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Feature - Ending the ‘End of History’: Revisiting Western Interventionism in Fragile States

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by Anna Tan

Young boys among the rubble of the ongoing war in Libya (Image credit: OCHA/Giles Clarke)

The post-Cold War notion of liberal democracy’s ultimate victory, demonstrated by the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, ought to be jettisoned. Francis Fukuyama famously described this perception as the ‘the triumph of the West, [demonstrating the] total exhaustion of viable systematic alternatives to Western liberalism’. Scholarly circles since long discarded this end of history thesis, which proposes a romantic vision of the post-Cold War world order. Fukuyama himself would later lament the over-optimism of his theory, which to many announced the end of ideological conflict. Far from mundane, the present nature of international relations should put an end to the mistaken, yet enduring perception of democracy versus authoritarianism. With the US bogged down in endless wars, as well as the Anglo-Saxon loss of influence in international institutions suggest a comfortable that begets confronting. With the liberal West far from winning, the question can be asked: does the promotion of democracy always lead to peace?

If the liberal system of alliances and diplomacy is to be reinvigorated, lessons from the past decades of interventionism urgently require acknowledging. Policymakers, however, seem keen on perpetuating the end of history in their approaches towards fragile states and repressive regimes. This normative belief in authoritarianism’s ultimate decay and democracy’s eventual victory stands in stark contrast with the world of 2020. A global pandemic, which, in turn, is spurring on the biggest economic free-fall since the Great Depression is but one of the headaches. A willingly contracting American diplomacy and the rise of nationalist forces across the globe, two others. It seems clear: the coherence of the liberal democratic alliance is tearing at its seams.

Indeed, the endurance of Fukuyama’s thesis is not to be underestimated in the modern history of US diplomacy and its alliances in the West. However, already at the turn of the century, important lessons became available on the state of the world and liberal democracy’s role therein. The ramifications of the Iraq War on international peace and security, it can be argued, are reverberating to this day. The successful overthrow of Saddam Hussein, combined with the failure to end tyranny in the country stands in stark contrast with earlier, presumably success stories including the collapse of South Africa’s Apartheid regime in the 1990s, Tunisia during the 2011 Arab Springs, and Myanmar’s rather short-lived détente with the Anglosphere in 2012.

The David-and-Goliath kind of euphoria and spectacle that tends to ensue with civil resistance against regime change, nevertheless, does not lead policymakers to reassert their prior assumptions about the nature of such conflicts. Instead, the US-led interventionism of the liberal West is strengthened by the belief in democracy’s impending win. Violence, then, becomes an unfortunate yet unavoidable means to this end. Even fewer questions are asked about the underlying contexts of liberal democracy’s failure in the aftermath of the Arab Springs and in Myanmar’s stalled transition towards democracy. Instead, countries imploded in a wave of mass atrocities and civil strife.

In the case of Myanmar, the ‘end of history’ thesis continues to emanate strongly in the universal embrace of diplomatic ostracism towards the country (and to the figure of Aung San Suu Kyi herself) as a means to heal its complex problems, not just within bilateral diplomatic circles and multilateral institutions, but also within the global advocacy groups. Indeed, democratisation continues to be perceived as a panacea for all kinds of a state’s ailments. Mike Rann, former Premier of Southern Australia, poignantly reflected on this situation as follows:

In retrospect the West’s view [on Myanmar] was as naïve as its view that the so-called Arab Spring and toppling tyrants like Gaddafi in Libya would see the spontaneous emergence of democracy, embrace of human rights and the independent rule of law. Instead, in Libya, we saw the re-emergence of tribalism and militias and civil war.

Such a conclusion is echoed by Pauline Baker, former President Emeritus of The Fund for Peace, who similarly argued against the ‘end of history’ for the implementation of free and fair elections tends to bypass larger complexities in state-building. Indeed, the rather infelicitous outcomes entailing short-lived democratisation processes in the Middle East as well as across several African states overlooks the entrenched lack of historical experience in human rights and democratic governance in societies that are of concern. It overlooks legitimacy gaps, the marginalisation of old elites, ethnoreligious compositions, and grievances associated with identities thereof. Baker contends:

In truth, the biggest danger facing fragile states in transition is not the rise of new dictatorship, as is often assumed… but the larger threats are civil war, state collapse, mass atrocities, humanitarian emergencies, and a possible break-up of the country.

Baker’s concerns were a premonition to contemporary Myanmar. In the present day, the country saw worsened peripheral civil wars that had been raging since its independence from the British in 1947 but have also checked more boxes of the tribulations as described in Baker’s proposition. In Myanmar, democratisation was at siege concurrently. Miracle cases of democracy such as Botswana offer but little insight into the enduring failure of the ideology to spread in other parts of the world, particularly where state institutions are fragile. Moreover, Botswana remains an electoral, procedural democracy (on the basis of democratic processes and legitimacy) propped up by the country’s elite, rather than a substantial one (which would be more inclusive and allow plurality). The case of Myanmar is again illustrative: while it underwent a certain degree of democratisation, to call it a procedural one to such state would be an overstatement.

Usefully, Pauline Baker stresses the importance of institutional building in fragile states and the need for inclusive approaches towards democratisation in those states. Baker holds that: ‘if former war-lords and powerbrokers want to move from the battlefield to the ballot box, they should be allowed to do so, provided they give up their arms and refrain from keeping private armies in reserve in case they lose elections.’ The emergence of newfound fundamental freedoms means at least some level of stability that had been formerly achieved by the state through its monopoly of coercive force, yet also leaving a vacuum of state power at the same time. Without significant peacebuilding in place to replace that gap, which should involve disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration (DDR) of combatants; it should be clear that democratisation during an entrenched armed conflict often further weakens already fragile states and pushes them closer towards state failure. As such, Baker argues, ‘although it may not be possible in all cases, [DDR] of armed militias should precede voting. Otherwise, the losing side, which has access to arms and fighters, can return to fighting if it does not like the electoral outcome.’

This stability vacuum is defined by scholars such as Charles T. Call as the “security gap.” Call here diverges from scholars at the Fund for Peace, contending that the universal conceptualisation of fragile states (as visible in the creation of Fragile States Index) perceives of institutional capacity-building as an oversimplified remedy to the troubles faced by such states. He purports that the traditional neoconservative but also neoliberal wings of US interventionism similarly overlook legitimacy gaps between new and old state actors and capacity gaps in state institutions. In Myanmar’s case for instance, what we ultimately missed is the contrast between the historical, cultural, and religious legitimacy of Aung San Suu Kyi and that of the former military junta which is widely considered by the population as illegitimate. This means that imposing international norms of democratic governance and human rights becomes much less effective as Western actors lack significant domestic public support for their policies.

This capacity gap is so visible, in fact, that Myanmar seems to show an increased state fragility than prior to democratisation. Civil war has become intractable than before as political liberation without proper state institutions in place. Capacity building, or state-building for that matter, is not a catch-all term for these problems, which are highly contextual. Call also rejects ostracism, the isolating reflex in human rights diplomacy, arguing that ‘the prescription to step away and withdraw from international engagement is just as likely to benefit these victimizers (usually repressive state actors) rather than their victims or their political opponents.’ In the case of mass atrocities, lack of historical diplomatic investment in principled engagement and coordination can result in foreign actors lacking sufficient political leverage in addressing early warning signs and ultimately granting repressive regimes the opportunity to draw away from observing international norms and human rights principles.

What Call’s argument misses, however, is that in the case of war-torn states and mass atrocities, the picture is not always as clear cut between civilian victims and state victimisers. Myanmar’s many insurgent groups are identity-based groupings whose activities also cost many lives of the very civilians they claim to represent. The more heterogeneous the population, the more convoluted the nature of conflict and prospects for peacebuilding.

Without understanding the context, the complexities of various civil conflicts will decide the viability of bringing peace and security by outsiders. Democratisation alone, thus, is not a cure to counteract state failure nor a harbinger of justice and prosperity for such countries. As such, the ultimate challenge for governments keen on promoting liberal democracy requires these complexities to be realistically assessed and feasibly taken into account during the crafting of foreign policy towards fragile states. Failing to do so risks throwing already fragile states down the cliff. Such results could further disrupt the liberal world order many strive to uphold. Rather than the end of history thesis, conventional diplomacy will benefit from greater creativity and innovation in its communications. We should find new ways to relay to repressive, fragile states, that international norms are in their interests and not a threat.

This article has been kindly reviewed by Professor Pauline Baker, former President Emeritus of Fund for Peace (1996-2010). It also builds on the author’s personal interview with HE Mike Rann, AC CNZM, Former Premier of Southern Australia (2002-2011) and former Australian Ambassador to Italy, Albania, Libya, and San Marino (2014-2016) held in London, 15 August 2020.

Anna Tan is a Programme Ambassador for the MSc Global Affairs, due to graduate with an overall First Class Honours (Distinction) from King’s College London. Her research is based at the Department of War Studies, focusing on Western human rights diplomacy vis-à-vis fragile and failing states. Anna has formerly worked for the American Red Cross, the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), and The Policy Institute. She is also on the Programme Committee of the Conflict, Security and Development (CSD) Conference 2020. Her work has been featured in King’s College London’s School of Security Studies and elsewhere on Strife. Anna is a recipient of the Oxford University Press (OUP) award for 2019 upon graduation from her BSc in Neuroscience as Top 3 of the Faculty from the University of Leicester.

British Foreign Policy towards China: Short-sightedness Disguised as ‘Pragmatism’?

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Britain’s Prime Minister Boris Johnson during the celebrations for Chinese New Year in London, 2020 (Image credit: AFP)

When COVID-19 is the product of a breach of human rights within China itself, ignoring human rights in a post-COVID world order is frankly naïve and hardly “pragmatic”.

In his 1941 State of Union address, U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt outlined the Four Fundamental Freedoms that every person in the world is entitled to enjoy: freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want, and freedom from fear. These four principles would later serve as the foundation upon which the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights was formed, ushering in a new era in which the human rights violations of states became a matter of concern that permeates far beyond its own sovereign territories. Contemporary human rights were borne out of a pragmatic concern that our ideals and principles at a certain level become a personal matter; since without human rights, there can be no human security.

The end of the Cold War would put an end to ideological conflict over the value of fundamental freedoms. Today, our post-Cold War world order lacks such kind of predictability and, thus, more uncertainty with regards to the international order can be expected. Moreover, in a post-COVID-19 world and amid a crumbling Pax Americana under Trump, the traditional state advocates of human rights are now MIA. This is an erosion of the liberal world order which is eating itself from within, with President Trump projecting an image of the USA is quite the opposite of most of its traditional ideals. Across the Atlantic, Brexit has further distorted unity both in the Anglosphere and within Europe.

Indeed, some seem more concerned about the economic damage that COVID-19 will bring if we do not appease Xi Jinping’s China, citing Realpolitik as a justification. In this regard, Professor Kerry Brown argues that given Brexit, the UK should reconsider its stance towards the Hong Kong crisis, given the country’s weak economic relations with China. One can disagree with this assertion since the notion of China as a ‘successful capitalist nation’ leaves the causes and consequences behind this success undefined. That is not to say that relations with Australia and New Zealand are not anything positive, but we have to consider fostering free trade relations across the D-10 member states, as well as with the EU. As for China, the scrapping of the Green GDP Initiative in 2007 is an example. The initiative would have reduced the data on China’s real GDP growth to zero. Indeed, Green GDP took into account environmental degradation, socioeconomic inequalities, and loss of biodiversity in China’s real GDP growth. The environment being hardly a significant concern for the cold realism of the status quo international relations and diplomacy is of course no surprise to anyone.

But that clearly misses the point of what we are faced with during the COVID-19 crisis. Ideally, this pandemic will serve as a tipping point and a shift away from business-as-usual in dealings with China. Arguably, it was the country’s repression of the fundamental freedoms (primarily freedom of speech) of its own scientists and academics that lays at the root of the current crisis. Never has there been a more urgent time to stress the significance of human rights than in this time of Corona. Indeed, our quality of life can only flourish when our fundamental freedoms are respected.

To do so, we ought to do away with this perception that our idealist concerns can never overlap with our pragmatic ones. That is not to disregard China’s ability to be one of the most powerful economies in the world without civil and political liberation as illegitimate. But the staggering boom of China’s economy over the past couple of decades simultaneously led to the accumulation of enormous amounts of inequalities, on top of excessive environmental pollution and abuse. This abuse of nature also notably contributed to the ongoing pandemic. Even with these factors aside, the political economies of our free societies are not designed to compete with state capitalism.

British foreign policy is becoming more inconsistent by the day, whilst China’s policies remain consistently expansionist.

The formation of a Democratic 10 (D-10) and the potential intake of British National (Overseas), or BN(O), passport holders from Hong Kong (combined with potential ‘burden-sharing’ agreement amongst the Five-Eyes) is of course considerably an improvement from its initial blasé stance. But the latter fails to address the rights of the remaining Hong Kongers, and most importantly, should not be a panacea to the growing Chinese aggression in its blatant disregard for international norms. That is not to argue that this development has not been provoked by the Trump Administration, but my point is that this can be a recurring theme not just for Hong Kong but in any part of the world. If so, should our response be the same? The recent decision to merge the Department for International Development (DFID) with the Foreign Office is another example of how not to respond. Though a little premature to say, this could lessen the UK’s room of maneuverability and upset future British diplomacy. In so doing, it could also render the idea of “Global Britain” an oxymoron, given China’s usage of COVID to increase its influence in Africa, for instance. British foreign policy is becoming more inconsistent by the day, whilst China’s policies remain consistently expansionist.

However, China’s new National Security Legislation (NSL) for Hong Kong is more of a distraction from Xi Jinping’s party-state’s own mishandling of the COVID-19 outbreak in China itself, which has evidently hurt his standing amongst the elites of his own party. Those pragmatists who justify the incentive for us to appease President Xi in order to safeguard the financial repercussions of Brexit and of COVID-19 are too short-sighted. Those who are truly pragmatic will consider the long-term implications of our free societies and our very own public health and economic welfare; spurring our foreign policies towards China on to become more sophisticated and paying more close attention to human rights.

Over the past year, we have seen the relentless resistance of the people of Hong Kong against the Chinese state’s incursions. The more active approach that has now been taken towards creating a D-10 should extend to Hong Kong as well. If not, the crisis there is bound to produce refugee flows and further destabilise an already volatile region. This would be miscalculation at a time when Western influence in Southeast Asia is still lagging behind that of China. At the same time, a Cold War with China must remain off the table. The real pragmatic solutions should lie somewhere in between. There should be more craftsmanship put into our foreign policies. China’s declaration of its NSL in Hong Kong is clearly against the Basic Law that governs the city. Insofar as China lacks territorial legitimacy (at least until 2047) and the British by a supermajority in Hong Kong hold political legitimacy, there is little reason why this cannot be an advantage to British foreign policy. Commercial interests count too in the picture.

Despite our current obsession not to exacerbate the status quo, it is clear that we would not have arrived here in the first place if we had been standing up against Beijing’s disrespect for fundamental human rights. The country’s blatant disrespect for these rights emanates far beyond its sovereign territory. Previously, we in the West have considered that the effects of China’s unique form of governance (which is firmly opposed to human rights) was confined to its national borders. Yet, this pandemic has aptly demonstrated the far-reaching impact of China’s illiberalism at home. As such, Western policies ought to revise their hitherto assumptions and economic relationship vis-à-vis the CCP regime. So too must we reconsider our assumption that China’s diplomacy will be more scrupulous given Deng Xiaoping’s guiding philosophy of ‘hide your strength and bide your time’. Clearly, this time has now passed. China’s new position in the world order means that it can afford more knee-jerk reactions such as what we have in Xinjiang, Hong Kong, and now COVID-19.

This is significant despite the facts that while Donald Trump may not be re-elected in November and that Asia’s future will still considerably depend on Western financial institutions and trade relations. The lack of a cohesive strategy in the European and Anglosphere will mean that our intergovernmental organisations such as the United Nations will be more vulnerable to be dictated by China and Russia. How can we, coming from free, liberal societies, protect our own fundamental freedoms if we are not taking proactive steps in maintaining a world order that is now presenting to be getting less liberal and orderly?

Surely bargaining our fundamental freedoms for the sake of what is likely to end up as imbalanced trade relations with authoritarian regimes clearly is not what our forefathers have lost their lives for. At present, the ball remains in Britain’s court and we still get to call much of the shots even without the leverage of the EU. Through the D-10, one can be hopeful that the EU can still continue to render a force of unity and perhaps learn that referendums can seriously backfire. It is not to say that illiberalism anywhere will always affect us - it really depends on the power and reach of the country we are dealing with. While human rights may not be at the forefront of foreign policy-making, what we have now with COVID-19 is already a net financial loss. Realpolitik should seek to include human rights in its approach given the reciprocal implications on our fundamental freedoms, national security, and economic prosperity. It is unclear whether the British government realises this.

Book Review: ‘The Hidden History of Burma’

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by Anna Tan

 

Thant Myint-U. The Hidden History of Burma: Race, Capitalism and the Crisis of Democracy in the 21st Century. Atlantic Books, London, 2019. ISBN 978-1-78649-790-1. Pp. xi, 288. Paperback. £10.78

 

The case for peace in Myanmar (Burma) has been a tiring and relentless one. The biggest myth of all is that Burma was set to have a bright future during the dawn of its independence from the British Empire. Thant Myint-U in his latest work “The Hidden History of Burma” (2020) reminds us that the reality is far more complex. The colonial legacy of the state’s institutions and its impact on the plethora of ethnic groups across Burma’s periphery would continue to haunt its present-day problems. Most notably among these are the Rohingya crisis and Burma’s half-century struggle for democracy. The colonial era’s martial race policy stands at the forefront of these problems. Despite the great academic legacy left behind by the colonial era, Thant argues, the state was considerably weak at the time when General Aung San founded the nation. This meant that whatever great that was embedded within Burma was either purged or became stale during years of poverty. Moreover, Ne Win’s failed anti-imperialist revolution - or the pursuit of the ‘Burmese Way to Socialism’ - would further exacerbate this situation.

Towards the end of the 20th century, the socialist layer of the nation-state’s operational ideology gradually peeled away; leading to some form of a free-market system and one that according to Thant can best be described as ‘crony capitalism’. Yet, strikingly, Burma’s political reforms of the early 2010s had originally envisioned an alternative future. Here, the implementation of neoliberal policies and a non-state intervening would complete the country’s transition to a free-market system, to follow the steps of congested and inequality-ridden cities we so very often see across South East Asia today. In this regard, those easily combustible issues surrounding race and inequality are left out. The state itself does not even seem to be cognizant of it. Neither is any consideration given to the idea that one’s ethnicity can be fluid. As a result, state formation and attempted conflict resolution is stuck in a vicious cycle of bureaucracy, electoral politics, and red-tape; further fuelled by a strange concoction of neoconservatism and a fixed primordial perception regarding race and ethnicity amongst parties and actors across the political spectrum.

The blame for the sustained civil strife across various parts of the country is shared among all parties, both at home and abroad. It is Thant’s insider narrative in the book that made me realise how it is bizarre that China’s ambitions for Burma re-emerged. Initially thwarted by the reformist government of Thein Sein, those intentions came back centre stage after the conflict in Rakhine escalated to the point of genocide. Unfortunate decisions made by Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) during peacebuilding efforts that followed their victory in the 2015 elections inflamed this situation, particularly after the Myanmar Peace Centre - consisting mostly of Thein Sein staffers - was dismissed. However, this jarring moment in history is to this day a wasted opportunity that not many in the country paid much attention to. Indeed, the urban population were very much distracted by the economic promises of the new NLD government. With more shopping centres and shinier airports in the making, less visa restrictions, and an increase in free travel, it seems that it is the bourgeoisie that gets to enjoy better, more instant luxuries. I can speak from experience that testimonials by the (upper-)middle-class of Burmese society certainly reflect this sentiment. A justifying bulwark against any criticism towards the NLD government, these promises led to ample opportunity for the resolution of civil strife in the country getting squandered; thereby further darkening a future that looks more bleak than ever.

Internationally, the foreign policy of Western governments in addressing Burma’s human rights abuses provides no room for complexity and mixed bureaucratic responses by organisations such as the United Nations over the past decade have led to drastic consequences in the peace processes throughout Burma. Their involvements with the country’s democratisation efforts and entrance into the global economy were exclusively pivoted around Aung San Suu Kyi. This narrative of the ‘lady against the generals’ paid very little attention paid to the influence of ludicrous cross-border conflicts, war economies, and the incentives of various factions - be it within the state or of the rebel groups. The former president’s sudden and wide embrace of the West was short-sighted to the extent that it made light of the impact that the participation of Ethnic Armed Organisations (EAOs) along the Sino-Burmese border could have. Suu Kyi’s government furthermore underestimated the repercussions of Western isolation on the peace deals made during the ‘21st Century PangLong Conferences’. Above all else, the young population especially, and sadly, do not seem to be able to tell the difference between the story of Burma: is it one of Suu Kyi or one of inclusivity.

Though merely stating facts, Thant’s description of the contemporary political processes in Burma is at times specked with instances that were darkly astonishing, oftentimes unintentionally comical. One of these moments includes the time when John Yettaw handed Suu Kyi the Book of Mormon, making it all the more surreal. Nevertheless, there are parts where Thant could have elaborated further, such as the impact of U Nu’s policies on the racial and social integrity of a briefly democratic Burma prior to Ne Win’s coup in 1962. However, the country’s complex web of layers stands masterfully explained in the book.

Lost is the potential of this beautiful country, so rich in natural resources, in which a deeply troubled rural citizenry resides which knows war not as an exception but as the norm.

Most importantly, Thant demonstrates that the story of Burma’s fight for democracy is not so much as black-and-white, not a clear David-and-Goliath spectacle that we are made to believe most of the time. A particularly challenging part recounts the solemn story of a certain lady named Moe. Driven into destitution by the cascade of events following the Bush-era sanctions that shut down garment factories, her life led from unemployment to sex trafficking, only to discover herself with a diagnosis of HIV/AIDS after a hazardous, painful journey back home. These same sanctions were supported by several pro-democracy and human rights activists at home and abroad. These activists were also part of the same force that blocked the Global Fund’s humanitarian aid that was supposed to relieve HIV/AIDS and malaria outbreaks in Burma of the early 2000s, thereby cutting off all remaining hope for people like Moe. Indeed, Moe’s life is not an uncommon one for the precariat of Burma, whose rights, needs, and welfare seem to be left out of the picture entirely. While the nation emphasises the virtue of personal sacrifice for the greater good pivoted around the leader; the vast majority have little more to give. Lost is the potential of this beautiful country, so rich in natural resources, in which a deeply troubled rural citizenry resides which knows war not as an exception but as the norm. Not a glimmer of hope seems to remain in a country where Burmese identity is defined by race and ethnicity.

That is not to say that are no memorable and beautiful moments. During the peak of the Rakhine crisis in 2016, the compassion of a Buddhist monk in Rakhine that offered refuge and food to displaced civilians of the Buddhist and Muslim creed and traumatised by the violence raging outside will give any reader a chilling feeling of awe as the pages turn. The man was confronted by protesters outside his monastery for housing Muslims together with Buddhists, arguing that the protestors would have to go through him if they wish to ransack the monastery and commit violence inside. An anomaly of a preacher who truly practices a rare act of compassion could perhaps make one faintly wonder just ‘what if?’.

What kind of a future Burma will head towards we still do not know. But as Thant puts, it is truly hard to be optimistic at present. Yet understanding Burma is imperative still, in a way, as the story should provide us to rethink how Western democracies interact with authoritarian and transitory regimes in the future. It should also provide a brutal lesson for us, when aiding and advocating for democracy in contested states, to jettison the idea that one-dimensional foreign policies that prescribe a dose of sanctions followed by the introduction neoliberalism will do the trick of healing an infinitely complex, deeply conflict-ridden nation towards peace and prosperity.

This piece was originally published on the author’s personal blog, which you can find here

Anna Tan is a postgraduate student for MSc Global Affairs at King’s College London. Her research is focused on how Western human rights diplomacy affects democracy and authoritarianism in the Asia Pacific. She has previously worked for UNDP Myanmar and the American Red Cross, and is a member of the Programme Committee of the Conflict, Security and Development (CSD) Conference 2020 hosted by the Department of War Studies and the Department of International Development (DID). Anna holds a BSc in Neuroscience. You can follow her on Twitter: @AnnaTanGTW

Strife Series on Human Rights, Security, and Diplomacy in the Asia Pacific - Introduction

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by Anna Tan

(Image Credit: Shannon Stapleton/Reuters)

 

Editorial

In recent years, the world has seen a rising number of civil protests and movements globally. The eruption of the Hong Kong crisis in mid-2019, where mainstream political dialogues reached a new level of fixation on the increasingly looming authoritarian power of China that pervades well beyond its mainland territories, shook many of us. The rise of China has been overwhelmingly redefining the overall regional security of the Asia Pacific, and how that development influences the shift in the nature of international relations is undoubtedly dependent on the alliance of the Asian countries with the West, especially with the United States.

Reflecting on Müllerson’s theory on the relationship of intrastate human rights and international security[1}, it is indisputable that China under Xi Jinping’s Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is a very strong authoritarian state, and its overtly aggressive policies against Hong Kong’s mass civil resistance not just made headlines for an incredibly sustained period of time throughout the year, but also threatens the international stability by means of possible similar aggressions. It threatens liberal democratic values that are upheld by many free and democratic nations from across the world, especially in a time where American influence has been on a rapid decline since the assumption of the Trump administration. In the Asia Pacific, while nations such as Hong Kong, Taiwan and South Korea face new challenges in manoeuvring through the changing dynamics of international security now jeopardised by the “America first” policy of the United States, other countries such as Myanmar welcome the rising Chinese hegemony. Why and how does this happen?

This Strife Series explores the interplay between human rights and security through diplomatic exchanges in the Asia Pacific. The series analyses how in some countries, addressing human rights, democratic freedom and maintaining status quo national and/or regional security seem to be mutually exclusive at times instead of being mutually reinforcing, despite sharing the common factor of China’s domineering economic leverage.

Publications:

In the first article (12/2019) “China’s Turbulent Year: 2019”, Professor Kerry Brown analyses how China’s aggression in response to the Hong Kong protests and its draconian policies to the Uighur population in Xinjiang have both comparable ‘tit-for-tat’ elements that the Chinese leadership may not have thought through carefully, but will have detrimental consequences to the international opinion on China’s usually very cautious and deliberate efforts on maintaining its diplomatic image.

In the second article (01/2020) “China, Myanmar, War Crimes and the Issue of National Sovereignty”, Anna Tan looks at how Myanmar under Aung San Suu Kyi’s leadership, has strangely shifted from being a Western ally during the landmark victories of the National League for Democracy (NLD) in the 2015 elections to an even stronger adherence to China’s orbit than ever before. She describes how the Sino-Burmese relations have evolved dramatically under the light of the Rohingya conflict in Rakhine and Myanmar’s subsequent genocide trial at the International Court of Justice (ICJ).

The third article (03/2020) “Taiwan Elections: Continuity, Change and the Cross-Strait Conundrum”, Evita Liagka explores what the victories of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) under the leadership of Tsai Ing-wen could mean for the future of Taiwan and its cross-strait relations. She points out that the China-Hong Kong crisis came in a convenient timing for DPP’s mobilisation of garnering greater support than ever before and since the public consensus on maintaining the status quo international diplomatic status of Taiwan has remained largely unchanged, we might not see a drastic shift in DPP’s policies from its previous term. However, KMT’s recent decision to swerve away from its pro-China stances might pose newer challenges for Taiwan in the years ahead.

The final articles are contributed by Yeseul Woo, analysing North Asia’s security issues from the perspective of South Korea.

  • In Part 1 (02/2020) “South Korea’s Dangerous Silence on Human Rights Abuses in North Korea”, Yeseul Woo argues why the US lack of sponsorship in the UN Security Council meeting on the discussion of North Korea’s human rights issues should not mean that South Korea should remain silent. Ms Woo explains why, in fact, South Korea’s silence justified by the importance of the nuclear security framework would actually be counterproductive in regional security in the long run.
  • In Part 2 (03/2020) “The First Tech War? Why the Korea-Japan Tensions are about US-China Competition on AI”, Ms Woo further explains that South Korea’s silence on North Korea’s human rights issues for the sake of North Asia’s nuclear security (described in Part 1) is actually the result of the deterioration of Korea-Japan relations which has led to South Korea withdrawing from the GSOMIA pact. Though Seoul retracted its decision last minute, Ms Woo argues that the tensions between Seoul and Tokyo are less about the debate surrounding comfort women and wartime forced labour, and is actually influenced by the US-China competition on Artificial Intelligence (AI) in nuclear surveillance technology.
  1. Müllerson, R. (1997). “Human Rights Diplomacy.” Routledge.

Anna Tan is a postgraduate student for MSc Global Affairs at King’s College London. Her research is focused on how Western human rights diplomacy affects democracy and authoritarianism in Asia Pacific. She has previously worked for UNDP Myanmar and the American Red Cross, and is a member of the Programme Committee of the Conflict, Security and Development (CSD) Conference 2020 hosted by the Department of War Studies and the Department of International Development (DID). Anna holds a BSc in Neuroscience. You can follow her on Twitter: @AnnaTanGTW.

 

China, Myanmar, War Crimes and the Issue of “National Sovereignty”

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by Anna Tan

 

A banner reads “Myanmar warmly welcomes the Chinese President Xi Jinping” (Image credit: AP/Aung Shine Oo)

In September 2017, ten Rohingya Muslims were executed by the Burmese military in the village of Inn Din, Rakhine State, Myanmar (Burma). Afterward, journalists leading the Reuters investigation that exposed the massacre were charged with treason under the colonial-era Official Secrets Act. Aung San Suu Kyi, a Nobel Peace Prize laureate and once an icon of peace, fiercely defended the government’s incarceration of the two journalists arguing that their detention had “nothing to do with freedom of expression at all” and was all about the “violation of the Official Secrets Act”. The Reuters journalists were later released in 2019 through an annual presidential clemency after a year of unyielding international pressure and legal support led by Amal Clooney.

The whole debacle formed part of the 2016 persecution of the Rohingya in Myanmar’s Rakhine State, which entailed a violent crackdown of the Muslim minority that has settled in the land for generations. The Rohingyas were subject to the arson of their villages, gang rapes, and infanticide, which the UN has called a “textbook ethnic cleansing”. In the end, over 20,000 Rohingyas died and over 700,000 fled their homes, crossing the border to Bangladesh and residing in refugee camps ever since. Suu Kyi dismissed the genocide claims at the ICJ hearings filed by The Gambia and instead defended the “clearance operations” including the Inn Din massacre as part of a “counter-terrorism” response by the military, yet completely omitting a plethora of remaining war crimes committed by those same armed forces.

On 16 November 2019, the New York Times published the Xinjiang Papers, which explicitly showed in over 400 leaked pages a breakdown of how the Chinese government organised the crackdown on Uyghur Muslims – a Turkic ethnic minority – into “re-education camps.” These facilities, better described as concentration camps, see one to three million Uyghurs detained extrajudicially in Xinjiang each year. Later evidence also corroborated this puzzle. The BBC’s recent insider report on such “thought transformation camps” renders an eerie atmosphere as one cannot help but concur such camps are run with no motive other than ethnic-cleansing and Sinification.

Xi Jinping has repeatedly described the Uyghur Muslims as “being infected by a virus” that needs to be “eradicated,” following multiple terrorist attacks in the region, in the form of riots, bombings, and knife attacks. For Beijing, “stability” is key since Xinjiang serves as the gateway for China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) projects with Central Asia and Pakistan. However, Beijing’s approach to achieving stability is in many ways one that could instead undermine the state’s very authority and legitimacy, because of its oppressive policies pursued outside of the rule of law. Here, memories of the Tiananmen Massacre still remain fresh.

Meanwhile, in Myanmar, Suu Kyi’s refusal to call out the war crimes against civilians continued, with prospects for an end to the 70-year long Burmese Civil War seeming increasingly frail. Once a major Western ally, Suu Kyi’s shining moment after the landslide 2015 elections proved to be short-lived, leaving Myanmar dependent on China. Despite on-going local protests stirred by environmental and land-right concerns against China’s BRI projects in Rakhine, Suu Kyi has increasingly grown friendly with the Communist Party-led country which over the past two decades has consistently vetoed UN Security Council resolutions regarding human rights violations in Myanmar, actions perpetrated by the same actors that worked with the military in prolonging Suu Kyi’s house arrest. Once a fierce critic of China and of imbalanced investments, the foundations of Suu Kyi’s foreign policy have been upended. Instead, China is now employed as a bulwark against international criticism on Myanmar’s human rights fiasco.

Wang Yi and Suu Kyi in 2016 (Image Credit: Reuters)

Her meeting with China’s Foreign Minister Wang Yi ahead of the ICJ hearings sent clear signals to the world that both countries are now united against the international community in Myanmar’s domestic political issues, with Suu Kyi thanking China for “safeguarding national sovereignty” and “opposing foreign interference.” China’s intermediation role with armed groups over the last couple of years has increased despite two failed attempts by China to repatriate the Rohingya, actions that are widely seen as having exacerbated the situation.

It is difficult to decipher the exact Sino-Burmese strategies in “resolving” the Rohingya crisis, but it remains crystal clear that both parties are suggesting that the West is an outsider in this rather peculiar yet unsurprising entente. China, usually staunch about following its “non-interference” principle to its foreign policies in contemporary political discourse, we see there can be exceptional cases. Earlier, during the Libyan Civil War in 2011, Beijing found its involvement essential, with over 30,000 Chinese nationals in Libya needing to be evacuated. Myanmar, on the other hand, provides China with a gateway to the Indian Ocean; thereby circumventing the South China Sea, a much-disputed area of maritime security and defence.

Once on antagonistic terms, the distinction between China’s communist leaders, Suu Kyi’s government and the military of Myanmar now seem to be increasingly challenging one to make, with their exclusionary narratives running parallel. Is China, an authoritarian country, truly an ideal friend to help Myanmar towards becoming a democracy, let alone a liberal one? Suu Kyi’s remarks thanking China for “safeguarding [Myanmar]’s national sovereignty” with regards to foreign influence is farcical. In addition, with the landmark visit of Chinese President Xi Jinping to Myanmar – which saw the signing of 33 memorandums of understandings (MoUs), protocols and agreements including bilateral partnerships on issues regarding border patrol, police, information and media services – there is little doubt as to the hegemonic aspirations of China.

Indeed, China’s moves with regards to a cash-strapped economy like Myanmar is another step in its debt-trap diplomacy. This development is reminiscent of the case of the Hambantota Port in Sri Lanka – where the conflict-ridden country, unable to save its fledgling export rates and attract sufficient Foreign Direct Investments (FDI), found itself forced to sign a 99-year lease of the port to China to cover its colossal amount of current account deficit. Sri Lanka’s case should give Myanmar a premonition about what is still yet to come.

Xi Jinping and Aung San Suu Kyi shaking hands, during a visit aimed at cementing the ties between China and Myanmar (Image Credit: SCMP)

The ICJ’s verdict arrived shortly after Xi’s visit to Myanmar, on the 23 January. The UN court ruled against Myanmar with a unanimous approval of provisional measures as requested by The Gambia on the war crimes against the Rohingya. This ruling may well be a disappointment for many Burmese loyalists that rallied across the country in support of Suu Kyi’s ICJ defence earlier in December last year, as well as a cause for disillusionment amongst the country’s believers who were confident that the ICJ case is firmly secure in the hands of Suu Kyi’s political eloquence, despite the insurmountable evidence pointing in the other direction.

Though long overdue, perhaps the ruling will provide a stronger reason for the Burmese to question their status quo politics and politicians. However, the answers should be obvious as to whether Myanmar, currently caught in an asymmetric relationship with China, truly has its national sovereignty “safeguarded;” whether or not if Myanmar is walking in the right direction towards liberal democracy; and indeed whether a brighter or darker future awaits the country.

Anna is an MSc student for Global Affairs at King’s College London. She has previously worked for UNDP and the American Red Cross. Her research interests are on ASEAN-North Asian relations, conflict-resolution, human rights and diplomacy. She is also currently a Programme Coordinator for the Conflict, Security and Development (CSD) Conference 2020 hosted by Department of War Studies and Department of International Development (DID). You can follow her on Twitter: @AnnaTanGTW