and to be relevant to the world of
the 1990s.”6
This urgency for bold action was recognized by the the leaders in
their Singapore Declaration, in which they pledged to “move towards
a higher plane of political and economic cooperation to secure
regional peace and prosperity.”7 The economic aspect of the pledge
was fulfilled, at least to ASEAN’s satisfaction, by the “Framework
Agreements on Enhancing ASEAN Economic Cooperation,” which
became the blueprint for all future ASEAN efforts at economic
cooperation.

FRAMEWORK AGREEMENTS ON ENHANCING ASEAN

ECONOMIC COOPERATION
By the end of the 1980s, the promotion of freer intra-ASEAN trade
had become a core issue in official circles prodded by academic and,
especially, business interests as represented through the ASEAN
Chamber of Commerce and Industry (CCI).8 The argument that
ASEAN had to forge closer economic ties among its members was
bolstered by perceptions of the economic threat in the global
economy of protectionism. There was particular concern about the
implications for ASEAN export-oriented growth strategies of the
North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and the European
Economic Community (EEC). There was a consensus that ASEAN’s
previous efforts toward market sharing through the Preferential
Trading Arrangement had produced meager results in stimulating
regional economic cooperation. Prime Minister Mahathir had
characterized its outcome as “dismal.”9 The ASEAN economic
ministers made a strong case for trade liberalization. However, it was
the foreign ministers, and ultimately the heads of governent, who
made the political decisions on ASEAN agreements and structures.
The political decisions had to wait until Indonesia could be
persuaded to join a consensus. In an uncharacteristically
unvarnished assertion of Indonesia’s key role in ASEAN, a leading
Jakarta policy analyst wrote: “Indonesia could halt ASEAN
cooperation, even bring about its disruption, by merely withholding
cooperation.”10 The breakthrough came with the explicit decoupling
of future ASEAN trade policy from the common market vision of the
economic integrationists. At the July 1991 24th AMM, the foreign
ministers considered a proposal from Thailand’s prime minister
Anand Panyarachun for an ASEAN free trade area. Anand had been
a leader in the ASEAN CCI and had headed 1982 ASEAN Task
Force (chapter 6). In presenting the ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA)
proposal to the AMM for consideration and placement on the
upcoming ASEAN summit’s agenda, Anand was supported by Prime
Minister Mahathir of Malaysia.

The ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA)

The main purpose of the Framework Agreements was the
establishment of the ASEAN Free Trade Area. AFTA was a scheme
for reducing intra-ASEAN tariff barriers by the implementation of a
system of common effective preferential tariffs (CEPT) on product
groups as opposed to the specific trade goods of the PTA. Set to
begin on January 1, 1993, with a “fast track” of fifteen product
groups, the goal was for staged reduction of effective tariffs on all
goods in the product categories covered by the CEPT rules to 0 to 5
percent in ten years. The ultimate goal was to have all ASEAN
manufactured and processed goods at a 0 to 5 percent level at the
end of fifteen years—that is, 2008. Products not covered under the
CEPT could still be traded under the PTA or by other arrangements
to be negotiated. An effort was made to cut the full implementation
goal to ten years, but Indonesia held out for fifteen. In 1995 the
target date for the 0 to 5 percent tariff level was amended to 2003,
and again, in 1998, to 2002. The accelerations were precipitated by
adverse factors in the international economy—the last, the 1997–
1998 regional economic collapse. The CLMV countries were given a
longer time to meet the tariff-level targets. The administration and
oversight of AFTA was left to a ministerial council. While AFTA dealt
with tariffs, the Framework Agreements also called for the
elimination or reduction of nontariff barriers to trade but without any
guidelines. AFTA did not affect ASEAN states’ bilateral or multilateral
trade relations with non-ASEAN countries.
The Framework Agreements were just that, a “framework” within
which nonbinding negotiations could take place. The Philippines, like
Thailand, always moving forward on economic issues, had circulated
a comprehensive draft titled “Treaty of Economic Cooperation” that
included not only goods but services, capital, and labor, as well as
harmonizing laws and regulations affecting intra-ASEAN economic
relations. This was quickly shunted aside, ostensibly as too
“legalistic,” as, according to Malaysian trade minister Tan Sri Rafidah
Aziz, “the process of ratification by each country would be complex
and lengthy.”11 In terms of political realism, Minister Rafidah’s opinion
was: “There is no point in pushing forward an idea that will not work
simply because some people [read Indonesia] have difficulty coming
on board.”12
The Framework Agreements were an enabling mechanism to
promote voluntary cooperation in agreed-upon areas of intra-ASEAN
economic relations. There was a built-in escape clause that, while
not naming names, was designed to engage Indonesia. The third
principle governing the implementation of the particulars of the
economic activities covered by the agreement stated that: “All
Member States shall participate in intra-ASEAN economic
arrangements. However, in the implementation of these economic
arrangements, two or more Member States may proceed first if other
Member States are not ready to implement these arrangements.”
Rather than a “six minus X” participation formula, this was a “two
plus X” approach. A taste of what was to come was experienced at
the April 1982 ASEAN Senior Officials’ Meeting (SOM) of the AFTA
Council three months after the adoption of the AFTA. The SOM
delayed a number of five-year “fast track” categories, putting them
off to seven to ten years.13 As the January 1, 1993, inauguration date
approached, ASEAN countries sought to exclude whole CEPT-
designated categories or goods within categories as governments
responded to domestic pressures for protection from competitive
imports. AFTA began with lowered expectations and reservations as
to how far intra-ASEAN trade could be expanded by tariff reduction
in a regional economy of competitive export strategies geared to the
global economy. At AFTA’s inception, intra-ASEAN trade of the
ASEAN 6 accounted for 19 percent of ASEAN’s total trade.
Currently, intra-ASEAN trade averages a quarter of its total trade.

AFTA Plus
Trade in goods was only one of the economic activities that the
Framework Agreements sought to enhance. They also called for
sectoral cooperation in industry, mining, and energy; finance and
banking; food, agriculture, and forestry; and transportation and
communication. Paralleling the AFTA agreement on trade in goods,
in 1995 an ASEAN Framework Agreement on Services (AFAS) was
signed.14 AFAS called for negotiation on measures for liberalization
of trade in twelve service areas with a goal of providing national
treatment for service providers among ASEAN countries. The
member states made their commitments to liberalization in rounds of
negotiated “packages.” There were five rounds from 1996 to 2015. In
an effort to accelerate the process, in 2003 an amending protocol to
AFAS was adopted that added ASEAN’s “minus X” formula to
services agreements. This was done with reference to Principle
Three of the 1982 Framework Agreements noted above.
Other post-AFTA areas through which ASEAN leaders initiated
agreements and mechanisms to add economic cement to ASEAN
unity included the ASEAN Investment Area (AIA); the ASEAN
Industrial Cooperation scheme (AICO); an Agreement on Energy
Cooperation; a Framework Agreement on Intellectual Property
Cooperation; and numerous plans of action for ASEAN to realize its
ambitions programmatically. Success, however, would depend on
intergovernmental cooperation, which would be determined by
member states’ decisions regarding national priorities and resource
allocations. Protectionism ran deep under the ASEAN veneer of
cooperation as the economic ministers worked to reorient ASEAN to
its claimed roots in the Bangkok Declaration. It would be no easy
task to try to harmonize in a unified ASEAN economic framework ten
different economies with their mix of state and private enterprises,
different legal systems, different regulative structures and
administrative procedures, different tax systems, and so on, to which
can be added a general lack of transparency, behind which lay the
distortions of cronyism and corruption.
The new economic arrangements were sealed by the ASEAN
leaders at their 1992 and 1995 fourth and fifth summits. The
measures were designed to reverse the economic trajectory of the
organization’s first quarter century. The political goal was to give
ASEAN new inner direction and purpose. The timing was
coincidental with ASEAN fears that growing protectionism would limit
the world markets for ASEAN exports. AFTA was not a substitute or
even a partial fallback for the global trade ASEAN states depended
on for their economic growth and development. The shadow of a
potentially failed GATT (General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade)
Uruguay Round still lay over trade liberalization, and the promise of
the World Trade Organization (WTO) was in the future.15 Moreover,
ASEAN’s North American and Western European trade partners
were injecting social and political conditionality into trade
negotiations with issues like human rights and environmental
protections. From the ASEAN viewpoint, this was a form of disguised
protectionism.

CONFLICTING VISIONS OF ASIA-PACIFIC REGIONALISM

ASEAN’s focus on promoting greater intra-ASEAN economic
cooperation coincided with proposals for wider regional Asia-Pacific
economic cooperation that were promoted particularly by Japan and
Australia. ASEAN’s Framework Agreements did not provide a
mechanism to engage the ASEAN states in structured consultations
on economic issues in the wider Asia-Pacific region, where many of
its most important economic partners lay. In particular, the
emergence of the concept of the Asia-Pacific as an economic region
led to the formation of multilateral structures for cooperation in which
ASEAN would not control the agendas or procedures. The political
question for ASEAN became what would be the best forum for
ASEAN’s participation in wider regionalism in a way that would
maintain ASEAN’s regional identity. In addressing this, Prime
Minister Mahathir and President Suharto had competing
preferences. The first test of ASEAN’s economic cement came in the
clash of the two leaders over ASEAN’s membership in APEC (Asia-
Pacific Economic Cooperation) and the East Asia Economic Group
(EAEG).

Dueling Concepts
APEC is an intergovernmental official forum at the ministerial and
heads-of-government level of twenty-one Asia-Pacific nations. Its
founding purpose was to support liberalization of trade and other
economic relations in the region’s open economies. The official
APEC history credits Prime Minister Bob Hawke of Australia as
initiating APEC in a January 31, 1989, speech in Seoul, South
Korea.16 Hawke’s invitation to other nations to join Australia and
South Korea in an intergovernmental grouping for economic
cooperation was built on more than two decades of academic and
Track II nongovernmental policy think tanks’ consultation and
conferencing. In 1967, Japanese foreign minister Takeo Miki
formulated an Asia-Pacific policy that had been influenced by a
Pacific Trade and Development (PAFTAD) model developed by
Professor Kiyoshi Kojima.17 The Miki initative led to a series of
PAFTAD conferences beginning in 1968. In 1979, Japan’s prime
minister Masayoshi Ohira established a Pacific Basin Cooperation
Study Group, which a year later produced its Pacific Basin
Cooperation Concept. This spurred Ohira’s Pacific Basin Initiative,
which had at an indeterminate end point a goal of an
intergovernmental organization for peace and economic growth in
the Asia-Pacific region. Japan’s overtures had to overcome concerns
about Japan’s regional economic dominance.18 Also in 1979, trade
economists Peter Drys-dale of Australia and Hugh Patrick of
America moved the case for Pacific regionalism forward with their
proposal for an Organization for Pacific Trade and Development
(OPTAD).19 The model for OPTAD was the European Organization of
Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD).
Paralleling the intellectual modeling of Asia-Pacific economic
regionalism, private sector business interests became a major
promoter of regional cooperation. In 1967, the Pacific Basin
Economic Council (PBEC) was founded. Its successor, the Pacific
Economic Cooperation Conference (PECC) held its first meeting in
Canberra in 1980. The PECC process was a tripartite Track II
unofficial dialogue among academics, private enterprise, and
government officials. It was institutionalized with a standing
committee, functional task forces, and national PECC committees.
By PECC VI in Osaka in 1988, a consensus had emerged that the
common interest could be served by moving from the unofficial to the
official level of consultation and cooperation. Citing the OECD
model, in March 1988, Japan’s former prime minister Yasuhiro
Nakasone proposed the establishment of a Pacific Forum for
Economic and Cultural Cooperation. It was on the momentum
generated by PECC that Hawke made his call to move from Track II
to the intergovern-mental level of APEC.
The ASEAN 5 had been represented in PECC from its inception.
In the unofficial proceedings of PECC, ASEAN positions often had
been defined by domestic think tanks closely linked to governments.
For example, the PECC national secretariats in Indonesia and
Malaysia were located respectively in Jakarta’s Centre for Strategic
and International Studies (CSIS) and Malaysia’s Institute of Strategic
and International Studies (ISIS Malaysia). Known collectively since
1988 as ASEAN ISIS, their Track II intellectual leadership was
balanced by the political constraints of government decision-
making.20 It was those constraints that led to the initial reluctance of
the ASEAN governments to commit to any region-wide
intergovernmental organization whose agenda would be set by
Japan and the United States and in which ASEAN coherence and
identity would be at risk. These misgivings were somewhat allayed
by the active promotion of the scheme by Australian and South
Korean economic planners who developed what was hoped would
be a nonthreatening blueprint for the proposed APEC organization.
South Korean president Roh Tae Woo traveled through three
ASEAN states in November 1988 campaigning for a formal Asia-
Pacific cooperation agreement. American secretary of state George
Shultz in a July 1988 visit to Indonesia expressed U.S. support for an
intergovernmental grouping for the Asia-Pacific region.
ASEAN’s participation was considered essential for APEC to
succeed. Even though the more ambitious vision of an Asia-Pacific
free trade area had become limited to a Pacific OECD model,
ASEAN still hesitated. The most reluctant ASEAN leader was
Malaysia’s Mahathir, who saw the Track II PECC as preferable to a
formal government organization. It was only when President Suharto
decided that it was better to be inside the APEC tent with Indonesia’s
most important trading partners than outside looking in that the
ASEAN states joined the first APEC ministerial meeting. The
meeting took place November 7–8, 1989, attended by the foreign
and trade ministers of Australia, Canada, Japan, New Zealand,
South Korea, the United States, and the ASEAN 6. In 1991, the
PRC, Hong Kong, and Taiwan (Chinese Taipei) became members.
The multiple Chinas problem was solved by structuring membership
not by sovereign states but by economies. In 1993 Papua New
Guinea and Mexico joined. Chile became a member in 1994. After
the accessions of Peru, Russia, and Vietnam in 1998, a membership
moratorium was put in place. The moratorium ended in 2010, but no
new members have been accepted even though candidates are
waiting, including the three ASEAN outsiders—Cambodia, Laos, and
Myanmar—and, conspicuously, India. ASEAN’s 1990 23rd AMM
expressed its understanding that APEC was a loose, exploratory,
and informal cousultative process that did not diminish ASEAN’s
identity and was not directed to the creation of a trading bloc. This
was reemphasized in the 24th AMM, which sought to limit APEC’s
programmatic activities. ASEAN did agree to the establishment of an
APEC secretariat in Singapore. With regard to APEC, the Singapore
Declaration stated that “ASEAN attaches importance to APEC’s
fundamental objectives of sustaining the growth and dynamism of
the Asia-Pacific region.”
APEC’s agenda for international economic liberalization was
based on the expectation that the GATT Uruguay Round of global
trade negotiations would eventually succeed. Contrary to that was
Mahathir’s assumption that the GATT was dead and that the East
Asian economies had to defend themselves against the bloc policies
of North America and Europe. In December 1990, at a dinner
honoring visiting Chinese premier Li Peng, Prime Minister Mahathir
proposed that the Asia-Pacific countries should tighten their relations
by creating their own economic bloc to balance the world’s other
blocs. He added that China would have an important role in such a
bloc.21 In its original iteration, the new group was to be known as the
East Asia Economic Group (EAEG), composed of ASEAN, China,
Japan, and South Korea. By excluding North America, Australia, and
New Zealand, the EAEG, if successful, would have effectively
neutered APEC—which might have been one of Mahathir’s motives.
The EAEG proposal was a unilateral Malaysian initiative and, even
though it had implications for ASEAN, there was no prior
consultation. It was coolly received by Kuala Lumpur’s partners.22
Indonesia’s opposition to the scheme reflected Suharto’s ire at being
upstaged by Mahathir without notice. Indonesia had already
committed to APEC, and Jakarta was waiting to see in what
direcrtion APEC would lead. The fact that Japan would economically
anchor the EAEG also presented problems. There was concern that
the EAEG would evolve as a yen bloc. The EAEG would challenge
U.S. relations with ASEAN, and Washington vigorously opposed the
project. In a letter to his Japanese counterpart, Secretary of State
James Baker wrote that it “would divide the Pacific in half.”23
Mahathir claimed that it was only U.S. pressure that kept Japan from
endorsing EAEG.24 Actually, Japan was hedging, waiting for ASEAN
to establish a consensual position on the EAEG.
Prime Minister Mahathir made his case for the EAEG in a speech
opening the 23rd AEM meeting in Kuala Lumpur on July 10, 1991.25
He repeated his argument nine days later opening the 24th AMM.26
In his addresses, obviously responding to ASEAN critics, he
retreated from his original formulation. “Let me stress,” he said, “that
the EAEG is not a trade bloc but the concept is that of a loose
consultation forum comprising countries in East Asia.” His main point
was that if ASEAN was going to have influence in world trade
negotiations, it would have to work together with the other East
Asian countries. Without the EAEG, he warned, “ASEAN and
everyone will be at the mercy of the trade blocs of Europe and North
America.” At an October 1991 Economic Ministers’ Meeting in
preparation for the upcoming January 1992, Singapore, fourth
ASEAN Summit, at Indonesia’s insistence, the EAEG’s name was
changed to East Asia Economic Caucus (EAEC). That this was a
lower-order associational format was specified by terming the EAEC
a “non-institution entity.” Mahathir succeeded in his drive to make the
EAEC part of ASEAN’s future but not as an alternative to APEC. The
consensual functional vagueness of the EAEC was made clear in the
summit’s Singapore Declaration statement:
With respect to an EAEC, ASEAN recognizes that consultations on issues of common
concern among East Asian economies . . . could contribute to expanding cooperation
among the region’s economies, and the promotion of an open and free global trading
system.
 A joint consultative committee (JCC) of economic and foreign
ministry senior officials was set up to plan the implementation of the
EAEC. The JCC’s report, “An Appropriate Modality to Complete the
Elaboration of the EAEC Concept,” was the basis for the July 1993
25th AMM’s assignment to the AEM of responsibility for the EAEC
and for structuring its activities as a caucus within APEC. The
decision to endorse the EAEC, no matter how vague its pupose, was
ASEAN’s first collective recognition of its position in an exclusive
East Asian subregion of the wider Asia-Pacific region. In retrospect,
the EAEC was a precursor of the ASEAN + 3 (APT) format.

The Financial Crisis of 1997–1998

A decade-long period of steady economic growth in Southeast Asia
came to an abrupt end in mid-1997 in an economic crash that
devastated the economies of three major ASEAN countries. The
trigger was an assault on Thailand’s currency, the baht, which had
been pegged to the U.S. dollar. On July 2, 1997, the Thai central
bank, giving up efforts to defend the baht, abandoned the peg and
allowed it to float. This was done without consultation or notice to
Bangkok’s ASEAN partners. Within two months Indonesia and
Malaysia faced the same disaster as their currencies lost value,
stock markets crashed, and economies contracted. There were no
ASEAN economic or political institutions or mechanisms designed to
provide for a concerted regional response to this kind of economic
threat. The collapse starkly exposed the institutional weaknesses
underlying the high economic growth rates. By 1998, Thailand and
Indonesia were in a deep economic depression and Malaysia was
struggling to avoid it. The situation was made worse in Indonesia by
the collapse in May 1998 of the Suharto government in violent
political turmoil, anti-Chinese rioting, and massive capital flight.
ASEAN faced two challenges: first to ensure economic recovery
and then to safeguard against a repeat of the crisis. In Thailand and
Indonesia, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) took the lead on
recapitalization and restoring investor confidence, coordinating
rescue by multilateral funding agencies and bilateral assistance
packages.27 The IMF programs were contingent on structural
financial reform and budget austerity. ASEAN’s economic
nationalists chafed at and resented what they saw as the imposition
of Western capitalist dominance. Prime Minister Mahathir refused
the IMF regime, and Malaysia went it alone with capital and currency
controls, slashed budgets, and other unilateral austerity measures.
Aware that the ASEAN region had neither the financial resources
nor structures to manage a regional fiscal crisis, ASEAN’s leaders
looked for external support. Wary of the rigors and conditionalities of
the IMF, they turned to Northeast Asia—China, Japan, and South
Korea—whose macroeconomic fundamentals seemed more aligned
to ASEAN’s economies than the IMF and the so-called Washington
consensus. The Northeast Asia heads of government met their
ASEAN counterparts at the December 14–16, 1997, Kuala Lumpur,
second Informal ASEAN Summit. They signed separate joint
communiqués with the ASEAN leaders pledging enhanced
cooperation and collaboration. The next year, at the December 16–
18, 1998, Hanoi, sixth ASEAN Summit, they recognized the
importance of holding regular meetings. The ASEAN + 3 format at
the leaders’ and ministerial levels was institutionalized at the
November 27–28 Manila, third Informal Summit. The “Joint
Statement on East Asia Cooperation” called for greater cooperation
and consultation as well as joint efforts at various levels and in
various interest areas.
Unlike the EAEC, the APT is part of the ASEAN dialogue process,
with annual meetings at the ASEAN summit, the AMM, the AEM, and
other ASEAN ministerial and subministerial senior officials’ meetings.
This is in addition to the bilateral dialogues the East Asian states
have in the ASEAN dialogue process (ASEAN + 1). The APT
supplanted the EAEC as the principal ASEAN structure for dealing
collectively with its Northeast Asian partners.28 Perhaps Mahathir
was gloating when he remarked in 2003, “We would be very happy if
we stopped hiding behind this spurious title [APT] and called
ourseves the East Asia Economic Group.”29 No other state or groups
of states have the access to ASEAN that the three of the ASEAN + 3
do. Within the APT, the political and economic weight of China that
might be felt in the ASEAN + 1 setting is politically balanced by
Japan and Korea.
 The first fruit for ASEAN from the APT was the Chiang Mai
Initiative (CMI) announced by the APT finance ministers on the
sidelines of an Asian Development Bank meeting in Chiang Mai,
Thailand, in May 2000. The central feature of the CMI was the
establishment of the APT currency-swap arrangement, which was
designed to alleviate balance-of-payments difficulties. The original
CMI facility was $78 billion, increased to $120 billion in 2010, and
again increased to $240 billion in 2012. The East Asian three
accepted 80 percent of the burden of the commitments. In 1999 the
monetary surveillance, review, and economic early warning process
were moved from ASEAN to the CMIM [M for multilateralization], and
its management broadened to include APT’s central bank governors.
The idea of an APT currency pool arrangement independent of the
IMF had been foreshadowed by Japan’s 1997 failed proposal for a
$100 billion Asian Monetary Fund (AMF) that would not be bound by
the conditionalities of IMF programs. Although rejected, the AMF’s
spirit lived on in the CMIM.30
The APT commissioned an East Asia Vision Group (EAVG) in
1998, which became the incubator of a proposed East Asia Free
Trade Area (EAFTA).31 The 2003 APT Summit approved the
establishment of a joint expert group to consider a future EAFTA that
would give an economic identity to the APT (again the ghost of the
EAEG). China, with Malaysia, was a major advocate and led the
study. The EAVG reported the results to the APT leaders in 2006. It
proposed a schedule in which the EAFTA negotiation would begin in
2009, be completed by 2012, and be implemented in 2016 (2020 for
the CLMV countries).32 Although the APT leaders endorsed the
schedule in principle, not all were eager. There were concerns that
the EAFTA would be driven by China.
Japan’s reservations about the project were given policy form in a
counterproposal for a Comprehensive Economic Partnership in East
Asia (CEPEA), which would extend membership beyond the APT to
Australia, New Zealand, and India. The EAVG had vaguely referred
to expansion at “an appropriate time,” but the CEPEA initiative
outflanked it. ASEAN had existing FTAs with all the proposed
participants, so in a sense the CEPEA was a harmonization or
consolidation of the so-called ASEAN “noodle bowl” of FTAs. A
political consequence of the CEPEA proposal would have been the
dilution of Chinese influence. After parallel comparative economic
studies of both the EAFTA and CEPEA were carried out, the political
contest between the two was settled at the 2011 18th ASEAN
Summit. The leaders adopted an “ASEAN Framework for a Regional
Comprehensive Economic Partnership” (RCEP), which was really
the CEPEA under a new name.33 The negotiating principles for
RCEP were approved by the AEM in August 2012, and the first
negotiating round began in May 2013.
In November 1993, following APEC’s fourth ministerial meeting,
American president Bill Clinton moved APEC forward by hosting at
Blake Island (near Seattle, Washington) the first APEC heads-of-
government meeting. Of APEC’s then fourteen leaders, thirteen were
present. The absent leader was boycotting Malaysian prime minister
Mahathir. President Clinton summed up the results of the meeting by
saying, “We agreed that the Asian-Pacific region should be united,
not divided.”34 ASEAN’s commitment to APEC seemed assured
when, in November 1994, President Suharto hosted in Bogor,
Indonesia, the second of what became annual APEC leaders’
meetings. President Suharto’s APEC prominence was a challenge to
Mahathir who, avoiding an intra-ASEAN diplomatic rupture, was in
attendance. The meeting’s Bogor Declaration set a goal of free and
open trade in the Asia-Pacific region by 2010 for developed nations
and by 2020 for developing countries.35
By 2007, a Free Trade Area of Asia and the Pacific (FTAAP) had
become APEC’s long-term goal. While still committed to the FTAAP,
in November 2009, at the Yokohama APEC meeting, new American
president Barack Obama tried to give the long-term goal credibility
by launching the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), a proposed high-
quality comprehensive FTA. Although fitting into the existing APEC
cooperative process, the TPP initiative was the economic thrust of
the Obama administration’s strategic “tilt” to East Asia and the
Pacific, announced in his address to the Australian parliament three
days after the Yokohama meeting. This gave a political dimension to
the TPP and the RCEP as they were exaggeratedly viewed in the
context of China-U.S. rivalry for regional influence.
 The TPP agreement was signed on February 4, 2016, after five
years of negotiations and missed deadlines. In addition to the United
States, its twelve members were Australia, Canada, Chile, Japan,
Mexico, New Zealand, Peru, and the ASEAN states of Brunei,
Malaysia, Singapore, and Vietnam.36 During his October 2014 official
visit to the United States, Indonesia’s president Joko Widodo
indicated Indonesia’s interest in joining the TPP after it was
established, but no real preparatory work was undertaken.
Philippines’ president Aquino had expressed hope that the
Philippines could join, but his successor, President Rodrigo Duterte,
scornfully rejected it. The hurdles of the non-trade-related clauses in
the agreement were such as to—if not bar membership—at least
make if difficult for Cambodia, Laos, Myanmar, and Thailand to
become members. Although the TPP bridged the Pacific, it split
ASEAN.
The political implications for ASEAN’s TPP and non-TPP member
countries became moot when new U.S. president Donald Trump
withdrew the TPP from the American ratification process. Without the
United States as the economic engine, it seemed unlikely that the
TPP would go forward. A last-minute attempt to save the TPP was
made on the sidelines of the December 2016 APEC summit when
the prospective members—minus the United States—agreed to
move forward under a new name: Comprehensive and Progressive
Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP).37
The RCEP negotiations were scheduled to be completed in 2016
but were pushed into 2017 because of issues with India. The 2017
date was not met. When completed, it will be the world’s largest FTA
in terms of population and GDP. The United States is not barred
technically from future membership, but it would first have to
negotiate an FTA with ASEAN. China’s role as the dominant
economy in the RCEP does not necessarily translate into enhanced
Chinese political influence given that American allies Japan, South
Korea, and Australia are also members. The relationship between
Chinese economic power and political influence on ASEAN is based
on its bilateral relations with ASEAN countries.
 ASEAN’S SECURITY ARCHITECTURE
By the end of ASEAN’s first quarter century, the security environment
that had dominated its institutional political evolution had significantly
changed. Southeast Asia was no longer a theater of the global Cold
War confrontation between the United States and the USSR. The
perceived communist threat posed by Vietnam had ended. The
ambitions of a rising China, however, seemed to present future
challenges to regional peace and stability. Even as tensions in
Southeast Asia lessened, the security and political implications of the
flash points in Northeast Asia on the Korean Peninsula and across
the Taiwan Strait spilled over into Southeast Asia. There were three
major policy questions facing ASEAN’s managers: how to keep the
United States involved in a security dialogue with ASEAN; how to
involve China in that dialogue; and what would be the appropriate
ASEAN platform for such a dialogue. The last was very important for
ASEAN since it did not want to be shut out of diplomatic and political
exchanges on wider Asia-Pacific security issues.

The East Asia Summit (EAS)

The East Asia Summit crowns the summitry attached to the second
of the annual pair of ASEAN leaders’ summits. Its first meeting was
held in 2005 as an adjunct to the Kuala Lumpur, 11th ASEAN
Summit. Russia’s president Vladimir Putin was in attendance as a
guest of the Malaysian chairman Prime Minister Abdullah Badawi.
The EAS is preceded by an East Asia Foreign Ministers’ Meeting
where any problems with the consensual leaders’ final statement get
ironed out. Prime Minister Abdullah originated the EAS as the first
step toward the East Asia Vision Group’s goal of an East Asia
Community. Abdullah was strongly supported by Chinese premier
Wen Jiabao. The membership would have been the same as the
ASEAN + 3 but with the ASEAN countries in their national—not
ASEAN—identities and with a broader agenda. China saw the
projected summit as another opportunity to steer Asian
multilateralism along lines consonant with Beijing’s strategic goal of
weakening U.S. influence in the region. In this case the Malaysia-
China EAS would have functioned as the political arm of the APT. In
its proposed operations, it was likened to the China-designed
Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO).38
Looking to balance China and attuned to American opposition to
the scheme, ASEAN members Indonesia, Singapore, and Vietnam,
as well as Japan, insisted on a more inclusive membership to
include Australia, New Zealand, and India. Having to concede the
broader membership, China and Malaysia tried to limit the input of
the non-APT countries by proposing that, in the EAS, the APT would
be the core group driving the process, with the other three
essentially observers. This too did not get consensual approval. It
was finally agreed that ASEAN would be the driving force for the
EAS as an element in ASEAN’s multilateralism. ASEAN control over
the future of the EAS seemed assured when it did not accept China’s
invitation to host the second EAS.
The first meeting of the EAS adopted the summit’s Kuala Lumpur
Declaration on the East Asia Summit.39 It said that the EAS had been
established “as a forum for dialogue on broad strategic, political and
economic issues of common interest and concern with the aim of
promoting peace, stability and economic prosperity in East Asia.”
This is language common to ASEAN documents and did not
foreshadow any policy breakthroughs. It postulated ASEAN as the
EAS driving force in partnership with the other participants. With
ASEAN at the helm, always looking for consensus, it was clear from
the outset that noncontroversial issues would dominate the public
agenda: energy, environment, endemic disease, natural disasters,
education, and so on. As far as the East Asia Community was
concerned, the declaration did not mention it. Prime Minister
Abdullah in his Chairman’s Statement merely noted that the East
Asia Community was a long-term goal.
The best that the EAS has done to promote peace, stability, and
security in the region was to promulgate in November 2011, at the
sixth EAS in Bali, a Declaration of the East Asia Summit on the
Principles for Mutually Beneficial Relations.40 Known as the “Bali
Principles,” it is a bulleted twelve-point guide to how nations should
behave, repackaging admonitions from the UN Charter, the Bandung
Principles, the TAC, and other ASEAN-endorsed normative
statements. Although the EAS committed to the principles, it, like
other ASEAN-led mechanisms, had no guide as to how the EAS or
ASEAN itself should react to blatant violations of the principles.
Three principles in particular stand out in the patterns of violation
and inaction that have marred ASEAN’s international image:
renunciation of the threat or use of force against another state;
recognition and respect for diversity of ethnic, religious, and cultural
values and traditions; and respect for fundamental freedoms, the
promotion and protection of human rights, and the promotion of
social justice.
The EAS’s Kuala Lumpur Declaration left open the possibility of
adding members. The criteria set by ASEAN were: an existing
dialogue relationship with ASEAN; accession to the TAC; and a
substantial relationship with ASEAN. It was not until 2010 that
Russia and the United States were added as new members. Despite
Putin’s early expression of interest, Russian membership was
ostensibly delayed by the thinness of its economic ties to ASEAN.
There was also the political quandary for ASEAN of an EAS with
both China and Russia in and the United States out, barred by the
TAC issue.
Since the TAC had been opened to non-ASEAN states in 1987,
four American presidents had declined accession. Washington’s
concern was originally on issues of strategic mobility in the Asia-
Pacific region. To this had been added the question of what bearing
TAC Article 10 on noninterference might have on the application of
the American sanctions regime against Myanmar, an ASEAN
member.41 President George W. Bush specified in the U.S.-ASEAN
Enhanced Partnership “vision statement” that the United States
respected the “spirit and principles” of the TAC as a code of conduct
in regional international relations.42 Membership in the EAS
demanded more than respect. It required a legal commitment to the
TAC. This occurred in the early months of President Barack Obama’s
administration. The decision to sign the TAC was part of the Obama
“tilt” or “rebalance” to Asia and the Pacific, the economic aspect of
which, as noted above, was the TPP.
On a visit to the ASEAN Secretariat on February 15, 2009,
Secretary of State Hillary Clinton announced the launch of an
interagency process to pursue accession to the TAC. ASEAN
secretary-general Surin Pitsuwan welcomed the renewal of interest
and reengagement of the United States as a reaffirmation of its
political and security role in the region.43 The fast-tracked American
bureaucratic process culminated on July 22, 2009, when Secretary
Clinton signed the Instrument of Accession to the TAC in Phuket,
Thailand, at the post-ministerial meeting following the 42nd AMM.
Despite the word “treaty,” the United States signed it as a “sole
executive agreement” not requiring U.S. Senate approval. In a
diplomatic note, the United States expressed a reservation stating
that the TAC “does not limit the actions taken by the United States
that it considers necessary to address a threat to its national
interest.”44
The political significance of the EAS only attracted attention after
the United States became a participant. China now had great-power
competition for influence.* The political dynamic changed as
President Obama brought into the EAS the American determination
to assert its regional security role. This became clear in the U.S.-
China face-off at the 2011 sixth EAS, Obama’s first (chapter 10).

Treaty on the Southeast Asia Nuclear Weapon–Free

Zone (Bangkok Treaty)
The unfinished business on the nuclear weapon–free zone from the
1987 third ASEAN Summit was taken up by the 1995 fifth ASEAN
Summit. The third summit had instructed the ZOPFAN Working
Group—spearheaded by Indonesia—to draft a treaty for a Southeast
Asia Nuclear Weapon–Free Zone, which was considered to be the
first implementing step toward a ZOPFAN. It took eight years, from
the third summit to the fifth, to produce a draft treaty to be signed in
Bangkok by the now seven heads of government on December 15,
1995.45 Over those years, a succession of AMMs and the 1992
fourth ASEAN Summit kept reporting progress. The interpretive
ambiguities in the text reflect the kind of wordsmithing that was
necessary to produce a compromise document that could be
consensually approved. Singapore, Thailand, and the Philippines
resisted any language that would threaten their defense relations
with the United States. Malaysia and Indonesia viewed the treaty as
a demonstration of ASEAN’s independence from the great powers.
For Kuala Lumpur, it was viewed as the culmination of a policy line
going back to Tun Ismail in 1968 (chapter 3). For President Suharto,
it was a badge for his third year of chairmanship of the NAM.
Vietnam’s prime minister Vo Van Kiet signed the treaty, but his
country had no part in its development, having only joined ASEAN
six months earlier. Through its drafting and signing, the Bangkok
Treaty was viewed coolly by the five nuclear weapon states (NWS).
The treaty expressed the conviction of the ASEAN states that the
SEANWFZ is an essential part of the ZOPFAN and that its
establishment would contribute to strengthening the security of the
states within the zone and enhance international peace and security.
According to ASEAN, it is based on the principles of the United
Nations and echoes the UN Treaty on Non-Proliferation of Nuclear
Weapons (NPT). The terms of the treaty apply to the treaty states’
territories, continental shelves, and exclusive economic zones (EEZ)
(Article 2.1). The geographic definition of the zone itself was legally
and politically problematic in its application beyond the states’
territorial seas to their EEZs and continental shelves. In the most
contentious area in Southeast Asia, the South China Sea, the EEZs
of five ASEAN members overlap the claims of China, a nonparty to
the treaty. Furthermore, the treaty states (Article 2.2) that nothing in
the treaty shall prejudice the legal rights provided by the UN
Convention on the Law of the Sea of 1982 (UNCLOS 1982). These
rights include inter alia freedom of high-seas navigation and innocent
passage. The basic obligations of the signatories are specified in
Article 3:

1. Not to develop, manufacture or otherwise acquire, possess or

have control over nuclear weapons; station or transport nuclear
weapons by any means; or test or use nuclear weapons.
2. Not to allow in its territory, any other State to develop,
manufacture, or otherwise acquire, possess or have control over
nuclear weapons; station nuclear weapons; or test or use nuclear
weapons.
3. Not to dump at sea or discharge into the atmosphere anywhere in
the Zone any radioactive material or wastes; dispose of
radioactive material or wastes on land in the territory of or under
the jurisdiction of other States; allow, within its territory, any other
State to dump at sea or discharge into the atmosphere any
radioactive material or wastes.

Nothing in the treaty prohibited the use of nuclear energy for

economic development and social progress in accordance with the
standards of the International Atomic Energy Agency (Article 4).
Article 7 on foreign ships and aircraft also seemed unclear to the
NWS.
Each State Party, on being notified, may decide for itself whether to allow visits by
foreign ships and aircraft to its ports and airfields, transit of its airspace by foreign
aircraft, and navigation of foreign ships through its territorial sea or archipelagic waters
and overflight of foreign aircraft above those waters in a manner not governed by the
rights of innocent passage, archipelagic sea lanes or transit passage.

It mentions foreign ships and aircraft but does not mention nuclear
weapons that may or may not be on board. Is this a loophole that
contradicts the prohibitions of Article 3? The implementation and
administration of the SEANWFZ was assigned to a Commission for
the Southeast Asia Nuclear Weapon–Free Zone (Article 8). The
commissioners are the foreign ministers, and under them a
subsidiary executive committee of senior officials. Decisions by the
commission shall be by consensus, but failing that, by a two-thirds
majority, an unusual departure from the foreign ministers’ usual
decision-making format.
The SEANWFZ treaty was open to accession by other states but
not subject to reservations. Through the years of intra-ASEAN
negotiation of the treaty, the ASEAN states were in consultation with
the NWS in the hope that an instrument could be finalized that they
could abide by. A nuclear weapon–free zone would not be real if the
NWS ignored it and there were no means to enforce it. ASEAN has
hoped to link the NWS to the the zone through their signing and
ratifying a Protocol to the Treaty on the Southeast Asia Nuclear
Weapon–Free Zone.46 The protocol stated that the signatories’
obligations were:
1. To respect the Treaty . . . and not to contribute to any act which
constitutes a violation of the Treaty or its Protocol . . .
2. Not to use or threaten to use nuclear weapons against any State
Party to the Treaty. It further undertakes not to use or threaten to
use nuclear weapons within the Southeast Asia Nuclear Weapon-
Free Zone.

The protocol to the Bangkok Treaty is an example of a negative

security assurance as the NWS would promise not to use nuclear
weapons in the treaty zone or from the zone against targets outside
the zone. It is not surprising that no NWS has signed the protocol,
since to give such assurances—if kept—would undermine great-
power strategic mobility in the Asia-Pacific area. This is particularly
true of the United States, which depends in large measure on its
naval presence to assert its regional security role. The legal
questions over the zone’s inclusion of EEZs and continental shelves
and compliance with UNCLOS remain to be resolved. Although
China, to ASEAN’s satisfaction, has expressed interest in acceding
to the protocol, there is no timetable for the signature. The Bangkok
Treaty came into force in March 1997. After more than two decades,
there is no evidence that the unenforceable SEANWFZ and the
antecedent ZOPFAN have moved beyond the hortatory invocations
of declaratory statements in terms of influencing the strategies of the
NWS. If anything, the belligerent emergence of a new East Asian
NWS seems to make the possibility of great-power denuclearization
through negative security assurances less likely than ever. One plus
for ASEAN, however, is that its SEANWFZ gives it prominence in
global nuclear negotiations such as the Proliferation Security
Initiative and the Nuclear Weapons Test Ban Treaty.
Even while ASEAN in the early postconflict years was constructing
its economic and political platforms for regional economic growth in a
stable and peaceful security environment, seeds were being sown
for what would become for ASEAN a future existential crisis. This is
the political confrontation pitting the norms of international behavior
enshrined by ASEAN against the militarized advance of Chinese
sovereignty and jurisdiction over the South China Sea (SCS). For
ASEAN, China has not only threatened the territorial, EEZ, and
continental shelf claims and rights of the ASEAN littoral states but
also has pressed ASEAN’s consensus decision-making and
solidarity to its political limits (chapter 10).

The ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF)

The foreign ministers noted at the July 1991 24th AMM that the
question of ASEAN’s future role in promoting peace and stability in
the Asia-Pacific region was under study. Conferences involving
government officials and outside experts on ASEAN’s place in Asia-
Pacific security cooperation were sponsored by the Philippine and
Thai foreign ministries. There was important input from the ASEAN
ISIS. The matter was taken up by ASEAN’s leaders at the 1992
summit. No longer averting ASEAN’s political face, in their Singapore
Declaration the leaders decided that ASEAN should enhance its
political identity by intensifying its external dialogues on politics and
security matters in the AMM’s Post-Ministerial Conferences (PMC)
with the dialogue partners. Pursuant to this, the foreign ministers
established a special committee of ASEAN senior officials on
regional security who met in June 1992. This was followed in May
1993 by a meeting of the PMC senior officials, who had convergent
views on the need for consultation on regional political and security
issues. This was the basis for the first enhanced PMC following the
1993 26th AMM. That PMC agreed to establish the ARF as a
separate consultative body maintained within the framework of
ASEAN.
The first official ARF meeting took place in Bangkok on July 25,
1994, following the 27th AMM. At that meeting the ASEAN chair,
Thai foreign minister Prasong Soonsiri, stated the ARF’s purposes:
“To foster constructive dialogue and consultation on political and
security issues of common interest and concern; and to make
significant contributions to efforts towards confidence building and
preventive diplomacy in the Asia-Pacific region.”47 The twenty-one
participants in the first ARF session were the ASEAN 7 and its three
future members, along with ASEAN’s observer, consultative, and
dialogue partners: Australia, Canada, China, the European Union,
Japan, India, New Zealand, PNG, Republic of [South] Korea, Russia,
and the United States. At the third, July 1996, ARF meeting it was
agreed that candidates for future membership had to be sovereign
states—thus excluding Taiwan—which had to demonstrate their
impact on peace and security in ARF’s geographic footprint. The
admission of new members would be by consensus. Six new
members were added: Bangladesh, Democratic People’s Republic of
[North] Korea, Mongolia, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and Timor-Leste. North
Korea’s membership came in 2000 during South Korea’s
engagement policy leading up to the June 2000 first intra-Korean
summit. Pyongyang’s application for ARF membership was pressed
by Thai foreign minister Surin Pitsuwan, the 2000 chair of ASEAN
and ARF. Surin argued that North Korea had to be brought into the
ARF so that Pyongyang’s voice could be heard: “North Korea must
not be isolated. The country needs friends and supports. ASEAN can
help.”48 As ASEAN’s secretary-general in 2008, Surin persuaded
Pyongyang to sign the TAC. North Korea seems an ASEAN anomaly
as its nuclear weapons program openly challenges ASEAN’s non-
nuclear stance and the blatant assassination of Kim Jong Un’s half
brother in Kuala Lumpur’s airport seemed to sneer at ASEAN’s
norms.
The ARF’s rationale and program were laid out in a 1994 “ASEAN
Regional Forum: A Concept Paper,” which was adopted at the
second ARF meeting on August 1, 1995, following the Bandar Seri
Begawan 28th AMM.49 The document—fine-tuned in the Thai foreign
ministry—made it clear that ASEAN owned the ARF. ASEAN was
assigned a “pivotal role” in which it assumed the “obligation to be the
primary driving force of ARF.” The rules and practices of the ARF are
those of ASEAN, with consensus the goal. Accordingly, the ARF
should not “move too fast for those who want to go slow and too
slow for those who want to go fast.” The willingness of the non-
ASEAN participants to concede this role to ASEAN was in part
because of years of experience in existing ASEAN structures for
functional cooperation. The ARF was an add-on. The ARF’s
multilateralism, run by ASEAN rules, seemed to assure a neutral
venue that could not be manipulated by one or another of the
regional great powers. ARF membership was a way to build closer
relationships across the full range of ASEAN external outreach.
Membership was politically cost-free in that there were no binding
commitments to activity other than dialogue and consultation. The
work of the ARF was to be carried out in three stages:

Stage I: Promotion of Confidence-Building Measures

Stage II: Development of Preventive Diplomacy Mechanisms
Stage III: Development of Conflict Resolution Mechanisms

The concept paper considered Stage I the responsibility of the

official Track I government officials. For this, in addition to foreign
ministry officials, defense officials were also involved. Between the
annual ministerial ARF meetings, the “intersessional” work is carried
out through the meetings of the Intersessional Support Groups (ISG)
on Confidence-Building Measures and Preventive Diplomacy and
numerous Intersessional Meetings (ISM), workshops, seminars, and
other meetings on a wide range of noncontroversial issue areas such
as piracy, terrorism, maritime safety, humanitarian and disaster relief,
and others.50 Programmatically, ARF Track I has not moved to Stage
II, let alone Stage III.
In an effort to strengthen regional preventive diplomacy, the ARF,
following the model of the 1997 ASEAN troika (chapter 5), at the
2005 12th ARF session, adopted a new structure known as the
“Friends of the Chair” (FOC), the terms of reference of which were
approved by the 2007 14th ARF session. The FOC consisted of
ARF’s past and incoming chairs—both ASEAN foreign ministers—
and a foreign minister of a non-ASEAN ARF member. The FOC
troika was designed to deal quickly, intervene, and even offer “good
offices.”51 The FOC mechanism stalled on China’s insistence that the
FOC had to give advance notice for ARF approval before it could
act, thus effectively nullifying its purpose. It, like its ASEAN troika
antecedent, remains on the books but not in practice.
The “Concept Paper” recognized the political reality of the
constraints operating to impede the development of Track I
mechanisms to address disputes and conflicts affecting member
states. As far as Stage III was concerned, it was not envisioned that
the ARF would establish mechanisms for conflict resolution in the
near future. After a quarter of a century, that future is as distant as it
was in 1994. Until the intergovernmental confidence level was high
enough, the intellectual preparatory work for Stages II and III was
expected to draw on non-official Track II structures, especially the
ISIS think tanks. The Track II network of twenty-one national
strategic studies centers backstopping the ARF has been linked
since 1993, before ARF debuted, in the Council for Security
Cooperation in the Asia Pacific (CSCAP).52
The profusion of Tracks I and II meetings, conferences, seminars,
and such, in the absence of tangible political outcomes in either
dispute resolution or institution building, has led critics to
characterize and dismiss the ARF as just a “talk shop.” As long as
the ASEAN rules of consensus, respect for sovereignty, and
noninterference are in effect, the ARF cannot move beyond
confidence building, and even that seems problemaic. The “talk
shop” itself has value if hard issues can be examined from different
and opposing national vantage points in a search for areas of
agreement and compromise. The ARF keeps ASEAN engaged in a
great-power security dialogue. While it cannot be expected that the
ASEAN way of managing through consensus will be changed, even
from a realist perspective “the ARF as a ‘talk shop’ is still a
worthwhile institution.”53 Also important was that the voices of
defense and security policy officials had been added to the formal
dialogue and were not just on the sidelines.

ASEAN Defense Ministers’ Meeting (ADMM) and ADMM-

Plus
In 2010, a new ASEAN mechanism to promote regional security
cooperation appeared with the establishment of the ASEAN Defense
Ministers’ Meeting-Plus.54 The “plus” was the attendance of
counterparts from ASEAN’s eight dialogue partners. A smaller group
than the ARF, the new ASEAN defense ministers–led multilateral
platform had the potential to rival the foreign ministers–led ARF as it
sought to develop an agenda that could not only talk about
cooperation but could practice it in the field. The ADMM-Plus is an
adjunct to the ADMM, which had been established in 2006. Before
that, the ministers had met informally outside of the official ASEAN
framework. The push for a formal ministerial body as part of ASEAN
was bolstered by their experiences in participating in the Track II
annual informal meeting of senior Asia-Pacific defense and security
officials known as the Shangri-La Dialogue, which was initiated by
the British International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS).
Although the ADMM broke new political ground for ASEAN,
institutionally allowing security and defense to come out of the
functional shadows, it showed no new or bold approaches
contributing to peace and stability. In the joint commuiqué of the first
ADMM, it was stated that “security challenges remained in the region
and that continued efforts should be undertaken to address them.”55
Not surprisingly, no specific challenges were mentioned nor any
threat perception. Like the ARF, its goal was to promote confidence-
building measures around regional defense and security issues. This
was also the goal of the ADMM-Plus but more narrowly focused on
interactions leading to capacity building in cooperative activities of
regional military establishments. The ADMM-Plus was originally
scheduled to meet every three years but now meets every two years.
The ADMM-Plus activities are carried out by six Expert Working
Groups (EWG): maritime security, counterterrorism, humanitarian
assistance and disaster relief, peacemaking operations, military
medicine, and humanitarian mine action. The ADMM-Plus’s
credibility was enhanced in May 2016 when Brunei and Singapore
cohosted a multinational joint maritime security exercise with naval
and army components from ADMM-Plus dialogue partners, including
both China and the United States. The emergence of the “defense
diplomacy” of the ADMM-Plus has raised the question of overlap and
non-coordination with the foreign ministers’ ARF. Like ARF, the
ADMM-Plus exists as an ASEAN structure, the international relations
and strategic directions of which are the responsibility of the foreign
ministers with the approval of the heads of government. In a rivalry, it
cannot be ruled out that the defense ministers can have their own
line to the heads of government outside of ASEAN’s protocol.

The Expanded ASEAN Maritime Forum (EAMF)

To complicate the pattern of ASEAN’s platforms for external
dialogues on political security matters, in 2010 the ASEAN Maritime
Forum (AMF) was established as a sub-ministerial, Track 1.5 venue
to consider regional maritime issues such as connectivity, safety at
sea, search and rescue, and other common maritime issues.56
Beginning in 2012, the AMF meeting was followed by an Expanded
AMF that included the eight Pacific ASEAN dialogue partners who
also were participants in the ARF and ADMM-Plus. The EAMF was
the institutional response to the 2011 decision of the East Asia
Summit to encourage a dialogue to “address common challenges on
maritime issues building upon the existing ASEAN Maritime
Forum.”57 The agenda of this sub-ministerial meeting overlapped the
ARF’s ISM on maritime security as well as areas of the ADMM-Plus’s
EWGs. In the EAMF, as in the other ASEAN formats that include its
Asia-Pacific dialogue partners, the hard issues of peace, stability,
and security are not part of the official agenda, although the
opportunities for off-the-record meetings on the sidelines are there.
In particular, any effort to raise issues of territorial and jurisdictional
disputes in the South China Sea would touch the third rail of ASEAN
comity.
For ASEAN, the political significance of the formal structures and
dialogues that it had established over time for collectively managing
relations with its external Asia-Pacific partners had little to do with
substantive outcomes. What was important for ASEAN after the end
of the Third Indochina War was the partners’ engagement in a
normative and institutional regional international political architecture
in which ASEAN could claim centrality. The notion of “ASEAN’s
centrality” became a dominant theme in ASEAN’s external relations,
attesting to ASEAN’s self-importace as an international actor, no
matter that it could not advance its agendas on preventive diplomacy
and dispute resolution. For the great powers, ASEAN’s ownership of
the processes and agendas relieved responsibility for success or
failure while demonstrating willingness to cooperate in the endeavor.
The fact that both the United States and China were fully involved
seemed to ASEAN to be a tempering factor in their tense regional
relationship even though the particulars of the conflicts of interest
were never officially put on the table.
 NOTES
1. For Alatas’s argument, see Donald E. Weatherbee, “Indonesia and China: The Bumpy
Path to a Wary Partnership,” in Lowell Dittmer and Ngeow Chow Bing, eds., Southeast Asia
and China: A Contest in Mutual Socialization (Singapore: World Scientific, 2017), 139.
2. The communiqué can be accessed at http://id.china-
embassy.org/indo/zgyyn/zywx/t87512.htm.
3. Straits Times, October 4, 1990.
4. As quoted in James Clad, “Rising Sense of Drift: Foreign Ministers Agree ASEAN Has
Reached a Plateau,” Far Eastern Economic Review, July 10, 1986, 15.
5. Michael Vatikiotis, “Time for Decisions: Trade and Security Issues Will Dominate
Summit,” Far Eastern Economic Review, January 16, 1992, 23.
6. Tommy Koh, “What Makes 4th ASEAN Summit Historic,” Straits Times Weekly
Overseas Edition, January 24, 1992.
7. “Singapore Declaration of 1992,” accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=singapore-declaration-of-1992-singapore-28-january-1992.
8. ASEAN CCI, ASEAN: The Way Forward, the Report of the Group of Fourteen on
ASEAN Economic Co-operation and Integration (Kuala Lumpur: Institute of Strategic and
International Studies, 1987).
9. Opening address at the 24th ASEAN Economic Ministers’ Meeting, Kuala Lumpur,
October 7, 1991, accessed at http://mahathir.com/malaysia/speeches/1991/1991-10-
07.php.
10. Dewi Fortuna Anwar, “Indonesian Foreign Policy and ASEAN Solidarity,” Far Eastern
Economic Review, December 10, 1992, 46.
11. As quoted by Michael Vatikiotis, “The Morning AFTA: Asean Takes Tentative Steps
towards Free Trade Area,” Far Eastern Economic Review, October 24, 1991.
12. As quoted in “Landmark AFTA Plan Adopted,” Agence France-Presse report, January
28, 1992, in FBIS, Daily Report, East Asia, January 29, 1992.
13. “AFTA Falters as Tariff Cuts Are Delayed,” Bangkok Post Weekly Review, May 8,
1992.
14. Text accessed at http://investasean.asean.org/files/upload/Doc%2008%20-
%20AFAS.pdf.
15. Named for the site of the first meeting—Punta del Este, Uruguay—the negotiation
took seven and a half years, from September 1986 to April 1994, to reach a successful
conclusion.
16. APEC history accessed at https://apec.org/About-Us/About-APEC/History.aspx. For
the speech, http://lowyinstitute.org/the-interpreter/great-australian-foreign-policy-speeches-
apecs-creation-bob-hawke.
17. Kiyoshi Kojima, ed., Pacific Trade and Development (Tokyo: Japan Economic
Research Center, 1968).
18. An analysis of Japan’s role in Asian economic regionalism is found in Hugh Patrick,
PECC, APEC, and East Asian Economic Cooperation: Prime Minister Ohira’s Legacy and
Issues in the 21st Century (Discussion Paper 38, Discussion Paper Series, APEC Study
Center, Columbia University, July 2005).
19. Hugh Patrick and Peter Drysdale, An Asian-Pacific Regional Economic Organization:
An Exploratory Concept Paper (Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service for the
Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, 1979).
20. In addition to CSIS and ISIS Malaysia, in 1988 there were Thailand’s Institute of
Security and International Studies (ISIS Thailand) and the Singapore Institute of
International Affairs (SIIA). ASEAN ISIS now includes memberships from all ASEAN
countries.
21. The text of the speech accessed at
http://mahathir.com/malaysia/speeches/1990/1990-12-10d.php.
22. Pichai Chuensuksawadi, “Mahathir’s Proposal for Asian Grouping Finds Little
Backing,” Bangkok Post Weekly Review, March 22, 1991.
23. As cited in Shin Jae Hoon and Robert Delfs, “Block Politics: APEC Meeting Clouded
by Fears of Regionalism,” Far Eastern Economic Review, November 26, 1991, 26.
24. “Mahathir Says No to US Joining Asian Group,” Bangkok Post Weekly Review,
November 22, 1991.
25. Mahathir’s speech to the AEM accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=keynote-
address-by-the-honourable-dato-seri-dr-mahathir-mohamed-the-prime-minister-of-malaysia.
26. Ibid.
27. “Recovery from the Asian Crisis and the Role of the IMF,” IMF Issue Brief, June 2000,
accessed at https://imf.org/external/np/exr/ib/2000/062300.htm.
28. Richard Stubbs, “ASEAN Plus Three: Emerging East Asian Regionalism?” Asian
Survey 42, no. 3 (May/June 2002): 440–55.
29. As quoted in “ASEAN + 3 Should Be Called East Asia Economic Group,” Asia
Economic News, April 11, 2003.
30. William W. Grimes, “The Asian Monetary Fund Reborn? Implications of Chiang Mai
Initiative Multilateralization,” Asia Policy 11 (January 2011): 79–104.
31. “Report of the East Asia Vision Group [I], Towards an East Asian Community,”
accessed at https://www.mofa.go.jp/region/asia-paci/asean/pmv0211/report.pdf. “Report of
the EAVG II,” accessed at
https://asean.org/storage/images/2013/external_relations/Report%20of%20the%20EAVG%
20II.pdf.
32. Towards an East Asia FTA: Modalities and Road Map. A Report by Joint Expert
Group for Feasibility Study on EAFTA (Jakarta: ASEAN Secretariat, 2006).
33. The RCEP framework can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=asean-
framework-for-regional-comprehensive-economic-partnership.
34. President Clinton’s statement accessed at https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/PPP-
1993-book2/pdf/PPP-1993-book2-doc-pg2032.pdf.
35. Bogor Declaration accessed at https://apec.org/Meeting-Papers/Leaders-
Declarations/1994/1994_aelm.aspx.
36. The text of the TPP accessed at https://ustr.gov/trade-agreements/free-trade-
agreements/trans-pacific-partrnership/tpp-full-text.
37. “Ministers Agree to Press on with Trans-Pacific Trade Pact without the US,” Straits
Times, November 11, 2017. Documents of the CPTPP can be accessed at
https://international.gc.ca/trade-commerce/trade-agreements-accords-commerciaux/agr-
acc/cptpp-ptpgp/index.aspx?lang=eng.
38. Mohan Malik, “More Discord Than Accord,” Yale Global Online, December 20, 2005.
39. The text can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=kuala-lumpur-declaration-
on-the-east-asia-summit-kuala-lumpur-14-december-2005.
40. The text can be accessed at https://www.mofa.go.jp/region/asia-
paci/eas/pdfs/declaration_1111_2.pdf.
41. Mark E. Manyin et al., U.S. Accession to the Association of Southeast Asian Nations’
Treaty of Amity and Cooperation (TAC) (Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service,
July 13, 2009).
42. The joint vision statement accessed at https://2001-
2009.state.gov/p/eap/rls/ot/57078.htm.
 43. “Press Release: Red Carpet Welcome for US Secretary of State, ASEAN Secretariat,
18 February 2009,” accessed at https://asean.org/wp-content/uploads/images/archive/PR-
Visit-Hillary-Clinton.pdf.
44. For details, see “United States Accedes to ASEAN Amity Treaty as Sole Executive
Agreement,” American Journal of International Law 103, no 4 (2009): 741–43.
45. Text of the treaty accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=treaty-on-the-southeast-
asia-nuclear-weapon-free-zone.
46. The text of the protocol to the treaty accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=protocol-to-the-treaty-on-the-southeeast-asia-nuclear-weapon-free-zone.
47. The ARF website is http://aseanregionalforum.asean.org/about.html.
48. Surin, as quoted by Kavi Chongkittavorn, “North Korea Abuses Southeast Asia’s
Good Will: The Nation Columnist,” Straits Times, March 6, 2017.
49. The document can be accessed at http://aseanregionalforum.asean.org/wp-
content/uploads/2019/01/Second-ARF-Bandar-Seri-Begawan-1-August-1995.pdf.
50. A list of Track I activities, 1994–2016, classified by subject, can be accessed through
the “events” tab on the ARF website: http://aseanregionalforum.asean.org.
51. The adoption of the TOR-FOC can be accessed at http://asean.org/?
static_post=chairman-s-statement-14th-asean-regional-forum-manila-2-august-2007.
52. CSCAP can be accessed at http://www.cscap.org.
53. Sheldon W. Simon, “The ASEAN Regional Forum: Beyond the Talk Shop?” NBR
Analysis Brief, July 2013.
54. The ADMM-Plus can be accessed at https://admm.asean.org/index.php/about-
admm/about-admm-plus.html.
55. As cited in Lianita Prawindarti, “COO6034: The First ASEAN Defence Ministers
Meeting: An Early Test for the ASEAN Community?” IDSS/RSIS/Commentaries/Southeast
Asia and ASEAN, May 16, 2006, accessed at https://rsis.edu.sg/rsis-publication/idss/789-
the-first-asean-defence-minist/.
56. Indonesia Ministry of Foreign Affairs, “1st Meeting of the ASEAN Maritime Forum,”
accessed at https://www.kemlu.go.id/en/berita/siaran-pers/Pages/1st-Meeting-Of-ASEAN-
Maritime-Forum-AMF.aspx.
57. Chairman’s Statement, Sixth East Asia Summit, November 19, 2011, accessed at
https://asean.org/asean/external-relations/east-asia-summit-eas.
*Neither Russian president Vladimir Putin nor Chinese president Xi Jinping and his
predecessor Hu Jintao have attended an EAS, their countries being represented by
premiers or prime ministers. President Obama only missed the 2013 EAS because of the
government shutdown. President Trump attended the informal session of the 2017 EAS but
was absent from the plenary session.
 Chapter 8
ASEAN’s Third Reinvention
The Building Blocks of the ASEAN
Community

As ASEAN moved from the twentieth to the twenty-first century, it

confronted new challenges in its regional political and economic
environments. In its early decades, ASEAN’s external international
considerations of regional security had been embedded in a Cold
War context of Soviet Union–U.S. great-power relations. This was
the background of the ZOPFAN, SEANWFZ, and the Third Indochina
War. At the turn of the century, a new great-power rivalry for regional
influence placed ASEAN between the People’s Republic of China
and the United States. In addition to the great-power competition,
there were challenges to ASEAN’s capability to act against
transnational nonstate-based threats such as drugs and human
trafficking. After the 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center in New
York and the 2002 Bali bombings, terrorism was high on ASEAN’s
list of security threats. Political tensions were aggravated by forces
of globalization that were placing new pressures on ASEAN’s’
international trade and financial relations. The raising of human
rights and environmental issues was often viewed from Southeast
Asia as disguised protectionism. It was also seen as interference in
domestic affairs, particularly as the West’s “liberal” agenda
resonated with and emboldened local advocacy groups.
Coming into the twenty-first century, beset by intramural
divergence and diminishing international relevance, ASEAN needed
more than just a rededication to the founders’ aspirations. It needed
a third reinvention: the first was in the 1976 Bali Concord (chapter 3)
and the second was in the Singapore Declaration (chapter 7). The
third was undertaken in a decade-and-a-half process, beginning in
1997 and crowned on December 31, 2015, by the formal
establishment of what was claimed to be a dynamic, cohesive,
resilient, and integrated ASEAN Community. This was seen as
enhancing ASEAN’s capabilities to meet the challenge of ASEAN’s
integration and anchoring its centrality in the regional international
political architecture. An examination of the building and working of
ASEAN Community raises questions, however, about how really
different the “new” ASEAN was from the old.

ASEAN’S VISION 2020

The bureaucratic genesis of the ASEAN Community is found in the
1997 “ASEAN Vision 2020” released by the ASEAN heads of
government at their second Informal Summit in Kuala Lumpur,
December 16, 1997.1 This summit marked ASEAN’s thirtieth
anniversary and was the first for the expanded ASEAN. The Vision
2020 was an expression of an optimistic new resolve to build an
ASEAN that by 2020 would become a “concert” of Southeast Asian
nations living in peace, stability, and prosperity “bonded together in
dynamic development and in a community of caring societies.” Even
though the foreign ministers were ASEAN’s stewards and
gatekeepers, the real drive for greater ASEAN integration came from
the ASEAN economic ministers’ efforts to enhance ASEAN’s
competitive position in the global economy. The Vision 2020
enumerated a lengthy list of long-term economic and social
objectives to be achieved through heightened cooperation. It also
reflected ASEAN concerns about its international political standing.
In a final section, labeled “An Outwards-Looking ASEAN,” the
leaders stated that:
 We see an outwards-looking ASEAN playing a pivotal role in the international fora and
advancing ASEAN’s common interest. We envision ASEAN having an international
relationship with its dialogue partners and other regional organizations based on equal
partnership and mutual trust.

The juxtaposition of ASEAN as a “concert” of nations and a

“community of caring societies” illustrated the inherent binary focus
of the organization. The pairing of the two terms became a fixture of
future ASEAN documents. As a concert of nations—a political
concept with nineteenth-century roots—ASEAN is a grouping of
sovereign states diplomatically pursuing a common interest in
regional political stability and peace. The meaning of “community” as
it was applied to ASEAN, however, was vague. In practice, it meant
a higher level of voluntary cooperation in pursuit of specific functional
economic and social development projects in which national
interests could be furthered by cooperation. ASEAN’s structural and
bureaucratic evolution cannot be compared to that of the European
Union. There are no ASEAN autonomous institutions, laws, or
authority to which ASEAN’s states have delegated sovereign rights
or sacrificed freedom of national action. Rather than a political or
administrative reality, the ASEAN Community is an ideational effort
to give a coherent comprehensive identity to otherwise unrelated
programs and activities to which the ASEAN label has been
attached.

The Hanoi Plan of Action

The Vision 2020 was a statement of intentions that did not specify
how to achieve the desired results. The details were left to be filled in
by the AEM and AMM and their senior officials. A year later, in 1998,
at the Hanoi, sixth ASEAN Summit, the leaders began the task of
redirecting ASEAN toward the Vision 2020. In their Hanoi
Declaration, they pledged to move to a higher plane of regional
cooperation through renewal, reform, and program acceleration.2
The major bureaucratic vehicle was the Hanoi Plan of Action (HPA).3
Meeting in Singapore at the June 1999 32nd AMM, the foreign
ministers identified the Hanoi Summit as “a key turning point in the
process of ASEAN’s recovery and consolidation.”
 The HPA was the first of a series of plans of action to implement
the Vision 2020. Its duration was six years, 1999–2004, with a
midterm review in 2001. The leaders explicitly placed the push to
strengthen ASEAN in the context of the need to hasten recovery
from “the current economic situation.” The HPA identified ten
categories of ASEAN activities, in which more than two hundred
recommendations were made to realize the Vision 2020:
macroeconomic and financial cooperation; economic integration;
science and technology; social development; human resources;
environment; regional peace and security; ASEAN’s role as an
effective force for peace, justice, and moderation in the Asia-Pacific
and the world; ASEAN’s international role and standing; and ASEAN
structures and mechanisms. The HPA recommendations were not
innovative; they were essentially exhortations to enhance,
encourage, and promote development and progress in existing areas
of ASEAN interests. There was no suggestion for modifying the
basic organizational structure.
The HPA’s category 7, “strengthen regional peace and security,”
was no more path breaking than the other elements of the action
plan. It called for supporting and encouraging existing security
declarations and mechanisms: ZOPFAN, SEANWFZ, and the TAC.
In response to criticisms that ASEAN did not meet the “practice what
it preached” test, the HPA’s category 7 recommended that ASEAN:
7.6) Encourage greater efforts towards the resolution of outstanding problems of
boundaries delimitation between ASEAN member states.
7.8) Encourage Member Countries to cooperate in resolving border-related problems
and other matters with security implications between ASEAN member countries.
7.12) Encourage ASEAN Member Countries parties to a dispute to engage in friendly
negotiation and use the bilateral and regional processes of peaceful settlement of
dispute or other procedures provided for in the U.N. Charter.
7.17) Intensify intra-ASEAN security cooperation through existing mechanisms among
foreign affairs and defense officials.

With respect to the TAC, the HPA (7.5) recommended the

formulation of draft rules of procedure for the operation of the High
Council as envisioned in the treaty. After twenty-five years, this was
finally accomplished in 2001 at the 34th AMM.4 The HPA’s category
8 called for enhancing ASEAN’s role as a force for peace, justice,
and moderation in the Asia-Pacific and the world. Its first two
recommendations were to maintain ASEAN’s chairmanship of the
ASEAN Regional Forum and to strengthen ASEAN’s role as the
primary driver of the ARF. Neither of these was likely to make the
ARF a more effective force for regional peace and security.
There is an unstated policy conclusion to be drawn from these
recommendations: that is, that ASEAN will not intervene in intra-
ASEAN disputes. The one specific outstanding security issue
addressed in the HPA was the situation in the South China Sea
(category 7.13–16). This had been on ASEAN’s agenda since 1992.
The HPA recommendations simply repeated the formulaic invocation
of the tools for peaceful settlement: international law, confidence
building, the ASEAN Declaration on the South China Sea and the
call for a code of conduct in the South China Sea (chapter 10).
The programmatic caution of the HPA as a road map to 2020 left
the impression that for ASEAN it would be business as usual but
better. One recommendation in the social development category,
however, stood out:
4.8) Enhance exchange of information in the field of human rights among ASEAN
Countries in order to promote and protect all human rights and fundamental freedoms
of all peoples in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations, the Universal
Declaration of Human Rights, and the Vienna Declaration and Program of Action.

The introduction of human rights and fundamental freedoms into

the community-building project was a political factor that had not
been mentioned in the Vision 2020 statement. This definition of the
political qualities of an ASEAN Community became the most
contentious issue in the framing of the necessarily consensus-based
future ASEAN Charter as the agreed-upon normative underpinning
of the ASEAN Community.
An explicit requirement for ASEAN’s future “unity” or “solidarity”—
the two words used in ASEAN synonymously—was to assure the
CLMV countries of their political equality as they were integrated into
ASEAN’s economic framework. In the 1998 Hanoi Declaration, the
leaders said ASEAN would endeavor to close the development gap
among ASEAN member countries. A step in that direction was made
by the November 2000, Singapore, fourth Informal ASEAN Summit,
which launched the Initiative for ASEAN Integration (IAI) to narrow
the development gap between the CLMV countries and their ASEAN
partners. The IAI was assigned strategic importance in realizing the
ASEAN Community, and at the 2001 HPA midterm review at the
Bandar Seri Begawan, seventh ASEAN Summit, it was given high
priority. The IAI activities were carried out in a series of work plans:
2002–2008, 2009–2015, and 2016–2020. Work Plans 1 and 2 had
414 projects, of which 280 were implementable, but of these only 45
percent were completed.5
As a road map, the HPA had many twists and turns and even dead
ends as the relevant ministers juggled priorities and available
resources. A very important resource for the achievement of
ASEAN’s developmental goals was financial support from its
dialogue partners. ASEAN’s position on its relationship with donor
nations was made clear in the Hanoi Declaration with the statement
that the international community “has the responsibility to continue to
support our reform efforts through bilateral and multilateral
assistance” (emphasis added).
As ASEAN proceeded through its calendars of meetings at
different levels of officialdom and with agendas with different
program priorities, the Vision 2020 became blurred. There was no
clear definition of what the organizational platform of the projected
ASEAN Community would look like. The sense of political
momentum seemed almost lost by the time of the 2002 eighth
ASEAN Summit’s cursory “Phnom Penh Agenda towards a
Community of Southeast Asian Nations.” It had four themes: the
Greater Mekong Subregion, tourism, solidarity for peace and
stability, and sustainable resources. The conservative HPA was
conceptually tied to an intra-ASEAN political status quo. The concept
of an ASEAN Community was increasingly being interpreted
narrowly as an ASEAN Economic Community. This was evident in
the foreign ministers’ communiqué at the end of their June 2002 36th
AMM in Phnom Penh in which the references to an ASEAN
Community were specifically an ASEAN Economic Community.
The piecemeal implementation of the HPA’s recommendations
occurred at a low point in ASEAN’s fortunes. Its programs for
economic cooperation were sputtering. Singapore and Thailand,
frustrated by the slow pace of intra-ASEAN trade liberalization, were
aggressively pursuing negotiations for bilateral FTAs with their major
international trade partners. The financial crisis triggered in mid-1997
showed that reflexive nationalism was stronger than regionalism in
confronting common problems. ASEAN’s future economic
development seemed imperiled by China’s rapid economic growth
threatening to displace ASEAN countries from their export markets
and divert foreign direct investment away from Southeast Asia to
China.
ASEAN’s cloudy economic future coincided with an emerging
political gulf between ASEAN and its democratic Western dialogue
partners. Malaysia’s prime minister Mahathir had vigorously argued
that ASEAN’s enlargement would have enormous political potential
for ASEAN’s influence in determining the pace and direction of Asia-
Pacific affairs.6 This ignored the international political downside that
Cambodia and Myanmar brought with their membership. ASEAN’s
acquiescence to Hun Sen’s unilateral tearing up of UNTAC’s
ASEAN-blessed democratic framework for Cambodia set in motion a
more than three-decade-long notoriously corrupt, ruthless, and
authoritarian regime. Only the sultan of Brunei has ruled longer than
Hun Sen as an ASEAN head of government. The realpolitik
background of Cambodia’s membership was surpassed by ASEAN’s
embrace of the internationally reviled and sanctioned Myanmar
junta. ASEAN found itself on the political defensive as it sought to
justify the junta’s seat in ASEAN to its dialogue partners and the
United Nations Human Rights Council. The issues around Cambodia
and Myanmar were the most internationally visible manifestations of
ASEAN’s struggle to accommodate a more politically and
economically diverse membership. The new circumstances spurred
the transformation from the informality of pre-expansion ASEAN into
a more formally structured organizational format.
The allusion to the Greater Mekong Subregion (GMS) in the
“Phnom Penh Agenda” called attention to the emergence of
centrifugal economic and political forces tugging at ASEAN unity. In
continental ASEAN, new cooperative frameworks overlapped
ASEAN identities. In 2002, a new civilian government came to power
in Thailand led by Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. Thaksin had a
Thailand-plus foreign policy with overtones of Prime Minister
Chatichai Choonhavan’s approach in the late 1980s (chapter 4).
Thaksin’s geo-economic core-periphery approach centered on extra-
ASEAN regionalism like the Ayeyawady-Chao Phraya-Mekong
Economic Cooperation Strategy (ACMECS) and the Bay of Bengal
Initiative for Multi-Sectoral Technical and Economic Cooperation
(BIMSTEC), which had its Thaksin-hosted first summit meeting in
Bangkok in 2004. Also in 2004, the CLMV countries established a
heads-of-government framework for cooperation, and the Japan-
backed CLV Development Triangle was launched.7
The multilateral development programs linking Thailand and
CLMV countries can be considered subsets of the GMS
development scheme. Backed by the Asian Development Bank
(ADB), it was launched in 1992, linking China to the Mekong Basin
ASEAN states in a multilateral framework to promote the common
goal of development of the shared natural and human resources of
the river. Singapore, eyeing Thailand’s market gateway into the
Mekong Basin, in 1996 sponsored an ASEAN connection in the
ASEAN–Mekong Basin Development Cooperation (AMBDC). One of
the major goals of the GMS is building transportation infrastructure,
with roads, bridges, and continental Southeast Asia’s railway lines to
enhance ties to China’s Yunnan Province. The flagship project was
the proposed Singapore-Kunming high-speed railway now under
construction, with branches to Cambodia and Myanmar.
Since 1995 multilateral efforts to monitor and balance demands on
the Mekong’s flow for sustainable development have been the task
of the Mekong River Commission (MRC). Led by member countries
Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam, it is supported by donor
nations and multilateral organizations. Even though China is a major
stakeholder in the river—in China known as the Lancang—it has
refused to accept multilateral oversight of its upstream high dams. In
a kind of riposte to the MRC, in 2015 Beijing launched the Lancang-
Mekong Cooperation (LMC) in Sanya, China’s southernmost city on
the island of Hainan. The Sanya Declaration, with its invocations of
peace, stability, and economic development, could have been written
for an ASEAN-China Summit.8 The LMC’s second summit was
scheduled for 2018 in Cambodia. As ASEAN labored to put down the
foundations for its “community,” a network of overlapping China-
oriented political frameworks was created that would make China a
major actor in the affairs of ASEAN’s northern tier. Rather than an
integrated ASEAN, the pull of China could see the Mekong Basin
nations becoming the southern perimeter of a “greater Yunnan.”

THE BALI CONCORD II

It was an economically worried and politically bruised ASEAN that
met on the island of Bali in October 2003 for the ninth ASEAN
Summit. The summit’s significance was in the issuance of the
Declaration of the Bali Concord II (ASEAN Concord II).9 This summit
was no less momentous for ASEAN’s political evolution than the first
Bali summit, which twenty-seven years earlier produced the Bali
Concord I. The Bali Concord II’s purpose was to provide an
integrative political and economic framework for the achievement of
a “dynamic, cohesive, resilient, and integrated ASEAN Community”
that could ensure durable regional peace, security, and stability. In
this framework, the poorly coordinated and flagging maze of
activities and responsibilities scattered through the HPA were given
a unified institutional cohesion. The summit’s agenda went well
beyond the limits of its Phnom Penh predecessor. ASEAN was about
to embark on its third reinvention.
The Bali Summit also signaled the renewal of Indonesia’s claim to
regional leadership, which had been lost in the wreckage of the 1998
collapse after two decades of the Suharto government. It was
succeeded by a seventeen-month government of Vice President B.
J. Habibie, who was preoccupied with the diplomatic disaster of East
Timor’s separation from Indonesia and digging out from the
shambles of Indonesia’s economy. President Habibie’s bid for a full
term of office was rejected by parliament, which in October 1999
elected President Abdurrahman Wahid to a five-year term of office.*
Wahid was the leader of Indonesia’s largest Islamic social
movement, the Nahdlatul Ulama. For more than thirty years,
Indonesia had been represented in ASEAN by experienced
professional diplomats—Adam Malik, Mochtar Kusumaatmadja, and
Ali Alatas—who had been major contributors to the organization’s
development and Indonesia’s stake in it. To replace Alatas, President
Wahid named Islamic theologian and businessman Alwi Shihab as
foreign minister. Wahid’s sketchy regional strategic vision was to
“give a new look to Asia” through an India-Indonesia-China
economic development alliance funded by Singapore and Japan.10
Although Wahid’s regional vision was not mentioned in the joint
communiqué following his December 1999 state visit to China, he
and President Jiang Zemin agreed that, working together, Indonesia
and China could develop Asia into a force in the world guaranteeing
political and economic equality.11
Wahid was impeached by parliament, to be succeeded in July
2001 by Vice President Megawati Sukarnoputri, the daughter of
Indonesia’s first president and a leader of the 1998 popular revolt
against Suharto. Megawati’s presidency was politically strained by
internal dissent, terrorism, corruption, and ethnic insurgencies,
especially in fiercely Muslim Aceh. She was, however, committed to
raising Indonesia’s international visibility. A core of Megawati’s
government’s foreign policy was to reestablish Indonesia’s
leadership position in ASEAN. In this, she was guided by her foreign
minister, Hassan Wirajuda, who, mentored by Ali Alatas, restored
professionalism and the role of ASEAN in Indonesia’s foreign policy.
The Bali Summit was the first post-Suharto hosting by Indonesia of
an ASEAN summit. It gave President Megawati the opportunity to
retake Indonesia’s place in ASEAN’s vanguard. In her annual
presidential reporting to the Indonesian parliament, following the Bali
Summit, President Megawati said:
In ASEAN, which constitutes a priority in the conduct of our foreign policy, Indonesia
was once again able to show leadership. The success of Indonesia during the 9th
Summit, in preparing the Bali Concord II has strengthened the role, commitment, and
the leadership of Indonesia within ASEAN.12

Her comments were not just posturing. An informed Indonesia-

watcher wrote: “The Bali Summit witnessed Indonesia’s re-
emergence to the role of group leader, or at least demonstrated
Jakarta’s desire to begin to steer the direction of the grouping
again.”13 At the closing ceremony of the summit, Megawati remarked
to her fellow leaders that they had witnessed a historic event in the
history of ASEAN:
 the signing of the document that will be handed down to posterity as the Declaration of
ASEAN Concord II or Bali Concord II. This is the document that will establish an
ASEAN Community. That will make it possible for our children and their children to live
in a state of enduring peace, stability and shared prosperity.14

The context of her remarks was a “farewell” tribute to Prime

Minister Mahathir, who was retiring after twenty-two years of leading
Malaysia. As a kind of “last hurrah,” Mahathir, in his response to
Megawati, returned to a consistent theme in his views of ASEAN.
Even though ASEAN had proved itself a successful and relevant
regional organization, he said, “it must continue to deepen its
relations with East Asia. An East Asian Community, with ASEAN at
its core, is inevitable.”15 This, however, was not the goal of the Bali
Concord II.
The Bali Concord II did not begin from scratch. It opened with a
lengthy listing that recalled, reaffirmed, confirmed, and reiterated
previous actions and commitments. It then stated:
An ASEAN Community shall be established comprising three pillars, namely political
and security cooperation, economic cooperation, and socio-cultural cooperation that
are closely intertwined and mutually reinforcing for the purpose of ensuring durable
peace, stability and shared prosperity in the region.

This was followed by general statements on what the ASEAN

Community should do or be: for example, ensure close and mutual
beneficial relations, nurture common values, deepen economic
integration, and similar generalizations about desired outcomes. The
declaration then outlined in greater detail the expectations, basis,
and agendas of the three pillars that were the notional areas of
cooperation conceived of as distinct subcommunities of the ASEAN
Community: the ASEAN Security Community (ASC) [later renamed
the ASEAN Political-Security Community], the ASEAN Economic
Community (AEC), and the ASEAN Socio-Cultural Community
(ASCC). Aside from using the word “intertwined” to describe the
relationship of the three pillars, the Bali Concord II gives no guidance
on how the three ASEAN communities related to one another in a
unified ASEAN Community. From the outset, ASEAN’s “community”
was ambiguous. It describes both an intergovernmental framework
for common action and a future—2020—situation in which the
countries would coexist in peace, stability, and prosperity.
 Of the three subcommunities, the AEC was the most clearly
defined. This is not surprising, since, as the previous chapters have
shown, the goal of an open ASEAN economy had been on the
economists’ drawing boards for years. Incremental steps were well
underway for the establishment of the AEC’s goal of “ASEAN as a
single market and production base.” The most amorphous of the
three pillars was the ASCC, which had responsibilities for greater
study of and attention to issues such as rural poverty, public health,
education, women, children, and so on. To a great extent, its
activities would depend on financial support of international donor
nations and agencies.
The ASC was an effort to bring ASEAN’s political and security
cooperation to a higher plane. The security challenges for the
signers of the Bali Concord II were different from those of the
founding five in Bali I. Terrorism and transnational crime had been
added to conventional threats. Furthermore, as ASEAN sought to
project its political identity to the international community, the issue
of “human security” had become part of its intra-ASEAN and external
dialogue. The most politically troublesome question for the future
ASEAN Charter was the place of human rights and freedom in a
“caring” ASEAN Community. Indonesia, in particular, gave new
attention to human security issues in its break with Suharto’s
undemocratic past. This became even more pronounced after
directly elected president Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono took office in
October 2004 amid the cry for democratization.
The Bali Concord II, while envisioning an ASC ensuring “a just,
democratic, and harmonious environment,” did not provide a path to
it. The Bali Concord II reaffirmed the ASEAN way’s underpinnings of
sovereignty and noninterference. It recognized the rights of member
states to pursue their individual foreign policies and defense
arrangements. It advanced a hazy notion of “comprehensive security
as having broad political, economic, social, and cultural aspects,”
consonant with the Vision 2020. What those aspects might be was
not mentioned. The declaration restated ASEAN’s claim that its
political instruments, such as the ZOPFAN, the TAC, and the
SEANWFZ, were pivotal to regional confidence building, preventive
diplomacy, and conflict resolution. The basis for this claim could be
questioned, since there is no evidence that the behavior of the
ASEAN states or external powers had been conditioned by them. In
the promise to move the organization to a higher plane, it said
nothing about how change would happen. The agency remains the
same—voluntary cooperation, the parameters of which are set by
the ASEAN way, and which takes place at a pace comfortable for all
member states. In short, as one critic wrote: “the ASC appears to be
an extension of existing ASEAN arrangements.”16
Between the October 2003 Bali Summit and the November 2004,
Vientiane, 10th ASEAN Summit, ASEAN officials and Track II groups
involved in ASEAN affairs developed a plan of action to give content
to the promise of the Bali Concord II. In planning for the ASC, they
tried to reconcile the workings of the ASEAN way with the promise of
human rights and democracy. The ASC dilemma was framed in an
August 7, 2004, speech by Malaysia’s prime minister Abdullah
Badawi: “There should be a universal acceptance that community
interests should prevail over national interests on issues affecting the
community.”17 He went on to add that a rules-based community
should have the capacity to enforce decisions, and that members
should adhere to values. After calling for compliance in a rules-
based commun6ity, however, in the same speech, he reverted to the
ASEAN way by saying that the community “will not require member
states to forfeit their sovereign rights or competencies.”
The Malaysian prime minister was speaking at a time of
deteriorating security conditions in Thailand’s southern, Muslim-
populated provinces, where the Thai government’s harsh tactics to
stamp out separatist sympathy and insurgency concerned Muslim-
majority Malaysia and Indonesia. Five weeks before the Vientiane
ASEAN Summit, what has been called the Tak Bai massacre
occurred, when Thai police and military killed eighty-five Muslim
protesters, causing outrage throughout the Islamic world and a crisis
for ASEAN. From Bangkok, Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra
warned his ASEAN partners not to interfere in Thailand’s domestic
affairs. From Kuala Lumpur’s point of view, as put by Foreign
Minister Syed Hamid, what was happening in South Thailand was a
potential security threat that required regional attention, adding that
“there is no such thing as absolute non-intervention.”18 Thaksin
insisted that the problems in Thailand’s southern provinces not be on
the Vientiane agenda. In that, he was backed by the LPDR host,
whose summit spokesperson said, “I think we have a golden rule,
that is non-interference in the internal affairs of each other.”19 The
issue came to a head when Kuala Lumpur and Jakarta seemed
intent on bringing the situation in southern Thailand to the leaders’
meeting. If they did, Thaksin vowed to walk out. This was an
unprecedented threat to ASEAN solidarity and consensus. It also
meant that no ASEAN decision, statement, or declaration requiring
the signatures of the ten heads of state could be issued. To save the
Vientiane summit, and perhaps ASEAN itself, Prime Minister
Abdullah Badawi and President Suharto agreed to Thaksin’s
demand that the problem of violence in Thailand’s south not be
mentioned in an official ASEAN setting.20 In failing to mention it,
however, ASEAN was accused of damaging its moral authority.21

The Vientiane Action Program (VAP)

A main order of business for the 2004 Vientiane ASEAN Summit was
to formally approve the Vientiane Action Program (VAP), which laid
out the goals and strategies to be realized in the ASEAN
Community.22 It was also a projected road map for the years 2004–
2010, succeeding the HPA. The most detailed attention was given to
the AEC. There were different expectations of outcomes across the
subcommunities. For the ASC and ASCC, it was “cooperation.” For
the AEC, it was “integration.” The VAP dealt with the AEC’s
technical, legal, regulatory, and bureaucratic steps leading to the
goal of free flow of goods, services, labor, and capital in an ASEAN
economy. The ASCC’s focus was on building “caring societies” that
mitigate the impact of economic integration. The VAP also gave
special attention to closing the development gap between the older
members and the CLMV countries.
The “theme” of the VAP’s plan for the ASC was to enhance peace,
stability, democracy, and prosperity in the region through
comprehensive political and security cooperation. The VAP’s ASC
program had five strategic thrusts: political development, sharing of
norms, conflict prevention, conflict resolution, and postconflict
peacebuilding. The recommended actions, like those of the HPA,
focused on promoting, expanding, and strengthening existing
programs rather than striking out in innovative directions. The Tak
Bai incident had already proven ASEAN’s inability to deal with the
spillover of internal strife in one country into the region. In the VAP,
the regional threat of terrorism was only referenced with respect to
norm building. The hurdles to be faced in politically transforming
ASEAN were spelled out in an August 7, 2004, speech by Phan Van
Khai, Vietnam’s prime minister, commemorating ASEAN’s thirty-
seventh anniversary.23 He made it clear that Hanoi was satisfied with
the ASEAN status quo. He praised “the wise and flexible”
applications of ASEAN’s fundamental principles and emphasized
that organizational alterations in ASEAN should “neither be used as
a pretext to intervene in the internal affairs of a nation nor be harmful
to what has made up the strength of ASEAN.” As for any proposition
that ASEAN should be a rules-based organization with enforcement
mechanisms, Prime Minister Khai pointed out that a nation’s
engagement in ASEAN’s processes was voluntary and nonbinding.
From the beginning of the process of turning the Bali Concord II
into an action program, Indonesian foreign minister Hassan Wirajuda
had seized the initiative on the ASC. In February 2004, he discussed
the security threats the ASC should address, including terrorism,
transnational crime, the inability of some countries to effectively
address their own security, and the regional spillover of domestic
strife in a country, envisioning an ASEAN that must be “enabled to
discuss sensitive issues and to resolve them amicably instead of
relegating them to the back burner.”24 Indonesia arrived at the VAP
negotiating table with a draft blueprint for an action plan of seventy
implementing projects. The ASC was deemed Indonesia’s
“opportunity to reclaim its ‘strategic centrality’ within ASEAN, which
in turn would enable the Association to reclaim its ‘diplomatic
centrality’ within the international community.”25
Coordination of security policy and a strong human rights platform
were the major elements of Indonesia’s draft. The centerpiece was
the creation of an ASEAN peacekeeping force. This was viewed in
Jakarta as an expansion and institutionalization of an ASEAN
conflict-resolution role.* It would provide a framework for
“ASEANizing” established intra-regional military-to-military links
contributing to counterterrorism, which had high priority in Indonesia,
particularly after attacks in Bali and Jakarta.† ASEAN’s reactions to
the terror threat had been declaratory, urging cooperation but without
provision for common action.26 An ASC with increased real security
capacity would minimize the necessity for external, non-ASEAN
security influence or intervention, including preemptive strikes
against terrorists by external forces. The proposal raised a number
of questions that doomed it from the start: command and control,
conditions for deployment, different military capabilities, a standing
ASEAN force or national contingents, and costs. The key political
question was whether consensus, including that of the affected state,
was necessary to deploy such a force. The proposal gained no
support, and Singapore and Vietnam rejected it at the March 2004
Senior Officials’ Meeting on the VAP.
Rather than coordinating capacity building for counterterrorism,
the VAP called for the establishment of an ASEAN Convention on
Counter Terrorism (ACCT).27 This was negotiated and signed in
2007. It was followed in 2009 by a Comprehensive Plan of Action on
Counter Terrorism, which was revised in September 2017.28 In the
ASEAN way, while strong on promoting norms, after a decade the
ACCT had had little impact on the creation of regional
counterterrorism mechanisms.29 Effective counterterrorism
cooperation and capacity building takes place on a bilateral, non-
ASEAN basis. While ASEAN may claim to be a “platform” for such
cooperation, a key role has been played by extra-ASEAN partners,
particularly the United States and Australia. The political inability of
the ASEAN member states to create truly regional institutions and
mechanisms to combat terrorism has been characteristic of other
areas of transnational crime, such as human trafficking and
narcotics. This is exemplified by the failure to achieve an ASEAN
extradition treaty. This was put on ASEAN’s agenda in the 1976 Bali
Concord I. It was an item in the VAP. The 2006 39th AMM called for
its immediate establishment. In 2017, it was still being studied.
The Indonesian draft ASC also reflected the country’s recent
political history. It called for ASC’s commitment to democracy and
human rights, including an ASEAN human rights mechanism.
Foreign Minister Wirajuda had promised that such a mechanism
would be an important feature of the ASC in which democracy and
respect for human rights would be nurtured.30 ASEAN’s only major
statement on human rights had been made at the July 1993,
Singapore, 26th AMM. This was shortly after the United Nations
Vienna World Conference on Human Rights and its June 25, 1993,
Vienna Declaration. Although the AMM’s statement was full of
qualifications aimed at balancing human rights with economic,
cultural, and religious rights, the foreign ministers accepted the
principle that it was the duty of the state to promote and protect
human rights. In support of the Vienna Declaration, the AMM agreed
that ASEAN should consider the establishment of an appropriate
regional mechanism on human rights.31 This was before the
expansion of ASEAN to include the CLMV countries. Since then, the
issue had been dormant. As the VAP was being negotiated, only four
ASEAN countries had national human rights mechanisms:
Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand.
The VAP was adopted at the June 27, 2004, AMM. In discussing
the ASC, the foreign ministers “commended Indonesia for
developing and elaborating an ASEAN Security Community Plan of
Action,” and then ignored it. The VAP text for the ASC was that
developed by the senior officials’ meetings (SOM) in which
Indonesia’s effort to give ASEAN a new democratic and human
rights course had been scrubbed to fit the ASEAN way. Indonesia
had made a major diplomatic effort to plant its concept of the ASC
into the VAP, only to be rebuffed. What emerged, according to an
angry Jakarta editorial, was a document so watered down that it was
a “worthless scrap of paper.”32 The foreign ministry’s director general
for ASEAN Cooperation, Marty Natalegawa (later to become foreign
minister), was more diplomatic, saying that Indonesia’s “bold and
visionary” ideas were designed to stimulate responses from its
ASEAN partners.33 Indonesia would not be straitjacketed, he said,
and would pursue the matter. A different take was that Indonesia’s
partners “appear to regard its energetic promotion of the ASEAN
Security Community as a blatant and unacceptable bid to reassert
itself over the rest of the region.”34
 The VAP noted that the achievement of the Bali Concord II goals
would require an intensified dialogue among the members and the
making of binding commitments. The notion of “binding” raised the
question of the legal relationship between ASEAN and its members.
ASEAN had no corporate legal identity. The many declarations,
communiqués, and statements that flowed from it were joint acts of
representatives functioning as officials of sovereign states. The 1976
Bali Concord I had already agreed that to be effective the
organization should move from its informal structure to an
autonomous legal basis. ASEAN was not a treaty-based
international organization and had no international standing as such.
In the preamble to the VAP, the leaders recognized that ASEAN
needed to strengthen its foundation. After more than three decades,
ASEAN agreed to work on the development of an ASEAN Charter.
The setting up of a mechanism for drafting a charter was one of the
first tasks addressed in the ASC’s strategy for political development.

WRITING THE ASEAN CHARTER

The charter-writing project was set in motion by the “Kuala Lumpur
Declaration on the Establishment of the ASEAN Charter” adopted in
December 2005 by the 11th ASEAN Summit.35 This confirmed the
leaders’ commitment to an ASEAN Charter as the legal and
institutional framework for the ASEAN Community. ASEAN would
become an organization with an international personality
independent of its member states. It was at this summit that the
leaders adopted the motto “One Vision, One Identity, One
Community.” Theoretically, this could transform ASEAN from a loose,
consensus-based, diplomatic concert into a structured, rules-based,
regional international organization. As a single actor, it could more
effectively interact with its dialogue partners and better address intra-
ASEAN processes of political, economic, and social integration that
seemed inherent in community building. This would, however, have
required a very unlikely abandonment of the ASEAN way. The heads
of government stated that the ASEAN Charter would codify ASEAN’s
norms and values; would reaffirm the contents of ASEAN’s previous
decisions, declarations, and agreements; and would enhance,
advance, and protect ASEAN’s common interests and the national
interests of its members. The declaration included a list of eighteen
sets of ideals and goals that could be promoted by the charter. Two
of them demonstrated the political fault line between ASEAN
members who wanted to liberalize the organization and those who
were content with the status quo:
Promotion of democracy, human rights and obligations, transparency and good
governance and strengthening democratic institutions.
The right of every state to lead its national existence free from external interference,
subversion or coercion and non-interference in the internal affairs of one another.

The Kuala Lumpur Declaration established an Eminent Persons

Group (EPG), which was “to examine and provide practical
recommendations on the directions and nature of the ASEAN
Charter envisioned in the Bali Concord II.” Appointed by their
respective governments, the ten members of the EPG were, or had
been, distinguished ministerial-level government officials.36 Among
them was Fidel Ramos, a former Philippines president and son of an
ASEAN founding father, Narciso Ramos. The chairman was Tun
Musa Hitam, former Malaysian deputy prime minister and a former
chairman of the Malaysian Human Rights Commission. Indonesia
was represented by former foreign minister Ali Alatas, who was
intent on seeing the political goals of the Bali Concord II realized in
the ASEAN Charter.37 In the company of the foreign ministers and
deputy prime minister, the relatively low bureaucratic rank of the
Myanmar member may have indicated the importance that the ruling
junta gave to the exercise.* In addition to the EPG, the leaders
tasked their foreign ministers with establishing a High Level Task
Force (HLTF) to actually draft the ASEAN Charter based on Bali
Concord II, the Kuala Lumpur Declaration, and the EPG’s
recommendations.

The EPG Report

Prime Minister Abdullah Badawi, chair of the Kuala Lumpur summit,
conveyed the mandate of the leaders to the EPG. The Terms of
Reference (TOR) addressed the full scope of ASEAN activity. The
EPG was to:
 examine ASEAN in all areas of its cooperation activities, codify and build upon all
ASEAN norms, principles, values and goals . . . as well as undertake a thorough review
of the existing ASEAN institutional framework and propose appropriate improvement. . .
. It will put forth bold and visionary recommendations on the drafting of an ASEAN
Charter, which will serve as the legal and institutional framework for ASEAN, aimed at
enabling the building of a strong, prosperous, and caring and sharing ASEAN
Community that is cohesive, successful and progressing in the 21st century.38

In fulfilling its task, the EPG held eight meetings, consulted with
various partners and stakeholders, and met with members of civil
society, private business–sector representatives, and academics. It
also had a study mission to Brussels to examine the EU’s
experience in terms of any lessons for ASEAN. In its work, the EPG
was backstopped by a small staff, the ASEAN Secretariat and
national ASEAN secretariats and ministries, as well as ISIS think
tanks. Like most ASEAN documents, the sharp edges of
disagreement or dissent that might have surfaced in the EPG’s
deliberations had been ground down to consensus. Nevertheless,
the EPG report was, by ASEAN standards, progressive and willing to
break new ground. This was due in no small part to the influence of
Indonesia’s Ali Alatas. As it had at the VAP negotiations, Indonesia
came prepared to the EPG with a draft for a charter. Unlike the
VAP’s SOM, however, the distinguished EPG members, after
discussion and revisions, adopted the Indonesian draft as a basis for
the ASEAN Charter. In it, the EPG took seriously the Malaysian
prime minister’s admonition to be bold and visionary. The EPG’s
report began by stating that “after 40 years, ASEAN is now at a
critical turning point.”39 Even though it had been successful, “there is
no guarantee that it will continue to be relevant in the coming
decades and remain the driving force in regional cooperation.” To do
so, the EPG said that ASEAN had “to reposition itself” to address the
challenges and opportunities in the changing international
landscape.
The EPG was fully aware of the political impediments standing in
the way of fulfilling the goals of Vision 2020. The members
cautiously approached the third rail of intra-ASEAN relations—the
ASEAN way. Although it had worked well in the past, for the
realization of the acceleration of ASEAN integration in the ASEAN
Community, the ASEAN way would need to be improved. The EPG
suggested that member states would need “to calibrate the
traditional approach of non-intervention in areas where the common
interest dictates closer cooperation.” The EPG argued that the
ASEAN Community project could be successful only if the member
states made “conscious efforts to promote the benefits of closer
regional integration as well as accord higher national priority to
ASEAN within their domestic agendas.” The EPG emphasized that it
would take strong political will to advance the common interest.
Two specific issue areas stood out: decision-making and
compliance. In the EPG’s words, “More effective decision-making
processes are also necessary to deal with less sensitive issues as
well as to respond to urgent crises.” With the exception of security
and foreign relations, the EPG called for a more flexible decision-
making arrangement over the widening and increasing areas of
ASEAN activities. Where consensus failed, some form of majority
vote should prevail. As noted in previous chapters, in some special
agreements, this already existed with the “ASEAN minus X” or the “2
plus X” formulas. The EPG’s recommendation would broaden
decision by votes as opposed to consensus. The EPG also
confronted the problem of member noncompliance with ASEAN’s
decisions, agreements, principles, and norms. The EPG proposed a
mechanism for resolving such issues. If resolution of serious
noncompliance failed, on the recommendation of the foreign
ministers, the leaders by unanimous vote, except the offending state,
could strip the member of its ASEAN rights and privileges until it
became compliant. In practical terms, it is difficult to conceive a
situation in which such a sanction would get a unanimous vote. From
the beginning of the EPG discussion of compliance, the possibility of
expulsion as the ultimate sanction was dismissed.
The EPG called for ASEAN to align its principles and objectives
with the new realities facing it. The first of the principles and
objectives identified by the EPG would have defined a new political
quality in the area of state behavior for which ASEAN had been most
seriously criticized:
Promotion of ASEAN’s peace and stability through the active strengthening of
democratic values, good governance, rejection of unconstitutional and undemocratic
 changes of government, the rule of law including international humanitarian law, and
respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms.

A consistent argument throughout the EPG report was that the

ASEAN Community should be one in which human rights and
fundamental freedoms should be protected and guaranteed to every
ASEAN citizen. Picking up what the VAP had dumped, the EPG
considered the “worthy idea” of a human rights mechanism that
would contribute to ensuring respect and protection of human rights.
The elephant in the room with the EPG was the situation in
Myanmar. ASEAN’s Myanmar problem was more than just a pebble
in ASEAN’s shoe (to use Ali Alatas’s East Timor analogy). It was a
cancer eating away at the credibility of ASEAN’s claim to be building
a democratic and caring community. The issue of human rights in
Myanmar had become the touchstone of ASEAN’s political relations
with democratic dialogue countries. The West’s reluctance to engage
with Myanmar as a member of ASEAN reached its peak in 2006
when it was Myanmar’s turn to chair the organization. In the face of a
threatened Western boycott of ASEAN meetings, Myanmar was
“persuaded” to step aside in favor of the Philippines. ASEAN had
become Myanmar’s defender in the annual two rounds of the UN
debates on Myanmar human rights violations. ASEAN’s image was
not helped by globally admired Daw Aung San Suu Kyi’s
denunciation of ASEAN as the junta’s accomplice.
ASEAN’s policy of “constructive engagement,” while enriching
Thai, Malaysian, and Singaporean business interests, had not
produced political results. The frustration of some ASEAN states was
beginning to be publicly declared. In August 2003, Myanmar prime
minister Lieutenant General Khin Nyunt released a “road map to
democracy,” a seven-step phase-in of a new constitution, but without
a timetable.40 In November 2004, Khin Nyunt was dismissed from
office by Tan Shwe, the junta’s leader. ASEAN’s reaction was
epitomized by the text scroll across the top of the ASEAN
Secretariat’s website home page: “ASEAN to Pursue Constructive
Engagement with Myanmar after Power Struggle.”
Indonesia’s foreign minister Hassan Wirajuda was the first ASEAN
senior official to meet the new Myanmar prime minister, Lieutenant
General Soe Win, in November 2004, just before the Vientiane
summit. The purpose was “a mutual sharing of information,” and
Wirajuda came away saying that Soe Win’s assurances of change
were “something that many would accept with skepticism.”41 In
November 2005, ASEAN pressed the junta to accept an official
ASEAN team led by Malaysian foreign minister Syed Hamid to
assess the progress made on the “road map.” Permission was
grudgingly given in March 2006. In advance of the trip, Syed said
that Myanmar must prove that it was moving toward democracy
since “the credibility and integrity of ASEAN as a whole is going to
be affected.”42 The results were disappointing. He was not allowed to
meet with Aung San Suu Kyi, who was under house arrest. He
accused Myanmar of holding ASEAN hostage and bringing it into
disrepute.43 His Indonesian counterpart, Hassan Wirajuda, stated
that Myanmar “should be more forthcoming in its own interactions
with its ASEAN family,” otherwise, he warned, ASEAN could do
nothing to defend it against UN action.44 Malaysian prime minister
Abdullah Badawi was blunt when opening the 39th ASEAN AMM in
2006. Anticipating the EPG’s report, he warned that “the situation in
Myanmar is impacting on the image and credibility of ASEAN.”45 He
noted that ASEAN hoped that Myanmar’s government “will take the
necessary steps to move forward with the rest of ASEAN.”
Within ASEAN, Myanmar’s indifference to the older members’
pressure to move forward on its democratization process was
balanced by the other CLMV countries’ solidarity in maintaining the
golden rules of the ASEAN way. Their own internal political
arrangements had more in common with Myanmar than the other
members. Given ASEAN’s lack of political capacity to influence
Myanmar, by default the agent of change had to be external,
independent of ASEAN’s community-building project. When real
change came to Myanmar, the agency had no connection to ASEAN.
Cyclone Nargis in 2008, which engulfed the Irrawaddy Delta, was a
humanitarian and economic disaster that displayed the
socioeconomic weakness and incapacity of the ruling military
government. This triggered a political rethink of the country’s global
and economic isolation and the kind of political changes necessary
to reverse its economic course.
 The EPG strongly recommended strengthening the ASEAN
Secretariat, remarking that member countries’—really the foreign
ministers’—reluctance to create a strong central secretariat had led
to piecemeal ASEAN development emphasizing consensus-based
decision-making that did not keep up with the needs of the
organization. Although the EPG did not raise the issue in its report,
part of the problem was the annual rotation of the chair, and without
a strong secretariat, momentum was lost. From the EPG’s point of
view, the secretariat did not have the structure, staff, or authority to
coordinate the three-pillared community and its many activities. The
EPG proposed that the ASEAN secretary-general should have a
greater role, broader authority, and a representative international role
for ASEAN. This was to become the institutional framework for the
first post–ASEAN Charter secretary-general, Surin Pitsuwan, who as
previously noted functioned as a coequal of the foreign ministers and
as ASEAN’s envoy to the world.
The EPG report was officially presented to the ASEAN leaders at
the delayed January 2007 12th ASEAN Summit in Cebu, the
Philippines, hosted by President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo. It was
also at this summit that the date for the establishment of the ASEAN
Community was advanced five years, from 2020 to 2015.46 This had
been urged on the leaders a year earlier, at the 11th ASEAN
Summit, by the economic ministers looking to the pace of ASEAN
states’ integration into regional and bilateral FTAs. To maintain the
indivisibility of the political, economic, and cultural pillars of the
ASEAN Community, all three subcommunities were accelerated, but
lag time was given to the CLMV countries.
Originally scheduled for December 2006, the Cebu summit was
postponed by Arroyo, ostensibly because of an impending typhoon
(which did not materialize). Political observers thought the real cause
was her fear of leaving Manila during a domestic political crisis and a
possible coup. The sudden change disrupted a year’s planning and,
according to one commentator, “also reveals that ASEAN can be
sacrificed for a leader’s political interests.”47 An even more dramatic
example of the play of domestic politics on ASEAN planning
occurred in April 2009 at the 14th ASEAN Summit, hosted by Thai
prime minister Abhisit Vejjajiva. Protesters against the military-
backed, unelected Abhisit government besieged the summit’s
Pattaya hotel venue, causing Abhisit to cancel the summit, with
some of the leaders fleeing the protesters by helicopter from the
hotel’s roof.

The HLTF
ASEAN’s leaders endorsed the EPG’s report at the Cebu summit
and instructed the High Level Task Force for the Drafting of the
ASEAN Charter to begin its work. The finished product was to be
delivered in eleven months to the November 2007 13th ASEAN
Summit in Singapore. The HLTF’s job was to stitch together a
coherent and unified constitution and organizational framework for
an ASEAN Community that conformed to the leaders’ will as
expressed since the Vision 2020 in declarations, action plans, the
Bali Concord II, and their endorsement of the EPG’s work. From an
extensive information base, the HLTF was to organize, clarify, and
synthesize the material in such a way that it could produce an
ASEAN Charter—a political document—that would reset relations
among the member states and give ASEAN a legal international
identity. In the politics of writing the charter, unlike the EPG, the
HLTF could be neither bold nor visionary since the finished product
had to be accepted by consensus by the foreign ministers and then
by the heads of government.
The ten members of the HLTF had been appointed by their
respective foreign ministers. The majority of them were the senior
officials for ASEAN affairs in their respective foreign ministries. The
HLTF was co-chaired by the Philippines’ special envoy Rosario
Manalo and Singapore’s ambassador-at-large Tommy Koh. Manalo
had been Fidel Ramos’s advisor at the EPG, and Tommy Koh had
been president from 1980 to 1982 of the conference that produced
the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea. Their chair
positions had nothing to do with their eminence. It was part of
ASEAN’s protocol. Manalo represented the outgoing Philippines
ASEAN chairmanship and Koh the incoming Singapore
chairmanship.
 The HLTF met thirteen times, interspersed with staff meetings and
meetings with other stakeholders. The HLTF meetings were
diplomatic negotiations. The fifty articles that appear in the charter
were the outcome of the building of a consensus. Negotiations were
at times tense and emotional as members sought to protect their
governments’ national interests on key provisions. The Malaysian
HLTF member reported that the older ASEAN member states were
accused of being too generous “in conceding to the CLMV member
states on various critical and sensitive issues in the Charter.”48 The
most sensitive of the many issues were those articles addressing
democratic freedoms and rights, especially a human rights
mechanism. The issue could not be avoided if there were to be a
charter. The HLTF temporized with an ambiguous compromise that
left the problem for the foreign ministers to wrestle with later.
ASEAN’s leaders officially adopted the ASEAN Charter at their
November 20, 2007, Singapore, 12th ASEAN Summit.49 It came into
force as ASEAN’s legal and institutional foundation for a rules-based
ASEAN Community on December 15, 2008, after ratification by the
ten sovereign states. There was initial reluctance in both the
Philippine and Indonesian parliaments to accept a charter in which
the human rights issues in Myanmar had been ignored, but the
pressure for ASEAN solidarity prevailed. As for Foreign Minister
Hassan Wirajuda’s four-year effort to ensure a charter in which
democracy and human rights would be nurtured and protected, he
has allowed that “I was alone.”50

THE ASEAN CHARTER

The entry into force of the ASEAN Charter gave ASEAN a formal
legal identity as an intergovernmental international organization. As
the constituent instrument of that organization, the charter, although
not specified as such, gave ASEAN a treaty basis.51 This identity
was validated by the practice of accreditation of ambassadors to
ASEAN by other sovereign states. As of August 2017, eighty-eight
ambassadors had presented their credentials to the ASEAN
secretary-general. The majority of them had dual accreditations to
Indonesia. Some key dialogue partners and donor nations have
established separate ASEAN diplomatic missions. The United States
was the first country to give diplomatic recognition to ASEAN and
establish a mission. ASEAN is represented abroad through
committees of the ambassadors of ASEAN states to the host country
under rules and procedures set by the foreign ministers.
The operational principles of ASEAN were not changed. Even
though the EPG suggested that the ASEAN way needed to be
updated, the HLTF made no adjustments. In signing the charter, the
leaders promised to “faithfully respect the rights and fulfill the
obligations of the Charter.”52 The specific circumstances of
compliance, however, depended on each state’s determination of its
national interest. The sovereign rights of the member states are laid
out again. The member state has the right to lead its national
existence free from external intervention, subversion, and coercion,
and to make it clear, the principle of noninterference in the internal
affairs of ASEAN states is repeated. The decision-making mode
remains consultation and consensus.* If no decision can be made, it
will be referred to the ASEAN summit for decision. In case of a
serious breach of the charter or noncompliance, the matter will be
referred to the ASEAN summit. The EPG’s urging that in critical
regional issues national interests should be subordinated to
ASEAN’s regional interest is not reflected in the charter. Also ignored
in the charter was the EPG’s recommendation that it should provide
mechanisms for regular consultations with civil society. While the
EPG may have been—by ASEAN standards—bold and visionary,
the HLTF’s ASEAN Charter was cautious and status quo oriented,
essentially in deference to what would be acceptable to the CLMV
countries.
The structure of the ASEAN Community with its component three
pillars was codified in the ASEAN Charter. It was that which was
advanced in Bali Concord II: ASEAN Political-Security Community
(formerly the ASEAN Security Community), ASEAN Economic
Community, and ASEAN Social-Cultural Community. Parallel to the
charter-writing process, the “blueprints” for these communities were
being drawn up. The elements of the APSC, AEC, and ASCC were
made up of the allocation to their appropriate “pillar” community of
existing sectoral ministers’ meetings and other ministerial bodies,
together with their SOMs and committees. The communities were
coordinated by their respective community councils. These were
made up of a relevant minister from each member state. While the
AEC and ASCC Councils showed ministerial diversity, the APSC
Council included only the foreign ministers. A table of organization of
the ASEAN Community gives it a logic and decision-making flow that
on paper shows bureaucratic unity and organizational rationality but
obscures the fact that reshuffling of the ministerial meetings did not
fundamentally change ASEAN’s modus operandi even as its menu
of activities had expanded. Under the new charter, the ASEAN
Community remained an organization without a political center. The
annual transfer of leadership roles in ASEAN meant that ASEAN
was a kind of traveling circus with its dialogue partners trailing along
behind. The logistic issues became greater when, with the charter,
the ASEAN summit became biannual. Regular liaison between the
national governments and the ASEAN Secretariat was enhanced by
the establishment of a Committee of Permanent Representatives to
ASEAN based in Jakarta and consisting of an official with the rank of
ambassador from each member state. The Committee of Permanent
Representatives was also a point of contact with the foreign
diplomats accredited to ASEAN.
The most important element in the continuity between pre- and
post-charter ASEAN was the reaffirmation of the primacy of the
foreign ministers as ASEAN’s gatekeepers and policy makers. This
is not surprising since, from the Vision 2020, the foreign ministers
and their senior officials had the last word on the process of
community building. In the ASEAN Charter, their role is solidified in
the ASEAN Coordinating Council (ACC), which is made up of the
foreign ministers. It stands between the ASEAN summit and the rest
of ASEAN’s machinery, building into the ASEAN Community the role
played by the AMM. Although the leaders are the supreme authority,
they act on the recommendation of the foreign ministers, whether in
their AMM or ACC roles. The ACC is charged with coordinating the
community councils to enhance policy coherence, efficiency, and
cooperation. The ACC prepares the agenda for the ASEAN summit
and follows up on implementation of the summit’s decisions. Those
decisions are based on the ACC’s recommendations. Despite the
wide economic and social range of ASEAN-related activities, it is
ultimately the foreign ministers who control ASEAN’s policy direction,
which has been the case from its founding to the present.
As well as commanding the internal workings of ASEAN, the
foreign ministers are the stewards of ASEAN’s external relations.
This includes not just the structured meetings with dialogue partners
in ASEAN + 1 sessions, the ARF, the EAS, and other formal
encounters, but also establishing ASEAN positions on regional and
global issues that impact peace, stability, and prosperity. The charter
asserts that ASEAN “shall be the primary driving force in regional
arrangements that it initiates and maintain its centrality.” Although
the charter says the ASEAN summit sets the strategic policy
directions of ASEAN’s external relations, it does so on the
recommendations of the foreign ministers. The foreign ministers are
tasked with developing and coordinating common positions and
pursuing joint actions on the basis of unity and solidarity. They are
further charged with ensuring consistency and coherence in the
conduct of ASEAN’s external relations. This was a rededication to
the policy goals expressed in Bali Concord I’s 1976 policy injunction
that called for “strengthening of political solidarity by promoting the
harmonization of views, coordinating positions, and where possible
or desirable taking common action” (chapter 3).
When Indonesia again had its turn in 2011 as chair of the 19th
ASEAN Summit, Jakarta pressed for a common ASEAN foreign
policy platform. The summit’s Bali Declaration on the “ASEAN
Community in a Global Community of Nations”—better known as
Bali Concord III—repeated the call for ASEAN members to
contribute to their common external goals in a more coordinated,
cohesive, and coherent fashion.53 In trying to inject a new sense of
urgency into the organization’s community building, Jakarta was
undone, as it was in the charter-writing exercise, by the realities of
ASEAN’s workings in which Jakarta’s political vision was not shared
elsewhere in ASEAN. This was particularly true of the APSC. At the
three levels of state behavior important to the APSC—great-power
politics, intra-ASEAN politics, and ASEAN states’ domestic politics—
Indonesia’s attempts at leadership in implementing the charter were
largely unavailing.
 The repeated call for common positions and common actions in
ASEAN’s foreign relations had its foundation in the Bali Concord II’s
strategic assumption that the ASEAN countries “regard their security
as fundamentally linked to one another and bound by geographic
location, common vision, and objectives.” While this may have been
true for the ASEAN 5 in the Cold War, it cannot be shown to be the
case in the APSC. The assertion of the indivisibility of ASEAN
security in the Bali Concord II was immediately followed by
recognition of the sovereign right of member states to pursue their
own individual foreign policy. In ASEAN’s understanding of
comprehensive security, this ruled out an ASEAN joint foreign policy.
The collision between the search for ASEAN solidarity when faced
by security issues in which members have different stakes and the
operation of the ASEAN way in terms of its members’ foreign policies
means that ASEAN’s role in both intra-ASEAN and regional security
is limited. ASEAN is reduced to lowest-common-denominator
appeals to norms and laws, with no options for political intervention
when these are flouted.
The ASEAN Charter did not change ASEAN’s inability to confront
realistically the most critical political and strategic issues facing it.
This has had a negative impact on its international credibility. Alice
Ba, writing shortly after the ASEAN Charter was promulgated, stated
that for ASEAN to maintain its influence and claim to centrality in
Asian regionalism, “it will have to demonstrate its own organizational
coherence and clarity of leadership.”54 However, in facing the
regional political and strategic challenges in the post–ASEAN
Charter years, no “leader” has emerged. In particular, since the 2014
election of Indonesian president Joko Widodo (“Jokowi”), Indonesia
no longer seeks to assert diplomatically in ASEAN its historical, self-
defined presumed role of primus inter pares. Already in 2009, after
Indonesia’s rebuffs in the charter-writing process, a leading
Indonesian policy analyst, Rizal Sukma, advised that Indonesia
should not “imprison itself in the ‘golden cage’ of ASEAN by putting
ASEAN solidarity ahead of Indonesian national interest.”55 In the
Jokowi administration, for which Sukma was a foreign policy adviser,
ASEAN is not considered the core of Indonesian foreign policy, but
rather only one of the available platforms for Indonesia to pursue its
national interests.56 Representing Indonesia in ASEAN, Jokowi’s
foreign minister, Retno L. P. Marsudi, is simply one of the ten foreign
ministers with no special political weight or influence, unlike the
activist Indonesian foreign ministers who try to shape and move the
organization. If there is “leadership” in ASEAN, it is the negative
leadership of those countries that use the ASEAN way to block
ASEAN from addressing the gap between norms and actual
behavior, undermining its claim to centrality.

The ASEAN Intergovernmental Commission on Human

Rights (AICHR)
Although Indonesia lost the battle to make a human rights
mechanism an integral part of the ASEAN Charter, Article 14 of the
charter called for the establishment of an ASEAN human rights body.
The proposed human rights body would operate on the basis of
terms of reference (TOR) determined by the AMM. At their
Singapore, July 2008 41st AMM, the foreign ministers set up a High
Level Panel (HLP) on an ASEAN human rights TOR. The ten
members of the HLP were senior officials from their respective
foreign ministries. Their task was to draft the TOR for the ASEAN
Intergovernmental Commission on Human Rights (AICHR). The HLP
submitted the draft to the foreign ministers at their February 27,
2009, meeting, and the final endorsement by the leaders came on
October 23, 2009, at their fifteenth summit in Cha-am, Thailand.
The initial statement of AICHR’s TOR gave as its purpose “to
promote and protect human rights and fundamental freedoms of the
peoples of ASEAN.”57 The “peoples” of ASEAN, however, are
separated from the agency by the operation of the ASEAN way. The
TOR specified that the primary responsibility for promotion and
protection of human rights rests with the member states. As in every
other area of ASEAN, the ASEAN way sets the rules, including
noninterference in the internal affairs of member states.
Furthermore, as in all other areas of ASEAN decision-making, the
AICHR operates on the basis of consensus. The AICHR
membership is made up of one representative from each state
serving a three-year term. The chair rotates annually with the
ASEAN chair. The AICHR meets as a body twice a year. It is not an
independent agency. It reports to the foreign ministers, who approve
its work program. In its work, the AICHR is counseled to be
“constructive and non-confrontational.”
The AICHR has no mandate to investigate violations of human
rights and freedoms. This was made glaringly evident in the case of
Sombath Somphone, a prominent Lao social activist, who was
abducted by police in December 2012 and disappeared, never to be
seen again. Sombath’s abduction became a cause célèbre, with
calls from NGOs and governments around the world for investigation
into his fate. From ASEAN and its Human Rights Commission,
however, only silence.58 The AICHR’s list of activities has an
abundance of workshops, networking with civil society, and
programs to bring awareness about the rights of disadvantaged
groups such as the blind and physically disabled. There is no
advocacy for political rights and freedoms or even notice of the
humanitarian disaster faced by Myanmar’s Rohingya minority that
has become a political stain on ASEAN’s international image
(chapter 9). Also unremarked upon by the AICHR are the seven
thousand Filipino victims of extrajudicial execution.
The AICHR’s major achievement to date has been the drafting of
the ASEAN Human Rights Declaration (AHRD), which was adopted
at the 21st ASEAN Summit in Phnom Penh on November 8, 2012.59
It contains a lengthy list of personal and group rights across the
political, economic, and social spheres of the ASEAN Community.
The AHRD conforms to global understandings of human rights as set
forth in the UN Universal Declaration on Human Rights and other
regional human rights statements. The AHRD is a declaration by the
heads of government. It is not a legal instrument like a treaty or
international convention. Furthermore, it provides ambiguous escape
hatches for the signatories. In listing the general principles, it states
in Principle 6 that the enjoyment of human rights and fundamental
freedoms “must be balanced with the performance of corresponding
duties that every person has responsibilities to all other individuals,
the community, and the society where one lives.” Principle 7 sets the
same qualifications on human rights as the 1993 AMM statement on
human rights cited earlier: “that human rights must be considered in
the regional and historic context bearing in mind different political,
economic, legal, cultural, historical, and religious backgrounds.”
The AICHR and AHRD have had little or no real impact on state
behavior in guaranteeing and protecting human rights and freedoms
in ASEAN. Nevertheless, it can be argued that they are elements in
the political evolution of ASEAN. At least they established a platform
on which not only external NGOs have access to ASEAN but
domestic NGOs do too.

NOTES
1. The “ASEAN Vision 2020” can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=asean-
vision-2020.
2. The Hanoi Declaration can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=ha-noi-
declaration-of-1998-16-december-1998.
3. The Hanoi Plan of Action can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=hanoi-
plan-of-action.
4. The TAC Rules of Procedure can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=rules-
of-procedure-of-the-high-council-of-the-treaty-of-amity-and-cooperation-in-southeast-asia.
5. The IAI statistics are as given in Initiative for ASEAN Integration [IAI] Work Plan III
(Jakarta: ASEAN Secretariat, 2016), accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=initiative-
asean-integration-iai-work-plan-iii.
6. Prime Minister Mahathir’s opening statement at the fifth ASEAN Summit, accessed at
https://asean.org/?static_post=opening-statement-his-excellency-dato-seri-dr-mahathir-bin-
mohamad-prime-minister-of-malaysia.
7. For a survey of sub-regionalism among ASEAN states, see Donald E. Weatherbee,
International Relations in Southeast Asia: The Struggle for Autonomy, 3rd ed. (Lanham,
MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015), 114–19.
8. The LMC Sanya Summit Declaration can be accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/zxxx_662805/t1350039.shtml.
9. “Declaration of ASEAN Concord II (Bali Concord II),” October 7, 2003, accessed at
https://asean.org/?static_post=declaration-of-asean-concord-ii-bali-concord-ii.
10. For an overview of Wahid’s foreign policy, see Anthony L. Smith, “Indonesia’s Foreign
Policy under Abdurrahman Wahid: Radical or Status Quo State?” Contemporary Southeast
Asia 22, no. 3 (December 2000): 498–526.
11. “Joint Press Communiqué of the People’s Republic of China and the Republic of
Indonesia, December 2, 1999,” accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/wjb_663304/zzjg_663340/yzs_663350/gjlb_663354/271
6_663436/2717_663438/t15945.shtml.
12. President Megawati’s August 16, 2004, speech, as cited in Donald E. Weatherbee,
“Indonesian Foreign Policy: A Wounded Phoenix,” in Southeast Asian Affairs 2005
(Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2005), 150.
13. Anthony L. Smith, “ASEAN’s Ninth Summit: Solidifying Regional Cohesion, Advancing
External Linkages,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 26, no. 3 (December 2004): 423.
14. The speech can be accessed at https://asean.org/speech-by-indonesian-president-
megawati-on-the-presentation-of-a-farewell-gift-to-malaysian-prime-minister-dr-mahathir-
mohamad-at-the-asean-summit-in-bali-indonesia.
15. Mahathir’s remarks can be accessed at https://asean.org/remarks-by-the-prime-
minister-of-malaysia-the-hon-dato-seri-dr-mahathir-bin-mohamad-in-response-to-president-
megawati-s-farewell-remarks-during-the-9th-asean-summit-bali-indonesia.
16. Smith, “ASEAN’s Ninth Summit,” 432.
17. Prime Minister Abdullah Badawi, “Towards an ASEAN Community,” address at the
National Colloquium on ASEAN, August 7, 2004, accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=address-of-his-excellency-dato-seri-abdullah-bin-haji-ahmad-badawi-the-prime-
minister-of-malaysia-towards-an-asean-community-at-the-national-colloquium-on-asean.
18. As quoted in “Okay for ASEAN to Question Bangkok, Says KL,” Straits Times,
November 27, 2004.
19. As quoted in “ASEAN Summit: KL Rebuffs Thaksin over Walkout Vow,” Nation,
November 27, 2004.
20. “PM’s ‘Gag Order’ Respected,” Bangkok Post, November 30, 2004.
21. “Editor: A Ringing Silence at the ASEAN Summit,” Nation, December 6, 2004.
22. The VAP can be accessed at https://asean.org/storage/images/archive/VAP-
10th%20ASEAN%20Summit.pdf.
23. “ASEAN Lecture by H. E. Mr. Prime Minister Phan Van Khai,” August 7, 2004,
accessed at https://asean.org/asean-lecture-by-he-mr-prime-minister-phan-van-khai-ha-noi.
24. “Keynote Address by H. E. Dr. Hassan Wirajuda Minister of Foreign Affairs Republic
of Indonesia at the Opening Session of the Fourth ASEAN-UN Conference, 24 February
2004,” archived at https://www.kemlu.go.id.
25. Rizal Sukma, “The Future of ASEAN: Towards a Security Community,” paper
presented to a seminar on ASEAN Cooperation: Challenges and Prospects in the Current
International Situation, New York, June 3, 2003.
26. The “2001 ASEAN Declaration on Joint Action to Counter Terrorism”
(https://asean.org/?static_post=2001-asean-declaration-on-joint-action-to-counter-terrorism)
and the leaders’ “Declaration on Terrorism” at the 2002 eighth ASEAN Summit
(https://asean.org/?static_post=declaration-on-terrorism-by-the-8th-asean-summit-phnom-
penh-3-november-2002).
27. The ACCT can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=asean-convention-on-
counter-terrorism.
28. The revised counterterrorism Plan of Action can be accessed at
https://cil.nus.edu.sg/wp-content/uploads/formidable/14/2017-ACPOA-on-Counter-
Terrorism.pdf.
29. Marguerite Borelli, “ASEAN’s Counter-Terrorism Weaknesses,” Counter Terrorist
Trends and Analyses 9, no. 9 (September 2017): 14–20.
30. “Keynote Speech of H. E. Dr. H. Hassan Wirajuda Foreign Minister of the Republic of
Indonesia at the Fourth Workshop on the ASEAN Regional Mechanism on Human Rights,”
Jakarta, June 17, 2004, archived at https://www.kemlu.go.id.
31. Paragraphs 16–18, “Human Rights,” of the 26th AMM’s “Joint Communiqué.”
32. Editorial, “Leading ASEAN,” Jakarta Post, August 12, 2004.
33. Opinion, “Leading ASEAN,” Jakarta Post, August 13, 2004.
34. Barry Wain, “Jakarta Jilted,” Far Eastern Economic Review, June 10, 2004, 20.
35. The declaration can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=kuala-lumpur-
declaration-on-the-establishment-of-the-asean-charter-kuala-lumpur-12-december-2005.
36. The list of members of the EPG can be accessed at https://asean.org/wp-
content/uploads/images/archive/ACP-EPGMember.pdf.
37. The author had the opportunity to discuss the Bali Concord II and its significance for
ASEAN with Ali Alatas in Jakarta in April 2004.
 38. The EPG TOR can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=terms-of-reference-
of-the-eminent-persons-group-epg-on-the-asean-charter.
39. The EPG Report can be accessed at
https://asean.org/storage/images/archive/19247.pdf.
40. “New Burma Chief Lays Out Road to Elections,” New York Times, August 31, 2003.
41. As quoted in “Indonesia Says Myanmar Promised to Press Reforms,” Jakarta Post,
November 22, 2004.
42. As quoted in “Myanmar Must Reassure Asean,” Straits Times, November 23, 2005.
43. As cited in “Burma ‘Holding ASEAN Hostage,’” Straits Times, April 19, 2006.
44. As quoted in “ASEAN Is Losing Patience with Myanmar—Jakarta,” Reuters, August
23, 2006.
45. The text of Abdullah Badawi’s address, titled “Forging a United, Resilient and
Integrated ASEAN,” can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=address-by-the-
honourable-dato-seri-abdullah-ahmad-badawi-prime-minister-of-malaysia-at-the-opening-of-
the-39th-asean-ministerial-meeting-kuala-lumpur-25-july-2006.
46. The text of the Cebu declaration on the acceleration of an ASEAN Community can be
accessed at https://asean.org/cebu-declaration-on-th-acceleration-of-the-establishment-of-
an-asean-community-by-2015.
47. Abdul Khalik, “Summit Delay Shows That Politics Still Controls ASEAN,” Jakarta Post,
December 21, 2006.
48. Tan Sri Ahmad Fuzi bin Abdul Razak, “Facing Unfair Criticisms,” in Tommy Koh,
Rosario G. Manalo, and Walter Woon, eds., The Making of the ASEAN Charter (Singapore:
Institute of Policy Studies and World Scientific, 2009), 21.
49. “Singapore Declaration on the ASEAN Charter,” accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=singapore-declaration-on-the-asean-charter.
50. Interview in Jakarta with the author, April 24, 2013.
51. “The ASEAN Charter from the Law of Treaties’ Perspective,” Habibie Center, ASEAN
Studies Program, May 10, 2014, accessed at
https://www.thcasean.org/read/articles/341/The-ASEAN-Charter-from-the-Law-of-Treaties-
Perspective.
52. “Singapore Declaration on the ASEAN Charter,” accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=singapore-declaration-on-the-asean-charter.
53. The Bali Concord III can be accessed at
https://www.preventionweb.net/files/23664_baliconcordiii28readyforsignature29.pdf.
54. Alice D. Ba, (Re)Negotiating East and Southeast Asia: Region, Regionalism, and the
Association of Southeast Asian Nations (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009),
222.
55. Rizal Sukma, “A Post-ASEAN Foreign Policy,” Jakarta Post, June 30, 2009.
56. Donald E. Weatherbee, Trends in Southeast Asia: Understanding Jokowi’s Foreign
Policy, no. 12 (Singapore: ISEAS, 2016), 46–47.
57. The AICHR Terms of Reference can be accessed at
https://www.asean.org/storage/images/archive/publications/TOR-of-AICHR.pdf.
58. Human Rights Watch letter to the AICHR, accessed at
https://www.hrw.org/news/2013/02/20/letter-aichr-representatives-disappearance-sombath-
somphone.
59. The AHRD can be accessed at
https://asean.org/storage/images/ASEAN_RTK_2014/6_AHRD_Booklet.pdf.
*Until 2004, Indonesian presidents were indirectly elected by the People’s Consultative
Assembly, Indonesia’s parliament. Since 2004, the elections have been direct, by universal
suffrage.
 *Indonesia’s president Yudhoyono was a supporter of peacekeeping forces and had
served as a UN peacekeeper.
†In October 2002, an attack on a tourist bar and restaurant in Bali killed 205 persons and
injured 140. An August 2003 attack on a Jakarta Marriott hotel killed 12 and injured 150.
*Dr. Than Nyun, chairman of Myanmar’s Civil Service Selection and Training Board
*An exception was made for implementing economic commitments, where a flexible
participation could be applied if there were a consensus to do so.
 Chapter 9
Intra-ASEAN Conflict
Norms versus Behavior

ASEAN claims that its dispute-resolution mechanisms for its

international and intra-ASEAN relations are norm based. Throughout
its history, as the previous chapters have shown, the basis for this
claim is its documentary and rhetorical appeals to sources like the
UN Charter, Bandung Principles, and especially ASEAN’s own
Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia (TAC). Yet, there
is little structurally or functionally to distinguish, in terms of state
behavior, ASEAN’s international relations from that of other actors in
the global state system. ASEAN’s incapacity to move politically
beyond the bedrocks of sovereignty and noninterference means that
ASEAN nations’ relations are governed by the same kinds of
calculations of national interest and relative power as any state. The
gulf between ASEAN norms and state behavior is most apparent in
two sensitive areas of intra-ASEAN relations—territorial disputes and
minority rights.

TERRITORIAL DISPUTES
Theoretically, ASEAN depends on the TAC as the legal basis for the
ASEAN Political-Security Community’s model for pacific settlement
of disputes. The APSC blueprint references the TAC for the
strategies to prevent disputes and conflicts arising between ASEAN
member states that could potentially pose a threat to regional peace
and security, calling specifically for ASEAN member states to refrain
from the threat or use of force. This was an unstated
acknowledgment of the fact that despite the shared interests
member states had in ASEAN, there were bilateral disputes that
could threaten ASEAN’s unity. This had already been underlined in
the Hanoi Plan of Action for Vision 2020 in its category 7 statement
on border disputes (chapter 8). ASEAN’s political history, however,
shows that the TAC mechanism has not been invoked in dispute
resolution. A survey of a few prominent cases shows that (1) ASEAN
states will use force or the threat of force against another ASEAN
state, and (2) resolution—if there is resolution—of a dispute often
comes from appeal to external agencies.

Philippines-Malaysia Sabah Dispute

Like a red line running through ASEAN’s political history, the
Philippines-Malaysia dispute about sovereignty over Malaysia’s
North Borneo Sabah State is the longest-standing intra-ASEAN
dispute. It has resisted closure since ASEAN’s founding. As outlined
in chapter 2, the origin of the dispute was the 1963 inclusion of
Sabah in the Malaysian federation as the British decolonized the last
vestiges of their Southeast Asian empire. After the two nations joined
in the solidarity of ASEAN, the refusal of Manila to abandon its claim
threatened ASEAN unity. One event in particular stirred Malaysian
anger. In 1968, twenty-three Moro Muslim military trainees mutinied
and were killed by Philippine soldiers—the so-called Jabidah
massacre.1 Investigation revealed an alleged Manila plot to infiltrate
Sabah and cause enough insecurity to justify a Philippines
intervention to restore order. As relations deteriorated, the two
countries held last-ditch talks in Bangkok from June 17 to July 16,
1968, to avoid a diplomatic rupture. Neither side would compromise
on the sovereignty question. The talks collapsed when the leader of
the Malaysian delegation, foreign ministry permanent secretary Tan
Sri Ghazali Shafie, walked out, saying there was “nothing more to
talk about.”2 President Marcos recalled the Philippines’ ambassador
from Kuala Lumpur and promulgated legislation that included Sabah
in the Philippines’ boundaries. This was too much for Tunku Abdul
Rahman, who said the act was tantamount to aggression and
suspended diplomatic relations with the Philippines. A proposed
ministerial meeting in Tokyo between Malaysia’s deputy prime
minister Tun Abdul Razak and the Philippines’ foreign secretary
Narciso Ramos was scuttled after Ramos, in an October 15, 1968,
UNGA speech, demanded that the sovereignty question be settled
by the International Court of Justice before the Philippines would
recognize Malaysia’s rights in Sabah. Deadlocked, the suspended
relations were severed.
In only the second year of ASEAN’s existence, before it had
established a firm international identity, ASEAN’s future was clouded
by the breakdown of relations between two of its members. Behind
the scenes, the diplomats were scrambling. It took a year, but after
what the Philippines Department of Foreign Affairs described as
“very quiet, unpublicized negotiations between [their] leaders,”
relations were restored in December 1969.3 The December
announcement came in the address by Prime Minister Tunku Abdul
Rahman opening the December 19, 1969, third AMM. As
documented in the AMM’s joint communiqué:
He announced that as a result of discussions between him and the honorable Carlos P.
Romulo, Secretary of Foreign Affairs of the Philippines, in the spirit of goodwill and
friendship and because of the great value Malaysia and the Philippines placed on
ASEAN, it was agreed that diplomatic relations between Malaysia and the Philippines
would be normalized forthwith and that ambassadors of their respective countries
would be appointed. The Meeting warmly welcomed this development.

Beneath the surface, the Sabah issue continued to simmer.

President Marcos, who at the 1977 Kuala Lumpur second ASEAN
Summit promised to abandon the claim, had no follow-through.
There were ten years without an ASEAN leaders’ summit because
Malaysia’s prime minister, blaming the Philippines for bad faith,
refused to travel to Manila, whose turn it was for the summit in the
prescribed alphabetic rotation. In the post-Marcos era of Philippines
governments, it was hoped that Manila would renounce the claim. As
noted in chapter 6, however, President Corazon Aquino picked up
where Marcos left off. The Philippines maintains in its constitution
and domestic law that it has dominion and sovereignty over Sabah
by historic right and legal title. This position has become part of the
Philippines’ nationalism. In a state visit to Malaysia in 2001,
Philippine president Gloria Macapagal Arroyo said that she and
Prime Minister Mahathir “agreed that we should move forward
toward a cordial resolution of this [Sabah] issue.” In the next breath,
however, she added, “Of course, he [Mahathir] understands we have
to do this slowly, and with extensive consultation with our
constituents and we have to form panels to study how this issue can
be approached.”4
The latent political impact of the dispute burst into headlines in
March 2013 when a heavily armed band of Sulu Filipinos came
ashore in southeast Sabah to reclaim the territory of the old
sultanate. Kuala Lumpur responded with overwhelming military land
and air attacks against the “invaders” and quickly crushed them. In
Manila, there were fears for the welfare of the thousands of legal and
illegal Filipino immigrants, who began to flee Sabah. Indonesian
president Yudhoyono, concerned about spillover, reinforced militarily
Indonesia’s North Kalimantan Province border with Sabah.
Yudhoyono called on ASEAN chair Brunei for ASEAN to intervene
and offered Indonesian diplomatic support.5 Some voices in Manila
also called for ASEAN intervention. It was not that simple for
President Benigno Aquino III. The Philippines state was not complicit
in the affair. More importantly, Kuala Lumpur was facilitating Manila’s
peace negotiations with the Muslim separatist insurgents in the
Philippines south. Furthermore, there was a question of what
ASEAN, in fact, could do.6
The election of Rodrigo Duterte as president of the Philippines in
2016 stirred up worries that he might revive the issue. In his
campaign speeches, he signaled that renewed pursuit of the
Philippines’ claim was part of his nationalist agenda. Malaysia’s
prime minister Najib Razak cautioned Duterte that it would be more
productive if he concentrated on peacemaking in the Philippines’
south rather than “reigniting” the Sabah claim.7 On Duterte’s
November 9–10, 2016, state visit to Malaysia, Sabah was not on the
agenda. On the horizon, however, there was the prospect of a new
“reigniting” of the issue, with the fashioning of a new Philippines
constitution for a federal republic in which Sabah would be included
as a thirteenth state.

Malaysia-Singapore
The forced separation of Singapore from the Malaysian federation in
1965 left a cultural and political gulf between the two that fifty years
of common membership in ASEAN has not fully bridged. The
separation was administratively messy, with many issues unresolved
for years. The leaders viewed each other suspiciously in a bilateral
context of economic and political rivalry. Singapore’s dependence on
an assured water supply from Malaysia’s Johor state was a
vulnerability that Malaysia played upon. There are various political
and war-gaming scenarios of what Singapore’s response to a threat
to cut the water supply might be. The current agreement for raw
water delivery to Singapore is a 1962 treaty that expires in 2061. By
that date, Singapore hopes to be self-sufficient. Until then, Singapore
refuses Kuala Lumpur’s sporadic requests to reopen the treaty to
raise the price of the water delivered from Johor.
One bilateral territorial dispute became so heated that it
threatened the use of force. This was the question of sovereignty
over the small rock island of Pedra Branca (White Rock), located
where the Singapore Strait joins the South China Sea, and on which
the Horsburgh lighthouse stands. Singapore inherited it from the
British. In 1979, Malaysia claimed Pulau Batu Puteh (White Rock
Island) as the successor to the former sultan of Johor’s territories
and began a campaign to force Singapore to cede it. By 2002, the
claim of sovereignty had become a strident national campaign
against Singapore’s refusal to accede to Malaysia’s demand.
Malaysian defense minister Najib Razak denounced Singapore,
saying that its position was “a belligerent betrayal of the ASEAN
way.”8 Malaysian navy patrols faced off with the Singapore maritime
police in what Singapore considered to be its territorial waters. There
was a real danger of an armed clash. If there was belligerency in the
staking out of political positions, it was Malaysian. In his 2003 New
Year’s Day message, Prime Minister Mahathir warned that Malaysia
would give “a bloody nose” to any country that violated its
sovereignty. This was a day after Foreign Minister Syed Hamid said
Singapore had two choices: compromise or go to war.9 Singapore
foreign minister S. Jayakumar responded in a parliamentary
statement in which he said, “Loose talk of war is irresponsible and
dangerous. It whips up emotions that could become difficult to
control.”10
They were controlled. In a Special Agreement signed on February
6, 2003, the parties sent the dispute to the International Court of
Justice (ICJ). In his remarks at the signing of the agreement for
adjudication, Jayakumar noted that Singapore had proposed the ICJ
route in 1989, Malaysia had agreed in 1994, a text for a Special
Agreement had been drafted in 1998, and the agreement was signed
in 2003.11 Jayakumar expounded on the factors that allowed the two
countries to finally agree to third-party intervention. Their common
membership in ASEAN was not mentioned, for in the ASEAN way
there was no role for ASEAN. The ICJ handed down its judgment on
May 23, 2008, awarding sovereignty over Pedra Branca to
Singapore.12 On February 3, 2017, Malaysia applied to the ICJ to
revise its 2008 decision, claiming it had found three documents that
strengthened its case. One interpretation was that this was an
attempt once again to stir up nationalist fervor against Singapore to
boost the lagging approval of the unpopular Najib Razak
government.13 Although, as ASEAN’s political history shows, it is not
uncommon for leaders to rouse their people against an ASEAN
partner, it is certainly not part of the ASEAN way or ASEAN spirit.
A second Malaysia-Singapore dispute involving resolution by
international legal processes was Malaysia’s 2003 grievance again
Singapore’s land reclamation projects in the Johor Strait. Singapore
considered Malaysia’s complaint to be one more example of Kuala
Lumpur’s harassment in the effort to constrain Singapore’s
development. In September 2003, Malaysia submitted its case to the
International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea (ITLOS), requesting a
suspension of all reclamation work in the affected area. ITLOS
temporized, calling on the parties to establish an independent
experts group to monitor the project and ordering Singapore “not to
conduct its land reclamation in ways that might cause irreparable
prejudice to the rights of Malaysia.”14 The experts group reported in
December 2004 in a way that neither party was a “loser.” On the
basis of the report, the countries signed an agreement allowing the
reclamation to go forward, with Singapore cooperating with Malaysia
to limit adverse impacts. The January 5, 2005, joint press conference
announcing the settlement ended on a high note: “The positive
outcome of the Meetings between the Malaysian and Singapore
delegates reflects the good will and cooperation which exists
between them and their respective governments. This augurs well
for the future strengthening of good relations between these two
friendly and close neighbors.”15
The warm words in January 2005 made no reference to the
changed political climate in which Malaysia-Singapore relations were
now being conducted. In October 2003, Prime Minister Mahathir
Mohamad stepped down. His successor, Abdullah Badawi, came
into office seeking better relations with Singapore. Ambassador
Tommy Koh, who was Singapore’s lead in the ITLOS proceedings,
wrote that “it is not certain that the land reclamation case would have
been settled amicably if Dr. Mahathir were still the Prime Minister of
Malaysia.”16

Indonesia-Malaysia in the Sulawesi Sea

Despite their close cultural identification, political relations between
Indonesia and Malaysia have been marked by suspicion and
antagonism since the termination of Sukarno’s undeclared war and
their common founding roles in ASEAN. Over the years, their latent
mutual distrust has been quick to surface with the perception of the
slightest insult to sovereignty or nationalism. This has contributed to
the failure of Jakarta and Kuala Lumpur to find a peaceful resolution
of their disputed jurisdiction in the maritime overlap in the Ambalat oil
block in the Sulawesi Sea. The initial phase of the dispute was
sovereignty over two small islands—Sipadan and Ligitan—off the
southeast coast of Sabah. They were occupied by Malaysia as the
successor to claimed British sovereignty. In 1969 continental shelf
negotiations, it became clear that the islands could be points for
baselines to be drawn to demarcate maritime boundaries in the oil-
and gas-rich sea. Indonesia advanced its own claim to the islands
based on Dutch colonial historical documents. For nearly three
decades the dispute smoldered. Indonesian navy vessels patrolled
the islands. Malaysia vowed to defend them. By 1995, both
governments were seeking a solution so as not to impact their full
array of relations. Bilateral negotiations were stalled over agreement
on a format. Indonesia wanted the TAC’s High Council to decide the
case, which would be nonbinding; this was even though the High
Council had yet to be established (chapter 8). Malaysia argued for
the ICJ, feeling its case was stronger there and also that it would not
burden ASEAN with the task of choosing sides.17 The governments
agreed to have two high-level interlocutors make a recommendation.
After four meetings, the interlocutors—State Secretary Moerdiono for
Indonesia and Deputy Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim for Malaysia—
reported on June 21, 1996, in favor of the ICJ. In October 1996,
President Suharto and Prime Minister Mahathir agreed to send the
dispute to the ICJ. The case was officially submitted to the court in
November 1998.18
On March 13, 2001, the Philippines applied to the court to
intervene in the case. Its object was “to preserve and safeguard the
historical and legal rights [of its government] arising from its claim to
dominion and sovereignty over the territory of North Borneo, to the
extent that those rights [were] affected, or [might] be affected, by a
determination of the court on the question of sovereignty over Pulau
Ligitan and Pulau Sipadan.”19 Both Malaysia and Indonesia objected
to the Philippines’ request. After a hearing, the court rejected it.
The ICJ delivered its judgment on December 17, 2002, in favor of
Malaysia on the basis of “effective occupation.” It is possible that the
ICJ win over Indonesia may have emboldened Prime Minister
Mahathir to agree to go to the ICJ for resolution of the Pedra Branca
dispute with Singapore. Even though her government had no part in
the decision to go to the ICJ, it was President Megawati’s
government that felt the nationalist backlash from the “loss” of the
islands to Malaysia. For Indonesia, there were two lessons to be
learned. The first was, in dispute resolution, do not accept third-party
external intervention in which you cannot influence the outcome. The
second was the need to beef up defense capabilities on the margins
of the archipelago. Both lessons informed future Indonesian-
Malaysian relations in the Sulawesi Sea.
The ICJ decision dealt only with sovereignty over the islands, not
with the maritime boundaries between Malaysia and Indonesia in the
Sulawesi Sea. Baselines drawn from Sipadan and Ligitan unilaterally
extended Malaysia’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) into waters
claimed by Indonesia. In 2005, Malaysia’s state oil company gave an
exploratory concession to Shell Oil in an Indonesian-claimed zone.
Indonesia vehemently protested and rushed to defend its
sovereignty in a military buildup, matched by Malaysia. Both
countries’ navies and air forces became engaged in a gunboat
diplomacy that easily could have escalated. This was illustrated by a
collision at sea between two opposed navy vessels. President Susilo
Bambang Yudhoyono had little political space to maneuver, pressed
by nationalists and the military not to back down. His counterpart in
Kuala Lumpur, Prime Minister Abdullah Badawi, had similar political
limits.
There were two immediate issues: how to deescalate the
confrontation and how to resolve the issue. The first was settled by
the direct summit diplomacy of the annual bilateral Malaysia-
Indonesia leaders’ meetings that began in 2006. The second is yet to
be worked out. After multiple rounds of bilateral technical
committees’ negotiations, the uncompromising positions of the
parties have not changed. In the course of the decade of
Yudhoyono-Abdullah and then the Yudhoyono-Najib exchanges,
third-party intervention, whether ASEAN or ICJ, was never a serious
alternative to the bilateral standoff. The political risk of getting
involved in the quarrel was a disincentive for international oil
companies’ potential investment in exploratory concessions. Both
sides maintained their defensive postures, even strengthening them.
The commander of a new Indonesian submarine base in Palu Bay
on Sulawesi Island explained in 2016 that “the Ambalat issue is still
ongoing, so the submarine base in Palu is very strategic.”20
In February 2015, new Indonesian president Joko Widodo met
Prime Minister Najib Razak in the tenth annual Indonesia-Malaysia
summit. To give fresh impetus to the negotiations, they agreed to
appoint special envoys to “explore” the resolution of maritime
disputes.21 In the 2016 annual meeting, Jokowi and Najib noted little
progress and gave the envoys a new mandate. The November 2017
Jokowi-Najib meeting reported that “both leaders welcomed the
continued progress of work of the Special Envoys and commended
the efforts that have been made by the Special Envoys in further
narrowing the gap between both sides towards finding [an] amicable
solution for the delimitation of territorial sea and other maritime
zones in the Sulawesi Sea.”22 Looking forward, in May 2016,
Indonesia awarded the East Ambalat oil and gas block to state-
owned Pertamina Oil Company. Located in the disputed Indonesia-
Malaysia border area, the 4,735 square kilometer (1,828 square
mile) concession was originally held by Chevron, which relinquished
it because the tension in the border area made it risky to explore.23

Thailand-Cambodia Border War

In 2011, a border war between Thailand and Cambodia was sparked
by a sovereignty dispute over the grounds of the eleventh-century
Khmer temple of Preah Vihear. The temple is situated on the brow of
an escarpment overlooking the Cambodian plain 525 meters (1,722
feet) below, with the main access to it from the Thai side of the
border. In addition to the bilateral territorial issues involved, the
military confrontation of the two ASEAN countries had political
significance for ASEAN for at least three reasons. It showed that
despite the norms embodied in the TAC and the ASEAN Charter, an
ASEAN country would use force against another ASEAN country. It
was another example of the fact that in intra-ASEAN disputes,
nationalism trumped any ASEAN identity. Finally, it provides another
example of Indonesia’s proactive role in ASEAN during Susilo
Bambang Yudhoyono’s presidency.
Bad blood in the Thai-Cambodian relationship included a long
history of territorial disputes. It was French colonial supremacy that
established the modern fixed border in which Bangkok’s claimed
eastern provinces became Cambodia’s western provinces. During
World War II, Japan allowed Thailand to take its lost provinces back,
only to have to retrocede them to Cambodia after the war. Phnom
Penh has always been suspicious of the territorial ambitions of its
larger neighbors, Thailand and Vietnam. Domestic opponents of
Prime Minister Hun Sen accuse him of country selling in border
demarcations with Vietnam, at times ripping out the border markers.
It is little wonder then that when a popular Thai TV actress allegedly
claimed in 2003 that Cambodia’s world-famous temple of Angkor
Wat belonged to Thailand, enraged Cambodian mobs attacked and
destroyed Thai businesses and the Thai embassy. Bangkok’s
reaction was quick. Thai air force transports were sent to evacuate
Thai citizens. The border was closed and diplomatic relations were
suspended.
The event raised serious questions about the underlying political
and security assumptions of ASEAN and its capacity to act to meet
the challenge of intra-ASEAN conflict. These questions were not
addressed by ASEAN. China, however, took the initiative. The vice
minister for foreign affairs called in the Thai and Cambodian
ambassadors to tell them that China hoped that normal relations
between them would be reestablished as soon as possible. Beijing’s
unprecedented intervention into a bilateral dispute between two
ASEAN states indicated China’s growing interest and influence in
Southeast Asia’s regional politics.
A much more serious threat to intra-ASEAN political stability and
security because of Thai-Cambodian enmity came in 2011 when the
two countries clashed militarily at Preah Vihear. The encounter was
rooted not only in history but also in the tangle of Thai domestic
politics. The conflict stemmed from a 1962 International Court of
Justice ruling that “the temple of Preah Vihear is situated in territory
under the sovereignty of Cambodia” and ordering the withdrawal of
Thai authority from the vicinity of Cambodian territory.24 What the ICJ
did not determine, however, were the boundaries of the territory in
the vicinity of the temple that was Cambodian. Thailand insisted that
only the ground on which the temple itself stood was Cambodian
territory. This did not become an issue until 2008, when Cambodia
applied to the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural
Organization (UNESCO) to have Preah Vihear declared a World
Heritage Site. Phnom Penh’s proposal included a park
encompassing all the land around the temple. This occurred while
the People’s Power Party’s (PPP) Thai government of exiled prime
minister Thaksin Shinawatra was being politically besieged by
Abhisit Vejjajiva’s Democrat Party. The PPP’s (and Thaksin’s)
seeming willingness to accept Cambodia’s World Heritage Site
proposal was seized upon by Abhisit, who fanned the flames of
nationalism, accusing the PPP of country selling. He played upon
Thaksin’s close relationship to Hun Sen. In 2009–2010, the exiled
former prime minister had been an economic advisor to the
Cambodian government.
In December 2008, after a judicial coup, Abhisit was installed as
an un-elected prime minister. To muster support for his Democrat
Party’s government, the nationalist anti-Cambodia campaign was
escalated and the border area at Preah Vihear militarized. In
February 2011, the shooting began. ASEAN secretary-general Surin
Pitsuwan, a former Thai foreign minister, called for the two sides to
work with ASEAN to establish a cease-fire. Cambodia’s prime
minister Hun Sen appealed for ASEAN intervention against
Thailand’s “aggression” and asked ASEAN to send observers to the
border to monitor the situation. Indonesia’s foreign minister Marty
was the year’s ASEAN chairman, and he called for a cease-fire and
truce. This was rejected by Bangkok, which insisted that the problem
was bilateral and that ASEAN was not involved. Hun Sen expressed
a willingness to negotiate, but only with third-party mediation. Phnom
Penh’s relationship to ASEAN was complicated by distrust of Surin’s
impartiality after his having been a senior official in Abhisit’s
Democrat political party.
Hun Sen, recognizing that he could not expect ASEAN to take
sides, made a direct appeal to the United Nations Security Council
(UNSC). He informed UN secretary-general Ban Ki-Moon that “these
are not armed clashes. This is war.”25 Over strong Thai objections,
the UNSC took up the Cambodian case. On February 14, 2011, the
Security Council held an “informal” meeting with Indonesian foreign
minister Marty and the Thai and Cambodian foreign ministers,
respectively, Kasit Piromya and Hor Namhong. The Security Council,
without having to vote, gave voice through its president to its “grave
concern” and called for a permanent cease-fire. The Security Council
then bounced the problem back to ASEAN, urging Thailand and
Cambodia to cooperate in finding a peaceful settlement.26 Now, with
the authority of the Security Council backing him, Marty called a
special ASEAN foreign ministers’ meeting on February 22, at which
he pushed the adversaries for a cease-fire and resumption of
diplomatic relations. Very reluctantly, Thai foreign minister Kasit
accepted a role for an Indonesian Observer Team (IOT) to monitor
the truce from both sides of the border. The IOT was not a
peacekeeping force or mediator. It was to assist and support the
parties in respecting their commitment “to avoid further armed
clashes between them.”27 However, back in Bangkok, under Thai
army pressure and nationalist objections, the Thai government
refused the deployment of the IOT. The frailty of the Indonesian-
brokered cease-fire was soon apparent when heavy fighting broke
out again in April, displacing hundreds of villagers as the Thais used
cluster bombs.
On April 28, 2011, Cambodia applied to the ICJ for an
interpretation of the meaning of the 1962 statement on “territory
under the sovereignty of Cambodia.” At the same time Phnom Penh
requested the court to order measures to halt Thai attacks. On July
19, 2011, the court issued an interim order establishing a provisional
demilitarized zone with the following conditions:

• Total withdrawal of all military forces from the provisional

demilitarized zone and to refrain from any armed activity directed
at the zone. The only military permitted in the zone were
Indonesian observers.
• Thailand prohibited from obstructing free access to the temple or
provision of fresh supplies to non-military personnel at the temple.
• Both parties to cooperate in allowing access to the appointed
ASEAN observers [i.e., the IOT].
• Both parties refrain from aggravating the dispute.28

The court order basically was ignored by Thailand, which

continued to maintain that issues of troop withdrawal and a
demilitarized zone were a matter for Thai-Cambodian bilateral
agreement. A cease-fire was restored and, harried by the Indonesian
foreign minister, bilateral Thai-Cambodian discussions resumed. At
the May 2011, Bali, ASEAN Summit, which had on its agenda the
“Current Situation in the Cambodia-Thailand Border War,” the
Chairman’s Statement welcomed the parties’ “commitment to
peacefully resolve their differences through political dialogue and
negotiation.” On the sidelines of the summit, President Yudhoyono
held a mini-summit with Hun Sen and Abhisit in which the
commitment to peace and bilateral negotiations was confirmed. In
the bilateral dialogue, a continuing role for the “current chair of
ASEAN” was built in as a “facilitator.” This, of course, was Marty, but
his term as chair was coming to an end, and it could not be expected
that his successor as ASEAN chair, Cambodia’s foreign minister Hor
Namhong, could be both a facilitator and a negotiator. A tenuous and
uneasy peace prevailed despite the absence on the ground of the
IOT.
After a fiercely fought election, on July 3, 2011, Abhisit’s
Democrats were soundly defeated by the Pheu Thai Party, led by
Thaksin’s sister, Yingluck Shinawatra, who became prime minister.
With Abhisit gone, it was hoped that Yingluck’s new government
could break the deadlock. Foreign Minister Marty spoke of a new
dynamic and environment for the resolution of the border issues,
indicating that Indonesia was prepared to send its observer team.29
Yingluck herself traveled to Phnom Penh on September 14, 2011, to
mend fences with Hun Sen. She made her ASEAN debut at the
November ASEAN Summit at which the Chairman’s Statement
welcomed the encouraging conditions for a peaceful settlement.
Yingluck’s attention was not on the brinksmanship of the Preah
Vihear standoff but on recovery from massive flooding and on
international relief. At the same time, she could not politically
challenge the generals who argued that a withdrawal from a
proposed demilitarized zone was tantamount to giving up Thai
territory.30
The ICJ decision on territorial sovereignty came down on
November 11, 2013. It was clear. Cambodia “had sovereignty over
the whole territory of the promontory of Preah Vihear” and Thailand
was required to withdraw all government personnel from the
territory.31 It was left to a Thai-Cambodian Joint Border Committee
(JBC) to draw the new boundaries. There was a degree of anxiety
over Thailand’s willingness to accept the ICJ’s ruling. Thailand’s
political life, however, was interrupted in 2014 by a military coup led
by General Prayut Chan-ocha. The generals have remained in
control with Prayut prime minister. The military’s dealings with
Cambodia on Preah Vihear have warmed. While the JBC had eleven
meetings through 2017 to map out boundaries in the 4.5 square
kilometers (1.7 square miles) in dispute, pilgrim and tourist access
has been eased, with the reopening of the main access from the
Thai side, closed by Cambodia since 2009.
As a case study of ASEAN and intra-ASEAN conflict, the lessons
to be drawn are mixed. ASEAN’s machinery did not resolve the
dispute. Thailand’s insistence that it was a bilateral question
prevailed in ASEAN. The ICJ rulings had more influence on Bangkok
than invocations of ASEAN norms. Although there is no substantive
connection, the Chinese position on its territorial disputes with
ASEAN countries is the same: resolution is a bilateral matter
(chapter 10). The ASEAN 2011 chair, Marty Natalegawa, was
successful in confining the politics of the dispute to ASEAN, with the
UNSC in the background and no great-power interventions. The July
2011 election of Yingluck probably had more direct impact on
changing Thai policy on the issue than intra-ASEAN diplomacy.
ASEAN’s political high point was the February 22, 2011, Special
Foreign Ministers’ Meeting, which basically gave its chair, Marty, a
diplomatic free hand to facilitate the bilateral talks between Thailand
and Cambodia. The Indonesian foreign minister had written his own
ticket and his colleagues punched it. It was not institutionally based.
For many reasons, ASEAN’s role in the Thailand-Cambodia border
war does not provide a model for ASEAN dispute-resolution
practices.

ETHNIC AND RELIGIOUS CONFLICT

The ASEAN states abound in ethnic and religious minorities trapped
behind the borders of the modern state in a political framework
controlled by a dominant majority population. The ASEAN states,
while willing in their statements, declarations, and votes in the UN to
add to support of oppressed peoples around the world, are locked
into the ASEAN way, relatively silent as some member states face
domestic insurgencies waged by minority separatists, or as the
governments themselves violate the political and human rights of
domestic minorities. In these cases, intervention can come from
ASEAN states acting independently of ASEAN consensus as well as
from non-ASEAN external governments and agencies. In either
case, ASEAN’s claim to centrality is weakened.

Indonesia and Aceh

Since its birth in 1949, the Indonesian state has confronted multiple
ethnic and sectarian insurgencies. During the two decades of the
Suharto administration, dissidence was effectively, if ruthlessly,
quelled. The collapse of the regime in 1998 saw a flare-up of
separatist violence in Papua, East Indonesia, Kalimantan (Borneo),
and, especially, in the north Sumatra province of Aceh. There, a war
for self-determination that began in 1976 (with roots going back to
1873) gained new momentum. It was waged by the Gerakan Aceh
Merdeka (Free Aceh Movement), or GAM. The political goals were
an independent Aceh state under Sharia law and control over Aceh’s
petroleum resources. For Jakarta the stake was the integrity of the
unitary state and not another East Timor.
Post-Suharto democratization was the background against which
Jakarta moved away from a military solution to a negotiated
settlement. In the Habibie presidency (1998–1999), a
decentralization law was passed enlarging the administrative scope
of all Indonesian provinces, including Aceh. His successor,
Abdurrahman Wahid (1999–2001), began an on again–off again
dialogue with GAM, facilitated by the Swiss Henry Dunant Centre for
Humanitarian Dialogue (HDC). The dialogue, continued by President
Megawati Sukarnoputri, led to a Cessation of Hostilities Agreement
(COHA) in December 2002. It was implemented by a Joint Security
Commission and overseen on the ground by a tripartite, GAM-HDC-
Indonesian Monitoring Commission.32 In support of the HDC peace-
facilitation efforts, on December 3, 2002, Japan, the EU, the United
States, and the World Bank co-chaired a Tokyo Preparatory
Conference on Peace and Reconstruction in Aceh. Other than
Indonesia, the only ASEAN countries to join the twenty participants
were Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand. The latter two also had
committed personnel to the Monitoring Commission. Malaysia’s
concern was the arrival on peninsular Malaysia’s west coast of
cross-strait Acehnese refugees.
Not surprisingly, on May 19, 2003, the COHA broke down after five
months over issues of disarming GAM and redeployment of
Indonesian troops. Part of the problem of good-faith implementation
of the COHA was the HDC’s nongovernmental organization status
without the political standing and weight of a sovereign state.
Megawati was fully prepared for the rupture and immediately
declared martial law in Aceh and launched a no-holds-barred military
campaign against GAM and its supporters. In the conflict, thousands
of Acehnese were killed or displaced. Fully backing the army,
Megawati shrugged off the military’s documented atrocities and
human rights violations, hoping to deflect international critics by
labeling the 5,500-strong GAM a terrorist group.33 Jakarta’s
expectation of a quick victory was thwarted by GAM’s dogged
resistance, and the martial law regime was extended into 2004.
Donor nations feared an East Timor—like humanitarian disaster in
Aceh was in the making. The three state conveners of the Aceh
peace and reconstruction conference in Tokyo—the EU, Japan, and
the United States—issued a joint statement on November 6, 2003,
encouraging the Indonesian government “during the state of military
emergency to carry out its activities with the minimum possible
impacts on the well-being of the people of Aceh and in an approach
that includes humanitarian aid, restoration of civil institutions and
upholding the law.”34
Official—as opposed to NGO—criticism of Indonesia’s actions in
Aceh was constrained by support for Indonesia’s territorial integrity.
A successful GAM breakaway state could become a model for other
regional separatist groups as well as Islamic extremists. A weakened
Indonesia would be regionally destabilizing. It was this aspect of a
potential outcome of the Aceh rebellion that led ASEAN to give
political support to Indonesia even as it remained on the sidelines of
the diplomacy of the search for peace. This was expressed in the
June 2003 36th AMM’s Chairman’s Statement:
 We reaffirmed our support for the sovereignty, territorial integrity and national unity of
Indonesia. We recognize the efforts of the Indonesian government to restore peace and
order in Aceh. We also pledge our support to deny the separatist movement access to
means of violence through, among all, preventing arms smuggling into the Aceh
province.

The turnabout in Aceh came at the high price of the human and
material disaster of the December 26, 2004, earthquake-triggered
Indian Ocean tsunami that swept Aceh’s shores, killing as many as
150,000 and devastating the province. It was quickly recognized by
Jakarta and GAM that recovery could only take place in a stable
political environment in which international resources could be
mobilized for relief and rehabilitation. Newly elected president Susilo
Bambang Yudhoyono opened a new round of discussions with GAM,
now facilitated by the Finnish Crisis Management Initiative, headed
by former Finnish president Martti Ahtisaari. On August 15, 2005, a
memorandum of understanding was signed in Helsinki, ending
Aceh’s separatist struggle—not with independence but with self-
government for Aceh, with greater autonomy than any other
Indonesian province.
For the implementation of the Helsinki agreement, the Council of
the European Union established an Aceh Monitoring Mission.35 The
monitors were drawn from the EU countries, Norway and
Switzerland, and five ASEAN countries: Brunei, Malaysia, the
Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand. The senior deputy head of
mission was a two-star Malaysian general. The inclusion of monitors
from ASEAN countries was at the insistence of President
Yudhoyono. It was felt that the participation of monitors from ASEAN
countries gave greater legitimacy to the mission. At its greatest
strength the mission fielded 125 EU monitors and 93 “ASEAN.”
Although not an ASEAN operation, the contribution of elements from
ASEAN member states can be considered an expression of the
ASEAN spirit.

Muslim Separatism in the Philippines

For nearly half a century, governments of the Philippines have fought
an insurgency in the Muslim-majority southern Mindanao and Sulu
provinces. In a sense, Manila picked up a struggle that both Spain
and the United States had dealt with in their colonial regimes. The
Philippines’ insurgency, which has cost 150,000 lives, was fought by
the forces of the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) and the
Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) for the creation of an
independent Moro nation (Bangsamoro).* Outside of the two main
Moro nationalist groups are extremists cum bandits and jihadists.
Seven Philippine presidents, from Marcos to Duterte, have applied
military and political efforts to end the struggle. While the Moro
insurgency is not on the official ASEAN agenda, Indonesia and
Malaysia have been deeply involved in peace negotiations, both in
the ASEAN spirit and to ward off Organization of Islamic Cooperation
(OIC) sanctions against Manila. Fully 90 percent of the Philippines’
crude oil comes from the Middle East, with the largest imports from
Saudi Arabia.
The baseline for peacemaking has been the 1976 OIC-blessed
Tripoli Agreement brokered by Libya between the MNLF, led by Nur
Misuari, and the Marcos government. The agreement provided for
Muslim autonomy in the provinces and cities with a Muslim
majority.36 Indonesia was chair of the OIC’s Peace Committee for the
Southern Philippines and played an instrumental role in converting
the Tripoli Agreement into a 1996 Final Peace Agreement (FPA),
which was signed in Jakarta and witnessed by President Suharto.
The FPA created an Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao
(ARMM). Misuari was elected the ARMM’s governor. The MILF in
opposition to the settlement broke away, taking with them MNLF
fighters. Manila did not follow through on the political and economic
promises made in creating the ARMM, and in 2002 the MNLF went
back into a revolt, but by then Moro leadership had passed to the
MILF.
President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo began a new round of peace
talks in 2008, this time with the MILF, enlisting Malaysia as a
mediator and Kuala Lumpur as a neutral venue. The United States,
Japan, and Australia promised diplomatic and financial support for
the peace process. Even though the main thrust of peacemaking had
shifted to Kuala Lumpur, Indonesia, in its OIC function, remained
engaged with the MNLF. In 2007 Jakarta organized a Philippines
government–MNLF conference to rejuvenate the 1996 FPA. The
existence of the two tracks gave Manila opportunities to try to play
off the two Moro factions against each other. In August 2008, the
Malaysia-facilitated negotiations produced a Memorandum of
Agreement on the Muslim Ancestral Domain (MOA-AD) that would
create an autonomous Bangsamoro Juridical Entity. The MOA-AD
was quickly ruled unconstitutional by the Philippines Supreme Court,
and a new round of fighting broke out.
President Benigno Aquino III, who came into office in 2010, jump-
started new negotiations by flying to Tokyo to meet face-to-face with
the MILF’s chairman, Al Haj Murad Ebrahim, in August 2011. They
agreed to fast-track the negotiations, and by October 15, 2012, after
thirty-two rounds of negotiations, a Framework Agreement was
signed establishing the parameters of a Bangsamoro Autonomous
Political Entity. The final Comprehensive Agreement on the
Bangsamoro (CAB) was signed in Manila on March 27, 2014, with
Malaysia’s prime minister Najib Razak looking on. In his speech,
Najib promised to assist with development “for as long as it is
needed. Malaysia remains a partner for peace and for
development.”37 For his part, President Aquino swore that he “would
not let peace be snatched from my people again.”38 Aquino’s peace
plan was lost in the Philippines’ Congress, which had not passed the
Bangsamoro Basic Law (BBL) necessary to implement the CAB by
the end of his term of office in 2016. The Bangsamoro issue passed
to incoming President Duterte, a man from Mindanao—though not a
Muslim—who in his presidential campaign promised to bring peace
to the south.
Indonesian and Malaysian interest in the Moro insurgency was
more than religious affinity or the ASEAN spirit. They had security
concerns with the appearance of jihadists and foreign terrorists
among the Moro fighters. Both Jakarta and Kuala Lumpur were alert
to the threat of the export of terrorism to East Indonesia and Sabah.
This was the threat basis for the 2017 launch of trilateral maritime
patrols in the Sulu Sea. In a statement at the ceremony initiating the
joint patrolling, it was said to be a step taken “in the spirit and
centrality of ASEAN, in maintaining stability in the region in the face
of non-traditional threats.”39 The connection of the military operation
to ASEAN had no real policy basis.
Malay Muslim Separatism in South Thailand
In 2004 the long-simmering discontent of the Thai Muslim population
in the kingdom’s Muslim-majority southern provinces burst into
flames after the Tak Bai “massacre,” discussed in chapter 8. It
sparked an ongoing low-intensity insurgency centered in the border
provinces of Pattani, Narathiwat, Yala, and four districts of Songkhla.
They were once part of the old sultanate of Patani that was annexed
by the Thai kingdom in 1909. The provinces have a Malay Muslim-
majority population of 1.4 million making up more than 80 percent of
the total population. The insurgents’ goal is Malay Muslim self-
determination, although the framework—independent state or
administrative autonomy within Thailand—is an issue within the
ranks of the politically fragmented insurgent groups. The main group
of armed fighters is the Barisan Revolusi Nasional Melayu Patani
(Patani-Melayu National Revolutionary Front), or BRN, carrying out a
campaign against the police, Thai government political and social
institutions, and Buddhist religious institutions. From 2004 to 2017,
there were more than 15,000 violent incidents, with 7,000 deaths
and 13,000 wounded.40
Prime Minister Thaksin in 2004 insisted that the situation in South
Thailand was not a matter for ASEAN’s consideration. While perhaps
faithful to the ASEAN way, this did not mean there was no impact on
intra-ASEAN relations. Indonesia and Malaysia have offered support
and assistance to Thailand in finding a peaceful settlement to the
insurgency in which the cultural and religious autonomy of the Malay
Muslims would be guaranteed within the Thai state territorial
framework. They have no sympathy for separatist demands. On his
state visit to Thailand in September 2012, Indonesia’s president
Yudhoyono told Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra that Indonesia
fully supported Thailand’s territorial integrity in its southern regions,
but he called for political efforts to solve the problems there and to
increase the people’s welfare.41 Both Indonesia and Malaysia have
acted to buffer Thailand in its dealings with the OIC. Bangkok has
acknowledged the importance of Indonesia’s role in “interpreting”
Thailand’s positions to the Muslim world.42
 The OIC’s direct contacts with the Thai government have been
through the organization’s secretary-general. Thailand has had
observer status in the organization since 1998. The baseline for OIC-
Thailand relations was set in a meeting between OIC secretary-
general Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu and Thailand’s prime minister
Surayud Chulanont in May 2007 in which in their joint press
conference the Thai prime minister committed to allow the Muslim
population “to assume responsibilities over their domestic affairs
through a decentralization process that allows the population to
practice their own cultural and linguistic specificity and manage their
natural resources in full respect of the sovereignty and territorial
integrity of Thailand.”43 However, given the stricture of a martial law
regime enforced by Thailand’s Fourth Army, the situation on the
ground did not change. Indonesia and Malaysia could not blunt the
scorching indictment of lack of progress in implementing the terms of
the 2007 promise by the 2012 39th meeting of the OIC Council of
Ministers.44 It expressed concern over the meager progress made
toward the achievement of goals set five years earlier, regretted the
continued application of emergency laws, and expressed concern
over the growing reliance on undisciplined paramilitary militias.
Thailand responded by threatening noncooperation with the OIC in
the future.45
It was during the government of Prime Minister Yingluck
Shinawatra that for the first time the Thai government publicly
expressed an interest in negotiating with the Patani insurgents.
Since 2006 both Indonesia and Malaysia had facilitated secret
contacts between the Thai government and the insurgents, and both
had positioned themselves as possible intermediaries. Malaysia has
the greatest interest since the Thais saw their border with Malaysia
as permeable to insurgents who shared culture, language, religion,
and even family ancestry with a sympathetic population on the
Malaysian side. Bangkok saw cross-border safe havens for the
insurgents in a kind of mirror image of Kuala Lumpur’s security
concerns four decades earlier about Malayan communist insurgents
sheltering on the Thai side of the border.* On February 28, 2013,
Malaysian prime minister Najib Razak, after meeting with Prime
Minister Yingluck, announced that peace talks between
representatives of the Thai government and the BRN would be held
in Kuala Lumpur and mediated by Malaysia. Najib warned that it was
just the start of what would be a “long process.”46
The process continues. The 2013 political breakthrough broke
down. The 2014 military coup brought the army and the BRN to a
negotiating deadlock, and the BRN walked away from Kuala Lumpur.
Its place in the continuing Malaysia-facilitated talks was taken in
2015 by the Majlis Syura Patani (MARA Patani), the Patani
Consultative Council. The MARA Patani is an umbrella organization
of six resistance groups, although the BRN has disowned it. Its
agents in the talks are in exile, and their authority to speak for the
BRN fighters has been doubted. Their focus has been on the
creation of “peace zones” for civilians, not a cease-fire or peace. In
April 2017, the BRN made a conditional offer to the Thai junta
government to enter formal peace talks. The conditions, however,
were the same as those leading to the 2015 breakdown: mediation
by a neutral third party and oversight by international observers.
Prime Minister Prayuth immediately rejected the offer, saying that
peace talks were internal matters requiring no international
mediation or observers.47
The wording of the BRN’s conditions leaves some questions. Does
the reference to a neutral third-party mediator suggest an alternative
to Malaysia? There has been criticism that Malaysia is more of a
stakeholder in the outcome than an impartial arbitrator. If so, will this
open up the possibility of a role for an NGO like the Henry Dunant
Centre or the Crisis Management Initiative? If the elections
scheduled for 2019 bring in a new civilian government, greater
flexibility in the Thai negotiating strategy might ensue. If the war
goes on, however, the second generation of Patani insurgents might
be more receptive to the call of regional Islamic extremists, posing
even greater complications for Thailand’s relations with Indonesia
and Malaysia and, if not ASEAN itself, the ASEAN spirit.

The Plight of the Rohingya

Myanmar’s membership in ASEAN has politically stained ASEAN’s
international image since it was admitted to the organization in 1997
(chapter 5). The military government’s human rights record and
resistance to democratic change became issues in the building of
the ASEAN Community (chapter 8). Since 2011, international
attention has focused on Myanmar’s transition from military rule to
democracy. The first stage was the 2011 return to civil government
and gradual democratic opening under President (former general)
Thein Sein. The second was the November 2015 elections swept by
the National League for Democracy (NLD) led by Daw Aung San
Suu Kyi, the heroine of the democratic revolution. On April 1, 2016, a
new government was formed, headed by Suu Kyi as state councilor,
a new office equivalent to prime minister.*
Even as democratic change in Myanmar was occurring, the
human rights community raised the alarm about military-supported
attacks on the Rohingya, a Muslim minority group in Myanmar’s
northwest Rakhine State (formerly Arakan). The attacks have taken
place under both Thein Sein’s and Suu Kyi’s governments. The
human toll on the Rohingya has been such that advocates have
described the government’s actions as ethnic cleansing or genocide.
There have even been calls for a retraction of Suu Kyi’s Nobel
Peace Prize award. As noted in chapter 1, the plight of the Rohingya
is playing out before an international audience that sees ASEAN as
helpless to defend its own pledges to protect the human rights and
freedoms of its peoples.
Not only are the Rohingya religiously different from Myanmar’s
majority Buddhist population, but their ancestry is to be found among
the peoples of today’s Bangladesh, formerly British India’s Bengal.
Their immediate ancestors were recruited as laborers in British
Burma, and their Burma-born descendants were considered Burma
nationals. They were deprived of their legal status of being nationals
by the ruling junta in 1982. Since then, they have been stateless,
treated as illegal immigrants even if their families have been in
Rakhine State for generations. Looked down upon by the Burmese,
they are addressed pejoratively as Bengalis, a term Suu Kyi only
stopped using in 2016. Without citizenship and civil rights, the
Rohingya have long been targets for government and popular
persecution, discrimination, and crime.
 The Rohingya problem as an ASEAN problem began in February
2009 when desperate Rohingya boat people began streaming
across the Andaman Sea for refuge and asylum. Those who landed
on Thailand’s coast were pushed back to sea by Thai Buddhists, to
continue their desperate voyages to Malaysia and Indonesia.
Without mentioning Myanmar by name, Indonesia’s foreign minister
Hassan Wirajuda called on the “country of origin to respect the
human rights of minorities and refugees,” a position echoed by
President Yudhoyono, who added—a jibe at Thailand—that “towing
out to sea” transferred the burden to other ASEAN states.48 Jakarta
brought the issue to the February 2009, Bangkok, 14th ASEAN
Summit, but ASEAN did not deal with it. Paragraph 43 of the
Chairman’s Statement said that the problem of “illegal immigrants”
required a larger context than ASEAN, such as the Bali Process
Ministerial Meeting or a contact group of the affected states.
ASEAN’s adoption of Myanmar’s definition of the Rohingya
refugees as “illegal immigrants” is evidence of how nonspecific any
consensus statement on Myanmar’s policies toward the Rohingya
had to be. The suggestion that the issue should properly be
discussed in the wider context of the Bali Process Ministerial
Meeting showed how anxious ASEAN was to keep it off the agenda.
The Bali Process’s full name is the Bali Process on People
Smuggling, Trafficking in Persons, and Related Transnational
Crimes. It was established in 2002 by Indonesia-Australia joint
initiative. The stimulus was the flood of South Asian migrants
through Southeast Asia seeking asylum in Australia. It has forty-four
member states. Indonesia followed up on ASEAN advice and took
the issue to the April 2009 third Bali Process Ministerial Meeting. It
was not taken up in the plenary session, but the Australian and
Indonesian co-chairs in their chairmen’s statement said that the lack
of action on the issue did not prejudice the refugees’ human and
legal rights.49
The Myanmar-Rohingya relationship became a critical ASEAN
problem in mid-2012 when mass attacks by Myanmar security forces
—backed by Buddhist mobs—overran Rohingya villages in a wave
of burning, murder, rape, and pillaging. This occurred under the
influence of the ultranationalist Buddhist group Ma Ba Tha
(Association for the Protection of Race and Religion). The frenzy of
violence even spread to non-Rohingya Muslim communities
elsewhere in the country. In its wake, thousands of Rohingya had
been killed, fled the country, or were in United Nations High
Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) camps. For Myanmar
officialdom in Nay Pyi Taw, the human disaster was not their
problem. The UNHCR was given three choices: repatriate the
displaced refugees to Bangladesh (rejected by Dacca); build larger
UNHCR facilities to house them; or find third countries willing to
receive them.
The international community’s attention was directed to the
humanitarian aspects of the Rohingya problem. While ASEAN also
was alert to this, its response was shaped by politics. First, of great
importance to ASEAN was that no solution to the refugee problem
left ASEAN countries with a residual refugee population. This was
particularly important for Malaysia, which had the largest number of
refugees—90 percent from Myanmar—some of whom had been
pushed back from Thailand. Second, it was the second year of
Myanmar’s democratic transition, and ASEAN did not want to do
anything that might undercut Thein Sein’s authority. ASEAN was also
looking to the 2014 ASEAN Summit, the chairmanship of which had
been awarded to Myanmar as a symbol of its changed policy. It
would be embarrassing for ASEAN if Myanmar were in the chair
while being globally condemned for its abuse of the Rohingya.
Finally, the Rohingya question posed a threat to ASEAN solidarity
since it pitted the organization’s three Muslim-majority members’
defense of the Rohingya against Myanmar. ASEAN tried to avoid
framing the issue as “religious,” officially describing it as a
“communal” problem. Ultimately, however, Indonesia’s president
Yudhoyono warned that unless Myanmar addressed Buddhist-led
violence against Muslims, it could cause problems with Muslims in
the region.50
At the bilateral level, ASEAN diplomats and leaders were urging
Nay Pyi Taw to protect the Rohingya and find a peaceful resolution.
At the multilateral ASEAN level, there was silence. It was not just
Myanmar’s objection to ASEAN involvement that prevented action.
Other ASEAN members, particularly the states in the CLMV group,
insisted on the ASEAN way of nonintervention. The leaders of
democratizing Indonesia were being pressed by domestic Muslim
activists to challenge Myanmar. There was a bomb plot against
Myanmar’s Jakarta embassy. A defensive Foreign Minister Marty
said Indonesia would not stand idle while western Myanmar burned.
“It’s not true,” he said, “that we don’t care. Our silence doesn’t mean
that we don’t care.”51 In bilateral negotiations, Myanmar agreed to
the establishment of an Indonesian Red Cross (Palang Merah
Indonesia [PMI]) mission in Rakhine State to coordinate Indonesian
humanitarian aid. It was headed by PMI president Jusuf Kalla, a
former Indonesia vice president and skilled negotiator in cases of
Indonesian domestic ethnic conflict. Yudhoyono said he sent Kalla
as an expression of “solidarity with our Rohingya brothers.”52
Also showing solidarity with its Rohingya brothers, the August
2012 OIC fourth Extraordinary Summit denounced Myanmar for its
policies of brutalization and violence against the Rohingya Muslims.
The summit established an OIC contact group that included the
OIC’s three ASEAN Muslim-majority states: Indonesia, Malaysia,
and Brunei.* The contact group was tasked with finding ways,
means, and mechanisms to halt the human rights violations against
the Rohingya minority and to restore their citizenship rights.53 It was
hoped on the ASEAN side that the OIC’s goals could be pursued in
the context of Myanmar’s reformation and democratization. The first
fruit of the OIC’s initiative was a memo of cooperation that would
have established an OIC Humanitarian Office in Myanmar to
coordinate the distribution of relief supplies to the Rohingya. This
was met with massive Buddhist anti-OIC demonstrations in Yangon
and Mandalay, causing Thein Sein to cancel the deal because “it
was not in accord with the people’s desire.”54 Kalla’s PMI mission by
default distributed aid from OIC countries.
Even as the UN, the OIC, world relief organizations, and ASEAN’s
dialogue partners were responding to the human disaster in Rakhine
State, ASEAN seemed immobilized. The world was looking to
ASEAN to take the regional lead. Already embarrassed by diplomatic
failure of the July AMM over the South China Sea (chapter 10),
ASEAN inaction on the Rohingya crisis could only further erode its
international credibility. Indonesia had proposed an August Special
Foreign Ministers’ Meeting to discuss the Rohingya issue, but it was
quashed by Myanmar. Foreign Minister Marty persevered, however,
and circulated a draft consensus statement that would express an
ASEAN position acceptable to Myanmar but still conveying ASEAN’s
concerns. A political goal was to allow ASEAN’s three Muslim-
majority members to express their interest in the fate of the
Rohingya through religiously neutral ASEAN, not just the OIC. On
August 17, 2012, the ASEAN Secretariat released a “Statement of
ASEAN Foreign Ministers on the Recent Developments in the
Rakhine State, Myanmar.”55 In it, the ministers reaffirmed their strong
support for Myanmar’s democratization progress. In that positive
context, they were closely following the developments in Rakhine
State. They encouraged Myanmar to continue to enhance
humanitarian relief efforts and offered, if requested, further
assistance. They underlined that national solidarity and harmony
among Myanmar’s communities was part of the reform process. As a
consensus statement it said nothing about the security forces’
rampage.
Foreign Minister Marty Natalegawa summed up the situation on
the sidelines of the November 2012 ASEAN-Europe Summit.
Acknowledging that the Rohingya issue was a matter of concern for
ASEAN and individual ASEAN states, it was his desire that the
Myanmar government tackle the problem in the same positive way it
had the democratization process.56 On his part, Thein Sein seemed
to be bending to international pressure and the need for external
assistance. In a November 16, 2012, letter to UN secretary-general
Ban Ki-Moon, the Myanmar president condemned the “criminal acts”
that caused “senseless violence,” saying his government would
address the contentious issues of resettlement and citizenship.57 He
gave no timetable. As the situation on the ground improved,
Indonesia openly took credit for moving the Myanmar government
toward democratic change. On an early January 2013 visit to Nay
Pyi Taw, Marty Natalegawa said that Myanmar had “confidence in
Indonesia’s capacity to understand the situation in an objective
manner.”58 At the February 2013 OIC Summit, President Yudhoyono
reported that Indonesia was actively promoting a peaceful solution to
end the conflict in the Rakhine State and that, due to Indonesian
efforts, the Myanmar government was cooperating with the UN and
the OIC.59
As the refugee flow continued to stream through the Andaman
Sea and Bay of Bengal, Thailand’s foreign minister Tanasak
Pratimapragorn organized a “Special Meeting on Irregular Migration
in the Indian Ocean.”60 Held on May 29, 2015, seventeen countries
attended as well as international humanitarian agencies. Although
not an ASEAN event, eight ASEAN countries participated, only
missing Brunei and Singapore. Even though it was understood that
the background of the meeting was the Rohingya boat people, the
Rohingya were not mentioned. This was a demand that Myanmar
made to the Thai host government as a condition of its attending. As
an observer human rights activist put it: “How can you talk about a
people if you don’t name them?”61 The meeting focused on
humanitarian assistance with no discussion of the “push” factor.
In 2016, the simmering Rohingya problem burst into flames anew,
but in a different political context. It was not Buddhist extremism but
Islamic terrorism that justified the new attacks on the Rohingya
population and led to the consequent new flood of refugees. The
new NLD government under Aung San Suu Kyi had picked up its
predecessor’s halting efforts at “communal” reconciliation. The Ma
Ba Tha movement had been curtailed by the established official
Buddhist authorities. Suu Kyi had organized an international advisory
commission headed by former UN secretary-general Kofi Annan to
provide assessments and recommendations on a solution to the
Rohingya problem.62 The commission presented its report in August
2017, and Suu Kyi appointed a ministerial committee to implement
suggested reforms. The moment of hope was short.
In August 2017, militants calling themselves the Arakan Rohingya
Salvation Army hit police and army posts. Myanmar security forces
unleashed a massive “counterterrorism” campaign against a
defenseless Rohingya population, killing thousands, leveling to the
ground hundreds of villages. This set off another huge refugee flow
to Bangladesh and Southeast Asia. On October 9, 2016, up to 350
Rohingya militants launched a series of coordinated attacks on
police posts along the Myanmar-Bangladesh border. The
appearance of armed Rohingya resistance carried with it the threat
of international Islamic extremist intervention. The Myanmar
generals could say to Malaysia and Indonesia, “We are at war with
Islamic terrorists just as you are.”
The ASEAN foreign ministers’ response to the resumption of
violence against the Rohingya was included in a September 23,
2017, “ASEAN Chairman’s Statement on the Humanitarian Situation
in Rakhine State.”63 It was put together by ASEAN chair and
Philippines foreign secretary Alan Peter Cayetano at an informal
ministers’ meeting in New York on the sidelines of the 72nd UNGA
session. In the statement, the foreign ministers expressed concern
over the recent developments and condemned the attacks against
Myanmar security forces and all acts of violence that resulted in loss
of life, destruction of homes, and displacement of people. This
statement was made, of course, without holding the security forces
accountable for the violence against the innocents. Outside of
ASEAN, dialogue partners were applying sanctions against the
generals responsible. In the statement, the ministers acknowledged
that the situation in Rakhine State was a “complex inter-communal
issue with deep historical roots.” They agreed that a viable and long-
term solution to the root cause of the conflict must be found. This,
according to the ASEAN foreign ministers, would include “closer
dialogue between Myanmar and Bangladesh, so that the affected
communities can rebuild their lives.” This would seem to be an
implicit acceptance by ASEAN of Myanmar’s position that the
hundreds of thousands of Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh camps
were illegal immigrants.
In a startling break with ASEAN protocol, Malaysian foreign
minister Anifah Aman immediately disowned the ASEAN ministers’
statement, calling it a “misrepresentation of the reality of the
situation.”64 Anifah stated that the statement was not based on
consensus and that Malaysia’s concerns were not reflected in the
statement, including the failure to identify the affected community as
Rohingya. Furthermore, Foreign Minister Anifah continued, the
statement did not condemn the disproportionate “clearance
operations” [read ethnic cleansing] by the security forces leading to
the many deaths and displacement of innocent civilians. The
Philippines’ Department of Foreign Affairs, while having “deep
respect” for Anifah’s disassociation from the statement, said it was
based on extensive consultations in which Malaysia participated.65
The DFA asserted that “the Philippines as chair tolerates the public
manifestation of dissenting voices. This demonstrates a new level of
maturity on how we implement ASEAN’s consensus principle when
confronted with issues affecting national interests.” The DFA added
that, as chair, Manila had to respect and take into account the
sentiments of the other members, but it was allowed a “certain level
of flexibility” in formulating the Chairman’s Statement.
Notwithstanding Malaysia’s objection, the 2017 31st ASEAN
Summit’s Chairman’s Statement adopted the language of the foreign
ministers’ August statement. There was nothing in the paragraph to
suggest what the issues were or who the protagonists and victims
were. At Myanmar’s insistence, the Rohingya were again only
identified anonymously as “the affected communities.” Aung San
Suu Kyi’s relative public indifference to the plight of the Rohingya,
while playing well to the Burmese voters, is ironic given her own
words to ASEAN in 1999, facing the oppressive might of the ruling
junta: “This policy of non-interference is just an excuse for not
helping.”66

NOTES
1. For details, see Rommel A. Curaming and Syed Muhd Khairudin Aljunied, “Social
Memory and State—Civil Society Relations in the Philippines: Forgetting and Remembering
the Jabidah ‘Massacre,’” Time and Society, March 28, 2012, accessed at
http://profile.nus.edu.sg/fass/mlsasmk/Time%20and%20Society_Jabidah.pdf.
2. Keesing’s Record of World Events, accessed at
http://web.stanford.edu/group/tomzgroup/pmwiki/uploads/1072-1968-12-xx-ks-a-ajg.pdf.
3. “Philippines-Malaysian Relations: An Overview,” accessed at
http://www.philembassykl.org.my/overview.htm.
4. “More Work and Time Needed to Resolve Sabah Issue: Arroyo,” Malaysiakini, August
8, 2001.
5. “President Yudhoyono Hopes Sabah Problem to Be Resolved Soon,” Antara, March
8, 2013.
6. Simon Tay and Yap Kwong Weng, “Does Sabah Merit Asean’s Attention?” Today
[Singapore], March 18, 2013; Carlos Santamaria, “ASEAN Will Stay Out of the Sabah
Dispute,” Rappler.com, March 19, 2013, accessed at https://www.rappler.com/nation/24172-
asean-will-stay-out-of-sabah-dispute.
7. Prashanth Parameswaran, “Malaysia Warns Philippines’ Duterte against ‘Reigniting’
Sabah Dispute,” The Diplomat, May 13, 2016, accessed at
https://thediplomat.com/2016/05/malaysia-warns-philippines-duterte-against-reigniting-
sabah-dispute.
8. “We’ll Defend ‘Sovereignty’ over Pedra Branca: Najib,” Straits Times, January 15,
2003.
9. “Malaysia Is Threatening War in Island Row,” South China Morning Post, January 2,
2003.
10. Prof. S. Jayakumar, parliamentary statement, January 25, 2003, Singapore
Parliamentary Reports, January 25, 2003, accessed at
https://www.mfa.gov.sg/content/mfa/overseasmission/kuala_lumpur/press_room/singapore_
malaysia_relations/2003/200301/press_200301_2.html.
11. The press release on the signing of the Special Agreement can be accessed at
https://www1.mfa.gov.sg/Newsroom/Press-Statements-Transcripts-and-
Photos/2003/02/MFA-Press-Release-on-the-Signing-of-the-Special-Agreement.
12. The judgment can be accessed at http://www.icj-cij.org/files/case-related/136/136-
20080604-JUD-01-00-EN.pdf.
13. Bhavan Jaipragas, “Why Malaysia Is Fighting Singapore over a Rock,” South China
Morning Post, February 11, 2017, accessed at https://www.scmp.com/week-
asia/politics/article/2069945/why-malaysia-and-singapore-are-fighting-over-rock.
14. The ITLOS order can be accessed at
https://www.itlos.org/fileadmin/itlos/documents/cases/case_no_12/12_order_081003_en.pdf
.
15. The joint press statement announcing the settlement can be accessed at
http://www.nas.gov.sg/archivesonline/data/pdfdoc/2005042601/2005042601.pdf.
16. Tommy Koh and Jolene Lin, “The Reclamation Case: Thoughts and Reflections,”
Singapore Year Book of International Law 10 (2006): 6.
17. A detailed description of the Malaysian-Indonesian negotiations is provided by John
G. Butcher, “The International Court of Justice and the Territorial Dispute between Indonesia
and Malaysia in the Sulawesi Sea,” Contemporary Southeast Asia 35, no. 2 (August 2013):
235–57.
18. An overview of the case can be accessed at https://icj-cij.org/en/case/102. The full
documentation can be accessed at http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/102/7714.pdf.
19. The Philippines’ application for intervention, March 13, 2001, can be accessed at
https://www.icj-cij.org/files/case-related/102/7179.pdf.
20. “Submarine Base to Accommodate Russian, South Korean Vessels,” Jakarta Post,
February 3, 2016.
21. “Malaysia, Indonesia to Appoint Special Envoys to Handle Territorial Disputes,” Straits
Times, February 6, 2015.
22. Joint Statement of the 12th Annual Consultation between Dato’ Sri Mohd Najib Tun
Abdul Razak and President Joko Widodo, Kuching, November 22, 2017, accessed at
https://www.najibrazak.com/en/blog/joint-statement-of-the-12th-malaysia-indonesia-annual-
consultation.
23. “Indonesia Awards North Kalimantan’s Offshore East Ambalat PSC to Pertamina,”
Rigzone, May 26, 2016, accessed at
https://www.rigzone.com/news/oil_gas/a/144768/indonesia_awards_north_kalimantan_east
_ambalat_psc-to-pertamina.
24. A summary of the award can be accessed at https://www.icj-cij/en/case/45.
25. As quoted in “Cambodia, Thailand to Face UN over Border Dispute,” Channel
NewsAsia, February 9, 2011.
26. “Security Council Urges Permanent Ceasefire after Recent Thai-Cambodia Clashes,”
UN News Service, February 14, 2011.
 27. “Statement by the Chairman of ASEAN following the Informal Meeting of the Foreign
Ministers of ASEAN, Jakarta, 22 February 2011,” accessed at https://asean.org/statement-
by-the-chairman-of-asean-following-the-informal-meeting-of-the-foreign-ministers-of-asean-
jakarta-22-february-2011.
28. The court’s order can be accessed at http://www.icj-cij.org/files/case-related/151/151-
20110718-ORD-01-EN.pdf.
29. As reported in “Indonesia ‘Ready to Send Border Observers,’” Phnom Penh Post,
November 1, 2011.
30. “Thai Troops Stay Put in Temple Area,” Bangkok Post, November 23, 2011.
31. The ICJ decision can be accessed at http://www.icj-cij.org/files/case-related/151/151-
10131111-JUD-01-00-EN.pdf.
32. The history of the Henry Dunant Centre in Aceh can be accessed at
http://www.hdcentre.org./activities/aceh-indonesia.
33. For the GAM, see Kirsten E. Schulze, The Free Aceh Movement (GAM): Anatomy of
a Separatist Organization (Washington, DC: East-West Center, 2004).
34. “Joint Statement on Aceh by the EU, Japan, and the US,” accessed at
https://unpo.org/article/755.
35. Pieter Feith, “The Aceh Peace Process: Nothing Less Than Success,” United States
Institute of Peace Special Report 184 (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace,
2007).
36. The Tripoli Agreement can be accessed at
http://www.muslimmindanao.ph/peace_process_tripoli.html.
37. “Prime Minister Najib’s Speech at the CAB Signing,” Manila Channel, March 27, 2014,
accessed at http://peraktoday.com.my/2014/03/najibs-speech-at-signing-of-bangsamoro-
peace-accord-in-manila.
38. “Enemies of Peace Beware—Aquino,” Inquirer.net, March 27, 2014.
39. “Indonesia, Malaysia, Philippines Launch Joint Operations in Sulu Sea to Tackle
Terrorism, International Crime,” Straits Times, June 19, 2017.
40. The statistics are those of the NGO Deep South Watch.
41. “Yudhoyono and Yingluck Meet, Discuss Thai Territorial Integrity,” Jakarta Globe,
September 12, 2012.
42. “Thailand Asks Indonesia to Explain Its Policies to the OIC,” Antara, September 2,
2012.
43. Text as cited in paragraph 12 of the resolutions on safeguarding the rights of Muslim
communities in non-OIC member states, 35th OIC Council of Ministers, June 18–20, 2008,
accessed at https://www.oic-oci.org/docdown/?docID=430&refID=30.
44. Paragraphs 16–19 of Resolution no. 1/39-MM on safeguarding the rights of Muslim
communities and minorities in non-OIC member states, 39th OIC Council of Ministers,
November 15–17, 2012, accessed at https://www.oic-oci.org/docdown/?
docID=360&refID=26.
45. “Government Bristles at OIC Resolution,” Bangkok Post, November 30, 2012.
46. “Thailand Agrees to Talks with Southern Muslim Rebels,” accessed at
https://www.reuters.com/article/us-thailand-south/thailand-agrees-to-talks-with-southern-
muslim-rebels-idUSBRE91R05820130228.
47. “Thai Junta Rejects Conditional Peace Talks with Muslim Insurgents,” Reuters, April
11, 2017, accessed at https://www.reuters.com/article/us-thailand-insurgency/thai-junta-
rejects-conditional-peace-talks-with-muslim-insurgents-idUSKBN17D137.
48. “Indonesia Criticizes Burma over Rohingya,” ABC Radio Australia, February 9, 2009.
49. “Co-Chairs’ Statement: Third Bali Regional Ministerial Conference on People
Smuggling, Trafficking in Persons and Related Transnational Crime,” accessed at
https://www.baliprocess.net/UserFiles/baliprocess/File/Co%20Chairs%20Statement%20BR
MC%20III_FINAL.pdf.
50. “Yudhoyono Urges Myanmar to Act on Violence against Muslims,” Today [Singapore],
April 24, 2013.
51. As quoted in “RI Ready to Fight for Rohingya,” Jakarta Post, July 3, 2012.
52. “SBY Turns to Ex-Veep on Rohingya Issue,” Jakarta Globe, August 18, 2012.
53. Final Communiqué of the Fourth Extraordinary Islamic Summit, August 14–15, 2012,
accessed at https://www.oic-oci.org/docdown/?docID=25&refID=8.
54. “Myanmar Blocks World Islamic Body Office after Rallies,” Channel News-Asia,
October 15, 2012.
55. The “Statement” can be accessed at https://asean.org/Statement-of-asean-foreign-
ministers-on-the-recent-developments-in-the-rakhine-state-myanmar-phnom-penh-
cambodia-17-August-2012.
56. “ASEAN Concerned about Myanmar’s Rohingya,” Agence France-Presse, November
12, 2012.
57. “Secretary-General Outlines Letter Received from President of Myanmar Pledging to
Deal with Perpetrators of ‘Senseless Violence,’” accessed at
https://www.un.org/press/en/2012/sgsm14648.doc.htm.
58. As quoted in “Indonesia Pledges US$1m in Aid to Myanmar’s Rakhine State,”
Channel NewsAsia, January 4, 2013.
59. President Yudhoyono’s speech at the 12th OIC Summit, February 6, 2013, accessed
at http://www.presidenri.go.id.
60. The official Thai foreign ministry summary of the meeting can be accessed at
http://www.mfa.go.th/main/en/media-center/14/56880-Summary-Special-Meeting-on-
Irregular-Migration-in.html.
61. As quoted in “Boat People Meet: Immediate Help but Long-Term Problems Unsolved,”
Bangkok Post, May 30, 2015.
62. The organization and report of the commission can be accessed at
http://www.rakhinecommission.org.
63. The statement can be accessed at https://asean.org/asean-chairmans-statement-on-
the-humanitarian-situation-in-rakhine-state.
64. “Wisma Putra: Asean Chairman’s Statement on Rohingya Crisis a ‘Misrepresentation
of the Situation,’” Star Online, September 24, 2017, accessed at
https://www.thestar.com.my/news/nation/2017/09/24/asean-chairman-statement-malaysia-
stance.
65. “PH Respects Malaysia’s Dissociation from ASEAN Statement on Rohingya,” ABS-
CBN News, September 25, 2017, accessed at https://news.abs-cbn.com/news/09/25/17/ph-
respects-malaysias-dissociation-from-asean-statement-on-rohingya.
66. As quoted in “Southeast Asia Summit Draft Statement Skips over Rohingya Crisis,”
Reuters, November 12, 2017, accessed at https://www.reuters.com/article/us-asean-
summit-myanmar/southeast-asia-summit-draft-statement-skips-over-rohingya-crisis-
idUSKBN1DD0CP.
*The Muslim population is known as Moro, a Spanish label derived from “Moor.”
*The final peace agreement between Malaysia and the Communist Party of Malaya was
signed on December 2, 1989, in Hat Yai, Songkhla Province, Thailand.
*Daw Aung San Suu Kyi is constitutionally banned from the presidency because her sons
are British citizens. The nominal president is Htin Kyaw.
*The other members of the contact group were Bangladesh, Djibouti, Egypt, Saudi
Arabia, and Turkey.
 Chapter 10
ASEAN’s Existential Crisis
The South China Sea Conflict

In the early post–Cold War years, while ASEAN was constructing its
platforms for regional economic growth in a stable and peaceful
security environment, the seeds were being sown for what would
become a future existential crisis for the organization. This is the
political confrontation pitting the norms of international behavior
enshrined by ASEAN against the militarized advance of China’s
claims to sovereignty and jurisdiction over the South China Sea
(SCS). Peaceful resolution of the disputed territorial and maritime
claims in the SCS is the most daunting issue for the future of the
ASEAN Political and Security Community. The crisis in the SCS is
the ultimate test of ASEAN’s regional political centrality. The ASEAN
way has been exploited by China as Beijing has accelerated its
pursuit of its ambitious great-power geopolitical and military agenda
in the SCS. Not only does this threaten the rights of ASEAN’s
maritime members, but it also challenges the U.S. role in the Asia-
Pacific. Beijing seeks to alter the regional strategic setting in which
ASEAN’s security policy of “hedging” is possible.
It is not just ASEAN’s place in the regional strategic environment
that is at risk. The strategic underpinning of ASEAN itself is in
question as its foreign ministers wrestle to formulate a common
response to China’s SCS policy. As noted in the Bali Concord II
(chapter 8), a rationale of the ASEAN Political-Security Community
(APSC) is the assumption of the strategic indivisibility of the security
of the ASEAN states. As mentioned in previous chapters, ASEAN, in
fact, has two strategic environments: continental and maritime.
ASEAN’s continental states look to their expanding links to China’s
Yunnan Province, not the South China Sea.
ASEAN struggles to maintain a consensus on South China Sea
issues. To the chagrin of the member states whose SCS rights are
put most at risk by Beijing’s activities, ASEAN’s policy positions on
SCS questions have reflected a lowest-common-denominator
agreement that avoids criticizing or offending China. China’s behind-
the-scenes vetoes of more robust ASEAN postures have been cast
by the members who are the most dependent on Chinese largesse,
particularly Cambodia and Laos. This raises the question of whether
the APSC can survive a future in which critical decisions on regional
security issues require the assent of nonmember China.

THE ISSUES AND STAKES

The South China Sea lies at the strategic heart of ASEAN, lapping
the shores of the Philippines, Brunei, Indonesia, Malaysia, Vietnam,
and China’s Hainan and Guangdong provinces. It covers an area of
more than 3.5 million square kilometers (1.4 million square miles).
The SCS’s maritime boundaries in the north are the Taiwan and
Luzon straits, and in the south, the Strait of Malacca. According to
the law of the sea as codified in the United Nations Convention on
the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), the SCS coastal states enjoy an
exclusive economic zone (EEZ) not to extend beyond 200 nautical
miles (230 statute miles) from the baselines from which the breadth
of the territorial sea is measured: 12 nautical miles (13.8 statute
miles). In its EEZ, the state has sovereign rights to explore, exploit,
conserve, and manage natural resources, whether living or nonliving,
of waters, seabed, and subsoil.1 In addition to the sea boundaries, a
state enjoys sovereign rights to its continental shelf. In terms of the
UNCLOS, the South China Sea is a semi-enclosed sea in which the
bordering states are enjoined to cooperate with one another in the
exercise of their rights. Rather than cooperation, however, China has
brought conflict into the SCS as its assertion of its rights threatens
the rights of the other littoral states.
Spread through the SCS are islands, islets, rocks, shoals, and
reefs, the possession of which is caught up in overlapping and
competing national claims of sovereignty that carry with them
purported territorial sea, EEZ, and continental shelf claims. For
centuries, the land features of the sea were frequented by offshore
fishermen. The English names of many of the features were applied
by passing European and American navigators. The contemporary
political identities first became relevant with the early 1930s French
annexation of the Spratlys and Paracels as part of France’s
Indochina empire. Japan incorporated them in its World War II
Pacific domain. The first post-war claimants were the successors to
France in South Vietnam and Chiang Kai Shek’s Nationalist China,
both of which were at war with what would become their communist
successors.
In the northwest, halfway between China’s Hainan Island and
Vietnam, are the Paracel Islands, consisting of some 130 coral
islands and reefs split into two groups, the Amphitrite and Crescent
islands, now occupied by China but claimed by Vietnam. Woody
Island in the Amphitrite group, at 2.1 square kilometers (0.8 square
miles), is the largest in the Paracels. It became China’s first SCS
base for advanced fighter aircraft and SAM missiles. Macclesfield
Bank and Scarborough Shoal in the north were controlled by the
Philippines until displaced by China. They are rich fisheries grounds.
The 160 or so features of the Spratly Islands extend over 410,000
square kilometers (158,000 square miles) of the central South China
Sea. The Spratlys are at the heart of a fierce competition for
sovereignty and maritime jurisdictions among China, Vietnam, and
the Philippines. Malaysia and Brunei have smaller claims in the
Spratlys’ south. The island of Itu Aba, at the northern tip of the
Spratlys, at 110 acres is the largest land feature of the group. It is
occupied by Taiwan. China and Vietnam claim the entire Spratlys
group, known as Nansha by China and Truong Sa by Vietnam. The
Philippines’ territorial claim in the Spratlys’ east was acquired by
President Ferdinand Marcos’s forced cession of a private claim and
settlement to the Philippines government by presidential decree in
1974. The Malaysian and Brunei claims are based on extension of
their continental shelves.
The Spratlys’ settlements are administratively linked to mainland
governing units, giving them an integral national identity. In the U.S.
Department of Defense 2015 Asia-Pacific Maritime Security
Strategy, a map of the Spratlys identified the occupied features and
outposts of the claimants: China (8), Malaysia (5), Philippines (8),
Taiwan (1), and Vietnam (48).2 Vietnamese and Philippine garrisons
showing their flags are no match for the Chinese military bases
constructed by “land reclamation” on seven artificial islands.
Internationally known as the South China Sea, China also refers to
it as the South Sea. For Vietnam, it is the East Sea. For the
Philippines, its claimed waters are the West Philippine Sea. In July
2017, Indonesia renamed its South China Sea EEZ the North
Natuna Sea, after the Natuna Islands group bordering the EEZ.
Jakarta’s action was quickly criticized by China as not being
conducive to the development of healthy and stable China-Indonesia
relations.3
The Chinese assertion of its “indisputable” sovereignty in the
South China Sea is based on its historical claims of navigation,
fisheries, and settlements in the SCS going back to the Han dynasty,
twenty-three centuries ago. China’s claims to tradition and history
run counter to the law of the sea expressed in the UNCLOS. These
historical claims were given a Chinese domestic legal basis in the
PRC’s February 25, 1992, “Law on the Territorial Sea and the
Contiguous Zone,” which for Beijing supersedes international law,
including the UNCLOS.4 The Chinese law is paralleled by Vietnam’s
2012 “Law of the Sea of Vietnam,” which states that the Paracel and
Spratly Islands are under Vietnam’s sovereign jurisdiction.5 China
reacted angrily to what it called Vietnam’s “illegal and invalid”
infringement of China’s rights, promising to resolutely safeguard its
sovereignty.6 The Philippines-occupied settlements are grouped in
the municipality of Kalayaan (“Freedom Land”), which was integrated
into the Philippines as part of Palawan Province by decree by
Marcos in 1978, an act that both China and Vietnam protested.
 In a submission to the UN on May 7, 2009, China claimed that it
had indisputable sovereignty over the islands in the South China Sea
and their adjacent waters and enjoyed sovereign rights and
jurisdiction over the relevant waters, seabed, and subsoil. The claims
were graphically illustrated by a map depicting the geographic
expanse of its claim, covering more than 80 percent of the SCS. The
claim was demarcated by the famous “nine-dash line” behind which
lay swaths of the other littoral states’ EEZs and all of the land
features in the sea, including the territorial claims in the Spratlys.7
The PRC did not invent the “dash line.” It adopted an “eleven-dash-
line” map published in 1947 by the Nationalist government and
tweaked by Beijing in 1952 to eliminate two dashes in the Gulf of
Tonkin. Indonesia’s response to the unveiling of the nine-dash line in
the UN was a communication to the secretary-general. In it, Jakarta
stated that the nine-dash line “clearly lacks international legal basis
and is tantamount to upset the UNCLOS 1982.”8
The economic stakes in the competition for sovereign jurisdiction
are high. There is a presumption of vast offshore sub-seabed energy
resources of natural gas and oil waiting to be tapped. A 2013
analysis by the U.S. Energy Information Administration estimated
that the SCS had proven and probable reserves of 11 billion barrels
of oil and 190 trillion cubic feet of natural gas. Much higher Chinese
estimates, however, suggest a “hydrocarbons value” as much as ten
times greater, which may contribute to Beijing’s hard line on
jurisdictions.9 China has impeded efforts by Vietnam and the
Philippines to exploit the possible hydrocarbon resources in their
EEZs. Beijing has scared off foreign oil companies that otherwise
might be willing to partner in a bid for exploratory oil blocks.
A second major economic stake in the SCS is its fisheries. With
fish stocks threatened by overfishing and environmental degradation,
China has treated the EEZs of Southeast Asia as its own, with large
fishing fleets cruising through Southeast Asian waters, backed by
armed fishery protection vessels and the Chinese coast guard.
Vietnamese and Philippine fishing vessels have been coercively
expelled from their EEZ grounds. China affirmed its South China Sea
sovereignty with a regulation that went into effect on January 1,
2014, requiring foreign fishing vessels to be registered and licensed
by the Hainan provincial government, which has administrative
authority over the SCS. Since 2010, there have been several armed
encounters in Indonesia’s EEZ between Chinese fishery patrol
vessels and Indonesian maritime enforcement ships. Tensions in the
Indonesian fisheries were heightened when the incoming
government of President Joko Widodo launched an aggressive
campaign against illegal fishing, arresting and sinking hundreds of
illegal vessels. Thai and Vietnamese boats have suffered the most in
what their governments consider un-ASEAN behavior.
The leading strategic stake is freedom of navigation as guaranteed
in the UNCLOS. Nearly 30 percent of world trade, valued at more
than $5 trillion, passes through the SCS yearly. It is the vital route
from Northeast Asia to the Indian Ocean and onward to the Middle
East and Europe. Freedom of navigation as well as innocent
passage through territorial seas are accorded to naval vessels in
addition to commercial vessels. Freedom of navigation in the SCS is
considered to be an American vital national security interest. China’s
longrange strategic thrust is to exclude the United States as a great-
power actor in what Beijing sees as its natural sphere of interest.
The U.S. official policy is clear. It takes no position on the legal
merits of the territorial claims, but in February 2014, for the first time,
an American official explicitly rejected the nine-dash line as the basis
for maritime claims as being inconsistent with the UNCLOS.10 In the
Obama administration and continued by President Trump, U.S.
Seventh Fleet warships sailed near Chinese-occupied Spratly
islands (but not within twelve nautical miles) in freedom of navigation
operations (FONOPs) in assertion of U.S. rights. The FONOPs are
denounced by Beijing as illegal and serious military provocations.
China’s readiness to use force to establish its dominance over the
contested SCS was demonstrated in January 1974 when South
Vietnam tried to prevent China’s infiltration and occupation of the
Paracels’ Crescent group, which it occupied. In an intense naval
battle on January 14, a larger Vietnamese battle-damaged fleet was
forced to withdraw, leaving China free to expel the remnants of
Vietnamese sovereignty. South Vietnam’s American ally refused to
intervene but did supply real-time intelligence on Chinese naval
movements.11 Even though the Paracels were considered to be a
part of Vietnam’s national patrimony, Hanoi was silent, not risking
Chinese support of its national liberation war against the South.
Saigon denounced the North as a “traitorous clique, which invites
elephants to trample on their ancestors’ tombs.”12 The loss of the
Paracels is still a scar on Vietnamese nationalism. To vent some of
the anti-China popular feeling in the country, in 2014, for the first
time, the Hanoi government allowed controlled public protests
commemorating the fortieth anniversary of the naval battle.13
Tensions in the South China Sea zone were high in the 1980s as
the claimants worked to consolidate, expand, and defend their
positions in the Spratlys. In 1987, China placed a tide-level
observation post on Fiery Cross Reef. Vietnam, alarmed by Chinese
warships and survey vessels moving through what it considered its
waters, set about reinforcing its claims by building new outposts on
three unoccupied reefs. On March 14, 1988, two Vietnamese armed
transports with landing craft carrying one hundred soldiers were
intercepted by Chinese frigates at Johnson South Reef. In the
firefight that followed, the Vietnamese were driven off with heavy
casualties. Johnson South Reef and Fiery Cross Reef are now part
of China’s chain of Spratlys militarized artificial islands.
At the time of the 1988 China-Vietnam Johnson South Reef clash,
Vietnam and ASEAN were still political opponents in Cambodia.
Even so, Hanoi’s SCS interests had been incorporated into the 1981
Indochinese six principles for relations with ASEAN (chapter 4).
Principle 4 read: “To respect the sovereignty of the coastal states of
Southeast Asia over their territorial waters as well as their sovereign
rights over their exclusive economic zones and continental
shelves.”14 China’s threat to Vietnam’s Spratlys territory was an
implicit threat to the Spratlys claims of the Philippines, Brunei, and
Malaysia as well as regional peace and security. The enormity of
China’s claim to sovereign jurisdiction over most of the SCS and its
resources affected all of maritime Southeast Asia.

ASEAN ADDS THE SOUTH CHINA SEA TO ITS AGENDA

ASEAN officially took cognizance of the situation in the SCS at the
July 1992 25th AMM in Manila. With the Philippines’ territorial claims
in the Spratlys at risk, in his opening address President Fidel V.
Ramos underscored the need for an urgent solution to the rival
claims in the SCS. The foreign ministers responded by issuing a
Declaration on the South China Sea.15 Although addressed to all
parties directly interested in the South China Sea, the hoped-for
audience was the PRC. It was the first ASEAN initiative in what over
a quarter of a century has been a fruitless effort to influence China’s
behavior in the South China Sea. The relevant text was short, stating
that the ministers:

1. EMPHASIZE the necessity to resolve all sovereignty and

jurisdictional issues pertaining to the South China Sea by peaceful
means, without resort to force;
2. URGE all parties concerned to exercise restraint with the view to
creating a positive climate for the eventual resolution of all
disputes;
3. RESOLVE, without prejudicing the sovereignty and jurisdiction of
countries having direct interest in the area, to explore the
possibility of cooperation in the South China Sea relating to the
safety of maritime navigation and communication, protection
against pollution of the marine environment, coordination of search
and rescue operations, efforts towards combatting piracy and
armed robbery as well as collaboration in the campaign against
illicit trafficking in drugs;

4. COMMEND all parties concerned to apply the principles contained

in the Treaty of Amity and Cooperation in Southeast Asia as the
basis for establishing a code of international conduct over the
South China Sea.

A fifth principle invited “all parties concerned to subscribe to this

Declaration.”16 The PRC foreign minister Qian Qichen attended the
open sessions of the AMM as a guest of Chairman Raul Manglapus.
Qian was invited to sign the declaration but politely declined because
China had not been involved in its drafting.
The 1992 principles became part of all future statements on the
issues: peaceful resolution, nonuse of force, restraint, confidence
building, and adherence to norms. The later documents were framed
similarly: parties unidentified, no mention of specific disputes, and no
assignment of blame. Most of the confidence-building activities
suggested in Principle 3 have found their way into ASEAN dialogue
structures but with no carryover into the SCS political dialogues, let
alone dispute resolution. The final substantive proposal of the 1992
declaration—to apply the principles of the TAC in establishing the
basis for a code of conduct in the South China Sea—ignored the fact
that China was not a party to the TAC. This did not happen until
2003.
The 1992 Manila Declaration was the first official ASEAN embrace
of what to the present has been a politically elusive effort to draw up
a code of conduct of the parties concerned in the South China Sea
to which China would adhere. It has been a daunting and frustrating
exercise as the realities of the negotiating environment limit what
ASEAN can achieve in terms of altering Beijing’s political and
strategic goals. China is not going to renounce its sovereign
territorial and maritime claims in the SCS. China is not going to
abandon its militarized artificial islands. China is not going to scrap
its political and strategic goals in the SCS.

Workshop on Managing Potential Conflict in the South

China Sea
The joint communiqué issued by the foreign ministers at the 1992
Manila AMM singled out the Track II (or 1.5) Workshop on Managing
Potential Conflict in the South China Sea for its contribution to a
better understanding of the issues involved. It was noted that the
workshop’s informal and unofficial format enabled open and frank
discussion. The workshop originated in 1990 in the Indonesian
foreign ministry, with initial funding support from the Canadian
International Development Agency. It was the brainchild of Foreign
Minister Ali Alatas and Ambassador Hasjim Djalal, Indonesia’s
leading expert on the law of the sea. Alatas and Djalal were also the
proponents of the short-lived 1994 South China Sea “doughnut hole”
proposal. Each littoral nation would claim its EEZ. The ocean space
beyond—the “doughnut hole”—would be subject to joint
development with the apportioning of revenue subject to a format to
be negotiated. On a trip to the region in May 1994, Ambassador
Djalal tried to sell it to the affected ASEAN states, but with little
success.17
The purpose of the workshop was preventive diplomacy through
developing areas of functional cooperation leading to confidence-
building measures (CBMs) and habits of cooperation that could lead
to a political atmosphere conducive to dispute resolution.18 According
to Djalal, the format for the 1992 ASEAN declaration and the idea of
a code of conduct (discussed below) originated from the workshop.19
China has participated in the workshop, but with the understanding
that there will be no questioning of China’s sovereignty or
jurisdictional rights. China has not permitted multilateral cooperative
scientific field activity, fearing that this might compromise the political
integrity of its claims to the SCS.
Since the inception of the Workshop on Managing Potential
Conflict in the South China Sea, successive AMMs have praised it
as an exemplary CBM. The 27th Workshop took place in November
2017, under the auspices of the Indonesian foreign ministry’s Policy
Analysis and Development Agency. Attending were representatives
of eight ASEAN countries plus China and Taiwan (Chinese Taipei).
Taiwan is a Spratlys claimant, and this is the only ASEAN forum in
which it participates with China. Opening the session, Indonesia’s
deputy foreign minister Abdurrahman M. Fachir stated that “for 27
years the workshop has acted as a prime catalyst to fortify the
negotiation process, by maintaining constructive engagement of the
parties in the dispute.”20 After more than a quarter of a century, there
is little to show from the workshop process in terms of moving from
Track II to Track I, but at least the dialogue continues, which at a
minimum is considered by Jakarta to be better than no dialogue at
all.21 On the other hand, it could simply fit into China’s political
strategy of engaging with ASEAN in multiple overlapping regular
“confidence-building” forums that do not openly challenge Chinese
policy while China fast-tracks its transformation of the strategic
status in the SCS.
Mischief Reef
In February 1995, China occupied the Philippines’ Mischief Reef in
the Spratlys, 130 nautical miles from the coast of Palawan and well
inside the Philippines’ EEZ. Manila’s protests were met by Chinese
claims that the structures it had thrown up were only fishermen’s
shelters. A Philippines’ naval vessel sent to investigate was blocked
from entering the reef’s lagoon by a superior Chinese force. As
Chinese activities showed its intention to convert Mischief Reef into
a permanent outpost, Manila’s initial belligerency was tempered by
the reality of its military unpreparedness. Manila was well aware of
what had happened to the Vietnamese at Johnson South Reef. For
more than two decades the Philippines’ armed forces had been
geared to internal war against the communist and Muslim
separatists. The alliance with the United States had been badly
strained by the forced closure of American bases (chapter 6).
Without a military option, President Fidel Ramos’s government could
only try to limit the damage diplomatically. This was done in bilateral
consultations in Beijing and Manila, leading to an August 1995 joint
statement in which the countries agreed not to let the Mischief Reef
dispute disrupt normal relations while a solution was sought in
gradual and progressive negotiations. This was reaffirmed in the
November 2000 China-Philippines Framework Agreement on
Bilateral Cooperation.22 To facilitate the bilateral dialogue, a China-
Philippines Working Group on CBMs in the South China Sea was
established.
While there has not been any “gradual and progressive”
development in the dispute-resolution process, Mischief Reef, once
a coral low-tide elevation, has been transformed. Through dredging
the seabed (“reclamation”), China has created a 1,379-acre artificial
island on which it has constructed a military base.23 Together with the
six other artificial islands it has built in the Spratlys,* China, despite
its denials, is creating a military infrastructure that is moving from
defense capabilities to regional power projection.
It is not just the Philippines and Vietnam that have had their
maritime sovereignty encroached upon. At the far southern extent of
the nine-dash line, James Shoal lies 80 kilometers (50 miles) off the
coast of Malaysia’s Sarawak State. It is well within Malaysia’s EEZ
and rests on Malaysia’s continental shelf. Nevertheless, China
claims it. In March 2013, a flotilla of four Chinese navy ships cruised
the waters while firing their guns in salute. Even though the
Malaysian government protested the Chinese naval display, the next
month a Chinese naval survey ship began laying steel markers. The
Chinese assertion of its claim was capped in January 2014, when
two Chinese destroyers and an amphibious landing craft arrived at
James Shoal—Zengmu to China. There, according to the Chinese
news agency Xinhua, a ceremony was held in which the officers and
men took an oath, swearing to defend China’s sovereignty and
maritime interests, urged on by the fleet commander to always be
ready to fight.24 Since then, the Chinese coast guard has kept a
constant vigil on James Shoal and on Malaysia’s Lucania Shoals,
100 kilometers (62 miles) from Sarawak’s coast.

The Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South

China Sea (DOC)
The annexation of Mischief Reef was a wake-up call for ASEAN.
Clearly, the 1992 Declaration on the South China Sea had not
deterred China’s forward policy. Beijing’s assault on ASEAN’s
principles diminished ASEAN’s image, undermining its international
standing. The foreign ministers’ dismay was reflected in their March
18, 1995, statement, which expressed their serious concern about
the recent developments in the South China Sea that threatened
peace and stability. They called upon the parties “to refrain from
taking actions that destabilize the region and further threaten the
peace and security of the South China Sea.” They then specifically
called for “an early resolution of the problems caused by recent
developments in Mischief Reef.”25 Three months later, at the 28th
AMM, the joint communiqué repeated ASEAN’s concerns, but
without mentioning Mischief Reef. The ministers called on the parties
to “reaffirm” commitment to the principles of the 1992 declaration
even though China had never affirmed its commitment. The
ministers again called for CBMs and singled out the Indonesian
Workshop as an example. The ministers also widened the dialogue
on the SCS to bilateral and multilateral formats in which ASEAN and
China were engaged, such as the ASEAN-China + 1 dialogue and
the ASEAN Regional Forum. It was addressed in the Chairman’s
Statement of the second ARF meeting, which also called for a
reaffirmation of the 1992 declaration.26 The SCS situation had been
informally discussed the previous year at the ARF but was not
mentioned in the Chairman’s Statement.
ASEAN’s bottom line was spelled out in the joint communiqué of
the 1996 29th AMM at which the foreign ministers “endorsed the
idea of concluding a regional code of conduct for the South China
Sea which will lay the foundation for long-term stability in the area
and foster understanding among claimant countries.” As the ASEAN-
China dialogue on the SCS was carried on in various formal and
informal settings, the conceptual gap between the parties was clear.
ASEAN saw the proposed code of conduct as a legally binding
commitment in specific political and security issue areas. China saw
it as a voluntary, nonbinding statement of good intentions. The first
fruit of essentially informal exchanges was the establishment in
March 2000 of a Senior Officials’ Meeting (SOM) called the ASEAN-
China Working Group on the Regional Code of Conduct in the South
China Sea. The two sides exchanged drafts for a proposed code and
then spent two years trying to reconcile them. The final document—
Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea (DOC)
—was signed on November 4, 2002, on the sidelines of the Phnom
Penh eighth ASEAN Summit.27 In a sense, it was a longer version of
the 1992 declaration. The summit’s Chairman’s Statement described
it as providing confidence-building activities. It reaffirmed
commitment to peaceful settlement of disputes, nonuse of force or
threat of force, friendly negotiations, self-restraint in activities that
might complicate or escalate disputes, respect for and commitment
to freedom of navigation and overflight, and CBMs. The DOC listed a
number of cooperative measures and activities that might be carried
out in the spirit of the DOC. The final article showed that ASEAN had
not given up hope for a stronger commitment than the DOC from
China in the future. It reaffirmed the intention to promote the
adoption on the basis of consensus of a code of conduct (COC) for
the South China Sea. But that was for the future.
 The immediate issue was implementing the DOC. For that, two
ASEAN-China bureaucratic groups were established to study the
modalities of implementation. The first was the ASEAN-China Senior
Officials’ Meeting on the Implementation of the Declaration on the
Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea. Its first meeting was in
Kuala Lumpur on December 7, 2004, two years from the DOC’s
signing date. The second group, established by the SOM and
endorsed by the 2005, Vientiane, 38th AMM, was the ASEAN-China
Joint Working Group (JWG) on the Implementation of the
Declaration on the Conduct of the Parties in the South China Sea.
One could say that the SOM represented the politics of
implementation, and the JWG, the technical nuts and bolts. The
JWG’s terms of reference were to translate the provisions of the
DOC into practical cooperative activities.28 Five areas of activity were
especially noted: marine environment, marine science, marine
search and rescue, safety at sea, and combating transnational
crime. These were interest areas in which ASEAN already had
bilateral and multilateral cooperative programs independent of China
and the DOC, but without the political and security baggage.
The third SOM on the implementation of the DOC took place in
Bali in July 2011. It adopted the “Guidelines for the Implementation
of the DOC.”29 More specifically, it provided guidelines for CBMs,
which, it said, should be carried out in a step-by-step approach on a
voluntary basis. From 1990 and the inauguration of the Indonesian
workshop with its emphasis on CBMs, to the DOC in which CBMs
were to be its operational mechanisms, there was not, for ASEAN at
least, a direct political connection between the diplomacy of the DOC
and China’s activities in the South China Sea. The lack of real
momentum was raised by Indonesia’s delegate at the 2012 fourth
DOC SOM, who said it was time to immediately implement the DOC
with programs of practical and concrete cooperation in the SCS.30 He
was reflecting President Yudhoyono’s frustration at the lack of
progress on the DOC when he commented that “things do not
necessarily have to be this slow,” adding, “we need to send a strong
signal to the world that the future of the South China Sea is
predictable, manageable, and optimistic.”31
 For China, there was no rush. When ASEAN pressed for moving
to negotiations for the COC, Beijing responded that first the full
implementation of the DOC had to be achieved. For that, however,
there was no timetable. Time was on China’s side. As its diplomats
enmeshed ASEAN in wordsmithing and technical issues of
cooperation in CBMs, Chinese engineers were adding ever-greater
military capabilities to forward island positions in the SCS. Added to
this were growing naval and coast guard fleets patrolling and
enforcing China’s maritime claims. Furthermore, it played into
China’s tactic of trying to politically isolate Vietnam and the
Philippines from the ASEAN majority by inferring that their fixation on
the SCS negatively affected the wider range of ASEAN-China
relations.
The ASEAN-China SOM on the DOC had its fourteenth meeting,
and the ASEAN-China JWG on implementation of the DOC had its
twenty-first in May 2017 in Guiyang, China. At the meetings, the
parties reaffirmed—as they did every year—“the importance of full
and effective implementation of the DOC.”32 It was noted by China’s
foreign ministry that the meetings were taking place in the year that
marked the fifteenth anniversary of the signing of the DOC. What
progress might have been made was at ASEAN’s expense. Every
step forward required ASEAN concessions. Even though the
conclusion of the process of implementing the DOC had no end in
sight, ASEAN, as it moved through its calendars of meetings, still
had its eye on the COC. The ASEAN ministers and their senior
officials could consult among themselves. In 2010, a Philippine-
authored draft COC was circulated. It died aborning since China had
not been involved in its drafting and Beijing still held to its position
that the COC had to wait on the DOC. Also in 2011, Philippines
secretary of foreign affairs del Rosario floated the idea of an ASEAN-
China Zone of Peace, Freedom, Friendship, and Cooperation
(ZoPFFC).33 An “ASEAN Proposed Elements of a Regional COC”
was produced by an ASEAN SOM working group on the COC for
approval of the ministers at the July 2012 45th AMM.
 IN PURSUIT OF A CODE OF CONDUCT (COC) IN THE
SOUTH CHINA SEA
The ASEAN-China political struggle over the terms of the DOC and
its link to the COC took place in an Asia-Pacific strategic
environment that was about to change significantly. For more than a
decade, ASEAN’s dealings with China had in the background
ASEAN’s uncertainty about the durability of the American historical
great-power role in the region. The fear was that ASEAN would be
left alone in the region with China without U.S. support. The Clinton
administration had seemed focused in Southeast Asia on human
rights and the sanctions regime against Myanmar. After 9/11,
President George W. Bush’s government was deeply embroiled in
wars in Afghanistan and the Middle East. With the election of
President Barack Obama, however, American political and strategic
attention shifted to the Asia-Pacific. Early in his administration, on his
first trip to Asia as president, Obama, in a speech in Tokyo on
November 14, 2009, called himself the “Pacific President” and
promised to strengthen the U.S. regional presence and leadership.34
Variously termed a “tilt,” “pivot,” or “rebalance,” the shift in strategic
focus meant a new political investment by the United States in
Southeast Asia and enhanced military cooperation and capabilities.
The first opportunity for President Obama to demonstrate in person
to his Southeast Asian counterparts that the American commitment
included the South China Sea was at the November 2011 East Asia
Summit.

China-U.S. Face-off at the 2011 East Asia Summit

As discussed in chapter 7, U.S. accession to the TAC was the key to
membership in the East Asia Summit. President Obama took the
American seat for the first time at the November 19, 2011, sixth EAS
in Bali, hosted by President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono. Two days
before the EAS meeting, Obama, in a speech to the Australian
parliament, laid out America’s role as a Pacific great power. He said
he had made a “deliberate and strategic decision—as a Pacific
nation, the United States will play a larger and long-term role in
shaping this region and its future, by upholding core principles and in
close partnership with our allies and friends.”35 He stressed the U.S.
military capabilities in the region and promised an enhanced
presence in Southeast Asia.
In Bali, anticipating Obama’s intention to put the SCS issues on
the table, the Chinese delegation, led by Premier Wen Jiabao,
lobbied relentlessly to keep it off the agenda. In the ASEAN-China
Summit, Wen restated Beijing’s well-known position that SCS
disputes should be settled by parties concerned, insisting that
“outside forces should not get involved under any excuse.”36
Chairman Yudhoyono overrode Wen’s objection, and the SCS issues
were ventilated at the informal “leaders’ retreat” preceding the official
plenary EAS. ASEAN’s willingness to openly defy China’s objection
seemed indicative of growing frustration over China’s reluctance to
move expeditiously on the COC. Moreover, the presence and
support of the American president may have been encouraging.
At the “retreat,” security in the South China Sea was the focus of
the discussion, with sixteen of the eighteen leaders addressing it.37
Only Cambodia and Myanmar had nothing to say. Singapore,
Vietnam, and the Philippines emphasized ASEAN’s positions on
freedom of navigation, peaceful resolution of disputes, the rules of
UNCLOS, and the need for a COC. When it was President Obama’s
turn, he stated that the United States had a “powerful stake in
maritime security in general and in the resolution of the South China
Sea issues especially—as a resident Pacific power, as a maritime
nation, as a trading nation, and as a guarantor of security in the Asia
Pacific.”38 The last speaker was Premier Wen, who reiterated that the
EAS was not a proper setting to discuss SCS issues and obliquely
warned Vietnam and the Philippines of possible consequences of
their criticism of China’s policy. Wen expressed the hope that
“relevant parties would take into concern the overall situation of
regional peace and stability, and do something more conducive to
mutual trust and cooperation.”39
The tenor of the informal exchanges at the Bali EAS did not find its
way into the official record of the meeting. It was not until the 2015
10th EAS that a sense of internal ASEAN division crept into the
Chairman’s Statement: “We took note of the serious concern
expressed by some Leaders over ongoing developments in the
[South China Sea] area, which have resulted in erosion of trust and
confidence among parties, and may undermine peace, security and
stability in the area.”40 This was balanced in the next paragraph in
which the leaders welcomed the Chinese assurances given to
President Obama by President Xi Jinping during his recent visit to
the United States that China did not intend to pursue militarization in
the South China Sea. The reference was to remarks at the Obama-
Xi joint press conference on September 25, 2015.41 Both presidents
adhered to their well-known national stances. In addressing China’s
construction activities in the Spratlys, Xi said they did not target or
impact any country and that China “does not intend to pursue
militarization.” The evidence at the islands’ sites contradicted this, as
was well known from overflight and satellite imaging. Despite Xi’s
denial, the next year at the 11th EAS, “several leaders remained
concerned over recent developments in the South China Sea,” and
the leaders emphasized the importance of non-militarization.42
The Obama administration’s high point in its relations with ASEAN
came in the February 16, 2016, U.S.-ASEAN Special Leaders’
Meeting. It was “special” in that it was held in the United States in
addition to the ASEAN-U.S. annual meeting at the ASEAN Summit.
The site was the Sunnylands estate in Rancho Mirage, California. In
the Sunnylands Declaration the parties described the summit as
marking a “watershed year” in the ASEAN-U.S. Strategic
Partnership.43 In paragraph 8, they reaffirmed their shared
commitment to
maintain peace, stability and security in the region, ensuring maritime security and
safety, including the right to freedom of navigation and overflight and other lawful uses
of the sea, and unimpeded lawful maritime commerce as described in the 1982 UN
Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) as well as nonmilitarization and self-
restraint in the conduct of activities.

These were the policy objectives that were regularly reaffirmed in

ASEAN diplomacy. The question that was never publicly addressed,
however, was how they were to be guaranteed or, if necessary,
enforced. The U.S. security guarantee given by Obama had no
specifics as to under what circumstances—if any—the United States
would be compelled to intervene to defend the lawful rights of
ASEAN’s maritime states. This was of particular concern to the
Philippines because of its mutual defense treaty (MDT) with the
United States. The day before President Obama’s Australian
parliament speech—November 16, 2011—Secretary of State Hillary
Rodham Clinton stood on the deck of the American guided missile
destroyer USS Fitzgerald in Manila Bay, together with her Philippines
counterpart, Albert del Rosario. It was the sixtieth anniversary of the
MDT, and on the occasion Clinton and del Rosa-rio issued the
Manila Declaration, reaffirming the obligations of the treaty.44
Whether or not the MDT applies to the Philippines’ SCS interests
remains to be tested politically.

The Collapse of the July 2012 45th AMM

The tensions within ASEAN over its stance on South China Sea
issues came to a head at the Phnom Penh 45th AMM chaired by
Cambodian foreign minister Hor Namhong. Any veneer of
consensual solidarity was stripped away as the meeting collapsed
with, for the first time in ASEAN’s history, no final Chairman’s
Statement. Although draft statements were circulated, they were
blocked by the chair. At issue were two paragraphs on recent
developments in the South China Sea. Supported by Singapore,
Malaysia, and Indonesia, Philippines secretary of foreign affairs
Albert del Rosario and his Vietnamese counterpart, Pham Binh Minh,
insisted that reference be made to Chinese violations of their
respective EEZs. Coincidentally, even as the ministers were
meeting, a Chinese navy frigate grounded on Mischief Reef.
For Manila, the immediate issue was a Philippines-China armed
standoff at Scarborough Shoal, a fishing area in the Philippines EEZ,
220 kilometers (127 miles) east of the Philippines’ main island of
Luzon. Beginning in April 2012, for ten weeks Chinese fishery
protection vessels prevented Philippine navy vessels from arresting
Chinese fishing boats in the shoal’s waters. One of the Philippines’
vessels was its new flagship, the BRP Gregorio del Pilar (ex-USCGS
Hamilton), which, when transferred in 2011 to the Philippines,
President Aquino said “symbolizes our newly acquired ability to
guard, protect, and if necessary, fight for the interests of our
country.”45 The standoff only ended when the impending typhoon
season sent the fishing fleet home. For Hanoi, the immediate issue
was China’s invitation in June to foreign oil companies for bids for
exploration of oil blocks in Vietnam’s EEZ.
The AMM’s Cambodian host, with the Chinese ambassador’s
encouragement, adhered to the Beijing line that these issues were
bilateral disputes, not to be dealt with by ASEAN. The
counterargument was that the final communiqué should express the
common concern of all ASEAN members. The logic was that if the
DOC cannot be defended, what will be the value of the COC? Hor
Namhong was adamant: no reference to Chinese activities in
violation of the DOC or no final statement. The AMM ended in
acrimonious confusion with no final statement, which meant no
accounting of any of ASEAN’s activities.
The impact on ASEAN of the failed AMM was summed up by
Singapore’s foreign minister K. Shanmugam in a detailed response
to parliamentary inquiries. He said that the lack of a joint
communiqué was regrettable since it reflected disunity in ASEAN:
“An ASEAN that is not united and cannot agree on a joint
communiqué will have difficulty in playing a central role in the region.
ASEAN centrality will be seen as a slogan without substance.”46
China and Cambodia tried to shift the blame for the breakdown of
the AMM to certain countries that tried to disturb peaceful relations
between China and ASEAN. To that charge, the Philippines’
undersecretary of foreign affairs responded that the failure could be
attributed to “the Chair’s firm position not to reflect the recent
developments in the South China Sea despite the view of the
majority of the Member States that these developments impinge on
the overall security of the region.”47
As the ASEAN foreign ministers scattered back to their capitals,
Indonesia’s foreign minister, Marty Natalegawa, was desperate to
rescue ASEAN and save the COC. Unlike the year before, when he
intervened in the Thai-Cambodian border war (chapter 9), he was
not the chairman and was operating without a formal ASEAN
mandate. With the blessing of President Yudhoyono, he made a
crash thirty-six-hour trip to Manila, Hanoi, Phnom Penh, and
Singapore to persuade his fellow foreign ministers to accept an
ASEAN face-saving statement that would not be vetoed by Beijing’s
friends in ASEAN but would reassert an ASEAN common position on
the SCS. This would require del Rosario and Minh to drop their direct
charges against China. For ASEAN’s future, the political stake was
ASEAN’s international credibility.
The result of the consultations was a statement of the ASEAN
foreign ministers issued in Phnom Penh on July 20, 2012, on
“ASEAN’s Six-Point Principles on the South China Sea.”48 In brief, it
called for

1. full implementation of the DOC;

2. application of the Guidelines for the Implementation of the
Declaration on the Conduct of Parties in the SCS;
3. the early conclusion of the Regional COC;
4. the full respect of the universally recognized principles of
international law including UNCLOS;
5. the continued exercising of self-restraint and nonuse of force;
6. the peaceful resolution of disputes, in accordance with
international law and UNCLOS.

Glaringly absent from Point 5 was non-militarization. The release

of the consensus six-point principles served its primary purpose:
temporarily, at least, sealing the rupture of the AMM. The
Vietnamese foreign ministry said that it showed ASEAN’s solidarity
and unity.49 In his press conference on the ASEAN statement,
Cambodia’s Hor Namhong defended his decision not to allow a
statement that mentioned the disputes by saying it would be like
“pouring gasoline onto a burning fire.”50 China was happy with it.51
The whole affair confirmed for any doubters that Cambodia was
China’s voice and veto in ASEAN. This was demonstrated again at
the 21st ASEAN Summit in November 2012. The Cambodian host,
Hun Sen, issued a statement that the Southeast Asia leaders “had
decided that they will not internationalize the South China Sea from
now on.” This was angrily denied by Philippine president Aquino,
who said no such agreement had been made. Speaking directly to
Prime Minister Hun Sen, Aquino said: “For the record, this was not
our understanding. The ASEAN route is not the only route for us. As
a sovereign state, it is to defend our national interests.”52 The six-
point principles joined the DOC and the Proposed Elements of a
Regional COC as the basis for indefatigable foreign minister Marty’s
“Zero Draft” for a COC that he presented to his colleagues on the
sidelines of the September 2012 UNGA. Designed to kick-start
negotiations, it featured a robust COC that, if it became a negotiating
instrument, would have to be significantly scaled back if China were
even to consider it.53
As ASEAN wrestled with the formulation of a common position on
China’s South China Sea claims, ASEAN secretary-general Le
Luong Minh, a Vietnamese, angered Beijing when in a 2014
interview he accused China of violating the 2002 DOC, saying that
China had to leave Vietnam’s waters.54 Beijing challenged Minh’s
impartiality, calling his remarks “a Vietnamese provocation” and
stating that “in advocating a certain country’s claim,” Minh was
sending the wrong signal on ASEAN’s position of not taking sides.55

The Philippines Takes China to Court

In January 2013, the Philippines government of President Benigno
Aquino III, frustrated by ASEAN’s inability and unwillingness to
defend maritime rights, turned to the Permanent Court of Arbitration
(PCA) in The Hague, the Netherlands. The PCA was one of the
dispute-resolution mechanisms specified in the UNCLOS. Manila
requested the court to establish an arbitral panel to clearly define the
Philippines’ sovereign maritime rights and jurisdictions. It specifically
challenged the legal validity of the nine-dash line and called for
China to desist from unlawful activities that violated the rights of the
Philippines.56
Manila’s action was unilateral and showed a willingness to charge
China with unlawful behavior. The initiative alarmed some ASEAN
members who feared a possible backlash from China, disturbing
ASEAN-China economic relations. Marty, who had assumed a
leading role in ASEAN diplomacy on SCS issues, was particularly
concerned that Manila’s move could derail the COC negotiations. He
argued that, in pursuing a peaceful solution to the SCS issues, the
legal efforts and political diplomacy must be “synergized” so that one
would not be counterproductive to the other.57 He did not suggest,
however, how that synergy could be accomplished given China’s
influence on ASEAN. It was not that the leaders of ASEAN’s
maritime states did not recognize that the Philippines’ China problem
was also their problem. New Indonesian president Joko Widodo’s
point man on China, Coordinating Minister for Political, Legal, and
Security Affairs Luhut B. Pandjaitan, reacting to Chinese incursions
into Indonesia’s EEZ, commented that it “is a problem we are facing,
but not only us. It also [directly] affects the interests of Malaysia,
Brunei, Vietnam and the Philippines.”58 Luhut warned that China’s
action might force Jakarta to follow the Philippines’ example and
take the case to an international court.
Beijing rejected the Philippines’ call for arbitration, accusing Manila
of trying to steal Chinese sovereignty. China refused to participate in
the proceedings. In its accession to the UNCLOS, China had
declared that it did not accept the dispute-resolution procedures that
would have applied to the SCS issues. Beijing also began to apply
economic pressure on the Philippines to show Manila, and any other
ASEAN state, that threatening China’s national interests could be
costly. A formal Chinese foreign ministry “position paper” explaining
the grounds for its refusal pointed out:
The unilateral initiation of the present arbitration by the Philippines will not change
history and facts of China’s sovereignty over the South China Sea islands and the
adjacent waters, nor will it shake China’s resolve and determination to safeguard its
sovereignty and maritime rights and interests, nor will it affect the policy and positions
of China to resolve the relevant disputes by direct negotiation to work together with
other states in the region to maintain peace and stability in the South China Sea.59

In weighing its jurisdiction, however, the Arbitral Tribunal ruled that

the nonappearance of China and its failure to defend the case did
not affect the rights of the Philippines to pursue the case or the
jurisdiction of the tribunal to rule on the case on its merits.60 It is
noteworthy that in their deliberations on jurisdictions the arbiters
called attention to China’s commitment to the peaceful settlement of
disputes in accepting the TAC and the DOC. The arbitration was
limited to matters of the law of the sea—that is, UNCLOS versus
Chinese historical maritime claims and the actions Beijing had taken
to enforce them.
 The arbitral award came down on July 12, 2016.61 It ruled that
there was no legal basis for the nine-dash line or China’s claim of
historical rights to resources beyond the limits of its own EEZ. Any
historical rights that might have existed were extinguished by the
coming into force of the UNCLOS. In fact, the tribunal found that
there was no evidence that China had ever historically controlled the
SCS or prevented other states from exploiting its resources. The sea
beyond the EEZ was “high seas,” and China’s maritime rights were
no different from those of any country. The tribunal considered that
the maritime zones claimed by China for the artificial islands it had
created did not enjoy either a territorial sea or EEZ rights since they
were not natural features above the high-tide line. The arbitral panel
added the fact that the Spratlys as a group did not enjoy a territorial
sea or EEZ. The tribunal excoriated China for its destruction by
dredging of the natural condition of the seabed. The tribunal also
considered China’s lawless acts as it sought to prevent by use of
force the Philippines from exploiting the resources of the seas over
which it had sovereign rights.
As expected, China rejected the Arbitral Tribunal award as “null
and void” and having no binding force on China: “China neither
accepts nor recognizes it.”62 Beijing repeated its firm position that it
did not accept any means of third-party dispute settlement or any
solution imposed on China. It reiterated that any solution had to
“respect historic facts.” Of course, it was the “historic facts” that the
tribunal said did not exist, and even if they did, they were
extinguished by the UNCLOS. With the exception of the Philippines
and Vietnam, which welcomed the arbitral award as justifying their
case against China, ASEAN reacted not so much to the tribunal’s
findings as to the possibility that China might harden its position that
the legal rules of UNCLOS did not apply to China in the SCS and
even speed up its disputed activities in the Spratlys. More than ever,
it seemed to demonstrate the need for the COC. Indonesia’s reaction
was typical. Without commenting on the substance of the award, the
Indonesian foreign ministry issued a statement calling on all parties
to respect international law including UNCLOS and to “exercise self-
restraint and to refrain from any actions that could escalate
tensions.”63 Even this response was too provocative for Beijing,
which claimed through its embassy in Jakarta that the statement was
unsatisfactory, being neither objective nor impartial.64

DIPLOMATIC PROGRESS TOWARD A COC

At the 49th AMM, held in Vientiane on July 24, 2016, the muted
voices of the ASEAN states’ responses to the PCA tribunal’s award
fell silent, twelve days after it was announced. Chaired by the
LPDR’s foreign minister Saleumxay Kommasith, the AMM’s joint
statement had no reference or even veiled allusion to the arbitral
ruling. The AMM’s silence was not surprising given that Saleumxay
had already struck a deal with his Chinese counterpart, Wang Yi, on
what was Laos’s “objective and fair stance.”65 Following a bilateral
meeting in Beijing on April 22, 2016, Wang and Saleumxay
announced in a consensus statement that disputes in the Spratlys
are not issues between China and ASEAN and should not affect
ASEAN-China relations. Agreeing that a sovereign state had a right
to determine its own way to solve disputes, the Laotian foreign
minister understood China’s optional exclusion (from the arbitration).
Finally, the two foreign ministers agreed that disputes should be
resolved through friendly consultations and negotiations by the
parties directly involved so as to maintain peace and stability in the
South China Sea.66
The calm in the AMM was in striking contrast to what had occurred
nearly six weeks earlier at the June 14 ASEAN-China Special
Foreign Ministers’ Meeting held in Yuxi, Yunnan. Malaysia’s foreign
minister Anifah Aman had originated the idea for the meeting to
commemorate twenty-five years of the ASEAN-China dialogue.
Although Laos’s foreign minister Saleumxay Kommasith was the
year’s ASEAN chair, the Yuxi meeting was co-chaired by Wang Yi
and Singapore’s foreign minister Vivian Balakrishnan, ASEAN’s
coordinator of the China dialogue. The session was dominated by
the ASEAN insistence on discussing recent developments in the
South China Sea. The mood was captured in the introduction to the
draft ASEAN consensus press statement on the meeting: “We
cannot ignore what is happening in the South China Sea as it is an
important issue in the relations of cooperation between ASEAN and
China. This is the context in which this Special ASEAN-China
Foreign Ministers’ Meeting was held today.”67 What followed was a
“candid exchange” with Wang Yi during which the ASEAN ministers
expressed their serious concern over recent and ongoing
developments “which have eroded trust and confidence, increased
tensions and which may have the potential to undermine peace,
security and stability in the South China Sea.”68 They emphasized
the importance of non-militarization and self-restraint in the conduct
of all activities, including land reclamation. They highlighted the need
for full implementation of the DOC in its entirety and the early
adoption of an effective COC. Pending this, they called for
confidence-building measures to enhance trust among the parties in
the South China Sea.
A joint press conference by Balakrishnan and Wang had been
scheduled but was canceled. When the Chinese foreign minister saw
the ASEAN press statement, he sought to replace it at the last
moment with a Chinese statement of ten principles that should guide
ASEAN-China relations.69 Failing that, the Chinese foreign minister
pressured Cambodia and Laos to block the ASEAN press release,
which they did. What Malaysia insisted had been an ASEAN
consensus statement was no longer an ASEAN document.
Nevertheless, the ASEAN statement was released independently by
the Malaysian foreign ministry, followed by Vietnam and the
Philippines, only to be officially retracted by the ASEAN Secretariat.
Malaysia’s action was said to be in frustration over Chinese pressure
tactics.70 The Indonesian foreign ministry dismissed the release of
the press statement as a “mistake.”
The clashes at the ministerial level of the ASEAN-China SCS
dialogue overshadowed the subtle shifts in Chinese policy that were
emerging at the working level. There had been a change of
government in China. President Xi Jinping took office on March 14,
2013. While holding the top party and military positions, his new
office put him on the global stage. His new foreign minister, Wang Yi,
took office two days later on March 16, 2013. It seems clear that a
new priority had been given to upgrade political relations with
ASEAN, isolate President Aquino, and close windows of political
opportunity for the United States. In a wide-ranging speech on
August 2, 2013, on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the
ASEAN-China strategic partnership, Wang said the peaceful
resolution of the SCS disputes was important to the China-ASEAN
relationship:
China and several Southeast Asian countries have disputes over territorial sovereignty
and maritime rights and interests, which are left over from history. Though not an issue
between China and ASEAN, this has impact on China ASEAN relations in reality
[emphasis added].71

In April 2013, at the 19th ASEAN-China Senior Officials’

Consultation, China announced its willingness to discuss the COC
with ASEAN later in the year.72 At the September 2013 sixth meeting
of the ASEAN-China SOM on the Implementation of the DOC, after a
“healthy discussion” on how to promote the COC process, the
parties agreed to follow a step-by-step process of consensus
building and to press forward the COC process during the
implementation of the DOC. The first step was to authorize the JWG
on the DOC to conduct concrete consultations on the COC.73 This
was the first time that the COC was put on the agenda of an official
ASEAN-China political structure. The importance of the change was
underlined by Chinese premier Li Kequiang in his address at the
16th ASEAN-China Summit, October 10, 2013. Referencing the
SOM and JWG held a month earlier, Li said:
China will continue to have consultations with ASEAN countries on formulating a code
of conduct in the South China Sea under the framework of implementing the DOC, and
will work with ASEAN countries to advance the formulation process of the COC in an
active and prudent manner under the principle of consensus building.74

Li’s words should have left little doubt that building the consensus
was going to be a drawn-out process. Consultations were only a
prelude to negotiations. At that point, in 2013, the DOC
implementation process had been ongoing for eleven years. In what
for China and ASEAN was an accelerated path, on May 14, 2017,
the fourteenth meeting of the ASEAN-China SOM on the DOC
announced that they had a draft COC framework that would provide
a basis for future consultations on the COC.75 The draft framework
was adopted by the foreign ministers at the ASEAN-China PMC + 1
at the August 2017 50th AMM. It can be noted that the press
announcement of the framework came from Chinese foreign minister
Wang Yi, not the AMM’s chair, Philippine secretary of foreign affairs
Cayetano.76 Wang Yi’s satisfaction with the outcome of the meeting
was expressed in his own media conference with the Chinese and
foreign press. When asked about the issue of non-militarization, he
replied that this year was different. It applied to all countries, both the
“inner domain” and the areas outside, which would include the
United States.77
At the November 2017 ASEAN-China Summit, in connection with
the 31st ASEAN Summit, it was announced that “substantive
negotiations” on a text of a COC would be undertaken by the
ASEAN-China SOM on the DOC and the JWG, which would be
responsible for drafting the COC.78 The draft framework should not
have created expectations that a real breakthrough was impending.
As a basis for negotiations, the draft was a reworked version of the
DOC. It did not provide for enforcement or arbitration and, like the
DOC, it would not be legally binding.79
It was ironic that the new momentum for the COC should occur in
a year of Philippines chairmanship of ASEAN. It was a coincidental
reflection of changed Philippines foreign policy in the wake of
President Rodrigo Duterte’s 2016 election to succeed term-limited
Benigno Aquino III. Sworn into office on June 30, 2016, the new
Philippines president quickly moved to reset Philippines-China
relations. The arbitral award came down twelve days after Duterte’s
inauguration, and he essentially ignored it: “I will set aside the
arbitral ruling. I will not impose anything on China. Why? Because
the politics here in Southeast Asia is changing.”80 In October 2016,
Duterte made a four-day state visit to China, where he sought to
restore the trade and investment links that had been damaged
during his predecessor’s term of office.
Of particular relevance to ASEAN was President Duterte’s offering
the possibility of partnering with Beijing in joint development of
energy resources in disputed waters, a prospect supported by Wang
Yi during a July 2017 visit to Manila.81 This was not the first time that
the Philippines had proposed joint development with China. During
President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo’s administration in 2004, an
agreement for seismic surveys in anticipation of joint development
was negotiated. The deal died in charges of selling out Philippines
sovereignty and financial scandal. The unilateralism of the
Philippines’ initiatives left Vietnam isolated as a defender of a hard
line on China’s actions in the South China Sea. Duterte’s invitation
was not coordinated with the other ASEAN states having China-
menaced EEZs. Like the unilateralism of Benigno Aquino’s appeal to
the PCA, the implications for ASEAN solidarity were not a factor in
Manila’s decision-making.
During his China visit, Duterte was quoted as saying that he would
militarily and economically separate the Philippines from the United
States.82 Duterte’s often colorfully phrased animus toward the United
States stemmed from his resentment of American criticism of his
human rights record as mayor of Davao and now president of the
republic. Added to this were his doubts about the value of the
alliance. While the United States might be a guardian of freedom of
international navigation, it would not defend the Philippines’ territory
or EEZ. Even so, President Duterte reaffirmed the Philippines’
commitments to the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement
(EDCA) and the MDT at a meeting with American president Donald
Trump during his stop in Manila for the November 2017 ASEAN
Summit and EAS. To have abandoned the American tie would have
amplified Duterte’s comment on political change in Southeast Asia.
Duterte’s ascendancy to the Philippines presidency was not the
only change of ASEAN governments to affect the dynamics of
ASEAN’s politics in the SCS. On October 19, 2014, President Joko
Widodo (known as Jokowi) was inaugurated as term-limited Susilo
Bambang Yudhoyono’s successor. Both Jokowi and his opponent,
ex-general Prabowo, ran on platforms critical of Yudhoyono’s
globalist internationalism. The Yudhoyono government had made a
major policy investment in pressing for a conclusion to the COC
process. The Jokowi government’s SCS policy is that of a follower,
not a leader, without Indonesian actions or initiatives designed to
move the process forward. This may be in part because of a
realization, as a senior Jokowi foreign policy adviser put it, that there
is “no solution” as such for the South China Sea problem.83 Jokowi
has aligned his own aspirations for Indonesia as a “global maritime
axis” to Xi Jinping’s Maritime Silk Road. During Jokowi’s March 2015
Beijing visit, he and Xi agreed that the two schemes were
“complementary” and the basis for a “maritime partnership.”84
The change of government in the United States has altered the
optics of the U.S.-ASEAN relationship. The Obama “tilt” had special
resonance in Southeast Asia because of his childhood ties to
Indonesia. On Trump’s taking office, through trips to Southeast Asia
by the vice president, secretary of state, and defense secretary, the
new administration promised continuity. To an edgy Southeast Asia,
however, the guarantees given by Obama had not deterred China
from continuing and accelerating its programs of expanding and
militarizing its claimed sovereign presence in the South China Sea,
and Trump did not promise greater proactivity.
ASEAN’s institutional and political weakness as a security
community as it has sought to place normative restraints on China’s
actions shows no signs of improvement. As ASEAN moves into its
second half century, there is no reason to expect that a consensus
COC is any more likely to curb China’s regional imperialism than
previous efforts. In it, China will neither disavow its claims in the
South China Sea nor recognize the sovereign rights of the
concerned ASEAN states. Despite predictable invocations of the
usual normative references—the UN Charter, the Bandung
Principles, the TAC, international law, the UNCLOS—the COC will
not have a legal basis. It will not be a treaty but rather a voluntary,
nonbinding statement of intent so fine-tuned and loophole-filled that
future Chinese nonconforming behavior will be no more deterred
than it is presently.
It took twenty-one years to move from the idea of a COC to a
negotiating draft text. During that time China used the traditional
tools of power to alter the political and strategic environment of
ASEAN’s South China Sea zone—or China’s “inner domain.” How
many years before a COC will be finalized? Will it really make a
difference as China moves forward to convert the “inner domain” into
a Chinese mare nostrum in which there is no ASEAN centrality?

NOTES
 1. All references to the UNCLOS are based on the official text of the United Nations
Convention on the Law of the Sea as published in The Law of the Sea: United Nations
Convention on the Law of the Sea with Annexes and Index (New York: United Nations,
1983).
2. The 2015 Asia-Pacific Maritime Security Strategy volume was accessed at
https://china.usc.edu/sites/default/files/article/attachments/NDAA%20A_Maritime_Security_
Strategy-08142015-1300-FINALFORMAT.pdf. These figures can be compared with those
from other sources, including the claimants themselves: see Alexander L. Vuving, “South
China Sea: Who Occupies What in the Spratlys?” The Diplomat, accessed at
https://thediplomat.com/2016/05/south-china-sea-who-claims-what-in-the-Spratlys.
3. “Indonesia, China and the North Natuna Sea,” Jakarta Globe, September 8, 2017.
4. An English language text can be accessed at
https://www.un.org/Depts/los/LEGISLATIONANDTREATIES/PDFFILES/CHN_1992_Law.pdf
.
5. An English language translation of the law can be accessed at
https://vietnamnews.vn/politics-laws/228456/the-law-of-the-sea-of-viet-nam.html.
6. Foreign Ministry Spokesperson Hong Lei’s Regular Press Conference, June 21, 2012.
7. The map was attached to a “Communication by China to the Secretary General of the
UN with Reference to the Joint Submission by Malaysia and Vietnam,” accessed at
http://www.un.org/Depts/los/clcs_new/submissions_files/mysvnm33_09/chn_2009re_mys_v
nm_e.pdf. A facsimile of the map is included in Donald E. Weatherbee, International
Relations in Southeast Asia: The Struggle for Autonomy, 3rd ed. (Lanham, MD: Rowman &
Littlefield, 2015), 167.
8. The full text can be accessed at
http://www.un.org/depts/los/clcs_new/submissions_files/mysvnm33_09/idn_2010re_mys_vn
m_e.pdf.
9. See the table of U.S. and China estimates in Anders Corr, “China’s $60 Trillion
Estimate of Oil and Gas in the South China Sea: Strategic Implications,” accessed at
http://www.jpolrisk.com/chinas-60-trillion-estimate-of-oil-and-gas-in-the-south-china-sea-the-
strategic-implications.
10. “Maritime Disputes in Southeast Asia,” testimony of Daniel R. Russel, assistant
secretary of state for Asia and the Pacific, before the House Committee on Foreign Affairs,
Sub-Committee on Asia and the Pacific, February 5, 2014.
11. For the “naval battle of the Paracels” see Toshi Yoshihara, “The 1974 Paracels Sea
Battle: A Campaign Appraisal,” [U.S.] Naval War College Review 69, no. 2 (Spring 2016):
41–65.
12. As cited in Epsey Cooke Farrell, The Socialist Republic of Vietnam and the Law of the
Sea (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1998), 254.
13. “Vietnam Marks 40th Anniversary of China’s Invasion of Paracel Islands,” South
China Morning Post, January 19, 2014.
14. See chapter 4, n. 23.
15. The text can be accessed at https://cil.nus.edu.sg/wp-
content/uploads/formidable/18/1992-ASEAN-Declaration-on-the-South-China-Sea.pdf.
16. The text of the declaration can be accessed at https://cil.nus.edu.sg/wp-
content/uploads/2017/07/1992-ASEAN-Declaration-on-the-South-China-Sea.pdf.
17. Hasjim Djalal, “Indonesia and the South China Sea Initiative,” Ocean Development
and International Law 32, no. 2 (2001): 97–103.
18. Hasjim Djalal, “South China Sea: Contribution of 2nd Track Diplomacy/Workshop
Process to Progressive Development of Regional Peace and Security,” accessed at
http://carlospromulo.org/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/Hasjim-Djalal.pdf.
 19. Hasjim Djalal, “Managing Potential Conflicts in the South China Sea: Lessons
Learned,” in Mark J. Valencia, ed., Maritime Regime Building: Lessons Learned and Their
Relevance for Northeast Asia (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 2001), 89.
20. As quoted in “South China Sea Workshop Aims to Manage Potential Conflicts in
Disputed Waters,” Jakarta Globe, November 16, 2017.
21. Author’s interview with Ambassador Hasjim Djalal, April 24, 2013.
22. “Joint Statement between China and the Philippines on the Framework of Bilateral
Cooperation in the Twenty-First Century,” accessed at
http://www/fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/wjdt_665385/2649_665393/t15785.shtml.
23. For description and analysis of China’s South China Sea island building, see the
website of the Asian Maritime Transparency Initiative at https://amti.csis.org.
24. “Combat Ships Patrol China’s Southernmost Point,” accessed at
http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2013-03/27/content_16350358.htm.
25. The “Statement of the ASEAN Foreign Ministers on Recent Developments in the
South China Sea” is included in the ASEAN Document Series, 1994–1995 (Jakarta: ASEAN
Secretariat, 1995).
26. The ARF Chairman’s Statement was accessed at
http://aseanregionalforum.asean.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Second-ARF-Bandar-
Seri-Begawan-1-August-1995.pdf.
27. The DOC can be accessed at https://asean.org/?static_post=declaration-on-the-
conduct-of-parties-in-the-south-china-sea-2.
28. The JWG’s terms of reference can be accessed at https://asean.org/?
static_post=terms-of-reference-of-the-asean-china-joint-working-group-on-the-
implementation-of-the-declaration-on-the-conduct-of-parties-in-the-south-china-sea.
29. The “guidelines” can be accessed at
https://asean.org/storage/images/archive/documents/20185-DOC.pdf.
30. Indonesia Ministry of Foreign Affairs, “ASEAN-China Senior Officials Meeting on the
DOC in the South China Sea,” accessed at https://www.kemlu.go.id/en/berita/siaran-
pers/Pages/ASEAN-China-Senior-Officials-Meeting-On-the-Implementation-of-the-DOC-in-
the-South-China-Sea-Beijing.aspx.
31. As quoted in “We Need Ocean Code of Conduct, Yudhoyono Says,” South China
Morning Post (Hong Kong), August 14, 2012.
32. “The 14th Senior Officials’ Meeting on the Implementation of the DOC Successfully
Held,” accessed at https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/wjbxw/t1463214.shtml.
33. Albert F. del Rosario, “Philippine Policy Response and Action,” August 5, 2011,
Address to the Forum on the Spratly Islands Issue: Perspectives and Policy Responses,
accessed at http://www.philippineembassy-usa.org/news/2017/188/Speech-of-Secretary-
Albert-F-del-Rosario-entitled-Philippine-Policy-Response-and-Action.
34. The text of the Tokyo speech can be accessed at
https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/blog/2009/11/14/tokyo-our-common-future.
35. The speech can be accessed at https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-
office/2011/11/17/remarks-president-obama-australian-parliament.
36. “Full Text of China’s Premier Wen’s Statement at the 14th China-ASEAN Summit,”
accessed at http://tr.china-embassy.org/eng/xwdt/t878817.htm.
37. The description of the “retreat” is based on a “background briefing” by a U.S. “senior
official” on Air Force One returning to the United States, accessed at
https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2011/11/19/background-briefing-
senior-administration-official-presidents-meetings-a.
38. Ibid.
 39. “Chinese Premier Restates China’s Stance on South China Sea,” Xinhua, November
19, 2011, accessed at http://www.en.people.cn/90883/7650443.html.
40. The EAS Chairman’s Statement can be accessed at https://asean.org/chairmans-
statement-of-the-10th-east-asia-summit.
41. The text of the remarks can be accessed at
https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2014/11/12/remarks-president-
obama-and-president-xi-jinping-joint-press-conference.
42. The text of the Chairman’s Statement can be accessed at
https://asean.org/chairmans-statement-of-the-11th-east-asia-summit.
43. The Sunnylands Declaration can be accessed at
https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2016/02/16/joint-statement-us-
asean-special-leaders-summit-sunnylands-declaration.
44. The text of the 2011 Manila Declaration can be accessed at https://2009-
2017.state.gov/r/pa/prs/ps/2011/11/177226.htm.
45. As cited in https://newsinfo.inquirer.net/46823/president-aquino-ship-symbol-of-our-
defense.
46. “MFA Press Release: Transcript of Minister of Foreign Affairs K. Shanmugam’s Reply
to Parliamentary Questions and Supplementary Questions, 13 August 2012,” accessed at
https://www.mfa.gov.sg/content/mfa/overseasmission/asean/press_statements_speeches/2
012/201208/press_20120813.html.
47. Undersecretary Erlindo F. Basilio, “Why There Was No ASEAN Joint Communiqué,”
accessed at https://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/2012/07/18/why-there-was-no-asean-joint-
communique.
48. The ASEAN Six-Point Principles accessed at
https://www.asean.org/storage/images/AFMs%20Statement%20on%206%20Principles%20
on%20SCS.pdf.
49. “Six-Point Principles Affirms ASEAN’s Central Role in Regional Issues,” accessed at
https://english.vietnamnet.vn/fms/government/24878/six-point-principles-affirms-asean-s-
central-role-in-regional-issues.html.
50. Hor Namhong as quoted by Reuters, “ASEAN Urges South China Sea Pact but
Consensus Elusive,” July 20, 2012, accessed at https://www.reuters.com/article/us-asean-
sea-idUSBRE86J09W20120720.
51. “ASEAN Six-point Principles in Accord with China’s Policy,” accessed at
http://www.china.org.cn/opinion/2012-07/22/content_25978037.htm.
52. As quoted in “Tensions Flare over South China Sea at Asian Summit,” Reuters,
November 9, 2012, accessed at https://www.reuters.com/article/us-asia-summit/tensions-
flare-over-south-china-sea-at-asian-summit-idUSBRE8AI0BC20121119.
53. For a detailed analysis of the “Zero Draft,” see Mark J. Valencia, “What the ‘Zero
Draft’ Code of Conduct for the South China Sea Says (and Doesn’t Say),” Global Asia,
March 20, 2013, accessed at https://globalasia.org/v8no1/feature/what-the-zero-draft-code-
of-conduct-for-the-south-china-sea-says-and-doesnt-say_mark-j-valencia.
54. “China Must Exit Disputed Waters, ASEAN Leader Says,” Wall Street Journal, May
15, 2014.
55. “China Demands ASEAN Neutrality over South China Sea,” Straits Times, May 19,
2014.
56. The Philippines’ “Notification and Statement,” accessed at
https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/2165477-phl-prc-notification-and-statement-of-
claim-on.html.
57. “RI Suggests Philippines ASEAN Synergy on S. China Sea Dispute,” Jakarta Post,
November 13, 2015.
 58. As quoted in “China Confirms ‘Maritime Dispute’ with RI,” Jakarta Post, November 13,
2015.
59. “Position Paper of the Government of the People’s Republic of China on the Matter of
Jurisdiction in the South China Sea Arbitration Initiated by the Republic of the Philippines,”
December 7, 2014, accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/nanhai/eng/snhwtlcwj_1/t13868895.htm.
60. This was based on Article 9 of the UNCLOS Annex VII.
61. The full award (479 pages) can be read at https://pca-cpa.org/wp-
content/upload/sites/175/2016/07/PH-CN-20160712-Award.pdf.
62. “Statement of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People’s Republic of China on the
Award of 12 July 2016 of the Arbitral Tribunal in the South China Sea Arbitration
Established at the Request of the Republic of the Philippines,” July 12, 2016, accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/nanhai/eng/snhwticwj_1/t1379492.htm.
63. “Indonesia Calls on All Parties to Respect International Law Including UNCLOS
1982,” accessed at http://www.kemlu.go.id/en/berita/Pages/Indonesia-Calls-On-All-Parties-
To-Respect-International-Law-Including-UNCLOS-1982.
64. “Indonesia’s Statement on South China Sea Dissatisfying, Chinese Experts,” Jakarta
Post, July 14, 2016.
65. “Wang Yi Holds Talks with Foreign Minister Saleumxay of Laos,” April 23, 2016,
accessed at https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/zxxx_662805/t1358499.shtml.
66. “Wang Yi: China and Laos Reach Consensus on South China Sea Issue and China
Appreciates Laos’ Objective and Fair Stance,” April 23, 2016, accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/zxxx_662805/t1358479.shtml.
67. “Press Statement of ASEAN FMs at Meeting with China FM,” accessed at
https://rn.vietnamplus.vn/press-statement-of-asean-fms-at-meeting-with-china-
fm/94837.vnp.
68. Ibid.
69. “China Sought to Divide Asean with Its Own 10-point Consensus at Foreign Minister
Meet: Source,” Straits Times, June 15, 2016. Foreign Minister Wang Yi’s version of the
meeting did not mention the South China Sea, accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/zxxx_662805/t1372665.shtml.
70. “Asean-China Talks in Disarray amid Sea Row,” Straits Times, June 16, 2016.
71. Wang Yi, “Forging Promising and Dynamic ASEAN-China Ties,” accessed at
http://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/wjdt_665385/zyjh_665391/t1064612.shtml. This was not
mentioned in the Chairman’s Statement.
72. This is as cited by Carlyle A. Thayer, “New Commitments to a Code of Conduct in the
South China Sea?” accessed at https://www.nbr.org/publication/new-commitment-to-a-code-
of-conduct-in-the-south-china-sea. This was not noted in the press releases on the meeting
by ASEAN or the Chinese foreign ministry.
73. “The Sixth Senior Officials’ Meetings and the Ninth Joint Working Group Meeting on
the Implementation of the ‘Declaration on Conduct of Parties in the South China Sea’ Are
Held in Suzhou,” accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/zxxx_662805/t1079289.shtml.
74. “Remarks by H. E. Li Keqiang Premier of the State Council of the People’s Republic
of China at the 16th ASEAN-China Summit,” October 10, 2013, accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/topics_665678/lkqzlcxdyldrxlhy_665684/t1089853.shtml.
75. Joint Press Briefing on the 14th ASEAN China SOM on the Implementation of the
DOC, May 18, 2017, accessed at https://asean.org/storage/2017/05/14th-SOM-DOC-Co-
Chairs-Joint-Press-Briefing-Remarks-As-delivered-18-May-amen.pdf.
 76. “ASEAN, China Adopt Framework of Code of Conduct for South China Sea,” Straits
Times, August 6, 2017.
77. “Wang Yi Talks about How China Views Joint Communiqué of ASEAN Foreign
Ministers Meeting,” accessed at
https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/zxxx_662805/t1483490.shtml.
78. Chairman’s Statement on the 20th ASEAN-China Summit, accessed at
https://asean.org/chairmans-statement-of-the-20th-asean-china-summit.
79. Ian Storey, “Assessing the ASEAN-China Framework for the Code of Conduct for the
South China Sea,” [ISEAS] Perspective 2017, no. 62, August 8, 2017.
80. “Duterte Sets Aside 2016 Tribunal Ruling on South China Sea,” accessed at
https://asia.nikkei.com/Politics-Economy/Policy-Politics/Duterte-sets-aside-2016-tribunal-
ruling-on-South-China-Sea.
81. “China Backs Joint Energy Development with Philippines in Disputed Sea,” Reuters,
July 25, 2017, accessed at https://www.reuters.com/article/us-philippines-china-
idUSKBN1AA10L.
82. “Duterte Aligns Philippines with China, says U.S. Has Lost,” Reuters, October 20,
2016, accessed at https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-philippines/china-xi-says-hopes-
dutertes-visit-can-fully-improve-ties-idUSKCN12KOAS.
83. Rizal Sukma, as quoted in a speech at Asia House in London, March 2, 2016,
accessed at https://asiahouse.org/maritime-cooperation-top-agenda-says-indonesias-new-
uk-ambassador.
84. “China, Indonesia Pledge Close Strategic Partnership,” Xinhua, March 26, 2015,
accessed at http://www.xinhuanet.com/english/2015-03/26/c_134100693.htm.
*Fiery Cross Reef, Johnson South Reef, Subi Reef, Gaven Reef, Hughes Reef, and
Cuarteron Reef
 Chapter 11
ASEAN’s Vision 2025
A Fourth Reinvention?

At the November 2015 ASEAN Summit that officially inaugurated the

ASEAN Community, the leaders recognized that the community-
building process was incomplete. The 2007 ASEAN Charter had
provided a political and legal framework for ASEAN’s regional role as
an international intergovernmental organization. However, the intra-
ASEAN policy goals that had been set for the community by
ASEAN’s 1997 Vision 2020 were far from being met in the five-year
foreshortening of the community’s debut, from 2020 to 2015.
Therefore, at the 2015 summit, the leaders adopted a new vision
statement to chart their way forward—the “ASEAN Community
Vision 2025: Forging Ahead Together.”1 In this vision statement, the
leaders committed themselves to making ASEAN a model of
regionalism and a major player globally. It called for the consolidation
and deepening of the integration process “to realize a rules-based,
people-oriented, people-centered ASEAN Community.” The history
of ASEAN’s first fifty years provides a basis for an estimate as to
how likely it might be that the Vision 2025 will become a reality.
The emphasis in Vision 2025 on ASEAN’s peoples is somewhat
diminished by the fact that the “peoples” have little to no input into
ASEAN Community affairs or influence on ministerial decisions that
affect them. As noted in chapter 8, in the drafting of the ASEAN
Charter, the Eminent Persons Group’s recommendation that a
mechanism for regular consultations with civil society should be built
into the ASEAN Charter did not get beyond the High Level Task
Force (HLTF), which reported to the foreign ministers. The HLTF’s
concern was not the “peoples” but a consensus that would be joined
by the CLMV countries. There was nothing in the Vision 2025 to
suggest that ASEAN’s remoteness from the people would be
institutionally bridged in the future.
From its conception in the Bali Concord II, the ASEAN Community
is a bureaucratic construction stewarded by the foreign ministers, not
a social unit of people living together with a common identity,
governance, norms, or other characteristics defining the group’s
boundaries.2 The members are governments, and their community
activities are carried out primarily through the agency of multiple
ministerial and subministerial official meetings organizationally
ordered in terms of functions and in which the people have no
access or voice. In many respects what is called an ASEAN
Community is a heuristic table of organization of multiple multilateral
meetings. Even as a bureaucratic structure, ASEAN is an
organization without an institutionally autonomous executive center.
Outside of the ministerial meetings, including the Post-Ministerial
Conferences (PMCs) and the summit dialogues, ASEAN’s business
is carried out on the bilateral state-to-state level.
As outlined in chapter 8, the ASEAN Economic Community (AEC)
has the best-defined identity of the three subcommunities. Led by
the economic ministers, the cumulative impact of its policy, technical,
and legal frameworks for promoting trade and financial integration,
both intra-ASEAN and globally, suggests that it could stand
independently of the other pillars of the community. The ASEAN
Socio-Cultural Community has received the least international
attention. This is partly because the collection of ministries with
widely divergent agendas—from culture and art to sports and rural
development—is difficult to treat as a unit for analysis. It is also
because the issue areas are not directly connected to ASEAN’s
economic and political standing regionally and globally.
 It is the ASEAN Political-Security Community’s (APSC) future that
is the most problematic in terms of the posited goals of Vision 2025
and assumptions underpinning them. In particular, the elements of
Vision 2025 that focus on the “peoples” seem designed more for
enhancing ASEAN’s international image and credibility than a
serious commitment to action to implement change. Based on its
history, it seems doubtful that ASEAN has the political capacity to
achieve a socially cohesive real community based on shared values
and norms. According to Vision 2025 (paragraphs 7 and 8), ASEAN
will become a rules-based, inclusive, and resilient community in
which the people will enjoy human rights, fundamental freedoms,
and social justice, embracing the values of tolerance and
moderation, and upholding ASEAN’s fundamental principles and
shared norms. ASEAN citizens will live in a safe environment with
enhanced capacity to respond comprehensively and effectively to
existing and emerging challenges. This vision is a consensus
statement without policy demands or commitments by the member
states. To achieve such a community would require an
unprecedented and highly unlikely reordering of the domestic
political systems of several ASEAN states.
The contrast between the ASEAN Political-Security Community
vision and reality is even sharper, as the general statements of the
vision were given greater detail in paragraph 8, outlining the areas in
which efforts to realize the APSC vision would be undertaken. A
closer examination will quickly indicate how far ASEAN has to go to
meet its promises and, based on its fifty-year record, how unlikely it
is that its goals will be met. To do so would require a fourth
reinvention of ASEAN involving major adjustments in the ASEAN
way.
Paragraph 8.2 of Vision 2025 envisions an APSC community in
which ASEAN’s peoples’ human rights and fundamental freedoms
thrive in a just society governed by the principles of democracy.
ASEAN is no closer to this model for regional governance than it was
when these issues were first officially put on ASEAN’s agenda in the
2004 Vientiane Action Plan and enshrined in the 2007 ASEAN
Charter. In the 2017 Freedom House measures of political rights and
civil liberties, on a scale of free, partly free, and not free, no ASEAN
country was listed as free. Five were determined to be partly free
(Indonesia, Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore). The
remaining five were classified as not free.3 There is no real voice for
democracy among current ASEAN leaders. Former Indonesian
president Yudhoyono’s efforts to democratize ASEAN were
unavailing even as he enlisted ASEAN counterparts into his Bali
Democracy Forum.4
It is the huge gap between ASEAN’s claims of promoting
democracy and human rights in the APSC and the actual
undemocratic political practices of what is the majority of ASEAN
states that presents ASEAN with its greatest credibility problem in
dealing with its democratic dialogue partners. Reporting on President
Obama’s 2016 Sunnylands ASEAN Summit (chapter 10), Time
magazine asked, “Why is President Obama Hosting a Get-Together
of Asian Autocrats?” and approvingly quoted the Washington Post’s
characterization of the summit as “an unseemly parade of dictators.”5
Joining the parade were Thailand’s prime minister Prayuth Chan-
ocha, who led the 2012 military coup that ousted elected prime
minister Yingluck Shinawatra and still remains in power; Cambodia’s
Hun Sen, who has forcefully stamped out democracy and human
rights after more than thirty years in power; and the communist
bosses of Vietnam and Laos.
With respect to the human rights situation in ASEAN, Thai
academic and political commentator Pavin Chachavalpongpun
posed the question, “Is promoting human rights in ASEAN an
impossible task?” The answer was “that the goal remains far from
becoming a reality anytime soon.”6 As previous chapters have
detailed, the issue of human rights has been part of the intra-ASEAN
political dialogue since at least the Bali Concord II. It was largely
driven by Indonesia; however, the Indonesian democratic voice now
seems muted as hard-line Islamists come to the fore. The problem
does not just rest with the “not free” ASEAN member states. The
annual U.S. Department of State’s Country Reports on Human
Rights catalogues human rights infringements in every ASEAN
country. Despite the efforts of human rights advocates within ASEAN
and external political pressure, the abuse of human rights remains a
tool for governing in some ASEAN states—Cambodia and Myanmar
prime examples—to the shame of ASEAN the organization. Even in
ASEAN countries like the Philippines with established democratic
practices, rights can be trampled—for example, newly elected
President Duterte’s extrajudicial killings in the war on drugs. This
was eerily reminiscent of Thai prime minister Thaksin’s war on
drugs, which in its first three months in 2003 killed 2,800 people, half
of whom were found by investigation to have had no connection to
drugs.7 Locked into the ASEAN way, ASEAN will continue to be
content with the good intentions of the ASEAN Human Rights
Declaration (AHRD) and the ASEAN Intergovernmental Commission
on Human Rights (AICHR). Although the AICHR claims to promote
and protect human rights, it has no authority to deter, investigate, or
condemn human rights violations by a member state. Its workload
has been directed toward such politically noncontroversial areas as
raising awareness of women’s, children’s, and disabled persons’
rights.
Paragraph 8.3 of the Vision 2025 statement is related to
democracy and human rights as it deals with intercommunal
relationships in the APSC. It depicts an inclusive and tolerant
community respectful of people’s different religions, cultures, and
languages in a spirit of unity, rejecting violent extremism in all forms
and manifestations. The Rohingya crisis described in chapter 9
graphically illustrates how far ASEAN will have to go to begin to
achieve the kind of community it promises. Myanmar and the
Rohingya are only the most glaring example of intolerance and
intercommunal hate and persecution in ASEAN states. The rise of
hard-liner Islamic forces in Indonesia, for example, has led to attacks
on churches and secular institutions with little government
intervention. Indigenous ethnic minorities in Vietnam, Laos, and
Indonesia’s Papuan provinces, and the numerous minorities of
Myanmar—besides the Rohingya—have forcibly been pressed to
conform to the dominant majority culture.
The Vision 2025 that announces an ASEAN political community in
which the peoples of the member states would enjoy democratic
rights and freedoms will remain a vision. The ASEAN way precludes
ASEAN from acting as an agent of change in the domestic affairs of
its member states. However, ASEAN’s predictable failure to make
progress in achieving the domestic political goals of Vision 2025
should not be considered the only measure of ASEAN’s overall
political record, most importantly in the APSC’s interest areas
directly related to ASEAN’s original purposes: regional peace,
stability, and security. ASEAN has evolved as an important
multilateral fixture in intra–Southeast Asian political relations and as
a platform from which common Southeast Asian interests can be
expressed and amplified to extra–Southeast Asian—especially Asia-
Pacific—countries and international organizations.
At the intra-ASEAN level of political relations, the Vision 2025
statement says (Paragraph 8.5) that ASEAN will exist in:
a region that resolves differences and disputes by peaceful means, including refraining
from the threat or use of force and adopting peaceful dispute settlement mechanisms
while strengthening confidence-building measures, promoting preventive diplomacy
activities and conflict resolution initiatives.

This may be true for intra-ASEAN relations but not for the Asia-
Pacific region in which ASEAN operates. What is described are
basically the attributes of a “security community,” the criteria for
which were first explored by Karl Deutsch and his collaborators
some sixty years ago for Western Europe.8 It now has application for
ASEAN.9 As a security community, ASEAN is a group of states
whose transnational and integrative links are strong enough that the
use of force against one another is unlikely and that disputes will be
resolved peacefully. ASEAN has also been called a “cooperative
security regime” for conflict avoidance and management.10 It has
further been described as a “security complex” based on patterns of
security realities generated by the local states themselves.11 Chapter
9 showed cases where in fact ASEAN countries have used or
threatened to use force in bilateral disputes, but they have managed
their conflicting interests in a way to limit the threat to ASEAN’s
collective existence. This is an impressive achievement, but it is not
to be attributed to any ASEAN mechanism such as the unutilized
ASEAN High Council. ASEAN has been successful not because of
ASEAN intervention in conflict resolution but by avoiding involving
the organization in dispute resolution or forcing it to take sides.
Rather then the ASEAN way, it has been the ASEAN spirit and
calculations of national interest that have contained conflict in
ASEAN. The traditional tools of diplomacy and the good offices of
neutral ASEAN partners—not ASEAN consensus decision-making—
have been employed as well as third-party non-ASEAN intervention
by the UN, international courts, NGOs, and friendly countries that
have acted as agents for peaceful settlement.
Serious questions can be raised about the Vision 2025’s
characterization of ASEAN’s place in the regional international order.
It bravely speaks of ASEAN unity and cohesiveness as it claims
“centrality” in its extra-ASEAN political environment. The
organization’s history shows, however, that if such policy coherence
does exist in ASEAN, it is not at a level of common security interests
that will enable it to meet the challenges facing it in the
contemporary regional security environment. In terms of ASEAN’s
self-defined position of centrality, it claims in its Vision 2025 to act as
“the primary driving force in shaping the evolving regional
architecture that is built upon ASEAN-led mechanisms” (Paragraph
8.8). The architecture includes the ZOPFAN, SEANWFZ, and the
multiple ASEAN-chaired talk shops, beginning in 1994 with the
ASEAN Regional Forum. There is no evidence, however, to show
that ASEAN’s claim to centrality in the multilateral regional security
dialogues it has fashioned has influenced the policy choices affecting
the national interests of its external participants. In particular,
ASEAN’s historical focus on achieving a “rules-based” regional
international order, especially the TAC and UNCLOS, seems illusory
given that ASEAN does not hold rules-breakers to account, and even
if it did, there are no enforcement measures.
This has been especially characteristic of ASEAN’s dealing with
the issues in the South China Sea disputes. In a quarter of a century
of a security dialogue with China, ASEAN has not been able to alter
Chinese policy and strategy directed to affirming the political and
military base of its claimed sovereignty and dominance in the SCS.
For ASEAN, the goal seems to have been reduced to keeping China
diplomatically engaged, ignoring the fact that China’s actions are
contrary to the undertakings it gives in the conference rooms. There
is a degree of irreality, for example, in ASEAN-China statements that
include UNCLOS as a norm for activity in the SCS, even though
China has made it clear that UNCLOS does not apply to its
sovereign claims.12
ASEAN has entered its sixth decade in a regional political/security
environment very different from that at the time of its founding. In the
Cold War, the strategically far-removed Soviet Union did not
challenge the U.S. great-power presence in the Asia-Pacific region.
Today, China has explicitly set out to replace the United States as
the regionally dominant great power. China, particularly since the
advent of the Xi Jinping government, insists that ASEAN and China
have a shared destiny that does not include the United States. By
political, economic, and military means, China has been constructing
a framework in which ASEAN, if China succeeds, will be a junior
partner, its independence of action limited by China’s already visible
role of a shadow eleventh member state. ASEAN has essentially
already surrendered to China in the South China Sea, allowing the
target date for a COC to extend as China continues its militarization
program. ASEAN’s new fear is that U.S. efforts to assert its freedom
of navigation rights, which are supported by the legal framework of
the UNCLOS, could lead to a Sino-American clash that could upset
regional peace and security. Rather than its role as part of President
Obama’s promised American security guarantee in the Asia-Pacific,
the U.S. 7th Fleet’s challenges to China’s asserted sovereignty could
be a trip wire threatening regional peace.
In the course of China’s rise in Southeast Asia, ASEAN policy
toward the two regional powers has shifted from balance of power to
hedging to an incremental tilt toward China.13 For the ASEAN
leaders who value ASEAN’s policy autonomy, their task will be to
keep the tilt from becoming a bandwagon. The changing great-power
dynamic has the potential to undermine ASEAN’s claim to centrality
in the region’s multilateral security architecture. To the degree that
ASEAN is seen in China’s thrall, its political importance to other
dialogue partners with security interests in Southeast Asia will be
diminished. ASEAN’s claim to be the “driving force” of regional
multilateralism will be at risk. This was on the horizon already as
ASEAN prepared to move into its second half century as China’s
economic and geostrategic ambitions—particularly as embodied in
its “Belt and Road” initiative—widened the boundaries of potential
confrontation with the United States and its like-minded friends and
allies. In a speech at the November 2017 APEC meeting, U.S.
president Donald Trump reset the theater of contention with China
from the Asia-Pacific to the Indo-Pacific.14 As such, a framework is
now being constructed for a broad new multilateral platform to
pursue a Free and Open Indo-Pacific (FOIP) as an alternative to
China as a development partner.
ASEAN may be forced to choose. China views FOIP as an effort
to “contain” its rise. For ASEAN to join would be viewed by Beijing as
an unfriendly act, and it would be unlikely that a consensus on
joining could emerge. Important ASEAN countries, however, might
be tempted to join, which would further strain ASEAN unity. In either
case—joining or not joining—the notion of ASEAN centrality would
be severely eroded, if not lost.

NOTES
1. The Vision 2025 can be accessed at
https://asean.org/storage/images/2015/November/aec-page/ASEAN-Community-Vision-
2025.pdf.
2. For a discussion of ASEAN’s community identity, see Donald E. Weatherbee,
“ASEAN’s Identity Crisis,” in Ann Marie Murphy and Bridget Welsh, eds., Legacy of
Engagement in Southeast Asia (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2008),
350–72.
3. Freedom House, Freedom in the World 2017, accessed at
https://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-world/freedom-world-2017.
4. Donald E. Weatherbee, Indonesia in ASEAN: Vision and Reality (Singapore: Institute
of Southeast Asian Studies, 2013).
5. Time magazine citation accessed at https://time.com/4218952/obama-asean-us-
summit-asia.
6. The Pavin quote was accessed at https://thediplomat.com/2018/01/is-promoting-
human-rights-in-asean-an-impossible-task.
7. Human Rights Watch, “Thailand’s ‘War on Drugs,’” accessed at
https://www.hrw.org/news/2008/03/12/thailands-war-drugs.
8. Karl Deutsch et al., Political Community and the North Atlantic Area: International
Organization in the Light of Historical Experience (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1957).
9. Amitav Acharya, Constructing a Security Community in Southeast Asia (London:
Routledge, 2001), 2.
10. Ralf Emmers, Cooperative Security and the Balance of Power in ASEAN and the ARF
(London: Routledge/Curzon, 2003), 10.
11. Barry Buzan, “The Southeast Asian Security Complex,” Contemporary Southeast Asia
10, no. 1 (1988): 2.
 12. See, for example, “Statement of the Foreign Ministry of the People’s Republic of
China on the Award on 12 July 2016 of the Arbitral Tribunal on the South China Sea
Arbitration Established at the Request of the Republic of the Philippines,” July 12, 2016,
accessed at https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/nanhai/eng/snhwtlcwj_1/t1379492.htm.
13. June Teuful Dreyer, “ASEAN Summit’s China Tilt Portends a New World Order,” Yale
Global Online, May 16, 2017, accessed at https://yaleglobal.yale.edu/content/asean-
summits-china-tilt-portends-new-world-order.
14. “Remarks by President Trump at APEC CEO Summit Da Nang, Vietnam,” accessed
at https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefings-statements/remarks-president-trump-apec-ceo-
summit-da-nang-vietnam.
 About the Author

Donald E. Weatherbee is the Donald Russell Distinguished

Professor Emeritus at the University of South Carolina, where he
specialized in the politics and international relations of Southeast
Asia. A graduate of Bates College, he holds an MA and PhD from
the Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International
Studies. In addition of South Carolina, Professor Weatherbee has
held numerous teaching and research appointments at universities
and academic centers in Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines,
Singapore, South Korea, Thailand, England, Germany, the
Netherlands, and the U.S. Army War College. He has an extensive
list of publications of more than 150 books, book chapters, and
articles on Southeast Asian international relations. He is the author
of Southeast Asia: The Struggle for Autonomy (third edition, 2015)
and Indonesia in ASEAN: Vision and Reality (2016). His professional
recognition includes the U.S. Army’s Distinguished Civilian Service
Medal for his contribution to strategic planning for post–Vietnam War
Southeast Asian international relations.