Three Years and Three Days

Book Review

Jacqueline Kent, Take Your Best Shot : The Prime Ministership of Julia Gillard

ISBN: 9780143570561

What if Labour was in power…?

Ow come on, admit it.  With all the recent problems besieging Indonesia-Australia relations, it is difficult not to be asking this question.  Of course, as officials, we are not supposed to show any preference towards one government or another.  That would be “intruding on domestic politics”, a taboo in diplomacy.  Then again, for ages, western diplomats have officially indicated their preference for which South American, Middle Eastern or Southeast Asian leaders should be in power.  And many times, they were even willing to go to war over this.

Book cover

I’m only human, and being human means having doubts, and of course, having preferences.  I remember once writing in an essay on political theory: “contendo ergo sum”, I compare therefore I am.  And when I look at how difficult relations have become between Indonesia and Australia, I can’t help but imagine how things would be if it wasn’t the Coalition government now in Canberra making the calls on Australian foreign policy towards Indonesia.

It was with these thoughts in my mind that I read Jacqueline Kent’s Take Your Best Shot: The Prime Ministership of Julia Gillard in three (or was it four) sittings.

Yes, Julia Gillard.  I know most people would probably associate recent images of the ALP with Kevin Rudd. However, I’ve always felt a certain admiration for the smart, sharp-looking Ms. Gillard.  Ok, Rudd speaks Chinese, and that certainly makes him cool.  But somehow Gillard would be the person I’d chose as my boss (if I could ever choose bosses).

There’s a personal memory that will always remind me of Julia Gillard, Australia’s first female Prime Minister.  On December 20, 2011, just as I watched Ms. Gillard meet President SBY (less than 10 meters away from me) for the first ever Indonesia-Australia Annual Leaders Meeting in Bali, my pregnant wife called me and told me that her water just broke.  It was a moment in my life.    And sure enough, 20 hours later, Gaia Veronika was born.  I had thought of naming her Julia, but Gaia sounded close enough to Julia, I figured.

Anyways, back to the book, Kent has previously written a biography of Julia.  And so, early in the book, she admitted the possibility of a certain bias, as she pictures Ms. Gillard as Cate Blanchett’s Queen Elizabeth in that 1998 Oscar winning movie.  I didn’t mind this at all, because I think there has been just too much bias against Ms. Gillard throughout her leadership of the Australian government.

Kent writes that Ms. Gillard was frequently criticized for being a “nuts-and-bolts legislator, a fixer of problems, rather than a prime minister with large vision”.  Many times, visionary leaders are well loved by the people.  But there are also moments when the people do get tired of big words, and wish that leaders would just get down to work. 

The book is not meticulously detailed, but provides an excellent overview of the challenges that Ms. Gillard faced throughout her three years and three days stay at the top of the Australian government.  It talks about her battles with other legislators on issues such as climate change, finance and education.  It highlights her success in a passing a sleuth of clean energy bills, achieving something that great politicians like John Howard, Malcolm Turnbull and even Kevin Rudd couldn’t do, especially not with a minority government.

The book also goes into an issue that often pits Australia against its northern neighbours: asylum seekers.  Remaining conservative on this issue (unlike Mr. Rudd and his ideal of a “big Australia”), Ms. Gillard put forward the need for border management and a sustainable immigration policy.  At the same time, she showed interest in the possibility of working towards a regional solution to the problem. 

Of course, the book looks into two issues that seem to highlight Ms. Gillard’s term in office: her supposed inability to convey the successes of her government to the public, and her protracted battle with Kevin Rudd.

On her cold, Elizabethan public image, Kent argues that Julia is actually an eloquent speaker, who narrates in a logical and systematic way.  However, her problem is that she prefers to make these speeches at the Parliament, and not in front of the media cameras. Her government had to explain complex policies to a generally resistant public, while at the same time faced the challenges of an Opposition leader who was skilled in crafting “slogans” and a media unskilled in reporting nuance.  This kinda reminds me of Indonesia today.

And on dealing with Kevin Rudd, Kent describes the removal of Mr. Rudd was as swift as the Iraqi invasion.  However, like that invasion, it was followed by a long period of unpredictability and instability.  While Ms. Gillard is portrayed by Kent in a generously favourable manner, the undertone was obvious: the implosion of the ALP leadership.  Like that really popular REM song, “Everybody hurts…”

As I finished the book, I felt my honest respect towards Ms. Gillard confirmed.  Apparently, being a female Prime Minister is not easy, even in a country as democratic and egalitarian as Australia. And more so, because she didn’t feel the need to ensure a legacy by smiling pretty to the media.  Because, like she said, “chasing popularity would be the death of purpose”.

Making a Choice

Book Review

Hugh White, The China Choice: Why America Should Share Power

ISBN: 9781863956093

Recently, the growing rivalry between China and Japan has dominated discussions on Asia-Pacific affairs.  There was China’s announcement on ADIZ, which was then countered by Japanese PM Shinzo Abe’s visit to the Yasukuni Shrine.  With both sides claiming that they are presently experiencing one of the lowest points of their bilateral relations, we in Southeast Asia can only hope that there would be some breakthroughs to bring back confidence and stability to the regional outlook.

Hardcover version

But somehow the growing tensions between China and Japan seem only a reflection of the bigger rivalry existing in the Asia-Pacific (or in the world as a whole): the China-US rivalry.  Yes, Japan is vying for greater influence in international affairs.  And yes, Japan is one of the strongest economies in the world.  But Japan is a US ally, whose security is dependent on this North American hegemon.  And so, when we talk about the China-Japan rivalry within the context of regional peace and security, then it is rather obvious that the US’ hands are deep in this melee.

Many academic and journalistic works have been written, discussed, and undergone criticisms on the US-China rivalry.  Naturally, some are more enlightened than others.  But all of them have been meaningful additions to the pool of knowledge on the study of contemporary Asia-Pacific regional studies.  As a life-long student, I can only appreciate these academic and journalistic works, one of which can be found in The China Choice: Why America Should Share Power.

Hugh White, Professor of Strategic Studies at the Australian National University, argues that there are more than two choices for the US in its dealing with the Chinese.  Of course, the first two choices are commonly known: to confront the Chinese (as a means to preserve American dominance over the region) OR to allow China’s rise to dominance in the region (while hoping that China will not have any tendency to cause conflict, particularly with the US). 

In this fantastic book, White elaborates on a third choice for the US, and that is to share power with China.  He argues that both China and the US have every capacity to deny leadership to the other.  However, for one of them to single-handedly, truly dominate the Asia-Pacific, that would almost be impossible. As a result, the idea of the US maintaining uncontested leadership in the region is as illusory as the fear that China will one day be at the top of the Asia-Pacific, alone and unchallenged.

There is Cold War-like belief among many Americans that countries in the Asia-Pacific could somehow be wooed into siding with them.  “An aggressive and hegemonic China would not be good for the region”, they would say, “Thus, justifying any effort to limit China’s power.”  However, the truth is that many countries in the region view the world from a more complex set of lenses, and not just the black-and-white perspective offered by the Americans. White explains that unlike the situation with the Soviets, many Asia-Pacific countries “have much to gain from China economically, and little to fear politically”.

Kindle version

Indeed, many Americans may think that preventing China from disrupting the regional order is beneficial not only in securing their own interests, but also those of the entire region (how noble..!).  However, as White argues, the Chinese see “a parallel, but opposite symmetry”.  They believe that China is seeking to remedy the long injustices that have been dealt to them, especially by foreign powers, both western and Asian.  Therefore, any power that intends to preserve the status quo regional order is in fact perpetuating these injustices.  Not only for the Chinese, but also for the other Asia-Pacific countries that have not entirely benefitted from the US’s regional dominance.

What White proposes is a new concert of Asia, which is loosely modeled on the Concert of Europe that existed between 1815 and 1914.  Admittedly, the Concert of Europe was not perfect.  There was still conflict during those times, including the war for German unification.  Worse of all, the regional order then ended in a devastating bang: the First World War.  However, as a whole, conflicts among Great Powers were avoided because each Great Power recognized that they must not seek dominance over the entire region.  And most importantly, during that period, Europe experienced a massive growth in the economic, social, and political fields.

The Asian version of this concert would have four “Great Powers” as the prime movers of the region: the US, China, Japan, and India.  Then there would be “middle powers” such as South Korea, Vietnam, and Indonesia (surprisingly, White didn’t mention anything about Australia) completing the hierarchy of power.  White goes on to argue that Indonesia, if it continues to grow the way it has, has every potential to end up as an additional “true” Great Power some time down the line. 

The rules of this concert sound simple:

First, each power must accept the legitimacy of the other power’s political system.  In other words, for the Americans, no more trying to cause (or make appear as though there are) domestic instabilities in China. 

Second, by agreeing to disagree, each power must be willing to make concessions in order to achieve resolutions through peaceful negotiations.

Third, each power must allow the others to build up their armaments, and allow the use of them if there are forces challenging their status as a “great power”.

And fourth, the powers must be able to develop a “code of conduct” that would “govern” their interactions with one another.

Of course, this perspective is far from perfect.  In fact, it has many holes.  For one, as an Indonesian, I would yell out: “Where’s Indonesia in all of this?”  Indonesia may not have the many of capacities owned by the Chinese or the Americans.  But we are the largest country and economy in Southeast Asia, and a leader in ASEAN.  In fact, I’ll yell out again: “What will happen to ASEAN and its regional architecture then?”

In this regard, White may have not sold me entirely on his idea.  But one thing that I do appreciate is his willingness to go outside of the box and propose an alternative to the rut that we are presently in.  I feel that there must be more than two choices to deal with China.  Choices other than confronting China head-on OR appeasing China’s rise to regional dominance.  There must be.  And while the argument proposed in this book may not be entirely convincing, it does present us with some food for thought, and importantly, stimuli for future thinking on the topic of China-US rivalry.

Personally, I believe that Indonesia is a middle power, for now, and maybe even in the long run.  However, that should not relegate its participation in the region (or even the “Concert of Asia”) to insignificance.  Maybe there should be analyses of what a middle power status could truly mean in a “Concert of Asia”.  On what counts as a middle power.  Maybe then I would be more willing to explore further this proposal. 

Time may not be on our side, as White says.  If China’s power keep on growing the way it is doing now, then its economy would be bigger than the US’ and its military more capable of keeping up with the Americans’.  Therefore, it is in the US’ interests to negotiate a new relationship with China, before the power balance further shift in China’s way.  In this regard, the urgency of this process is also in the interest of other countries in the region, including Indonesia.

Bo's Story, and My Memories of Dalian and Chongqing...

Book Review

John Garnaut, The Rise and Fall of the House of Bo 

ISBN: 9780143569350

When I lived in Beijing in 2005-2009, all I heard about Bo Xilai was good.  At the time, he was everything any Chinese people would possibly asked for in a Minister of Commerce.  He was handsome, well dressed, and appeared very much at ease in engaging officials from any part of the world.  He was the poster boy for a China that was opening up its economy more and more.  His image symbolized a proud, promising, and modern nation, ready to be among the other economic giants of the world.

Indeed, Bo Xilai was at the time China’s fast-rising political star.  I remember visiting Dalian in 2007 and marveled at how awesome the city felt.  Not only was it clean and orderly, Dalian was such a nice break from the grey pavements of Beijing.  The sea, the breeze, the greenery, the food, the sights… The city also felt worldly, seemingly ready to open its doors to international engagement.  I remember eating really good Korean BBQ there, and shopping products that had been destined for other parts of Asia.  And throughout my time there, I couldn’t help but recognize that much of this could be attributed to Dalian’s former Mayor, Bo Xilai.

But in 2013, as I watched the news coming out from China from the comfort of my home in Jakarta, I was astounded by the political drama that was unfurling with Bo Xilai as its central figure.  He was on BBC, CNN, ChannelNews Asia; he was even on Indonesia’s MetroTV and TvOne.  And the drama was beyond my belief.  China’s most popular politician had fallen from grace.  Not only has he lost his position as one of the contenders in China’s future leadership, the political rock star was found guilty of corruption, bribery and abuse of power.  His sentence: life imprisonment. 

Colourful fans in Dalian, 2007 (Private Collection)

How did this all happen?  And how did it all happen so fast?

Indeed, although the news did make the headlines in Indonesia, it never really grabbed the regular political observers’ attention.  Of course, it’s probably different if you were someone who is particularly keen on developments taking place in China.

But in the western media, the Bo Xilai drama was dissected left, right, and center, and used as an examination of the problems that China was facing internally.  Moreover, Bo Xilai was many times portrayed as a someone who was willing to stand up to the heavy-handedness of the Chinese leadership at the time, led by President Hu Jintao and Premier Wen Jiabao.

Everyone knows that the all-powerful Chinese Communist Party is rife with problems.  But the cruelty of Bo’s political assassination demonstrated just how dangerous politics is in this one-party country.  And for the western media and academia, this gave reason to comment on the high likelihood of political implosion in China.  A political implosion that could bring this gigantic economy to its knees, the way the Soviet Union unraveled and disappeared into history.

Hanging out in downtown Dalian, 2007 (Private Collection)

In his book, The Rise and Fall of the House of Bo, John Garnaut gives an excellent account of the Bo Xilai’s political successes, and of course, failures. Garnaut not only revealsthe nastiness that lies behind the rule of Bo Xilai and his family in Chongqing (where Bo was Party chief), but goes back into China’s history to outline the beginnings of Bo’s rivalry with the present Chinese leadership.

Through careful research, Garnaut provides a rich, flowing, and highly engaging narrative of how Bo Xilai came into power, and then lost it. Whatever good image I had previously had of Bo immediately became questionable, as accounts after another are revealed about Bo’s strong-hand rule.  On screen, Bo played the personae of a down-to-earth leader who is willing to stand for the rights of the people and the glory of the Chinese Communist Party.  However, behind the screen, Bo not only bended, but knowingly broke laws and regulations in order to gain financial profits for himself and his close inner circle.  

Garnaut also describes the rivalries that exist among China’s political elite today.  Rivalries that have existed not only in the post-Deng Xiaoping reform period, but those that went as back as the times of the People’s Republic’s first foundation.  Rivalries that began between Bo’s father, Bo Yibo, and Xi Zhongxun, the father of China’s present top leader, Xi Jinping.  And most of all, the rivalries that have pitted reformists and conservatives within the Chinese Communist Party in a cross-generational power struggle.

Taichi at Chongqing's central square, 2007 (Private Collection)

I recommend this book to anyone even slightly interested in China.  For many, the Chinese Government is seen as an impenetrable juggernaut.  Not only that, the totalitarian nature of China’s Stalinist state has created an image in which everyone in the government has a common voice on anything even remotely important in the country. 

The Bo Xilai drama reminds us all that divisions do exist among the Chinese elite.  And more so, these divisions run very deep, originating from decades before any of the present leaders were even in power.  For some, this may be an indication that democracy is well and alive in China, even if it is only within the Communist Party (as in, no public participation).  Meanwhile, for others, this drama clearly indicates the inexistence of any form of democracy in China.  Not only that, China is also devoid of other norms and principles that go hand-in-hand with democracy, such as transparency, equality, human rights, and anti-corruption.

Misty Memories

The Garden of Evening Mists

Tan Twan Eng

 

Review

I have a new favourite writer: Malaysia’s Tan Twan Eng.

Such revelation came to me very early into my reading of Tan’s spellbinding novel, “The Garden of Evening Mists”.  It took me only the first six pages to recognize what a true gem I had in my hands.  I was immediately hooked on it, and feeling dizzy, Tan took me on a journey to the magical and mysterious setting of the Cameron Highlands, Malaysia.

The book centers on Yun Ling Teoh, a former Japanese prisoner of war, who has become a top Malaysian judge.  Yun Ling is suffering from a gradual loss of memory.  And in her efforts to fight this disease, she travels back to the place of her childhood.  A place where she experienced many life-changing events.  A place of violence, anger, hatred, betrayal, guilt, and sadness, yet one that is also capable of victory, perseverance, truth, peace, and joy.  A place where she lost love, loved ones, and almost her live.  Where dreams shadow living nightmares, and nightmares end live-long dreams.

The Garden of Evening Mists—and the surrounding backdrop of Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands—is where Yun Ling’s life intertwined with those of the other fascinating characters in the book.   There is Yun Hong, Yun Ling’s sister, who disappeared like many other “guests of the Sun Emperor”. There is Magnus Praetorius, the Transvaal adventurer who fled his homeland to build a new one in Malaysia, in the form of the Majuba Tea Estate.  There is also Tatsuji, a Japanese historian and former Kamikaze pilot, who lived to see the end of the World War II because of the sacrifice of his lover and commanding officer.  

And then, there is Aritomo, the Japanese Emperor’s former gardener.  He designed the Garden of Evening Mists, and in him, Yun Ling finds solace from the trauma of her imprisonment.  Aritomo is the embodiment of the novel’s misty mystery.  He is not only a master gardener, but also an artist capable of expressing fleeting beauty and impermanence.  And as the story builds up, Yun Ling discovers clues associating Aritomo with Japan’s conquest of Malaya.

The book also tells Malaysia’s tumultuous history.  From the Japanese invasion, and subsequent conquest, to the Malayan Emergency period, when the communists were bent on challenging not only the British rulers, but also other Malaysians (their own people) who could cross in their paths.  The book talks about Japanese war treasures, the Chinese community in Malaysia, and the marginalization of local indigenous tribes.  It also talks about the country’s capacity to heal from its deep historical wounds.

All in all, the book evolves around the role of memory in human existence, and the relationship between memory and forgetting.

What I find most enjoyable about this book is Tan’s attention to detail.  Not only that, but the way in which he crafts all the details into a string of beautiful sentences.  A hand imprint on an oakwood table, visible for only seconds after the hand is pulled back.  “The scent of pine resin sticking to the air, the bamboo creaking and knocking in the breeze, the broken mosaic of sunlight scattered over the ground.” Memories, like sandbar, cut off from the shore by the incoming tide, slowly becoming submerged, no longer there.

The book won the Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction and the 2012 Man Asian Literary Prize. It was also shortlisted for the prestigious Man Booker Prize.  Indeed, these awards are merely indicative of the public’s reception.  But somehow, even these awards are incapable of describing the feelings and sensations that overwhelmed me during my many moments with this book.  

Life in Red

"Change" is the second Mo Yan book I’ve ever read, the first being a collection of short stories titled "Shifu: You'll Do Anything for a Laugh".  I have, however, seen two Zhang Yimou movies based on his stories: "Red Sorghum", and "Happy Times". Therefore, having read "Change" in one sitting, and enjoying it from cover to cover, I got the feeling that I should probably read more books by this Nobel Laureate (in Literature).  

The version of “Change” that I bought in Singapore's Kinokuniya (as my baby daughter lies asleep in her stroller just inches away from the bookshelves) was published as part of a series of books titled “What Was Communism?”  I think, being part of these series sorta reveals what the book’s story would be.

I’ve read many accounts of life during China’s super-communist periods of the 1960s and 1970s.  Many of these accounts talk about the brutality, senselessness, hypocrisy, impunity of actions carried out in the name of upholding communism in those periods.  Many more talked about the pain, grief, anger, and frustration the Chinese people in coping with the tragedies that befell them during those periods.

In describing his experience growing up as a small village boy in the 1960s, a member of the People’s Liberation Army in the 1970s, as a struggling writer in the 1980s, and a literary celebrity since the turn of the century, Mo Yan also paints a picture of a China in constant change.  A China that has become more and more driven simply by its people’s pursuit of money; a China whose buildings, like the people’s dreams, now reach for the sky.

But amidst all these changes, there are constants in the life of the Chinese people.  Continuity symbolized by the Gaz 51 trucks that had been the highlight of his school days, then becoming the vessel which first took him to Beijing, and later in life, the reminder of all the people who has entered, left, re-entered, and so on, in his life.  Continuity also came in the form of the “gift” he received as a judge in the 2000s; it seems that some things just never change in China, with or without reform.

Mo Yan writes with simplicity and tells his story like I would tell of my life during the oppressive rule of Soeharto.  Yes, life was tough, and yes, many suffered.  But life goes on, and we the people make best of whatever was in front of us.  We learn to appreciate the small things in life, laugh at the hint of a comedic episode, and appreciate things more than what they may actually be worth.  He doesn’t paint a rosy picture of life in China under communism; nor does he paint a picture with a bloody brush.

Indeed, Mo Yan has received numerous criticisms from peers at home and abroad for his unwillingness to bluntly challenge the communist government in China.  But from my perspective, Mo Yan’s ideological standing doesn’t lessen his value as a writer, a poet, a story-teller of the Chinese people. 

To many, Mo Yan may have not captured the anti-establishment angst that permeates the literary works of many great writers, anywhere around the world.  But, it would be silly to say that he has failed to capture voice of the people, when we know very well that not all express their sadness, pain, and frustration simply through anger.