diplomatic knots

In The Eyes of the Tiger

2012-02-08T11:14:00.006+07:00

As an avid China observer, it’s always interesting to read assessments of the Middle Kingdom by researchers other than those residing in the United States. Indeed, much of the research on China these days are carried out by American think tanks and academic institutions. This shouldn’t come as a surprise as the Americans are probably some of the ones most concerned by China’s rise to power, and its impact on the US’ present super power status.

I’ve read numerous novels by Indian writers; this also includes books written by members of the Indian diaspora across the world, like Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, and my all time favourite, Jhumpa Lahiri. I love them all. Sometimes even my dreams have Indian settings (more Mississippi Masala-like, and less Bollywood) or feature people speaking language that sounds Hindi, or Tamil, or an Indian sub-continent dialect of some sort.

But when it comes to academic analyses by Indian scholars, I have admittedly been ignorant of developments on “that side” of the Indian Ocean. It’s embarrassing, but the closest I’d probably get to an Indian perspective would be that of Amitav Acharya, a Canadian scholar born in India. And even then, it is most likely that I’d learn more about Southeast Asian perspectives on international affairs (or even Canadian) rather than views from the sub-continent.

Therefore, it was with much anticipation that I read Brahma Chellaney’s “Asian Juggernaut: The Rise of China, India, and Japan”. Using the backdrop of the rise of an Asian Century, Chellaney elaborates on the roles that China, India, and Japan will have in shaping international politics in the years to come.

Over the years, these three Asian juggernauts have evolved to become economic powerhouses. China is the world’s manufacturing capital; India is the largest democracy in the world; and Japan remains as a technological mover in spite of its recent economic woes. At a glance, there is much hope for cooperation towards developing peace and stability in a globalized and more interconnected Asia. However, in spite of the network of bilateral cooperation existing among them, the potential for conflicts (particularly involving China) will be the determinant factor in these countries’ role in the Asia Pacific region.

Much of Chellaney’s attention is devoted to an analysis of China’s rise, particularly in reference to India’s effort (or lack thereof) to deal with this phenomenon. Chellaney is critical of the way in which Indian leaders have appeared weak in the face of China’s challenge. He calls iconic Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru “an unabashed panda-hugger” and argues that the present inferiority complex is a direct result of previous leaders’ “credulity and negligence” vis-à-vis China.

Therefore, in order to balance the rise of an undemocratic and irredentist China, Chellaney proposes greater cooperation between India and Japan, both in economic and politico-security terms. In overcoming the political and security problems that vis-à-vis Red China, India and Japan are a perfect match. In economic terms, they are complementary, thus allowing for mutual support in each other’s continued development and industrialization. They are both democracies, sharing ideals which are inherently peaceful. And most importantly, they have a common enemy in the form of China.

Not only that, Chellaney even suggests the possibility of a Washington-Tokyo-New Delhi axis to “forestall the preeminence that China covets in Asia”. Basically, in his view, an Asia-Pacific dominated by China would spell disaster for every single country in the region, and most importantly, India. This is not the first time that I’m hearing such an argument. However, it is interesting that this is the type of argument that I am getting from my first experience in Indian views on China.

Indeed, while it may have not been Chellaney’s original intention, his book would fit as nice addition to the “China threat” discourse that has been running around in the western academic circles. And while Chellaney tries his best to give off an optimist outlook on regional cooperation in the coming years, the emphasis on China’s accumulation of power assumes otherwise.

If we are to regard Chellaney’s argument as representative of India’s mindset, then we would see a country that is under the threat of China’s siege efforts. Chellaney paints India as a country that is reaching out for partnerships in order to counter the rising power of China, and its negative implications on Indian statehood and survival. A country which needs to “develop a comprehensive national power while steering clear of China’s negative nationalistic elements and its mix of crony capitalism and widespread, state dispensed patronage”. A country that needs to pull its boot-straps up in facing the challenges of today’s globalized world.

For me, another glaring point about Chellaney’s argument is that while he talks about the future shaping of the Asia-Pacific region, there is very little (almost none) reference to ASEAN, let alone Indonesia. I do wonder. Is it because of Chellaney’s preference to highlight India’s role in the new make-up of the region? Or is it because our part of the region just doesn’t register in the mind of an Indian scholar like him (a well-known scholar, for that matter)?

This then brings me back to the beginning of this article. Much has been said with regards to the lack of cooperation between ASEAN and India, and more so between Indonesia and India. During the East Asian Summit in Bali last Novermber, it was almost obvious to whom the stage belonged: Indonesia, the USA, and China.

I’m maybe part of this problem, as a result of my continued ignorance on the India’s potential to shape the Asia-Pacific regional architecture. I’m also guilty for believing that India’s geographical position is just too far to matter, and too distant to influence the hustle and bustle of East Asian politics.

But if this is so, then wouldn’t Chellaney also be guilty for under-estimating Southeast Asia’s role (and more importantly, Indonesia’s role) in a world dominated by the rise of the Asian Juggernauts? I guess, there’s much that we can learn from each other in our search for a more comprehensive view of the region.

After "A Million Friends Zero Enemy The Facebook Way"

2012-02-03T15:32:00.003+07:00

In October 2011, I wrote a blog posting trying to demistify our current foreign policy slogan of “Million Friends, Zero Enemy”. It received a few hundred hits, thus making it my most read blog posting. Then, my good friend, Astari Daenuwy, told me that I should send the article to The Jakarta Post.

The article was finally published by this leading English-language newspaper on Sunday, October 2, 2011 with the title of “A Million Friends Zero Enemies The Facebook Way”. I figured, who’d read the newspaper on a Sunday. But, I guess I was wrong, and the article apparently enjoyed significant readership, both in-print and online.

Since then, there have been a number of comments based on the argument I proposed. Some have expressed an understanding of what I was trying to convey, while others prefer to criticize not only my article, but more so, the basic of my point, which is, an appreciation of President Yudhoyono’s foreign policy perspective of a million friends and zero enemy.

In a piece in Sinar Harapan Newspaper titled “Politik Luar Negeri 'A Million Friends, Zero Enemies', Apa Mungkin?”, Mr. Asrudin, a researcher with Lingkaran Survei Indonesia (LSI) argues this foreign policy slogan is utterly wrong because it does not take note of the fact that some countries act as “enemies”, and therefore should not ever be considered as “friends”. Thus, such a slogan would in the end condemn Indonesia’s foreign policy to eternal weakness, always at the mercy of its international counterparts.

Meanwhile, a more positive reception of my article could be found in the blog of Mr. Fuad Hasan, who claims that “Millions Friends and Zero Enemies, Bukan Cemen”. Mr. Fuad exclaimed that the foreign policy slogan serves the purpose of projecting an image of Indonesia as a “low-profile” worker, cooperating with the international community towards greater peace and stability.

Of course, I would have a tendency to favor with Mr. Fuad’s argument over Mr. Asrudin’s. I guess it’s only human nature to feel more sympathetic to those who show appreciation. I am guilty. But more so than that, I actually believe that Mr. Fuad was able to get more out my article than Mr. Asrudin. That, in the end, Mr. Fuad was sharper in reading between the lines of my analysis, instead of resorting to rhetoric.

Nevertheless, in the end, I should thank both of these writers for allowing the discourse on “million friends zero enemy” to grow. This is exactly what I wanted to happen; for the people in Indonesia to discuss about our foreign policy in a critical, yet constructive way.

In today’s era of reform, our foreign policy making is becoming more democratic. There is greater room for the participation of people, importantly opinionated people such as Mr. Asrudin and Mr. Hasan. However, participation should come in the form of thoughtful analysis, instead of emotional sentiments expressed to a dimwit reporter from a national television with a red logo.

Football Imitates Life

2012-01-27T10:10:00.005+07:00

Manchester United captain Rio Ferdinand, evaluating on his team’s sound defeat at the hands of FC Barcelona in the 2010 Champions League Final, exclaimed that Barça had played without a forward, thus making life difficult for the Manchester defense.

Indeed, on that glorious evening, Barça played without a recognizable point-man, and yet managed to score 3 goals. Not only that, we had two wing defenders (Alves and Abidal) who spent more time in midfield than in defense; a center back who frequently made vertical, penetrating runs (Pique), and a midfielder who often sat as the last player on the defensive line (Busquets). Of course, most importantly, we managed to make the Red Devils look like a second-tier team, playing a football void of positional discipline.

The Barça attacking force comprised of David Villa, Pedro, Iniesta, Xavi, and the most-awesome Messi. Some would argue that Villa is a forward; but he’s certainly not what comes in mind when we think about the Ibrahimovichs, Shearers, or Drogbas of this world. Messi scores goals by the bunch; but he often is demanded to play the role of creator, usually dissecting the opposing team with blisteringly brave diagonal runs. Pedro is certainly not Bierhoff, Van Basten, or Rush; he’s much shorter, and plays more like a winger. And then, there’s Xavi and Iniesta; definitely not forwards.

It was then – right after reading Ferdinand’s lament – that it struck me. A revelation. Yes, Barça – with its small, fast, and technical midfield-strikers – was not only entertaining to watch, but very potent in real life. But more so, Barça didn’t play with a “true” forward that night because we were playing a new breed of football.

While many like to call Barça’s game as something out of this planet, I’ve come to realize that it is not so. The truth is that the club of my heart is mortal. But mortality has never been the hurdle to progress. Barça is simply at the forefront of this continuum called “football tactics”. Just like Italy’s catenaccio and Ajax’s “total football” in their respective eras, Barça’s play is the new revolution in football tactics. Without wanting to be forcibly humble, Barça simply is the next generation in football.

In his book, “Inverting the Pyramid: The History of Football Tactics”, Jonathan Wilson confirmed my views. Wilson explained the following about the evolution of football tactics: “As system has replaced individuality, the winger has gone and been reincarnated in a different more complex form; so too, has the playmaker; and so, now, might the striker be refined out of existence. The future, it seems, is universality.” In a world as imagined by Wilson, players will no longer be identified simply as strikers, midfielders, or defensemen; these identifications will be interchangeable, thus making play more fluid. What’s so great about this quote is that Wilson’s book was printed in 2008, a year before Pep Guardiola took over as manager of the Catalan team. What a prophecy!

I’ve always regarded football as something more than just a game. And even if it was truly a game, then it was never just about scoring goals. Football represents the evolution of cultures and the mixing of ideas among great nations. Football is also about the struggle between individuality and the system, between traditions and avant-gardism. Practically, football is about life. And when the final whistle is over, when one talks about the game that has just ended, it’s not only about the score on the newspaper headlines. It’s about the dreams… fulfilled or ended. It’s about passion… won or lost. It’s bigger than the player. Bigger than the club. It’s as big as life itself.

To understand more beyond the score line, it is important to understand the evolution of tactics in the history of this beautiful game. To understand international relations, one would have to read about the theoretical debates between realism and liberalism. To measure the size of energy, one would need to make calculations based on the laws of physics. Well, the same could be said about football.

If you’re happy simply with the sight of an acrobatic goal, then enjoy them. If you prefer to focus on a particular bad call by the referee, than so be it. But for me, football is more than just Maradona-like solo runs or Beckham-like bended free kicks. Football is not only about the player with the ball, but also those who are not, making runs into open space. Football is designing a movement encompassing the whole team, in synch, and with a common purpose. Football is about the bigger picture. And the bigger picture always has some deeper meaning to it. Deeper than the replay of a missed Baggio penalty.

This is when I turn to writings like Wilson’s. This is not the first time, though. There’ve been a number of good books on football that I’ve read. David Winner's Brilliant Orange was a good companion of mine during my short stay in Holland, as I try to understand Dutch culture through its football tactics. Steve Bloomfield's Africa United attempted to explain the lives of people in many different African countries through football. And of course, Phil Ball’s Morbo is a bible to understanding La Liga in Spain, the history, rivalries, and ethnical anecdotes related to it.

“Inverting the Pyramid” is a detailed, comprehensive study of the evolution of football tactics. From the early times of organized matches in England to the Dynamo Kiew scientific approach and the end of the enganche era of players like Riquelme. I learned about the early 2-3-5 formation, which led to the way shirt numberings became (i.e. why a right defender wears #2, and a left winger #11). I learned about the difference between a trequartista (Seedorf) and a regista (Pirlo) in AC Milan’s winning ways. And how a 3-4-2-1 formation (with one less defender) may end up being more defensive than a traditional back four (i.e. 4-3-3 or 4-4-2 formations). I also learned about the thoughts of great coaches from Viktor Maslov, to Helenio Herrerra, to Arrigo Sacchi, and Johan Cruyff.

What’s more, I enjoyed immensely Wilson’s analysis of how football tactics evolved in accordance to the different cultures and lifestyles of the football players. The Italian catenaccio evolved during a period of lacking confidence, an Italian society that had lived through invasions after another. As the Italian society dug deep, defended its nation, and waited for the best opportunity to pounce, these sentiments and feelings were transpired into its football tactics.

At the same time, it is no wonder that the free-flowing, bohemian, and democratic play of Ajax’s total football came about at a time when Amsterdam became the hippie capital of the world. Neither is it surprising that the scientific approach of Dynamo Kiev’s legendary coach, Valeriy Lobonovskiy, grew amidst the growth of Kiev as one of the centers of technology and science for the Soviet empire. Nor the reason that many African countries have strong midfielders capable of making vertical runs (think Yaya Toure and Michael Essien) is because football pitches in Africa are mostly long, narrow, clogged by players, and hugged on its sides by a sewer or garbage dump.

I also enjoyed the recurring themes framing football tactics over the years. The debates between the pragmatists – who’d do anything for a win – and the idealists – who only has a beautiful game in his mind, win or lose. As well, the debate between those who favor a system of tactics and those who highlight the individual brilliance of players. How to strike a balance between these extremes to come up with not only the best team, but most importantly, the best-looking team.

To some, this would be observed simply as a matter of the football pitch. But to me, this looks so much like our society. The contests between realists and idealists in international relations. The tensions between individual freedoms and communal responsibility, between democracy and authoritarian efficacy.

In ending his book, Wilson quoted Arrigo Sacchi who said: “As long as humanity exists, something new [football tactics] will come along. Otherwise football dies.” In life, people must progress. We invent new things, come up with new ideas. All for the purpose of survival. Those who can, will proceed. And those who can’t cope with the changes will be left behind, lamenting that the other team “didn’t play with a forward”. The same is for football.

More than a game, football should be seen as a form of art, and football players as artists. The managers, the people with the music sheet, are the music conductor, leading the entire ensemble on a musical journey. Of course, the music written is often colored immensely by the culture, experience, and lives of these musicians, particularly the conductor. Once a while, a violinist or pianist would be asked to rise for a solo, but in the end, those solo occasions are simply parts of the orchestra’s repertoire, a splat of red highlighting the bigger picture. Messi’s runs are magical, but they often don’t stand alone, but as a precursor to a nice pass to Pedro, which often ends with a goal, on the bottom corner of Casillas’ net.

And so, if football is art, and art imitates life. Then, would it mean that football imitates life? I certainly think so.

Why Fantasize China...?

2012-01-18T11:50:00.012+07:00

When I was posted in Beijing, I was always impressed at how much time western diplomats dedicate to analyzing the domestic politics of China. It was during one of our weekly lunch discussions that I learned about the corruption charges on Chen Liangyu, the former Shanghai Communist Party boss, thus deepening my understanding on party frictions within the CCP. And it was during another exchange over coffee that I learned about how a cook was fired for having revealed that a certain Chinese leader cannot have too much sugar in his diet.

Don’t get me wrong here. I am also a keen learner of Chinese politics and everything under the sun related to this giant nation. However, such keenness is mostly the result of my academic upbringing. My diplomatic job description does require me to understand China, but not necessarily an in-depth inquiry into Chinese political machinations. We’re simply requested to follow trends, particularly those possibly impacting China’s foreign policy, and thereafter, its repercussion on Indonesia’s interest at the international stage.

Hence, it is only natural to assume that regular, in-depth analyses of Chinese domestic politics are mostly carried out as a precursor to attempts at interacting with China beyond the “regular” notions of state-to-state diplomacy. I don’t think that it’s a secret that many countries would like to have more knowledge on how things are internally run in China. Neither do I think it’s a secret that there are agendas among certain countries in the world to advocate, if not instigate changes within the domestic structures and policies of the Chinese Government; changes that would better suit the interest of these countries, of course.

In “The China Fantasy”, James Mann argues that US foreign policy has over the years been based on the false assumption that engagement (or integration) would somehow induce changes to China’s domestic political conditions. It’s all a fantasy, according to Mann, because capitalism will never bring democracy to China. The Chinese leadership will continue to prolong the present political status quo, allowing semblances of reform only when they don’t in any way rock the boat. Therefore, Mann continues, Americans should stop dreaming about cultivating change in China – well, at least not using the ways and means they’ve pursued since the Nixon era.

An interesting argument. Nevertheless, the premise of the argument is something that I can't seem to understand fully (maybe because I'm not American). Why is US foreign policy towards China framed within the agenda of cultivating change in China's domestic politics? Why does it mean so much for the US to see greater forms of democracy settling in China? Why can't the Americans accept China for whatever it is, and not for what they wish China would become?

Mann gave four reasons popular among the American people. First, an undemocratic and militarily-stronger-by-the-day China is dangerous for democratic countries like those in the West. Dangerous because it doesn't fit the infallible-like notion that "democracies don't go to war with other democracies". Second, an undemocratic government in China will plunge the country into chaos as a result of the continuous abuse of the ruling elite towards the general population. Third, an undemocratic China will cause western countries difficulties by supporting "unsavoury" regimes across the world. Of course, unsavoury for the western palate, but not necessarily for the entire 7 billion people on earth.

And fourth (my favourite), the Americans would not be fulfilling on their own promise, because ever since the time of President Nixon, the US Government has always propagandized that US foreign policy is aimed at making China more open, more liberal, more western, maybe even more American. As in many speeches by US leaders, the American people has been led to believe that their foreign policy goes beyond interests (e.g. developing an ally to counter the Soviets during the Cold War, developing markets and productions centers for US products in the post-Cold War era). Americans are made to believe that their foreign policy works as a platform for disseminating American values to every corner of the earth, including – and probably, most importantly – in communist China.

What values? To me, all four reasons above smack of the US and its western allies' self-serving interests, including the second one. These days, any chaos in China would not bode well for the gargantuan sums of western investment already planted on the Mainland. If US foreign policy was truly running on values (democracy and human rights, I assume), then the Americans should pay less attention to Iran's nuclear program, and more to the Saudi Arabian Monarchy.

Regardless of the way Mann approaches his analysis, I still find the book an interesting read, well worth the time, especially if you’re a self-claimed sinophiliac like me. But more than learning about the Chinese, the book actually has taught me more about the Americans. Although describing the progress of democratization (or the lack thereof) in China, the book is more of a critique on the US Government's inability to encourage more substantive democracy in China. It is meant as a wake-up call for those who had believed that economic liberalization would nourish Chinese democracy.

Indeed, as I’ve learned from Michael Barr in “Who’s Afraid of China?”, an American’s study of China often reveals more about the US than about China. About American concerns towards China’s growing power, and more so, the formers’ inability to predict, let alone control, such development. How frustrating it must be, to not be in control of everything!

Mann argues that it's time for the Americans to end their “China fantasy”. But would this mean that the Americans are in the end selling themselves short on their relations with China? What about the need to expand American, or at least, western values? Then again, who’s to say that these values are something that many would want to buy into. Even American IR theorists preach that international relations are governed by interests, and not values. The problem is that in today’s international relations, interests have too many times been cloaked in the feel-good, morally high-grounded notion of values.

Mann’s probably right; the American “China fantasy” should end. But, in my view, it was wrong in the first place to fantasize about China. China is as real as can be, and dealing with it requires an acceptance of who the Chinese really are, and not who you wish they’d become. Maybe then you wouldn’t be too disappointed in the end.

A World of Fear, Humiliation, and Hope

2012-01-11T16:12:00.002+07:00

In 1993, Samuel Huntington introduced the theory that conflicts would emanate from frictions along race, ethnic, and religious lines. In particular, he outlined the potential clashes among the western, muslim, Confucian, and orthodox civilizations. I still remember the first time I read that article for my Intro to IR class at the University of British Columbia.

Indeed, many debates came about from Huntington’s theory. Some people voiced out views in favor of Huntington, while others thought that his argument was flawed at many levels. Regardless, the “Clash of Civilizations” theory has provided a basis for many studies and analysis of the post-Cold War era. A starting point for practitioners and academics to discuss today’s globalized world.

In these times of uncertainty, we are all hungry for ideas that could theorize our complex existence into plain patterns. How can we explain problems in a more simple way, so that we can find ways to solve them? How do we make sense of the world, in a time when we are often unable to differentiate our friends from foes?

In The Geopolitics of Emotion: How Cultures of Fear, Humiliation, and Hope Are Reshaping the World, Dominique Moisi tries to explain the state of conflict in international relations through an exploration of human emotions. Our fear, anger, and hate; the feelings that often pushes us to the brink of conflict and war.

Moisi wrote: “Who are we? …In an ever changing world without borders, the question is intensely relevant. Identity is strongly linked with confidence, and in turn confidence, or the lack thereof, is expressed in emotions – in particular, those of fear, hope, and humiliation”.

The world, the nations and countries of the world, can be divided into groups of people who embrace a culture of fear, humiliation or hope. And we are seeing conflicts emerge along these lines. The humiliated carrying out attacks on those with hope. And those who are fearful lashing out against the hopeful ones.

In discussing the culture of hope, Moisi talks about the peoples in China and India, and their striving for a better world, although some times at the cost of frictions with others. In general, Moisi called Asia “the continent of hope”, highlighting that economic progress and the burgeoning of hope has attributed to more peaceful conditions among the countries in the region.

The culture of humiliation is represented by feelings emanating from the Middle East. Moisi argues that while the Islamic civilization continues to grow worldwide, the Arab culture is actually in decline. Unable to cope with the advent of modernity, the Middle Eastern people are constantly feeling humiliated by the tragedies and losses that they have suffered, including the creation of the Israeli State and the continued meddling of the United States in regional politics. As a result, this shared sense of humiliation has provided the most potent ingredient for aggression towards others around the world, particularly those thought to be responsible for their current state of existence.

In responding to the cultures of fear and humiliation growing in various parts of the world, the West (Europe and the United States) have become regressed, developing a culture of fear. Fear of those with hope, and fear of those humiliated. And this fear has been the main source of the West’s frictions with the rest of the world.

Of course, Moisi’s theory is not perfect. He actually doesn’t pretend to develop an infallible way of looking the world. But what he has done is to make us, the reader, view the world through different perspectives, actually, different feelings.

Realists say that conflict, or the onset of conflict can be predicted by a calculation of power (be it economic or military) and the imbalances of power among nations. What Moisi tells us is that regardless of power (no matter how powerful or seemingly powerless people are) or the relations among powers in the world, friction and conflict comes from differences in emotions.

That, in spite of our culture differences, emotions can unite people to act in one way or another. That, at the end of the day, our world would be a better place if fear and humiliation could be supplanted with the feelings of hope. Simple enough, right? Then again, the simple things in life are often the hardest to achieve.

My Brother's Keeper

2012-01-02T17:46:00.003+07:00

And so, 2011 went away with a bang, as I try to soothe my baby daughter, restless in her sleep because of the constant explosion of fireworks just outside of my apartment’s window, sixteen floors up. I looked at her, frightened that she may have been woken up, ready for another tantrum. All I saw was the tiniest of smile on her lips. I guess she must be dreaming of something nice, something beautiful. Something with lots of fireworks, so bright and so fun.

2011 was an eventful year in Indonesia’s diplomacy. There were ups and downs, highs and lows. For a comprehensive analysis of this, you should be consulting established newspapers like Kompas or The Jakarta Post. You’d most likely be drawn to the same issues though: Indonesia’s ASEAN Chairmanship, the expanded East Asia Summit, the G-20 and APEC Summits, the reinvigoration of US-Indonesia relations, everything culminating with the Bali Democracy.

Yet, the thing that often goes unnoticed is the one that has often poses the most difficulty for diplomats, be they in lands afar or stationed in Pejambon: the protection of Indonesian citizens abroad.

Highlighted by the tragedy that befell Ruyati, 2011 was a year when citizen protection once again grabbed a considerable proportion of news headlines related to diplomatic and foreign policy issues.

Citizen protection was an issue that moved the people’s emotion, capable of pooling funds as much as Rp 1.2 billion for a poor maid on death row (although the money was never actually used to save her, and instead went to her home’s renovation and certain other lifestyle upgrades). Fingers were pointed, mass rallies gathered. It was an issue with which the Government was constantly hammered, made a punching bag by every single politician other than those wearing light blue.

Each time, it appears as if nothing that the Government did was ever right. The Government was always pictured as slow, unresponsive, and unwilling to care for the “regular” Indonesian citizen, dutifully earning a living abroad. And when something actually went the right direction, when the Government managed to rescue an Indonesian from the jaws of death, not enough credit was given, preferring instead to give the thumbs up to some TV station with a red logo.

Indeed, the protection of Indonesian citizens abroad has never been a black-or-white issue. When we are demanded to work on the principles of partiality towards our fellow citizens (in spite of the crime they had committed), then the issue could never be only about right or wrong. How do we right the wrongs or act otherwise? It is as if, like magicians, diplomats could simply say abracadabra and pull out favorable decisions from out of the hat.

Of course, as a public servant, our job is a thankless one. I, and many of my friends, agreed to this when we signed on the dotted lines. We also knew that the pay wasn’t going to be that good. But as fellow workers, carrying the nation’s burden on shoulders nourished by measly government salaries, it is difficult for me not to turn to my friends in citizen protection services and give my fullest appreciation to them.

Let me use this space to thank you, my fellow diplomats, for not only raising the red and white in some of the most dangerous places on earth, but also for protecting any of our people who have crossed into harms way, more than 15.000 people in 2011.

I thank you for making your way to Egypt, Libya, Yemen, Bahrain, Tunis and other parts of the world wrecked by political havoc. I thank you for braving the roads to tsunami-torn Sendai and providing lifelines not only for Indonesians, but also other foreign nationals there. I thank you for facilitating the rescue of our sailors from pirates on Somalian waters. And for returning the thousands of overstayers who had lived in shanties under a bridge on the holy Arabic soil.

I thank you all.

I am my brother’s keeper. I promise this. And for that I have entered this public servitude. I know, in my heart, that my diplomat colleagues think the same. But don’t tread on us. To climb a mountain, much moral support is needed from the people back home. For we will always seek the best for our brothers, even if they are not the best of them. Who will come to our sides if not our own?

As I once again looked at my daughter’s face, I can only hope that the best is yet to come for my brothers and I, my sisters too. That we’d somehow be able to care more for each other, both at home and abroad. I so hope for this with all my heart, as the angel of my eyes flapped her tiny arms, still deep asleep and seemingly unmoved, as her beautiful country screams and shouts to welcome the new year.

The Only Thing We Have To Fear...

2012-01-02T11:10:00.008+07:00

...is fear itself. President Franklin D. Roosevelt delivered that message in 1932, at a time when the United States was at its lowest, suffering from the heavy blow caused by the 1929 Wall Street Stock Market Crash.

It was the time of the Great Depression, and the American pride was probably at its lowest. Having just been part of the winning side of the First World War, the economic woes of the 1930s pushed the Americans into isolationism, uncaring of the events that evolved in Europe and Asia; events that would later bring about the Second World War.

Fear can be contagious. Fear feeds off itself, capable of growing into gargantuan emotions surmountable by none. In international relations, fear often evolves from misunderstandings and misperceptions of one’s surrounding environments. Many times, we fear “another” or “the other”. And many times too, our fears breed conflict and war.

Therefore, in vying for influence through military and economic means, nations also pursue a less "hard" approach, hoping to dilute any fear growing among their neighbors. Much has already been written on this ever since Joseph Nye coined the term "soft power". But considering the breadth of the topic, as well as its various interpretations, I feel that no amount of analyses could suffice.

During the 17th Communist Party Congress in 2007, President Hu Jintao stated that "the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation will be accompanied by the thriving of Chinese culture". Thus, by strengthening its soft power tools – such as the media, arts and culture – China would not only secure itself as a more cohesive nation, but also make positive gains in winning the world's heart over.

Recognizing the need to balance the growth of its military and economic power, China has shown tremendous efforts to expand its soft power diplomacy. Might, money, and now China is also keen on winning the "minds" of the world, particularly its Asian neighbors. Indeed, China is a late-comer to this realm; however, it has made up for this by putting in generous amounts of funds into its soft power "tools".

As China’s soft power diplomacy grows, what ensued was obvious: more studies in the West about the implications of this supposed phenomenon on international relations (read: the West's interests). And in many occasions, these studies continue to take on the “China threat” line that we often find in analyses of China’s military or economic prowess.

Michael Barr's "Who's Afraid of China?: The Challenge of Chinese Soft Power" argues that no matter how China tries to "soften" its rise to power, most countries – particularly those in the West – are simply incapable of viewing China other than as a threat to today's world order. That no matter how China tries to make itself appear more "friendly", most could only identify a foe.

Having read countless newspaper clippings, journal articles, fictional stories, biographical accounts, and academic analyses on China’s rise to power, it's good to know that there are always new approaches to such analyses. Of course, studies of China’s soft power are abundant; numerous think-tanks in the United States have given their two-cents on this topic and suggested responses for the American Government.

However, there are certain things that make Barr’s analysis commendable. For starters, the analysis is not lengthy, yet packs enough punch. Providing some of the more recent accounts on China's soft power diplomacy, the book delivers its main points and arguments well within 150 pages, thus making it an easy read during a long flight out of or into Jakarta.

Barr draws an elaborate picture of China’s soft power growth: the expansion of state-owned CCTV and China Radio International (CRI) into foreign homes; the mushrooming of Confucius Centers, teaching standardized Mandarin all over the world; the budding appeal of the “tianxia” (all under heaven) perspective on international relations; and the growing influence of Chinese themes, actors, and directors in the global entertainment industry (music, art, and movies).

In painting this grand picture, Barr points out that China’s soft power development is mainly due to one factor: money. Unlike the past, today’s China can afford such luxuries in foreign policymaking. Indeed, there is greater political commitment by the political bigwigs to expand Chinese soft power. But at the end of the day, the realization of such commitments is made possible by the country’s burgeoning financial coffers.

There are at least two major approaches that I find interesting in Barr’s analysis.

First, rather than jumping the bandwagon and portraying the Chinese soft power development as something to be feared, Barr points out that such fear most likely comes from within us, and not from China per say. Our concerns related to the rise of China are often less about China itself, and more about our inability to deal with China's growth. When we express fear towards China, it's most likely that we are afraid of our own image. Because by measuring ourselves against China, we become realized of our own limitations in dealing with this awakened giant.

Therefore, our sentiments towards China’s rise to power would only change according to the level of confidence that each and one of us have related to our respective nation’s potentials. An American fearful of China is an American who is not confident of his/her country’s capacity. While an American comfortable with China’s rise to power is one who continues to appreciate the USA’s continued dominance in world affairs. And the same can be said of Indonesians.

Second, Barr frames his analysis of the development of Chinese soft power not only from a foreign policymaking perspective, but also from the view of Chinese nation-building. Indeed, the growth and projection of Chinese thinking, news, arts, and culture are aimed at enhancing China’s image abroad, as a benevolent great power capable of sharing and caring with the rest of the world. However, at the same time, such efforts are also aimed at consolidating the Chinese people’s view of themselves, of what it means to be Chinese, and to be part of this grand construct called the People’s Republic of China.

Therefore, as Barr’s analysis highlights, a study of China’s soft power reveals more than just an assessment of the growing Chinese influence in international relations. It points out the flaws in China’s present identity, and how Chinese soft power development may be targeted as much inward as it is outward. That maybe many of us are reading too much into this issue, drawing conclusions based on our own limitations. While our confidence erodes, China gains more confidence through consolidating its identity as a strong, cultured, and unified nation.

That our true fear may not be China, but (our own) fear itself.

An Alternative Common Sense

2011-12-15T11:41:00.003+07:00

Bad Samaritans: The Guilty Secrets of Rich Nations & the Threat to Global Prosperity
Ha-joon Chang
London: Random House, 2007

“Meat imports are restricted…, which not only benefits local farmers but also inspecting firms… The export of raw rattan is about to be prohibited, which will benefit the rattan industry… Businesses have to give priority to local products…”

These are only some of the arguments put forward by Hal Hill and Monica Wihardja in an op-ed in The Wall Street Journal, ringing alarm bells about anti-reformist forces in the Indonesian Government. They argued that in spite of the upgraded investment ratings and political stability, the economic picture in Indonesia is slowly turning for the worse. That contrary to its liberal face, Indonesia is actually exercising policies favoring domestic production.

I have to admit, I’m a rookie when it comes to economic analysis. But I have this gut feeling that all those supposed evils mentioned by Professor Hill and Ms. Wihardja are not necessarily all that bad. I may be wrong here, but if a policy benefits local industries, shouldn’t that benefit the Indonesian people? And shouldn’t that mean more than the argument about being “reform” or “anti-reform”, whatever those two labels are supposed to mean these days?

These were some of the thoughts that kept on surfacing in my head as I read with much interest Professor Ha-joon Chang’s “Bad Samaritans: The Guilty Secrets of Rich nations and the Threat to Global Prosperity”. Going against the tide prevalent in a world dominated by free trade, comparative advantage, and other neo-liberalist values, Professor Chang’s book is an alternative account on development economics.

An established scholar currently teaching at Cambridge University, Professor Chang provides a fresh look on the state of today’s international economics. Professor Chang argues that while supposedly wanting to bring prosperity to developing countries, the world’s wealthy nations and major financial institutions (the ‘Bad Samaritans’) are in fact enlarging the gap between the developed and developing hemispheres. In May 2011, he was invited by President Yudhoyono to talk in front of the Indonesian Cabinet on lessons learned from the Korean economic development.

Of course, we’ve heard criticisms of liberal trade policies from many camps. But it’s always enlightening to learn more about them from a well established economist, and not some leftist demonstrator on the street, aggressively chanting the evils of globalization, wearing baklavas, fist punching in the air. It’s also stimulating to digest these well-researched, well-written criticisms not from a narrow, ultra-nationalist perspective, which is often regressive, thus resulting in isolationism and fear of the outside world.

Professor Chang suggests the need for people, particularly policymakers, in the developing world to carefully reconsider the tune of neo-liberalism that we’ve become used to listening. A tune which has been played so often, and so intense, that it has become entrenched in our minds as “the truth”. How the world today is so much engulfed in the unchallenged virtues of free trade and globalization. A condition in which any alternative tune proposed would be regarded simply as “backward”, or “anti-reformist”.

The book induces the reader to question the supposed superiority of notions such as comparative advantage and tariff reductions, particularly vis-à-vis the interests of developing countries. It forces us to reconsider the values of “infant industry theory” (developed by none other than Alexander Hamilton, the initiator of America’s industrialization and economic development in the 1800s) and the private vs. public enterprise argument (which overemphasizes on the ineffectiveness and inefficiency of public enterprises, while failing to consider similar conditions plaguing the private sector). It even delves into a discussion on corruption, and whether it destroys a national economy as much as the ‘Bad Samaritans’ would like us to believe.

Professor Chang does not one-sidedly criticize globalization, for this is exactly what many critics have often been guilty of. He gives credit where credit is due, describing that free trade is indeed beneficial for countries whose industries and comparative advantage have evolved. But for many developing countries, lacking in industrial capacity and relying too much on natural resources export, free trade only condemns them to a life of a second-class citizen in today’s international community.

In particular, Professor Chang criticizes the double standard eschewed by many developed, western countries. “Virtually all successful economies, developed or developing, got to where they are through selective, strategic integration with the world economy, rather than through unconditional global integration”. The United States was the most protectionist country up until the end of the Second World War, when their industrial supremacy had become unchallenged. So was Japan, when it strengthened its industrial base, at a time when its biggest export item was silk. And Korea did it too, when in the 1960s it fueled funds into its steel industry, which at the time, was completely non-existent.

We then ask the question, why are we being labeled as anti-reform when we try to emulate exactly all models of economic success since the time of Henry VII’s England? Are Indonesians today genuinely happy about being where they are in terms of economic growth, in particular economic production? Are we liberalizing our economy for want or for need? Or are we simply being bullied around by the developed world?

In the words of Professor Chang, “free market economists would argue, Mozambicans should be realistic and not mess around with things like cars (let alone hydrogen fuel cells!); instead they should just concentrate what they are already (at least ‘comparatively’) good at – growing cashew nuts”. We need to change this perspective, because if Japan had stayed with what it was good at (i.e. making silk), then we’d be deprived of the Hondas, Toyotas, and Suzukis roaming our streets today.

These are some thoughts worth considering, especially if we are prone to accepting opinions such as Professor Hill and Ms Wihardja’s as the norm. Have we accepted unconditional trade liberalization as common sense, thus labeling alternative perspectives as regressive and backward? If so, then maybe it is time for us to question, and even challenge, such norms, thus altering what's previously accepted as common sense.

The Tiger in Us

2011-12-13T09:27:00.002+07:00

The Tiger’s Wife
Tea Obreht
New York: Random House, 2011

As I finished the last lines of “The Tiger’s Wife”, I was engulfed with a sense of envy. Envious at Tea Obreht, for being so gifted with words – layer upon layer of words – which come together as a beautiful, intricate, and deep narrative, rich in imagery, emotions, folklore, and the many ways we as humans relate with our lands, families, friends, and nations. The way our pasts effect and shape us. And the different ways we approach life, and of course, death.

“The Tiger’s Wife” centers on Natalia, and the stories she tells about her grandfather. As a young, idealist doctor, Natalia searches to find out more about the mysterious passing away of his grandfather – also a doctor – and his fascinating past. A person portrayed by Natalia as someone who reminded me of the movie “Big Fish”. A person who is philosophical, principled, and surrounded by an idealism that is fairy tale-like.

The narrative weaves the past and present seamlessly, creating not only a two-dimensional tapestry, but something more like a three-dimensional quilt, made up of different materials, textures and sensations. In the end, the entire 338-page book feels like multi-layered fable, so satisfying. I have to say, it is quite warming to the heart.

Aside from the great doctor (the grandfather), characters like the deathless man, Darisa the Bear, a great human-eating tiger, and of course, the tiger’s wife feature strongly. Characters that are more urban legend-like than the regular people we see on the streets. There are also snapshots of an elephant walking the empty morning streets, and the search for a human heart buried in an orchard. Everything seems so surreal, yet feels so real.

And for me, I enjoyed immensely the historical and geographical background on which Obreht imposed these characters and stories: the Balkan region that continuously alternates between war and peace, misery and glee, destruction and reconstruction, despair and hope. Each one waiting to take over the other in a vicious circle.

In such a subtle way, Obreht laments the follies of mankind and the absurdity of conflict and war. Her story is about the common people, who suffer from prejudice and our constant fear of the unknown. About the things that are often left unsaid, and those that shouldn’t remain unsaid.

“…the cease fire had provided the delusion of normalcy, but never peace. When your fight has purpose – to free you from something, to interfere on the behalf of an innocent – it has a hope of finality. When the fight is about unraveling – when it is about your name, the places to which your blood is anchored, the attachment of your name to some landmark or event – there is nothing but hate, and the long, slow progression of people who feed on it and fed it, meticulously, by the ones who come before them. The fight is endless…”

The story, I find, is also about uncovering and realizing “the tiger” within each and one of us. The fighting spirit, the survival virtues, the noble principles, the great fear in every one of us. It is about the way that we deal with that tiger, and maybe even becoming it, in its more benign form. About coming to terms with ourselves.

How I envy Tea Obreht for these words…

On a Good Morning...

2011-11-24T16:22:00.006+07:00

On 21 November, around 2:30 in the morning, my world changed forever... for the better.

When the doctor opened the doors to the operation room and revealed a glass box, my heart skipped a few beats. “Congratulations, she’s a beautiful baby girl”, the doctor said with a smile, still in her green surgery kit. I looked beyond her, into the glass box on stilts and wheels, and there she was, the most precious thing ever.

Only a minute into this world, and Gaia Veronika was already fast asleep, probably tired from the journey. Still covered by traces of the fluid she had been swimming in for almost 9 months, she stuck her tongue out, and mumbled something incomprehensible.

“Hi honey”, I said as I brought my face closer to hers. But there was no longer a voice. Not even a whimper. Just the soft sound of her breathing, softness of her skin and hair. Just the warmth, as if the sun radiated from inside her. Just her, and me.

Comfort, relief, excitement, anxiety… Only one other person had ever made me feel that way. And how appropriate that Gaia Veronika came from the womb of that same person, that pretty Nansy I met on Swanston Street more than 8 years ago. How my life changes, swings, and revolves at the command of these two people.

Gaia, the Greek Goddess of earth; Veronika, latin for “she who brings victory”. Those two words will stay on her for her entire life. Those two words will be her. Those two words too will be the reason to give all of my life to her.

Welcome to this world, my dear. May you grow to be a beautiful, intelligent, strong, friendly, and principled person. May you have dreams and have the power to pursue them. May you fly high, walk far, and swim deep in this earth that is you. I will be there for you, and so will your mom and family.

Learn to love, learn about love. Taste all, waste nothing. Try all colors in life. But as much as the red and blue of Barca may grow on you, may there only be two colors that live in your heart forever… the red and white.

I love you, unconditionally.

A Selfless Account

2011-11-07T13:55:00.012+07:00

Book Review
Please Look After Mom
Kyung-Sook Shin
Toronto: Alfred A. Knopf, 2011

My mom comes from a small village near Palembang, South Sumatra. My grandpa was a coffee farmer who was also known as one of the local "tough guys". Life in her village was probably difficult back then (I've actually never been there), but my two siblings and I only knew about the good memories mom had had as a child. It was maybe a way for mom to make sure that her children would grow up only surrounded by things and thoughts that are nice and pleasant.

Mom raised us with unconditional love. With dad being the typical traditional father who wanted little to do with running the household and the family, mom played so many roles for us. Whenever we needed anything, we only needed to turn around, and sure enough, mom was always there.

Mom provided for us even when our demands went beyond the capacity of dad's civil servant salary. When we wanted McDonalds more than twice a week, she would learn how to replicate the taste of them McPatties at home. When we wanted toys, she would caress our heads and said "Next month, my dear, when dad gets his salary, okay?" As boys, my brother and I were careless with our clothes; mom was always there to mend them. And when it came time for us to be schooled, she gave up many of her jewelries so that my brother and I could continue our stay in Vancouver, Canada.

Sometimes we misunderstood her, mistaking her love for what felt like constraints and restrictions. Sometimes we quarelled with her, assuming that she was less educated, and thus, less enlightened in her decisions. And sometimes we take for granted the small things, the little magic that she did for us, like the tasty chicken sandwiches that popped up weekly in our lunch bags.

These were the thoughts that hovered over my head throughout the time I was reading Kyung-Sook Shin’s "Please Look After Mom".

The book took some time to grow on me (around 20 pages into it) probably because it's written differently from Haruki Murakami's “Norwegian Wood”, the last novel before this one. But then I got used to the style, and even liking the narrative. I became quiet infused in the story, the complex and intricate ties among the many characters of the novel.

Having just spent 8 days in Korea, some of the places mentioned in the book reminded me of nice memories of that trip. But, this book actually tells a sad story. Not the kind of sad story that makes you depressive suicidal and all. But the kind that takes us on a journey of self-reflection. The kind that makes you reconsider some of the less appreciated things in life; those people you often take for granted, whose sacrifices have often gone unnoticed.

When Chi-hon, one of the main characters of the book, was told that her mom had gone missing in downtown Seoul, we see the unravelling of the secrets and feelings that connect the Park family as one. The search for mom, and the lives of the Parks became a microscope through which we observe family relations in modern day South Korea. Told from the perspectives of Chi-hon, her older brother and younger sister, dad, and mom, the book gave a glimpse into the ties linking each and one of the members of this family. Ties that are changing in a changing world.

I'm not a Korea expert, but I don't think I'd be completely wrong to suggest that the story is not only about a Korean family, but also about Korea itself. A country that has gleefully embraced the 21st Century's modernity. A country so busy with its ambitious goals of progress and globalism that it's beginning to loose some of its traditional roots. A country which is rapidly taking for granted the hardships and gloominess of the past, only to be reminded of them when a shocking event happens.

In the book, that shocking event came in the form of the disappearance of Chi-hon's mom, which caused regret and severe loss among those around her. Chi-hon and her siblings began to realize how little love they have returned to their mom. Mom, who has selflessly raised the entire family without paying attention to her own well-being. Mom, who defended and fought for her children in the face of anything imaginable. How they wish to see their mom again and say all the things that should have been said, do the things that have always been requested by their mom.

Indeed, there were parts of the book where the author pulled on too much of the sentimentality strings. It was as if the author was trying really hard to make the reader cry. I was taken on a roller coaster of feelings: sadness, guilt, anguish, loss, helplessness. A bit like a Korean drama, I should say.

But somehow, the story is believable, and I took everything in like a nice plate of bulgogi. If anything, I think many of us Asians would be able to relate to the story as well as the message behind it. And although one may not be able to see it, there is hope resonating towards the end of the story.

The book brought up strong feelings in me. Each time I put the book down during breaks in between reads, I was always engulfed with the need to call mom. To ask her what she's up to. To find out whether dad's listening to her advice or not. To promise her that I'll be visiting both of them during the upcoming weekend.

To tell her that I love her. And that, just like the way she showered me with love and care (and continues to do so), I will look after her.

South Korea: Proud to be a Middle Power…?

2011-10-20T17:14:00.008+07:00

My plane landed in South Korea on the early morning of a cool autumn. This was my second trip to Seoul, something that I’ve been looking forward to for some time. The enjoyment of that first visit had been diminished by the grey clouds and chilling weather at the time. Therefore, I expected greater things to come this time around, as I took in the sight of the future-like roof of the Incheon Airport.

Throughout my week-long trip there, I began to identify the spirit that South Koreans are growingly projecting to the rest of the world, including to Indonesia. I will write more on many aspect of this (including on the phenomena of Hallyu in the country’s soft power diplomacy) in future blog entries.

However, let me first start with an early observation of South Korea’s image, based largely on my earlier perceptions of Korea and its people. Mind you, these perceptions have been further shaped by only a few days of people-watching, museum-sighting, and official meetings in Seoul. Some questions were asked, some were responded with breadth. Therefore, any err produced in my observation is simply for lack of time, and not necessarily, understanding.

For many Indonesians, our image of South Korea is somewhat incomplete. Historians may choose to focus on the Korean War and talk of Korea as if it has not evolved from its status as an ex-Japanese colony or an American satellite. Food connoisseurs would often highlight too much on the kimchi, its variants and compliments. On a Sunday in Jakarta, Korean food is just another option among the possible restaurants visited for lunch.

And of course, for young Indonesians, Korea is K-Pop, and K-Pop is Korea. Nothing less, and nothing else.

This is how Indonesians often prefer to view South Korea; through our respective perspectives and lenses. We know bits and pieces, but we sometimes don’t connect them all up. Indonesians like me rarely soak up on the many images of Korea to make up a whole image of the country and its people. As such, we often never regard South Korea for its truer potential. We often fail to measure the extent of Korea’s strength in today’s globalized world.

And therefore, when Indonesians talk about strategic partnerships, we usually identify the United States, China, Japan or the EU. South Korea often falls below the radar of what we deem as greatness.

Just like Samsung’s Galaxy is often considered a less preferred option to Apple’s iPad and iPhone, Hyundais are often easily regarded as more economical option to the Japanese Toyotas, Hondas, and Suzukis. K-Pop is a lot of fun, but self-professed musicians continue to identify America’s music as their main reference. And Park Ji-Sung is a damn good player, but not among the greats.

Therefore, even though many things from South Korea are actually gaining global attention, we in Indonesia prefer to regard them as of secondary level or even quality. As such, South Korea and its global projections are often not seen as a threat, let alone a contender in toppling the dominance of traditional Great Powers. In other words, we don’t see South Korea the way some of us like to judge Red China or Capitalist America.

The more I thought about it, and the more I saw it on the streets of Seoul, it then occurred to me… That’s just it!

South Korea is rising… True.

South Korea is gaining global recognition… True.

South Korea is a power-in-the-making… Nope.

The country does not seem to project aspirations for great powerness. If anything, it appears that South Korea is simply aiming at that status I like to refer to as, the middle power. It is apparent that South Korea wants to progress. It wants to be recognized. It wants to matter. But it certainly does not seem that it bares intentions of great power status. Instead, it allows such status to be left for countries like the United States and maybe the Koreans’ Big Red Neighbor.

I remember when I wrote the Jakarta Post article on KIA (Korea Indonesia Australia) as the new middle powers, some of my Korean friends said: “Hey, that’s what we are: a bona fide middle power”.

A ‘bona fide’ middle power… I proposed that idea to a few Indonesian friends of mine and they sneered at me for wanting to be mediocre. “Nobody dreams to be a middle power; everybody wants to be great”, they said.

Well, I am beginning to find that South Korea seems to be fine with this… And actually doing quite well at it.

Some Koreans reading this blog may want to correct me on this; but that just seems to be the feeling that I get.

While we take jabs at things coming out from South Korea, claiming that they are perennially “second best”, I have this feeling that many Koreans don’t mind this at all. They know that whatever they produce is actually good. And they are showing this by making preferences to Korean brands in their daily lives.

Although iPhones are all around, I saw more people using Samsung phones and tabs, the rich and the middle class. While Benz and BMWs could be seen, there’s visibly an ocean of Hyundais and KIAs running along Seoul’s thoroughfares. I looked at the hotel’s TV, and sure enough, it’s an LG.

And although my interpreter confessed to liking Mariah Carey, K-Pop artists are in your face everywhere you go; on TV, on billboards, and even on the keychain of a taxi driver. The humongous crowd lining up outside the Lotte Department Store to meet one of these K-Pop artists (I couldn’t discern which one, they all appear the same to me) is an even truer testimony of K-Pop’s influence on the society, young and old.

POSCO is Asia’s most profitable steel company, and yet I was informed of this only when visiting the company. The Koreans are proud of this, I’m sure; but it just seems that their sense of pride is not so overwhelming that it becomes cockiness. I’ve yet to read an article fearing South Korea’s overconfidence; the same cannot be said of China’s image in the eyes of South China Sea observers.

South Koreans don’t go around pretending that anything Korean is the best in the world. Yet, they are comfortable with embracing them in their every day lives. It maybe has to do with being nationalistic about their local products. It maybe also has to do with the government’s protection and promotion of local products. But at the end of the day, what I see is a society fully behind the country, even if the country’s aim is not to usurp the present global balance of power.

A country comfortable at being a middle power, and making the best of its status as such.

This is something that we, as Indonesians, should start to learn about.

Indonesians often reminisce about our past glories as a leader of the Non-Aligned Movement or the lead architect of Asia-African cooperation. Well, I say those days are nearing an end. In a globalized world as today, we can only dream about being one of the international community’s great leaders. That mantle is being carried by others; we can’t simply take it over. But as a ‘bona fide’ middle power, we may be able to play a certain role, and instigate that difference we want to make to the world.

Caught in the Woods

2011-10-19T11:48:00.004+07:00

Book Review
Norwegian Wood
Haruki Murakami
New York: Vintage, 2000

"Insanity is contagious." – Joseph Heller

This ran in my head as I read and finished this beautiful novel by Haruki Murakami. The book captures the themes of love, loss, and sexuality, which reflection I'm trying to find in Japanese society. The feelings pent-up, and the emotions boiling underneath a mild-mannered outer shelling, the beautiful Japanese people.

I’ve been wanting to read “Norwegian Wood” since I was first introduced to this award-winning novelist through another of his books, "After Dark". "After Dark" was a bit more simple, but “Norwegian Wood” was immensely rich in images and feelings. I’m not sure about how “Norwegian Wood” feels in its original Japanese-language form, but the translation version was every bit a masterpiece.

Murakami succeeded in bringing us inside the head of Toru Watanabe, who is in love with his dead best friend’s girlfriend, Naoko. Unwilling to let go of the life that he fantasizes with Naoko, Toru is unable to open himself to the love affectionately proposed by another girl, Midori. Kizuki, Toru’s best friend, and the boy who Naoko could never get over, was dead at the beginning of the book but remained omnipresent, haunting the lives of people he touched.

Then, throw into the mix a handful of other “wacky” characters: the older, seemingly “normal” mental institute patient, Reiko; the “perfect” queen, Hatsumi; and her playboy boyfriend, Nagasawa, who is an overachieving under-achiever and an aspiring diplomat… (ehem-ehem …)

The story flows easily between the seemingly “real” world of Toru and Midori, and the dream-like world of Toru and Naoko. It pulls and pushes the reader emotionally, making us question what is real and not, which is the world of the sane and “the mentally incorrect”. At one point, the novel gave me a slight understanding of how many Japanese youths may have plunged themselves into suicide. Every character is pushed to the brink of emotional wreckage, only escapable through death.

I checked a Japanese-English dictionary and learned that “Toru” means either “persistent/transparent” or “the sea”. I couldn’t find any other word that would best describe the central character of this book. Toru lived in this world as if a transparent being, unheeding of other’s feelings even as strong as Midori’s. Toru is also persistent in his self-proclaimed oath to protect Naoko. And more so, Toru’s mind is wide and deep like the sea; or for some, as lost and untraceable as the woods in Norway.

And then, I remembered another quote:

"When we remember that we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained." – Mark Twain

Book Review – A World Without Islam

2011-10-03T13:34:00.004+07:00

Graham E. Fuller

New York: Little, Brown & Company, 2010

If Islam didn’t exist, would there still be conflict between the West and “another”…? This is the central theme that runs through this excellent, easy-to-read book. Today, when Islam and Muslims have become scapegoats for every problem imaginable in the world, Fuller argues that conflict is never purely about religion; it’s usually about land, natural resources, national egos, spheres of influence, and balances of power. Religion is used by people to fan the flames of conflict and hatred to catastrophic levels.

Through a careful study of the history of relations between Christianity, Islam, and their peoples as far as the Crusades, Fuller answers the question by demonstrating that the potential for conflict has always existed, even without Islam. Unlike what many would like us to believe, the history of modern-day international relations did not begin on 9/11.

This book is a must for those who want to understand the bigger picture in today’s West vs. Islam debate. Many times, it’s too easy to fall into one camp or another; to defend the West for their supposed altruistic values, or to defend Islam as the religion under fire. Fall, and you will end up like those supporting or even acting like Breivik or Ben Laden.

Fuller’s account of Islam’s role in shaping civilization goes to prove the point that Islam didn’t just come out of the Arabic dessert in the last few decades to challenge the West. This is the picture that certain western neo-conservatives like to paint; one which attempts to portray Islam as a barbaric religion completely unattached to Christianity, thus making the Muslims easier targets as “the other”.

My favorite part of the book is Fuller’s analysis of the Crusades of the 11^th, 12^th, and 13^th Centuries. We often oversimplify the Crusades as the ultimate conflict between Christianity and Islam. Fuller points out interestingly that Muslims at the time didn’t see this as a war between religions, but as a continuation of the rivalry between the West and the East, which had earlier existed in the form of the Latin Romans (Rome) vs. the Greek Romans (Byzantine).

I was also intrigued by Fuller’s explanation of the West-Soviets rivalry as a continuation of the one between Rome and Byzantine (as represented by the Orthodox Catholic church in Slavic Europe). During the Cold War, the West-Soviet friction was THE rivalry, THE conflict. It pitted two different ideologies in the fight for spheres of influence, land, natural resources, and balance of power. It almost sank the world to complete annihilation. And it evolved with the Islamic world simply watching from the sides.

We Indonesians know very well that conflict between Muslims and non-Muslims are seldom truly about religion. It’s usually about political influence; differences among tribes, among tribe leaders, and separatist/secessionist tendencies against the unitary state of Indonesia. When a side shouts “Allahu Akbar”, it doesn’t necessarily mean that a conflict is religious-based. Religion is merely the vehicle, and not the end.

To those who identify themselves as an educated pluralist and “moderate” (regardless if you’re a Muslim, Christian, or atheist), Fuller’s line of argument is nothing new. Even then, it’s always good to have analysis and views supporting our perspective. In a time when people are often easily pushed to extremes, and when schisms are nurtured by ignorance, we must become part of the empowered moderates. And to be empowered means to nourish one self with be knowledge, including about history, the world, and its people.

Book Review - Chinese Whispers

2011-09-19T12:07:00.008+07:00

Chinese Whispers: A Journey Into Betrayal
Jan Wong
London: Atlantic House, 2010

I read my first Jan Wong book, Red China Blues, when I was in third year at UBC, Vancouver, Canada. I was an aspiring sinologist at the time, eager to learn more about the country which would become the heart of my studies until this very day. At the time, I thought Red China Blues was a great book. Easy to read, intersecting between history, personal anecdotes, and stories of places that I had never been to, but would love to visit some day.

And so, I had much anticipation when I started reading Chinese Whispers; it superseded all my expectations. Since my UBC days, I’ve read a considerable amount of books on China, some of them having the similar theme of comparing China now and then. But none grabbed my attention more than Jan Wong’s Chinese Whispers. None kept me from enjoying a pirated DVD of a Hollywood blockbuster on a Sunday afternoon.

Maybe it was because Jan wrote about China, particularly Beijing, partly in the years when I was in Beijing. Thus, many of the images she drew coincided with how I viewed Beijing. The post-reform, pre-Olympics Beijing.

Maybe because Mrs. Wong provided me with answers on the question I most asked when I traveled the many parts of Beijing “What was this place like before China opened up to the world? What kind of life did they experience here before Beijing was decided as the site of the 2008 Olympics?” My first trip to China was in 2003, and even then I noticed so many changes to the city. I cannot even begin to imagine the differences between 1970s Beijing and now.

Maybe because Jan intelligently tied in her own observations (both as an ultra-leftist in 1970s China, as a reporter of the Globe in the 1980s, and as a mom of two half-Chinese Canadians in this century) with current facts, historical accounts, reflections by well-known sinologists, etc. Other writers have tried the same, but Jan was more successful than others, with her writing style, running like water, very easy to read, understand, and take in wholly.

And maybe because Jan’s comparison of the old and new China was developed within the framework of her own very interesting story: to find Yin Luoyi and seek absolution of past mistakes. Everything built up from the bottom, brick by brick, each piece of information emerging one at a time, filling in the gaps, one by one. Of course, some account does not go into detail, but it was enough, more than enough.

I smiled and giggled… I used my highlighter to underline lines I wanted to use as quotes… I was taken back to Beijing and its unusual people… Well, at least, unusual from my perspective…

Jan Wong’s travel story is not only about her physical travel to a changed Beijing, but also her personal account of travelling during China’s most changing times (the Cultural revolution, the Tiananmen time, and post-Tiananmen development), and more importantly, an account of how China and the Chinese have changed over the years. Their views and feelings… Their pain and vindication… Their optimism for years to come.

Understanding “Million Friends, Zero Enemy”… The Facebook Way

2011-09-14T15:26:00.006+07:00

There were a number of notifications awaiting me when I opened my Facebook account, having just finished a Kompas opinion piece criticizing Indonesia’s contemporary foreign policy philosophy. One of the notifications stood out: John Smith has requested your permission to add you as a friend.

I met John the only time a week ago, over coffee. He was introduced to me as the boyfriend of my wife’s former classmates. I guess it was the discussion on last year’s UEFA Champions League Final (I’m a Barcelona fan, and he a Red Devil) that made our acquaintance bearable, if not even enjoyable.

He was a nice chap, someone I would consider sharing duties with on the grill during a picnic. But I certainly wouldn’t regard him as a friend – not yet, at least – in spite of the 20-minute “friendly” chat on the beautiful game that is football. Yet, a week later, he is inquiring to be my “friend”. I had no reasons to hesitate on his proposal. And so, with a press of the Enter button, Mr. John Smith became my “friend”.

This brought me back to Mr. Mohamad Rosyidin’s criticism of Indonesia’s foreign policy doctrine of “million friends, zero enemy”, as frequently shared by President Yudhoyono and Minister Natalegawa. Mr. Rosyidin argues that by labeling every one of our foreign policy counterpart as “friends”, Indonesia fails to see that some may not regard us that of a friend. From this perspective, Indonesia stands to lose if it continues to treat others as friends even when the others behave otherwise.

Mr. Rosyidin used Malaysia and Saudi Arabia as examples of countries which do not deserve to be labeled as “friends”. He identified Indonesia’s relations with Malaysia “lebih diwarnai oleh permusuhan ketimbang persahabatan”, and argued that problems with Saudi Arabia resulting from the Ruyati case should not be approached with a “million friends, zero enemy” perspective.

In the end, Mr. Rosyidin mentions, a friendly outlook of the world WOULD NOT make Indonesia’s foreign policy “lebih berkarakter supaya kita bangga menjadi bangsa Indonesia”.

Don’t take me wrong here. I am one of those people who feel that the concept of “million friends, zero enemy” still require further analysis and public diplomacy (in Indonesian, “sosialisasi”) on the part of the Government.

However, I do not believe that “million friends, zero enemy” is inherently flawed. If anything, our capacity to look at the world in a more optimistic, idealistic fashion (yet remaining attentive of our national interests) is what makes our post-Cold War, post-reform foreign policy that much interesting.

As an underlying, basic principle in our foreign policy, I can’t seem to understand why so many people look down at the concept of “million friends, zero enemy”. A re-interpretation of the aged-old “free and active diplomacy” championed by our nation’s forefathers, “million friends, zero enemy” is an ideal shaped by the liberal internationalism and non-ideological globalism of the post-Cold War era, and the openness and pragmatism of Indonesia’s democratic reform.

A lesson, therefore, can be drawn from our approach in identifying “friends” on Facebook.

Each and one of us are linked to other Facebook account holders as “friends”. It doesn’t matter if they are people whom you know since childhood, your ex-flames, co-workers, bosses, or even recently-met acquaintances, like Mr. John Smith. When others see our Facebook profile, they will see that these links are all listed under “friends”. Of course, there are exceptions, such as your wife/husband/significant other and family members, all whom you’ve identified as such, and others accept as a fact.

No matter the various levels of closeness you have with each of these Facebook “friends”, they are all grouped as “friends”. And although you wouldn’t want to admit it, you strive to have as many “friends” as possible on Facebook; for work purposes, for old time’s sake, or to get some special treatment when applying for a visa abroad.

Of course, you value some of these “friends” more than others. There are some who you allow only to access certain albums or features or notes you posted on your Facebook profile. Meanwhile, there are others who have a more complete, intimate view of your profile, your interest, your desires – this can come in the form of photos of “last night’s party”, or accounts of that vacation you took with a particular group of friends.

By exercising the option of managing your “friends”, Facebook allows you to group people according to your comfort level. You would share photos of your family with your bosses, but certainly not photos of a drunken night out, particularly when the possibility of incriminating comments is abundant. Your “friends” will not know in which category you’ve put them into: “workmates”, “high school buddies”, “ravers”, etc. They will not know the restrictions you’ve imposed on each of their status as your “friend”. They will not know that you value one “friend” more than another “friend”.

While you may want to appear open to friendships across the board, Facebook actually allows you to categorize according to your individual interests and need. In the world of Facebook, all friends are equal, but some friends are more equal than others. This Animal Farm-like saying has very strong resonance in our lives.

And this is how we should view “million friends, zero enemy”. In speeches, bilateral meetings, and other state activities, it is imperative that President Yudhoyono emphasize this perspective. In a flat world no longer divided along ideological lines, it is counterproductive NOT to identify other countries as friends.

Friendship provides a basis for international relations; it provides the means for communication in this freer, more globalized era. National interests, however, determine our level of friendship with other countries. Therefore, when Indonesia encounters conflicting issues with Malaysia and Saudi Arabia, the question raised should not be “Have they stopped becoming our friends?” Instead, the question should be, “Have they become lesser friends?”

Upholding the principle of friendship allows countries to continue dialogue and mediation in the face of conflicting issues, such as border disputes and the treatment of citizens abroad. If at the onset we identify a relationship on the basic status of “friends”, we establish an environment that is conducive for conflict-resolution if or when conflict does erupt.

How does one de-“friend” another? It seems impossible, unless you seek war. But aren’t we now living in a world that is better than that? Isn’t it better to solve conflicts as friends, no matter how tattered the friendship could be? Xavi Hernandez and Iker Casillas overcame their heated differences as captains of Barcelona and Real Madrid, and worked together to take the Spanish national team to overcome Lichtenstein, based on the fact that they’ve been “friends” for 15 years. Anything is possible, when ones are friends.

I can’t understand Mr. Rosyidin’s claims that our relations with Malaysia is dominated more by conflict than friendship, when the truth is that our bilateral relations are overall good, except when it comes to issues related to maritime borders and the treatment of Indonesian citizens in Malaysia. RI-Malaysia bilateral trade in 2010 reached over US 18 billion. And from 2004 to 2009, Malaysia invested $1.5 billion in Indonesia, becoming the second-highest country-to-country investor among Southeast Asia countries. I don’t think we even need to discuss our close ties within the framework of ASEAN.

Just as its antecedent (“free and active diplomacy”), “million friends, zero enemy” is a basic principle. It underlies our overall approach to bilateral relations and international affairs. It should not be regarded as a refined foreign policy directive, something that Indonesian diplomats, policymakers, analysts and pundits develop vis-à-vis each country, organization, issue, and case we face every day. However, do that we must.

It is up to us diplomats to identify how much of a “friend” is a particular foreign country. It is up to us diplomats also to engage other domestic stakeholders, such as Mr. Rosyidin, in deciding on the level of friendship with which we feel comfortable engaging other countries. Only then will there be a sense of belonging to (and hopefully, better understanding of) this principle of “million friends, zero enemy”.

And importantly, it is up to us to make sure that none of these “friends” actually know how their friendship status is categorized and valued by us. Our interests and needs are not things to be casually shared. Well, maybe to some of our closest “friends”. Then again, what gains can we make by sharing such intimate perspectives?

That’s just the way… the Facebook way.