What a difference a year makes. At the beginning of 2021, Philippine president Rodrigo Duterte seemed nearly invincible: four and a half years into his single, six-year term, one could plausibly speculate that he would be able to exercise considerable influence over the succession process and install his own “anointed” candidate as the next president of the republic in the May 2022 elections. This would go against the usual pattern in Philippine politics, whereby governing coalitions start to splinter as elections approach and the leader is unable to satisfy all those who have earlier joined his or her camp. Duterte, arguably, might have been different. Throughout his time in office, ever since his meteoric rise from his Davao City mayoral post to the presidency in 2016, Duterte had effectively used a combination of mass appeal, strongman tactics and patronage not only to keep most of his coalition intact—but also to expand it. He had also shown himself to be the “Teflon populist”, with his popularity riding high even amidst the corruption scandals, infighting and incompetence that surrounded him. Maybe, just maybe, Duterte’s combination of charisma and coercion would enable him to buck the historical trends.

Most likely, it seemed in early 2021, Duterte would be able to engineer his replacement by either his daughter, Sara Duterte-Carpio (who had succeeded him as mayor of Davao City), or by his trusted special assistant Christopher “Bong” Go (elected to the Philippine Senate, with Duterte’s strong endorsement, in 2019). By the end of 2021, Duterte remained immensely popular, with 72 per cent approval, thus retaining his long streak of high survey ratings. But he had, quite clearly, squandered much of his influence over the process by which the next president was to be chosen. In the latter months of the year, very deep (and very public) intra-familial splits threatened the long-term viability of the House of Duterte. If the family’s national-level power is to re-emerge at some point in the future, it will quite likely be with the father out of the picture and the daughter at the helm.

The 1 February 2021 military coup in Myanmar ended a decade of political liberalization and triggered a countrywide popular uprising, which soon turned into armed resistance and ultimately all-out civil war. By year’s end, the military was locked in a battle for survival with a wide range of resistance forces from nearly every sector of society, while the state and economy were collapsing, and millions of people faced a deepening humanitarian emergency. The international community fretted about the growing crisis and demanded that the violence stop but was ultimately unable to do much more than watch as Myanmar fell apart.

The Antecedents of the Coup

The coup followed months of escalating tensions between the military and the civilian government, triggered by military allegations that the 7 November 2020 elections, which delivered a landslide victory to the incumbent National League for Democracy (NLD), were marred by widespread fraud. As the commencement date for the new parliament on 1 February edged closer, the military sought several legal avenues for delaying it, calling, first, for a special sitting of parliament and, later, a meeting of the National Defence and Security Council and even a Supreme Court intervention. These demands, however, were rejected by the civilian authorities, resulting in intense, face-to-face negotiations between representatives of the NLD and the military during the last few days of January to try to resolve the brewing constitutional crisis. Officially, the military simply wanted an acknowledgement of their grievances and a proper investigation of the election results, which at least some NLD leaders were reportedly willing to consider. According to some sources, however, the military was actually pushing for some form of power-sharing arrangement, which would have been a much greater concession for the NLD to make. Either way, the negotiations failed, and in the early morning of 1 February, the military once again took control of the capital, arrested the country’s elected leaders and declared a state of emergency. The initial takeover was quick and bloodless, but it triggered a conflict that would cost thousands of lives and fundamentally change the face of Myanmar politics.

Executive Summary

• • Over the past two decades, the fixation on anti-state content has shaped the way Vietnamese authorities deployed various censorship strategies to achieve the dual goals of creating a superficial openness while maintaining a tight grip on online discourses. These considerations dictated how several regulations on Internet controls were formulated and enforced.

• • Vietnamese censors also selectively borrowed from China’s online censorship playbook, a key tenet of which is the fear-based approach. The modus operandi for the authorities is to first harp on what they perceive as online foreign and domestic threats to Vietnam’s social stability. Then those threats are exhaustively used to enforce tougher measures that are akin to those implemented in China.

• • But unlike China, Vietnam has not afforded to ban Western social media platforms altogether. Realizing that they would be better off exploiting social media for their own gains, Vietnamese authorities have sought to co-opt and utilize it to curb anti-state content on the Internet. The lure of the Vietnamese market has also emboldened Facebook and Google’s YouTube to consider it fit to acquiesce to state censorship demands.

• • The crackdown on anti-state content and fear-based censorship are likely to continue shaping Vietnam’s Internet controls, at least in the foreseeable future. The question is how both Internet users and the authorities will make the most of their unlikely—and fickle—alliance with social media to fulfil their agendas.

Executive Summary

• • In 1992, a group of academics at the National University of Malaysia (UKM) organized a seminar titled “Seminar Ahli Sunnah dan Syiah Imamiyyah” (“Seminar on Ahl al-Sunnah and Imami Shi’ism”) in Kuala Lumpur. It aimed to demonize Shi’a Muslims and ban Shi’ism, effectively escalating sectarianism in Muslim society.

• • A Deobandi presenter at the seminar by the name of Muhammad Asri Yusoff put forth arguments about Shi’ism, which later became the “intellectual base” for the discrimination and repression of Shi’a Muslims by Islamic authorities in Malaysia. This repression continues till the present day, and other religious leaders—particularly those with a Salafi orientation—take part in this.

• • While much attention has been given to those who have escalated sectarianism, there have also been efforts to de-escalate sectarianism. These efforts come from groups such as Persatuan Ulama Malaysia, and individuals such as Abdul Hadi Awang of PAS, former Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad, the leader of International Movement for a Just World, Chandra Muzaffar, as well as Malaysian academic, Syed Farid Alatas.

• • Nevertheless, the roots of sectarianism have been deeply laid since the seminar in 1992. Unsurprisingly, the sectarian campaign against Shi’as is aligned with the agenda of extremist and terrorist organizations such as ISIS. The sectarian campaign thus arguably emboldens such groups and puts Malaysia and the entire Southeast Asia at risk.

Introduction

Indonesia and Vietnam share a common historical experience in that these two Southeast Asian countries achieved their independence through revolution, and the leaders of each country have emphasized this point from time to time. They have even argued that this common experience has formed the basis of Indonesia-Vietnam relations. How true is this assertion? What is the nature of their relations? Has Communist ideology been a major factor in the relations between Communist Vietnam and anti-Communist Indonesia? What has really determined bilateral ties? What has been the role of Suharto in Indonesia’s policy towards Vietnam? And last but not least, what are the prospects for the future?

Origins of Relations

Indonesia has had informal contacts with Vietnam since the 1940s. Diplomatic ties between Jakarta and Hanoi were only established after the Afro-Asian Conference in Bandung. Jakarta set up a Consulate-General in Hanoi in December 1955, three months after it had established a Consulate-General in Saigon. This policy of equidistance to the two Vietnams was abandoned during the Sukarno period when revolutionary fervour was rising and Indonesia’s foreign policy was moving towards the left.

In 1959, Ho Chi Minh was invited to visit Indonesia and was given an honorary degree by a regional Indonesian university. In the same year, Sukarno returned the visit. When the Vietnam war escalated, members of the Indonesian elite, many of whom had been involved in the anti-colonial movement, sympathized with the North Vietnamese. Many of them saw the South Vietnamese as American puppets. On 10 August 1964, Sukarno finally decided to upgrade diplomatic relations between Jakarta and Hanoi from consulate to ambassadorial level. This led to the suspension of diplomatic ties between Jakarta and Saigon, and the Indonesian consulate in Saigon was closed. Soon after, Indonesia decided to recognize the National Liberation Front of South Vietnam (NLFSV) and allowed the establishment of its representative office in Jakarta. Indonesian relations with Communist states, including North Vietnam, became much closer. Together with the PRC, they formed what was known as the Jakarta-Hanoi-Phnom Penh-Beijing-Pyongyang axis. This was the so-called honeymoon period, not only between Indonesia and the PRC, but also between Indonesia and North Vietnam.

The economic, political, strategic and cultural dynamism in Southeast Asia has gained added relevance in recent years with the spectacular rise of giant economies in East and South Asia. This has drawn greater attention to the region and to the enhanced role it now plays in international relations and global economics.

The sustained effort made by Southeast Asian nations since 1967 towards a peaceful and gradual integration of their economies has had indubitable success, and perhaps as a consequence of this, most of these countries are undergoing deep political and social changes domestically and are constructing innovative solutions to meet new international challenges. Big Power tensions continue to be played out in the neighbourhood despite the tradition of neutrality exercised by the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN).

The Trends in Southeast Asia series acts as a platform for serious analyses by selected authors who are experts in their fields. It is aimed at encouraging policymakers and scholars to contemplate the diversity and dynamism of this exciting region.

THE EDITORS

Series Chairman:

Choi Shing Kwok

Series Editor:

Ooi Kee Beng

Editorial Committee:

Daljit Singh

Francis E. Hutchinson

Norshahril Saat

Introduction

This chapter examines Indonesia’s role in the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) and Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation (APEC) Forum. In the first part, the following questions on NAM are asked: How important is NAM to Suharto’s Indonesia? Why has Indonesia been interested in becoming the Chairman of the NAM conference? What has been done by Indonesian leaders to achieve this objective? Have they been successful? In the second part, another set of questions are posed: What has been the importance of APEC to Suharto’s Indonesia? Why did Suharto change his mind on APEC? Was it for economic reasons or political reasons, or both? Is it the way for Suharto to project Indonesia’s international leadership position?

The Non-Aligned Movement

Origins of NAM

Indonesia perceives itself as one of the founders of the Non-Aligned Movement, and it wants to be recognized as such. Not surprisingly, Indonesia has tried very hard in recent years to secure the chairmanship of the NAM conference.

In most Indonesian publications on the subject of Indonesian foreign policy, the Non-Aligned Movement has been considered to have originated at the 1955 Afro-Asian Conference, also known as the Bandung Conference. The Bandung Principles, or Dasasila Bandung, are believed to be the basis of the NAM principles. In fact, the first conference of the Non-Aligned Movement was held in 1961 in Belgrade, Yugoslavia. Josip Broz Tito of Yugoslavia, Jawaharlal Nehru of India, and Abdul Nasser of Egypt are always linked with the Movement and the countries that they represented have, in turn, chaired the Movement. Indonesia was always left out.

The first Conference of the Non-Aligned Movement was attended by 28 countries which had expressed concern over tensions in the international arena, especially relations between the two superpowers. The conference participants wished the superpowers to refrain from using military means to solve their differences and stated that they did not wish to be aligned with either superpower. The non-aligned countries would be willing to work with any country to achieve world peace. Although Indonesia was one of the participants in this conference, its role was not conspicuous.

The second NAM Conference was held in Cairo in 1964. At this conference, there was a conflict of interest between India and Indonesia. India was in favour of peaceful co-existence of countries with different political systems while Indonesia advocated confrontation between the New Emerging Forces (Nefos) and the Old Established Forces (Oldefos).

The Resurgence of Peranakan Associations

On 24–25 November 2018, I was invited to attend and give a keynote speech at the 31st Peranakan/Baba Nyonya Convention (abbreviated as the 31st Peranakan Convention) in Tangerang, West Java, Indonesia. I also had the opportunity to observe the interactions between the Peranakans from Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand and Australia. There were about 600 participants from these countries, of whom, more than 500 were from outside Indonesia.

To have smooth interactions with the Peranakan participants, English was made the medium of communication. Privately when the Peranakans from different countries communicate, they still use more English than Malay. This is because not all Peranakans are fluent in Indonesian or Malay, with the exception of Indonesian Peranakans who use Indonesian as their daily language. This point is important to remember in order to avoid an impression that the Peranakan Chinese are a homogeneous group. The so-called Peranakan Malay/Indonesian is not used either as this is a dying language and its vocabulary and structure are not sufficient to express complicated matters.

The Convention’s programme was rich. Aside from the keynote speech and two paper presentations on the Peranakan Chinese history and hybrid culture in Java, there were musical performances and a series of workshops on things Peranakan Chinese, ranging from food, cuisine, batik and games. In addition, there were visits to Peranakan historical sites in Tangerang, Central and East Java. This was some sort of a Peranakan cultural journey in Indonesia which lasted a few days, coinciding with the theme of the conference entitled “Exploring the Roots of Peranakan”.

The roots of the Peranakan are also quite controversial as both Indonesian Peranakan Chinese and Malaysian Peranakan Chinese thought that their Peranakan societies are the oldest, and hence they are the roots of the Peranakan. It is difficult to argue which Peranakan community is the oldest as more studies are needed. However, from the information available, it seems that the Indonesian Peranakan appeared to be older and much larger in number. During the (1405–33) expedition of Zheng He (Cheng Ho), Ma Huan discovered a number of Chinese clusters in Java (namely Gresik, New Village, Surabaya and Majapahit) and Sumatra (Palembang), and many of these Chinese were also Muslims.

The sample of this study covers forty-three countries, which comprise of key trading partners of ASEAN, RCEP partners, ASEAN+1 FTA partners and EU members. The United States and some EU members have been dropped from the sample due the unavailability of data on cross-border paperless trade.

Introduction

The influence of the military and President Suharto can also be seen in Indonesia’s policy towards the Middle East and Bosnia. This chapter examines whether Islam is the major factor in determining Indonesia’s relations with the Islamic and Muslim states, with special reference to the Middle East and Bosnia. Six cases are briefly studied: Jakarta’s policy towards the PLO, revolutionary Iran, the Organization of Islamic Conference (OIC), the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and the religious conflict in Bosnia.

The Islamic Factor

As a country where Muslims make up the majority of the population, Indonesia is assumed to have close relations with the Islamic Middle East. When Indonesia-Middle East relations are examined, however, it turns out that they have been dictated by many considerations other than Islam. It is true that long before the transfer of political power in 1949, Indonesian officials had come into contact with many Middle-Eastern states. Owing partly to the activities of Indonesian students and partly to the efforts of Haji Agus Salim (a respected Indonesian Islamic figure who later became Foreign Minister), the Islamic states such as Egypt, Iraq and Syria supported the Indonesian nationalist struggle. They were one of the earliest groups of countries which recognized Indonesian independence. However, Indonesia-Middle East relations did not expand rapidly.

During the Parliamentary Democracy period (1949-1956), when political parties were in power, Islamic parties such as Masyumi and NU were assumed to have introduced more Islamic foreign policy, but this was not the case. Even when Sukiman of Masyumi was Prime Minister, his foreign policy was very pro-American. This was during the Cold War period when Muslims sided with non-Communists in order to survive. In addition, the Islamic rebellions in Indonesia made identifying closely with Islam appear unpatriotic. This may explain why Indonesia’s foreign policy, even when an Islamic party was a major partner in the ruling coalition, was still non-Islamic.

From the beginning, Indonesia has adopted a policy of non-recognition towards Israel. Indonesian sympathy has been with the Arabs, who are Muslims. This policy has often been seen as reflecting Indonesia’s close association with its Islamic brothers. However, if the situation is studied more closely, it can be seen that these relations were based on Third World nationalism rather than co-religious solidarity.

Introduction

This chapter focuses on major challenges and problems encountered by Singapore’s asatizah graduates upon their return from completing Islamic studies abroad. Factors including the genesis in the surge of religious studies graduates in Singapore which have contributed to the current challenges faced by them will be discussed. The impact of dominant discourse in recent decades on the significance of asatizah in guiding the community to adapt to change and the need for them to contextualize Islam to suit the conditions of Singapore’s pluralistic society amid evidence of Islamist extremism as well as policies and measures aimed at professionalizing them are also examined. The overriding aim is to analyse the extent to which these have facilitated critical attention on the need to revaluate Islamic studies education, crucial for the well-being of the community and the larger society.

Data obtained from in-depth interviews, survey responses and focus group discussions with returning religious studies graduates and undergraduates as highlighted in the previous chapters reveal that until the mid-1980s, the number of those who went abroad to pursue religious education was very few. Today, the situation has changed significantly with more having completed tertiary religious education in foreign universities abroad. While the traditional centre of religious learning for local asatizah in the past was Al-Azhar University in Egypt, data reveal that in the last two decades or so, their option has expanded to include other universities in Egypt and the Middle East more generally, including those in Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Syria, Yemen and Libya. Students have also continued to study in Malaysian universities though in its relatively newer established ones, as well as in Brunei and Indonesia. Malaysian Islamic studies centres, such as Kolej Islam in Klang which used to be the educational destination for those who did not or could not pursue religious studies in the Middle East, are becoming less common today given the rise in competing institutions. While UM and UKM religious studies departments or academies continue to attract students, the relatively newer established ones such as IIUM (International Islamic University Malaysia) are noticeably fast replacing them. Others that are seeing increasing enrolment are USIM (Islamic Science University of Malaysia), KUIS (International Islamic College of Selangor) and UTM (Technological University of Malaysia).

Executive Summary

• • The ASEAN+6 Single Window (ASW+6) in this study refers to the geographic expansion of the ASEAN Single Window (ASW) to enable cross-border electronic exchange of trade-related data and documents among ASEAN member states and six FTA partners, namely, Australia, China, India, Japan, New Zealand and South Korea. The ASW is part of ASEAN’s trade facilitation reform to reduce intraregional trade costs and time.

• • This study considers cross-border paperless trade measures to represent the implementation of ASW+6, using data from the UN Global Survey on Digital and Sustainable Trade Facilitation in 2019. The simulation analyses reveal that the ASW+6 has significant potential to reduce times required to export and import, and to boost trade in ASEAN and its FTA partners.

• • Partial implementation of cross-border paperless trade measures would imply an increase in ASEAN’s exports of US$102 billion annually. Under a more ambitious scenario of full implementation of cross-border paperless trade, the export gain for ASEAN would be US$199 billion annually. At the same time, the time required to export would fall by anything between 19 to 98 per cent, depending on the reform scenario considered.

• • Trade gains from a full-fledged ASW+6 have not yet been reaped: even strong performers such as Singapore, Australia and New Zealand have areas for improvements, and weaker performers such as Cambodia and Laos need to make significant progress to catch up with the rest of the region, and deepen their mutual trade integration.

• • The sequence of expanding the ASW to FTA partners may begin with countries that are major sources of ASEAN’s export gains identified in this study and those that have expressed their political will to move in that direction. These are Japan and South Korea. The ASW should then be enlarged to remaining FTA partners, especially China and India.

• • While trade gains from ASW+6 are substantial, the implementation costs can also be significant due to different regulatory requirements across ASEAN+6 countries. Aid for trade and capacity-building to support the reform process have to be an integral part for the design of ASW+6.

This chapter begins by examining the mechanics of how the shock of sudden lockdown impacted our complex, integrated and circular economy, teasing out the various transmission processes and key economic agents. Section 2 deals with government responses and measures to rescue their economies from the fallout of the grinding halt. Different countries had different capacities to do it, and some could afford extensive programmes worth up to 40 per cent of GDP, while others eked out in single digits—reflecting their level of development, depth of pockets and the range of policy levers available. Section 3 briefly compares these measures to what was put in place during the Global Financial Crisis (GFC)—what we learnt from last time, and the difference it makes that this current crisis is health-driven and impacts simultaneously on economic demand and supply, whereas the GFC had its origins squarely in the world of finance. Section 4 concludes with a brief discussion on the impact of COVID-19 coping measures—some of which played out more or less as anticipated, whereas others did not—and potential consequences for the long term.

Section 1: Sudden Stop—An Economy Is Not A Supertanker

Until now, the term “sudden stop” was typically applied to the capital markets and used to describe the way that financial flows—often “hot money” heading from low interest rate countries to higher interest rate ones—could abruptly dry up or change direction, causing turmoil in exchange rates, interest rates and other financial markets. The health crisis of COVID-19 and coping policies of social distancing and lockdown saw a sudden stop applied as a deliberate policy, to humans and indeed the entire economy. Before this happened, people would not have dreamed such a sudden stop to normal life even possible. Often, when we talk about effecting change in the economy or in society we use the analogy of a supertanker, which is famous for taking a long time to change direction because of its massive size and weight and the effect of momentum. Sudden stop for these vessels is impossible and it takes kilometres of sea even to slow down or do a U-turn. Nonetheless, the ship does eventually come to a standstill, and when all engines are turned off it stays more or less headed in the same direction, and passengers and cargo remain on board unaffected.

A PRESSING AND DEFINING ISSUE

Inequality and exclusion are defining problems of our times globally, regionally, nationally. In introducing this book’s impetus and formation, it is helpful to passage through these geographic and academic layers. Inequalities of opportunity, well-being, income and wealth have existed in all societies, but the past decade has seen heightened perceptions that globalized capitalist systems enrich the few at the expense of the many. Tellingly, the Millennium Development Goals 2015 specified gender equality while generally focusing on poverty and basic needs, while the Sustainable Development Goals 2030 inscribed reduction of inequality within and among countries as one of the various new goals pursuing equitable distribution of socio-economic benefits.

Alongside burgeoning prosperity, uncertainty and precarity are also growing, fuelling public sentiments and popular discourses surrounding these phenomena. Social discontent arises from local, lived experiences. Social movements, voters and the general public around the world are signalling for more policies that foster equitable outcomes and bolster incomes at the bottom and middle of the distribution, and that protect the vulnerable and disadvantaged. The COVID-19 pandemic and its economic aftermath have further revealed the ways that existing inequalities can be compounded in crisis times.

The focus has decidedly fallen on disparities within countries. Inequality between countries remains salient; national income persists at low levels in many countries. Nonetheless, inequality is acknowledged as a problem all countries need to address; even if poverty alleviation takes relative precedence, rich-poor disparities and structural exclusion can undermine sustainable growth. Empirical evidence, based on increasingly widespread household income surveys, also find that within-country inequality accounts for the bulk of global household income inequality (Milanovic 2016; Bourguignon 2017). Widening inequality has been recognized as a precursor to the global financial crisis, especially in advanced economies that from the 1990s reversed the inequality reduction achieved from the 1950s through to the 1980s (Piketty 2014; Milanovic 2016; Christiansen and Jensen 2019). The general public also views the problem with increasing gravity. The World Values Survey, which has repeated the inquiry in a consistent sample of countries representing 40 per cent of the world’s population, reports a rising share in the past decade that regard inequality as a significant problem warranting policy attention (UNDP 2019).

There are a number of book-length studies on Indonesia’s foreign policy, of which very few have been published. Most of the books published can be divided into two broad categories: macro and micro studies. The macro studies (such as works by Franklin Weinstein, Anak Agung Gde Agung and Michael Leifer) deal largely with Indonesia’s foreign policy in general, while micro studies (by Jon M. Reinhardt, J.A.C. Mackie, David Mozingo, Dewi Fortuna Anwar and others) focus on specific topics and themes. Of these two types of studies, many cover the Sukarno period or early Suharto era. Particularly lacking are macro studies on Indonesia’s foreign policy under Suharto. The existing books which partially or wholly deal with Suharto were either published in the 1970s or early eighties. To my knowledge, there is no up-to-date book that examines comprehensively Indonesia’s foreign policy under Suharto. Undoubtedly there is an urgent case for such a book.

It is also worth noting that most of these books do not adopt a specific “theory” or model for examining Indonesia’s foreign policy and I have followed the same approach, although I am fully aware of the existence of these “theories” and models. An Indonesian case study such as mine is usually insufficient for generating a useful model. Nevertheless, the information provided in my study may contribute to future model-building on foreign policy behaviour.

Although no model has been used in the study, I have adopted a framework of foreign policy analysis. The framework provides a useful checklist of items required for a study of foreign policy, including the determinants of a country’s foreign policy behaviour.

In analysing Indonesia’s foreign policy during the Suharto era, however, it appears that the Indonesian military and culture (or political culture) are of crucial importance. The military, together with President Suharto, who was an army general, are initial decision-makers. Their policy tends to be influenced by prevalent political culture in terms of abangan (or nominal Muslim-cultural) orientations, and preference for authoritarianism. Nonetheless, it is clear that, in the later period, Suharto became more assertive in foreign policy. He has not always agreed with the military establishment on domestic politics as well as on foreign policy issues as illustrated by his handling of the East Timor issue, especially the recent Dili incident.

Two Views of the Monarchy in 1996

The year 1996 was a landmark year for Thailand, the modern Siam, during which King Bhumibol Adulyadej, Rama IX of the Chakri Dynasty, became the world’s longest-reigning monarch. At age sixty-nine, the king had reigned for fifty years. In hindsight, this was probably the apogee of his reign.

Throughout the year, celebrations were held across the kingdom, accompanied by torrents of praise and acclaim. One such was the opening ceremony of the 14th Conference of the International Association of Historians of Asia (IAHA) at Bangkok’s Chulalongkorn University on 20 May, barely a year before the 2 July 1997 Thai baht devaluation.

At the ceremony, Anand Panyarachun, who had been appointed as prime minister in 1991 and again in 1992, made a keynote speech of glorification entitled “His Majesty’s Role in the Making of Thai History”. Anand told the international gathering of around one hundred participants:

Anand mentioned that Bhumibol became king “by accident” at age nineteen.