How does a corrupt government stop corruption? What if that government is democratic, and must cultivate the support of political parties that are themselves corrupt? Is fostering reform in such a political economy the equivalent of trying to make snow in hell?

These questions may be overstated, but the dilemmas they convey are all too real. Witness the storm of concern triggered by the recent resignation of the highest-profile reformist in Indonesia, Sri Mulyani Indrawati, from her linchpin job as minister of finance in a country that was ranked the most corrupt and the most democratic in Southeast Asia in 2009.

Sri Mulyani waged unremitting war on graft. Under her stewardship of the finance ministry, more than 150 of its personnel were dishonorably discharged. Nearly 2,000 more were otherwise punished for infractions. She led a vigorous campaign against tax cheats. Among them were rich and influential people who had grown accustomed to absconding with funds they owed the government.

Euromoney named her ‘finance minister of the year’ in 2006—a post she had only taken up the year before. In 2008 and again in 2009 Forbes magazine admiringly listed her among ‘the 100 most powerful women in the world.’ Correspondingly, on the heels of her resignation on 5 May 2010, Indonesian stocks and rupiahs fell.

Indonesian president Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono (SBY) was directly elected to that office in 2004 and, for a second five-year term, in 2009. As president he has opposed corruption and championed reform. Fatefully, however, in 2004 he chose a wealthy businessman, Aburizal Bakrie, to join his government as coordinating minister for the economy.

In 2006 in East Java, a Bakrie-controlled company using an unprotected drill while probing for gas may have triggered a mud volcano that would swallow more than a dozen villages and render more than 15,000 people homeless. In 2010 the volcano continued to spew an estimated 100,000 tons of mud daily onto the surface. Bakrie’s reputation for probity was not enhanced when, reportedly against Mulyani’s advice, he insisted on denying responsibility for the disaster. Instead he blamed an undersea earthquake that had struck off the south coast of Java, some 250 kilometers away, two days before the mud erupted. Opinions remain divided as to what caused what.

An unambiguously man-made crisis in 2008, the global financial meltdown, shrank the Jakarta stock market, Bakrie’s holdings included. Trading on the exchange was temporarily suspended. Bakrie urged his fellow cabinet member Mulyani to extend the suspension. She refused. He was furious. Her relations with him worsened further when she slapped travel bans on certain Bakrie company executives accused of tax evasion.

In 2009 Bakrie became chair of the Golkar Party. Toward the end of that year he led a fierce campaign in the Indonesian legislature against both Mulyani and another nonpartisan technocrat, Indonesian vice-president Boediono, for malfeasance related to the government’s decision in 2008 to rescue an ailing financial institution, Bank Century. The bailout may have prevented a spiral of withdrawals, and thus helped Indonesia weather the global crisis, but the effort cost far more than expected, and some of the infusions apparently benefited key depositors more than the bank itself.

Legitimate financial questions were soon superseded, however, by a thoroughly political effort on the part of politicians and their supporters opposed to Mulyani and her reforms to oust not only her but the vice-president as well. Mulyani’s and Boediono’s opponents included, in addition to Bakrie, others whose circumstancial links to corruption she had uncovered.

An anti-Mulyani case in point is the Justice and Welfare Party (PKS). Despite priding itself on upholding Islamic ethics and opposing corruption, the PKS rejected allegations that one of its legislators, Muhammad Misbakhun, could have been implicated in a fictitious Bank Century letter of credit for US $22.5 million. When, at the end of April 2010, Misbakhun was arrested and detained on a warrant signed by the national police official in charge of economic and tax crimes, PKS leaders accused the police of having an ulterior motive. The party had by then, in effect, joined the anti-Mulyani chorus.

Subjected to intense and prolonged criticism by these politicians in the glare of the media, Mulyani had ample reason to quit the spotlight, resign, and leave Indonesia. (On 1 June 2010 she will become a managing director of the World Bank in Washington DC.) But her long record of nonpartisan tenacity in the struggle against corruption makes it hard to believe that she simply lost her will to fight. For the time being it is impossible to rule out that she was sacrificed for the sake of a restoration of political comity between SBY and his opponents.

The irony is that Golkar and the PKS had joined with SBY’s Democrat Party to form a ruling coalition, to which they continue to belong. SBY had built that coalition with the expectation that its members, having joined the government, would support it, including its campaign against corruption.

That inclusive or ‘rainbow’ strategy was a triple failure. First, cabinet posts that might have been held by competent and ethical nonpartisans motivated by a desire for public service were allocated instead to partisans whose skills and motives, shall we say, varied. Governance suffered. Second, coalition-party leaders who were given ministerial posts in return for ensuring broad legislative backing for the government in the legislature either would not or could not deliver that support. Cooptation failed. Third, some ruling-team politicians, who might have at least stood back from the fray, instead jumped in, seemingly hoping to blunt the government’s efforts to diminish corruption and improve governance while protecting themselves and furthering their own careers. Discipline frayed.

Mulyani has resigned. Has Bakrie won?

In a recent conversation, an off-the-record analyst anticipated ‘more stability, which, in Indonesia, correlates inversely with reform.’ He could be wrong. But it may not be coincidental that on 6 May 2010, one day after Mulyani announced her resignation, SBY met with ruling-coalition leaders. Or that the meeting launched a Coalition Parties Forum whose daily activities will be led by none other than the chair of the Golkar Party, Aburizal Bakrie. Or that Bakrie reported that SBY had agreed that the Forum would not try to bind the coalition to a common position. Or that, again according to Bakrie, whereas previously the coalition parties were only asked to help safeguard the government’s policies, henceforth they would be asked to help determine them as well. Much will depend on Mulyani’s replacement as minister of finance, and on whether he or she is told to stop rocking the boat.

If Mulyani’s remarkable legacy is indeed erased, illiberal circles in Singapore may think, ‘We thought so. Democracy does thwart reform.’ But my own judgment in hindsight will be less sweeping.

Indonesia’s Democrat Party is still basically an extension of the appealing personality of SBY. Over the six years since he was first elected president, more time, energy, and resources could have been invested in deepening the roots and popularity of the party itself. Had those assets been so spent, the Democrats might have been able, in the legislative elections of 2009, to enlarge their contingent of lawmakers enough to be able to rule, not by the dubious grace of Sri Mulyani’s antagonists, but in SBY’s and his party’s own right—subject to democracy’s checks and balances, yes, but freed of the need to cobble together a coalitional rainbow of colors that clash.

Donald K. Emmerson heads the Southeast Asia Forum at Stanford University and is also the editor of Hard Choices: Security, Democracy, and Regionalism in Southeast Asia (Stanford/ISEAS, 2008/9).

A heartening number of analysts helpfully commented on an earlier draft of this essay.  While protecting their privacy by not naming them, I am grateful to them.  Complementing my focus here on the politics of Sri Mulyani’s exit is the economic context ably reviewed by Arianto A. Patunru and Christian von Luebke in their ‘Survey of Recent Developments’ in the Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies, 46: 1 (2010, 7-31.)

In early spring, historic health reform passes, extending insurance to millions of uninsured. Despite problems with workplace-based coverage, controversy over government subsidies for insurance premiums, and disparities across a large and diverse nation, dramatic shift to a single-payer system was seen as impractical.

Instead, reforms focus on expanding current social insurance programs as well as new initiatives to cover the uninsured, improve quality, and control spending. They provide a basic floor, subsidized for the poorest, but preserve consumer freedom to choose in health care. No government body dictates choice of doctor or hospital; investor-owned and private not-for-profits compete alongside government-run providers like community health centers and rural hospitals.

Left to be addressed in later phases are the difficult questions of how to slow the relentless pace of health care spending increases -- driven in part by technological change and population aging, but also perverse incentives embedded in fee-for-service payment and fragmented delivery. Pushed through despite multiple crises confronting the leadership, the final landmark health reform works in conjunction with measures enacted as part of the fiscal stimulus package to strengthen the healthcare system. Some provisions take effect immediately; others will take many years to unfold.

President Obama’s triumph on his top domestic priority? Actually, there were no votes along partisan lines, no controversy over abortion. I am describing health reform in China, which was announced almost exactly a year ago.

We do not hear much about the parallels in the US and Chinese social policy. But we cannot fully understand each other if we ignore these commonalities. We do not hear much about those who, in both societies, have been rendered destitute merely because they or a family member became sick or injured in a system with a social safety net full of gaping holes.

It will surprise many Americans to know that government financing as a share of total health spending was lower in socialist China over the last decade than in the United States. Now China has pledged about US$124 billion over 3 years to expand basic health insurance, strengthen public health and primary care, and reform public hospitals.

In China, the injustice of differential access to life-saving healthcare had sparked cases of social unrest. The April 2009 reform announcement was the culmination of years of post-SARS (2003) soul searching for a healthcare system befitting China’s dynamically transforming society. Special interests block change. (Sound familiar?) The CPC Central Committee and the State Council acknowledge that successful health reform will be “an arduous and long-term task”.  

If the US can pass sweeping health reform despite an unprecedented financial crisis, and China can envision universal health coverage for 1.3 billion while “getting old before getting rich,” then together we should be able to look past our many differences to focus on our common interests. Our two proud nations must work together to confront numerous challenges, such as upholding regional stability (e.g. on the Korean peninsula); redressing global economic imbalances (increasing health insurance can help spur China towards more domestic consumption); and investing in “green tech” for a warming planet and “grey tech” for an aging society.

* * *

When searching for insights about how other countries deal with similar challenges, Americans often look to Europe and Canada. Rarer is the comparison to counterparts across the Pacific. Yet President Obama has clearly articulated the vision of the US as a Pacific Nation, and there are developments around the Pacific Rim that merit consideration in our debates.  

Australia pioneered cost-effectiveness in health care purchasing, while the US continues to debate whether cost should be part of comparative effectiveness research and policy decisions.

Both Japan and South Korea, like Germany, have enacted long term care insurance to smooth the transition to an aging society. Their experiences might be fruitful as we implement the first national government-run long-term care insurance program, a little-heralded component of the newly passed legislation (and a fitting legacy of Senator Edward Kennedy).

Japan and Singapore provide universal coverage to older populations than ours with health systems that, although surprisingly different from each other in terms of public financing and role of market forces, both ranked among the best in the world -- and far higher than the US -- in the World Health Organization’s ranking of health systems in the year 2000. Although one may quibble with the ranking, it is indisputable that Japan spends a much smaller share of GDP on healthcare than the US does, despite being one of the oldest and longest-lived societies in the history of the world and having (like the US) a fee-for-service payment system.

Japan and South Korea are also democracies, where health policies occasionally engender heated debates. In South Korea, physicians went on nationwide strike three times to oppose the separation of prescribing from dispensing. Although Japan’s incremental reforms rarely spur such drama, the passions aroused by end-of-life care – embodied in the bizarre “death panels” controversy in the US health reform debate of 2009 – has its counterpart in the bitter nickname for Japan’s separate insurance plan for the oldest old: “hurry-up-and-die” insurance.

Yet Japan, Singapore, and Hong Kong all offer health systems that provide reasonable risk protection and quality of care for populations older than ours, with a diverse range of government and market roles in financing and delivery, while spending far less per capita than the US.

No system has all the answers. But the US and our neighbors across the vast Pacific have a common interest in sharing what we’ve found that works for health reform. Despite divergence in our political and economic systems, we all value long, healthy lives for ourselves and our children -- and we’re united in health reforms that try to further that goal.

The dramatic end to Japan's half-century of conservative rule in a late August election led almost immediately to a public spat with the United States. An inward-looking Japan that had reflexively followed the American lead suddenly was no longer an obedient ally.

At a time when the US was trying to woo a recalcitrant China to become a "strategic partner", Japan's insistence on reopening an agreement over US military bases seemed to upset the regional balance. But there are recent signs of a concerted effort on both sides to put underlying strategic interests back in the forefront, propelled in part by the recent eruption of frictions between China and the US.

The row began with the newly elected Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama's call for more "equal" relations with the US, his advocacy of an East Asian Community à la the EU, and his focus on repairing ties with China. Put together, some saw a nascent urge to abandon the post-war security alliance. A senior State Department official went so far as to tell the Washington Post in late October that the "the United States had ‘grown comfortable' thinking about Japan as a constant in US relations in Asia. It no longer is, he said, adding that ‘the hardest thing right now is not China, it's Japan.'"

The trigger was growing frustration over the Hatoyama government's handling of the relocation of the US Marine air base at Futenma on Okinawa. The Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) consistently opposed the deal to relocate the base elsewhere within Okinawa, expressing sympathy for the disproportionate burden of the US military presence in Japan born by Okinawans. American officials were loathe to reopen an agreement that had taken years to negotiate and believed the Japanese government exaggerated its domestic political constraints.

At the same time, Japan seems eager to hew its own course with China, to improve relations and begin to build the foundation for a new Asian community. If one is to believe US officials, alarm bells have been ringing among their allies and others in Asia over the rift with Japan. The talk of building a regional organization that might exclude the US made Singapore, Australia, South Korea, the Philippines and even Vietnam worried that this would only aid Chinese ambitions.

Meanwhile, the Obama administration itself was ardently wooing China. President Obama, on the eve of a trip in November, spoke of creating a "strategic partnership." In Beijing, the President avoided public finger wagging. Discussion of difficult issues such as human rights, Tibet and sanctions against Iran were conducted largely, if at all, behind closed doors.

Given their own pursuit of Chinese partnership, American officials could hardly object to Tokyo's efforts along the same lines. In public, they said this is not a zero sum game, that an easing of Sino-Japanese tensions could aid security and stability in the region for everyone. But some US officials soon saw evidence of Sino-Japanese collusion to push the US out of Asia. Privately they pointed to what was considered a telling moment following a trilateral summit of Chinese, Japanese and South Korean leaders in Tianjin in October. Talking to reporters after the meeting, Hatoyama had spoken about Japan's desire to lessen its "dependence" on the US. American officials considered Hatoyama's actions a gross display of obeisance to the Chinese.

Accusations that Japan was drifting into Chinese arms grew louder after DPJ Secretary General Ichiro Ozawa led a group of about 140 lawmakers on an adulatory visit to China in early December. Then Hatoyama and Ozawa raised hackles when they pushed for the Emperor to receive a visiting Chinese senior official, the heir apparent for leadership, Xi Jinping. However, these depictions of Tokyo lurching toward Beijing ignore the gradual evolution of Japanese policy and the deep-seated rivalry that persists.

Sino-Japanese relations reached a low point five years ago after anti-Japan demonstrations were apparently sanctioned by Chinese authorities. Unresolved wartime historical issues drove those outbursts, prompted by Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi's visits to the Yasukuni shrine, which honors Japan's war dead. Disputes over oil and gas rights in the East China Sea threatened to explode. And China launched a campaign to block Japan's bid for permanent membership in the UN Security Council.

Japanese policymakers began to worry about the impact of these tensions on Japan's growing economic interdependence with China. They were critical of Koizumi's one-sided focus on the US-Japan security alliance.

"To weather the wild seas of the 21st century, Japan's diplomacy must have two elements: the Japan-US alliance and a Japan-China entente," wrote Makoto Iokibe, a defense specialist who now heads the Japanese Defense Academy, in the summer of 2006. "A combination of a gas field accord and a depoliticized Yasukuni issue would provide Japan and China with a clear view for the joint management of East Asia."

Beginning in late 2006, a succession of Japanese administrations has made concerted efforts to repair ties with Beijing and Seoul. Though the atmosphere with China has improved, substantive differences remain. In January, Japan's foreign minister warned that Tokyo would take action if China continued to violate a 2008 deal to develop oil and gas fields jointly. When Ozawa met the Chinese defense minister in December, he said the Japanese see China's military modernization as a threat. Ozawa suggested that if such fears were not eased, Japan might be prompted to undertake its own arms build up.

The Hatoyama government has also moved to upgrade ties, including security links, with Asian powers that share a fear of China, including India, Indonesia and South Korea. Ozawa stopped in Seoul after his visit to China where he apologized for Japan's colonial rule in Korea and pledged to push through legislation granting voting rights to Korean residents in Japan, an issue of great importance to Koreans and opposed by conservatives in Japan.

Recent events seem to have caused the US to reassess its handling of relations in Northeast Asia. There is growing evidence of an emboldened China that seems to interpret America's bid for a strategic embrace with the country as a sign of weakness. The authorities in Beijing took a tougher line toward internal dissent, openly clashed with the US at the climate change talks in Copenhagen, balked at cooperation on sanctions against Iran, and brushed off American protests over evidence of cyber attacks on Western firms.

After all this, America has begun to soften its tone toward Tokyo. Officials pledge patience as the new government looks for a solution to the base problem, while also mounting a public effort to convince Japan that the Marine presence in Okinawa is key to "deterrence" of North Korea and China. There is a renewed emphasis on broadening the security agenda to include other issues, from cyber security to climate change. Hatoyama, too, has emphasized that the Japan-US alliance remains "a cornerstone for Japan to enhance its cooperative relations with other Asian countries, including China."

Whether any real lessons have been learned in Tokyo or Washington remains to be seen. But perhaps the turn in Sino-US relations has reminded people in Tokyo and Washington that there remains a strategic purpose to the alliance.

In April 2005, fierce anti-Japanese protests broke out in China.

Triggered in part by Japan's approval of newly revised history textbooks which glossed over the Japanese wartime abuses of six decades ago, the demonstrations were the most provocative upsurge of anti-Japanese unrest China had seen in years.

It was not the first time problems of the historical sort had sparked trouble between the neighbours in North-East Asia.

But researchers at Stanford University's Walter H. Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Centre hope that their work will damp down future outbursts and open a path to lasting reconciliation.

Led by director Gi-Wook Shin and co-director Daniel C. Sneider, researchers are completing an ambitious three-year project to examine how the main players in North-east Asia - China, Japan, South Korea and Taiwan - along with the United States, form their views of the past, or what the scholars call "historical memories."

Entitled Divided Memories and Reconciliation, the project began in 2007 and is divided into three phases. The first stage involves comparing how shared historical events are depicted in history textbooks of the five societies, as history education plays a crucial role in shaping citizens' perspectives on the past.

The second stage, which began last year, looks at the treatment of the 1931-1951 wartime period in the films of China, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan and the US.

In the third phase, researchers will survey elite opinion makers in China, Japan, South Korea and the US for their views on historical issues.

The study, said Mr Sneider, stems from the understanding that unresolved historical issues are drivers of regional tension, and continue to bedevil relations to this day.

"The past is very much part of the present. Unresolved problems of the past feed mistrust and suspicion," he told The Sunday Times. "History issues also feed rising nationalism that can undermine government efforts to repair damaged relations."

Despite growing economic and cultural ties, wounds inflicted in the time of war and colonialism still fuel anti-Japanese sentiment in China and South Korea. The outcome of China's civil war resonates today in tension between the mainland and Taiwan.

The goal was not to forge a common historical account for the region or reach a consensus on specific events, said Mr Sneider. He noted that such attempts by historians and government committees have had limited success.

Stanford University historian Peter Duus explained: "Writing a common history is not feasible politically because the teaching of history in East Asian countries is tied to building and strengthening national identity."

Instead, Stanford researchers felt it was more fruitful to "try to recognise and understand how each society has developed its own distinctive memory of the past, and how that has affected its national identity and relations with others", commented Prof Shin.

Prof Duus and Prof Shin were writing in separate chapters included in a soon-to-be-published edited volume on the textbook study. Parts of the book were seen by The Sunday Times.

To facilitate the textbook study, researchers translated into English the most widely circulated high school history textbooks used in China, Japan, Taiwan, South Korea and the U.S.

Focusing on the period from the beginning of the Sino-Japanese war in 1931 until the formal end of the Pacific War with the San Francisco Peace Treaty in 1951, the researchers selected eight historical issues for translation.

These included the Japanese capture and occupation of Nanjing, China in 1937 and the atomic bombing of Japan in 1945.

Researchers included the US in the textbook study because of its participation in the Pacific War, as well as its role in shaping post-war dynamics in the region.

Looking at the translated textbook excerpts side by side would allow people to compare how historical memory is shaped in the different school systems for the first time, said Mr. Sneider.

The team then brought together historians and textbook writers, including those from Japan and China, in a conference in February last year to analyse the treatment of history in thetextbooks, and their impact on regional relations.

The experts found that the region's history texts were far from objective.

"Textbooks have been written specifically to promote a sense of national identity, and the politics of nationalism invariably affects their writing," wrote Professor Shin.

Both Taiwan and mainland China textbooks, for example, play up the victory over colonialism and imperialism. But while "both agree the defeat of the Japanese army ended a century of humiliation and established China as an international power, the path to victory is described differently and so is the outcome," Professor Duus commented.

The deepest disagreements between the mainland and Taiwanese textbooks are about the nature and effectiveness of Chinese resistance to the Japanese. The Chinese texts played down the role of the Kuomintang, while the Taiwanese texts make scant mention of the Chinese Communist Party's guerilla bases.

Compared with the Taiwanese textbooks, the Chinese texts dwelled on the brutality of the Japanese military in more graphic detail.

American textbooks, in general, were better than the Asian textbooks at encouraging critical thought. "You have a debate over the decision to drop the atomic bomb on Japan, or discussions of the events that led to Pearl Harbour, for example," Mr Sneider noted.

In contrast with Chinese and US textbooks, the tone in Japanese textbooks is "muted, neutral, bland", Prof Duus wrote. While they make no effort to conceal the brutality of Japanese forces towards occupied peoples, they do not give students much of an analytical construct to understand events, observed Mr. Sneider.

What the study made obvious was that the problem was not just with the Japanese historytextbooks, even though they have received most of the criticism. Experts point out that the textbooks which whitewashed wartime abuses are used in less than 2 per cent of Japanese schools.

"This is a problem for everybody," said Mr Sneider. "We are all participants in creating a divided, and to some degree, implicitly distorted understanding of the past."

The edited volume on the textbook study - which includes discussions from the February 2008 conference, and translated textbook excerpts - will be out next year. A teaching supplement based on the textbook study has been prepared for use by high school teachers in the US.

Mr Sneider said researchers hoped their work would show that "we need to take a dispassionate, comparative approach to history that recognises there is no single historical truth that everybody has to subscribe to".

He added: "There is room for discussion which can hopefully lead to reconciliation."

The Asia Society has organized a Task Force on U.S. Policy toward Burma/Myanmar, co-chaired by retired U.S. Army General Wesley Clark and Holsman International Chair (and former USAID Administrator) Henrietta H. Fore.  The panel comprises a dozen or so individuals from various occupations and backgrounds, including SEAF's director, Donald K. Emmerson.  Assisting the Task Force is an also diverse Advisory Group of some thirty experts in Southeast Asian and other countries.  The Asia Society expects to release the Task Force's final report early in 2010.  

The timing of the study is of interest in view of the Obama administration’s willingness to meet with Myanmar’s rulers. 

America’s top diplomat on Asia is Assistant Secretary of State for East Asian and Pacific Affairs Kurt Campbell.  Deputy Assistant Secretary Scot Marciel covers Southeast Asian and ASEAN affairs.  In early November 2009 the two men traveled to Myanmar.  There they met not only with the iconic opposition figure and Nobel Prize winner Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, but also with Burmese Prime Minister Thein Sein.  The latter meeting was the highest-level contact between the two governments since 1995.  An even higher-level meeting was being planned for later in November at a US-ASEAN summit in Singapore, which would bring President Obama face to face with Myanmar’s head of state, Senior General Than Shwe.

Further enhancing the timeliness of the Task Force’s work is the announced prospect of national elections in Myanmar in 2010.  No independent observers expect the exercise to bring about anything resembling liberal democracy.  But some hold out hope that the balloting could yield a marginally more representative and accountable system. 

In early November 2009 it remained to be seen whether the current shifting of American policy toward dealing directly with the Burmese junta would prove effective in nudging its leaders toward political reform, or not. 

The Task Force’s report, scheduled for release early in 2010, should at least provide food for policymaking thought, as U.S. officials continue to review what has been and could be done with regard to a regime that has so far resisted both isolation and engagement.

Edited by SEAF Director Don Emmerson and co-published in 2008-09 by APARC at Stanford and ISEAS in Singapore, Hard Choices: Security, Democracy, and Regionalism in Southeast Asia continues to attract attention. Excerpted below are two differing but equally thoughtful recent reviews:

Noel M. Morada is a professor of political science at the University of the Philippines-Diliman and director of the Philippines Progamme in the Asia Pacific Centre for the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) at the University Queensland in Brisbane, Australia.

Writing in Kasarinlan: Philippine Journal of Third World Studies, 23: 2 (2008), pp. 119-122, Prof. Morada found the title of Hard Choices “apt” because its authors “ask hard questions—including philosophical ones—on the merits and demerits of pushing for a more ‘people-centered’ ASEAN, the challenges and constraints in implementing Responsibility to Protect (R2P) principles in the region, as well as the possible directions that ASEAN may take in the near future.”

A “good thing” about the book, in his view, “is that the reader is left to make his or her own conclusions” about “the issues and arguments” that it presents. He notes the variety of backgrounds of the authors: from scholars based far from Southeast Asia, through local analysts on Track II, to an official from inside the ASEAN secretariat itself. Their chapters, in his judgment, contribute significantly to current debates about what balance that ASEAN should strike between “state-centered and society-centered conceptions of security,” including “the dilemmas and constraints” that state and societal actors face in pursuing a more “participatory” kind of regionalism in Southeast Asia.

Among the issues featured in Hard Choices, Morada cites “the thorny problem of intervention in the domestic affairs of [ASEAN] members,” including the challenge to regionalism posed by Myanmar’s rulers, and whether or not the ASEAN Charter can facilitate a response or may itself be an obstacle to reform. While highlighting the relative optimism of Mely Caballero-Anthony’s chapter on non-traditional security, he finds a consensus among the book’s authors that “ASEAN’s traditional norms—i.e., state sovereignty and non-interference—still rule.”

Prof. Morada ends his review thus: “This should be a required reading for graduate students specializing in Southeast Asia and a must have for ASEAN specialists and observers. More importantly, civil society groups would benefit immensely from reading this volume as part of their education about ASEAN, on which many remain uninformed. Many of my friends in the academic community in the region have in fact been quite disappointed with many civil society groups who simply want to push their agenda but have not done their homework on the workings of ASEAN. This book should help enlighten them further.”

Lee Jones is a lecturer in the Department of Politics at the College of Queen Mary, University of London.

Writing for a future issue of the ASEASUK Newsletter, a publication of the Association of Southeast Asian Studies in the United Kingdom, Dr. Jones, unlike Prof. Morada, misses a firmer editorial hand. “Theoretical engagement is relatively sparse,” writes Jones, “and the book would have benefited from an overarching framework to help structure and guide the contributions. Particularly given many contributors’ focus on Myanmar, ASEAN’s policies towards it, and ASEAN’s recent institutional evolution, an early chapter agreeing [to] a collective account of these matters would have left more space for analysis and argumentation.”

Jones singles out the chapter by “veteran official Termsak Chalermpalanupap” as “a highly informative overview of ASEAN’s institutional development which will be useful for all students of ASEAN.” Chapters by Simon Tay (on air pollution) and Michael Malley (on nuclear energy) are also praised by Jones as demonstrating that “democratisation does not (as other contributors imply) automatically produce either more liberal policies or enhanced regional cooperation.” On the contrary, writes Jones, “democratisation can give vent to illiberal, nationalist and uncooperative sentiments, particularly when dominated (as ASEAN polities are) by cynical oligarchs. It is disappointing, therefore, that none of the chapters engages in systematic analysis of the domestic social forces at work in ASEAN states.”

“On balance,” for Jones, “the evidence in Hard Choices seems to favour the pessimist viewpoint. The basis for concluding that civil society has shattered elites’ monopoly on policymaking is rather weak. None of the pro-intervention authors sufficiently counter[s] the pragmatist challenge that ASEAN coherence could not withstand the adoption of a more liberal-interventionist posture. However, this is a contingent judgment which should not lead us simply to endorse the status quo. … [T] he fate of individual countries and the overall direction and content of ASEAN regionalism depends ultimately on the struggles of ASEAN’s own citizens.

Concludes Jones: “A clear-sighted analysis of the respective strengths and weaknesses of the force of movement and reaction, without succumbing to the defeatism of endorsing authoritarianism or the romanticism of believing that democratic institutions alone imply the victory of civil society (or that ASEAN can do much to create such institutions), is therefore vital for understanding the region’s prospects.”