Writing about recent history can be an incautious exercise. The closer the past gets to the present, the more insecure it is for the historian. The natural instinct is to withdraw from the present, which is precariously perched on the edge leading to the future, and find that comfortable distance between the writer and the brink. The aim is to gain the security that is often professionally called ‘perspective’. From the historian’s point of view, the trouble with the contemporary past is that it is still happening and there are no reliable records (‘primary sources’) to cite. Equally problematic is the possibility that the people described in the narrative may still be alive, and writing about living personalities can be notoriously insecure for the historian. Another dilemma is the fact that readers— fellow historians and others—bring to bear on that same narrative their own experiences and interpretations.

Couple these built-in disabilities in writing contemporary history to a description of the political structure of the independent states of Southeast Asia and there will emerge a veritable nightmare. So much needs to be discussed. So many themes can be presented. It is like a Balinese painter at work. He tries to depict as much as possible so that the canvas is completely covered, including the corners. The viewer then faces the task of relating the numerous features to each other. Very often, especially to the uninitiated, the end product merely registers as a patchwork of colours and shapes with no discernible message.