A quarter of a century ago, Donald Emmerson, one of America's most astute observers of Indonesian affairs, wrote an article for Foreign Affairs titled “Invisible Indonesia” (Emmerson 1987). The premise of the article was that the significance of a country and the attention it receives are separate matters. In an almost prescient way, he asserted that Indonesia's visibility would increase in the years ahead. His dependent variable at the time of writing was stated, “What will make Indonesia better known is its success or failure in selecting someone to replace General Suharto.” Now, well into the post-Suharto era, we can still endorse his conclusion that “in a zigzag trajectory of its own, invisible Indonesia will make its presence known”. The erstwhile “invisible Indonesia” has become a very visible Indonesia in both its regional and global international settings.

The zigzags along the trajectory that brought Indonesia its new visibility were sharp and, for policy, daunting. Not the least was overcoming the obstacles left in the political and economic wreckage of the collapsed Suharto regime: political instability, the lingering impacts of the Asian economic meltdown, ethnic and religious violence, and, of course, the separatist war in Aceh. Through the first half-decade after Suharto's fall, many Indonesia watchers were concerned that the country showed all of the earmarks of a failing state (Weatherbee 2002). Far from failing, President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono leads a nation that is globally recognized as a political and economic success story. Indonesia has emerged in the past decade as a signally important middle-power player on the international stage whose friendship and cooperation are sought by the world's greater powers. A myriad of books, book chapters, and articles have documented Indonesia's rise to new prominence in world affairs.

Although Suharto's Indonesia may have been globally “invisible”, during the second half of his regime Indonesia had experienced a “rise”. By the early 1990s it was the dominant regional power in ASEAN, an important player in East Asia and the Pacific, and through the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) a leader in the developing world. In its international role and status, the country was defined as a “pivotal state” (Bresnan 1999). The features of a pivotal state include physical size, large population, important geographical location, and, most importantly, capacity to affect regional and international stability.

At an earlier point in this paper four questions were posed with respect to Indonesia's relationship to ASEAN, particularly in the framework of the ASEAN Political and Security Community. The questions were related to Indonesia's self-image as the leader of ASEAN. The first question was in what direction Indonesia wanted ASEAN to go. As has been discussed, for at least a decade Indonesia has sought to transfer its experience in democratization to ASEAN. It also has tried to move the grouping towards a strategic coherence and political solidarity that would be necessary to make ASEAN an effective actor in shaping its regional security environment. In short, Indonesia, of all the ASEAN states, has tried the most to make real the pledges and promises of the ASEAN Charter and the Bali Concord II's vision of community. Indonesia has kept ASEAN upfront in its foreign policy even at the cost of compromising its own national foreign policy interests.

Indonesia has been singularly unsuccessful in putting an Indonesian stamp on ASEAN. If anything, it is just the opposite. The ASEAN stamp has been put on Indonesia in terms of the dilution of the bebas dan aktif quality of its foreign policy in deference to lowest-common-denominator consensus and inaction. This answers the second question. As the pages above have shown, ASEAN as an organization does not follow Indonesia's lead in any real sense. While ASEAN may be willing to give expression to Indonesia's intellectual or conceptual ideas and values in the ASEAN boiler-plate prose of declarations and resolutions, the member nations are at no risk that they will be forced to adhere to them or put what is promised into practice. It serves only, as Narine (2012) argued, to add a surface credibility and legitimacy to ASEAN's image. ASEAN's organizational structure, internal politics, and members’ external linkages are such that no country can really lead ASEAN in the sense of directing its course of action to conform to a particular country's interests, real or ideal.

To answer the question of whether soft power is enough, certainly soft power cannot prevail in ASEAN when the least powerful hold the trump card of preventing a consensus. This does not mean that Indonesia's soft power capabilities are unavailing.

In its original incarnation, the five-member ASEAN had two regional political and security functions. The first, and most immediate, was to reintegrate post-confrontation Indonesia into a peaceful regional framework as a non-threatening partner in cooperative activities. The second was to detach the region as a region from the pressures of the Cold War, despite the fact that two of the founding members — Thailand and the Philippines — were military allies of the United States and supporting the U.S. in the war in Vietnam. The second function was a prerequisite for Indonesia's joining since it clung firmly, in spirit at least, to its non-aligned credentials. In a declaratory manner this was accomplished through the proclamation of a Zone of Peace, Freedom, and Neutrality (ZOPFAN) and a Southeast Asian Nuclear Weapons Free Zone (SEANWFZ). From its debut, then, ASEAN has had a political and security subtext below its preferred narrative of functional cooperation.

The subtext, however, headlined the collective response of ASEAN's five members to Vietnam's Soviet-backed 1978 invasion and occupation of Khmer Rouge-led Cambodia. ASEAN's diplomatic opposition to Vietnam's fait accompli was accompanied by support, aided by China and the United States,to a Thailand-based armed Khmer resistance (Weatherbee 1985). As what became known as the Third Indochina War dragged on, Indonesia became concerned about the long-range implications of a bleeding stalemate. From Jakarta's perspective the continuation of the war threatened Indonesia's security. First, the only winner would be China and, second, a wasted Vietnam could not serve as a front line against future Chinese ambitions. Frustrated by what Indonesia saw as ASEAN's diplomatic dead end, Foreign Minister Mochtar unilaterally opened a channel to Hanoi to begin to find a way out (Weatherbee 1986). Faced with Mochtar's initiative, ASEAN gave it an ex post facto blessing by naming Indonesia its interlocutor with Vietnam.

Two lessons might be drawn from the diplomacy of ending the Third Indochina War. The first is that when Indonesia perceived that its security interests were not served by ASEAN, it acted unilaterally to defend them. In the Third Indochina War case, Indonesia's leadership in ASEAN was such that its partners had to follow suit or risk ASEAN's collapse. It remains to be tested if that would be the case today. The second lesson, unexplored here, is that ASEAN diplomacy was not the key to ending the war.

A major element in the Indonesian international image promoted by the Yudhoyono government is the fact that its democratic framework embraces a Sunni Muslim population of more than 215 million. Not only does Indonesia have the world's fourth largest population, making it the world's most populous Muslim country, but also — and very important for its international identity — the world's most populous Muslim democracy. For Indonesia, this is proof that adherence to Islam and political democracy are not mutually exclusive and that democracy can flourish in a Muslim political culture. From this foundation, President Yudhoyono and his government have proposed that Indonesia's democratizing experience can be a model or template for Muslims worldwide. Moreover, Indonesia asserts that as a moderate modernizing Muslim democracy, it can become a bridge between the West and an antagonistic Muslim world, harmonizing, as it were, the clash of civilizations. This would seem to give special value to Indonesia's international relations as an alternative face of Islam (Anwar 2010, p.49).

A bridge, however, is made to be crossed. An exchange has to be made. The same kind of issues that were raised in the discussion of Indonesia's reluctance to proactively operationalize a “democratic” foreign policy have to be addressed when discussing the factor of Islam in Indonesian foreign policy. The basic question is whether in fact the Indonesian experience is transferable to other Muslim countries and what kind of foreign policies and strategies could operationalize it. The Indonesian “bridge” may be a bridge too far.

The Indonesian Model

Certainly there is now little doubt that for Indonesian Muslims their religion is compatible with democracy. Muslim leaders and social groups have been part of the democratization process in which legitimacy is to be measured by good governance, not religion (Barton 2010). Data from the Indonesia Survey Institute (Lembaga Survei Indonesia [LSI]) support this proposition. In a 2006 LSI poll, 82 per cent of the Muslim respondents agreed that democracy was the best political system for the country. The preference for democracy as opposed to political Islam is reflected in parliamentary and presidential elections. The political parties whose platforms were avowedly Islamist won no parliamentary representation and the four so-called moderate Muslim parties have over the years had declining support.

Introduction

Padang Serai is a semi-rural parliamentary constituency comprising the state-level constituencies of Merbau Pulas and Lunas. It is an ethnically mixed, narrowly Malay-majority seat. The Indian population, especially in Lunas, is significantly higher than the national average, comprising a quarter of total voters. Merbau Pulas, in contrast, is two-thirds Malay, although still with a substantial Indian minority. Many of the Indians are former estate workers and remain low-income earners. The Chinese, on the other hand, reside mostly in towns and are largely middle-income earners. Poverty is a major issue among the Indians, though it is also an issue that affects the Chinese, as evidenced by the existence of some poorly maintained Chinese villages such as Kelang Sago. Our impression was that most in the Malay community here seem to live modest but comfortable lives.

Lunas is slightly more urbanised than Merbau Pulas; it is made up of clusters of small towns and residential areas. Within Lunas, Taman Selasih is the most densely populated suburb, as it is a new town with its own commercial centre. In comparison, Merbau Pulas comprises mainly oil palm estates. The closest small town to Merbau Pulas is Padang Serai, which can only be described as timeworn. Development in Padang Serai is largely influenced by Kulim Hi-tech Park and its proximity to Bukit Mertajam, Penang. Internet accessibility is rather high, even in rural Merbau Pulas. Nevertheless, even though Kulim Hi-tech Park was built in 1996 in line with national strategies for Malaysia to become a fully industrialised nation by 2020 (Kulim Hi-tech Park 2012), the pace of development in Padang Serai has been relatively slow.

The closely fought election in highly heterogeneous Padang Serai offers valuable insight into how candidates shaped their strategies and voters made their decisions. Recent experience had left voters sceptical of Pakatan Rakyat (Pakatan) at the local level despite their still-strong support for the coalition broadly, while multiple third-party and independent candidates made for a crowded field.

Introduction

The constituencies of Kepong and Titiwangsa are within the Federal Territory of Kuala Lumpur. Although neither is too far from the centre of Kuala Lumpur, the ethnic composition of these two districts differs sharply. While Kepong has a majority of 89 per cent Chinese voters, Titiwangsa has a majority of 70 per cent Malay voters. Also, the former district has a higher percentage of upper-middle-class voters and the latter has a more balanced mix of middle-class and lower-income households. The contesting political parties' different emphases, as they campaigned on national and local issues tailored specifically for these different groups of voters, played crucial roles in shaping the campaign. Comparison of these distinct contests – the issues raised, strategies preferred, resources deployed and, of course, results in the end – demonstrates the real variation to be found among urban voters and the inadequacy of assuming a common ‘urban’ dynamic across constituencies, even within just one city.

Progress of the campaign

These campaigns had significant similarities, such as their reliance on ceramah (political rallies), walkabouts and the distribution of campaign literature to voters. However, the presence of a strong incumbent in Kepong and an emphasis on land issues in Titiwangsa set these two campaigns apart. The fact that this land issue, centred around the urban village of Kampung Baru, is entangled with a communal slant also differentiates the campaigns.

Kepong: A DAP stronghold

A district that is largely dominated by Chinese voters, Kepong has a mixed middle-class and upper-middle-class electorate. Among the locals are, for instance, businessman, professionals, entrepreneurs, hawkers and blue-collar workers. Kepong is also home to many residents' associations, hawkers' associations and temple associations. Interestingly, beneath this relatively calm area also lie secret societies. While we cannot say whether these secret societies were involved, explosives were found at one DAP election booth in Kepong two days prior to the election.

Introduction

The Tuaran parliamentary constituency, located about 30 kilometres from Kota Kinabalu in Sabah, includes the three state legislative assembly constituencies of Tamparuli, Sulaman and Kiulu. Barisan Nasional (BN) won the parliamentary seat as well as two of the state seats, while Pakatan Rakyat (Pakatan) won one state seat. The Tuaran parliamentary seat had been identified before the 2013 election as a ‘hot seat’, as the fall of the Tamparuli state seat to the opposition and the narrow win of BN in Kiulu testify it was.

According to the 2010 census, Tuaran has 105,435 inhabitants, predominantly Bumiputera. Half the 48,276 registered voters in the Tuaran parliamentary constituency are non-Muslim Bumiputera, mostly Kadazandusun; most of the rest are Muslim Bumiputera, mainly Bajau.

The Kadazandusun had chosen BN in the last two general elections in Tuaran, but many voted for Parti Keadilan Rakyat (PKR), from Pakatan Rakyat, this time. PKR captured Tamparuli and very narrowly lost in Kiulu only because a significant number of Kadazandusun voters in the constituency opted to vote for the State Reform Party (STAR). Although PKR also lost the Tuaran parliamentary seat, it obtained about 85 per cent of the total non-BN votes there. Muslim Bumiputera voters' party loyalty toward BN, intraparty rivalries and PKR candidate Datuk Wilfred Bumburing's lack of rapport with the people contributed to his defeat. Lastly, the mostly Muslim Bumiputera voters in the Sulaman state constituency also overwhelmingly supported BN due to a combination of Datuk Hajiji Noor's leadership qualities and the same party loyalty. Thus, the 2013 Tuaran election results can be best explained in terms of parties, although with local dynamics in each constituency: long-established loyalty to the BN, on the one hand, based especially on a record of targeted development and assistance, and rivalries within and among the BN's opponents, on the other hand, suggest why the status quo has been so resistant to change, even among those voters open to a new alternative.

Introduction

A royal town and largely rural district not far from the Thai border in tiny Perlis state, Arau attracted unusual attention in this general election. Traditionally a Barisan Nasional (BN) stronghold, the development of four institutions of higher learning – Universiti Teknologi Mara (UiTM), Universiti Malaysia Perlis (UNiMEP), Arau Community College and Polytechnic Tuanku Syed Sirajuddin – as well as Perlis Matriculation College and Arau Technical School has made Arau the education hub of northern Malaysia. Furthermore, the Muda Agricultural Development Authority has designated the district as a prime rice-producing area, especially Tambun Tulang, Simpang Empat and Sanglang (Lembaga Kemajuan Pertanian MUDA 2013).

And yet all was not calm in Arau as elections approached. The ‘warlords’ (powerful division chiefs) in UMNO Perlis had been stirring for some time, their internal rifts plaguing the party. Meanwhile, Pakatan Rakyat (Pakatan) eyed Arau as a possible beachhead in their assault on Perlis. As it developed, the campaign was distinctive, particularly for the three-cornered fights in the parliamentary seat of Arau and state seat of Sanglang, the internal conflicts within UMNO that surfaced here, candidates' efforts to finance their campaigns and the extensive utilisation and involvement of women as canvassers by both the BN and Parti Islam SeMalaysia (PAS). The elections here suggest both the cracks and the power in UMNO's machinery, but also that personalised networks and localised rewards still seem to carry more clout among voters in Arau than do alternative visions of ‘change’.

Progress of the campaign

The background

The rifts in UMNO Perlis surfaced early, as rival groups from Kangar and Arau divisions clashed over the selection of candidates for the 13th general election (GE13). At issue were power struggles among UMNO warlords, mainstays of the BN's patron – client system in Perlis and nationwide. These local chiefs, who represent UMNO's 191 divisions (one for each of the party's parliamentary seats) receive financial allocations from the party and government and lobby for clinics and schools in their districts; in return, they deliver votes (Reme 2013). While Perlis has only three seats and, hence, UMNO divisions, each has a powerful warlord.

Introduction

Pulai is an ethnically-mixed urban parliamentary seat in Johor consisting of the two smaller state seats of Pengkalan Rinting and Kempas. Despite its classification, Pulai also has a fair share of rural voters due to a number of Malay kampung (villages) that form part of its southern border. The Malays in Pulai slightly outnumber Chinese voters, though neither group comprises a majority of Pulai's 100,490 registered voters. A further breakdown of Pulai shows that the majority of the Chinese population reside within the more urbanised and well-to-do state seat of Pengkalan Rinting, whereas the Malays are split equally between the poorer urban state seat of Kempas and kampung in the southern corner of Pengkalan Rinting. The constituency not only includes medium- and high-wealth residences, but also many lowto medium-density residential zones with low wealth (specifically within Kempas and Malay kampung). This pattern has naturally led to a diverse occupational mix within the seat, ranging from fishermen to highly skilled professionals who commute daily to the city centre or across the border to Singapore. Moreover, Pulai is part of the Iskandar Economic Zone, a 2,217-square kilometre zone earmarked by the government for focused development. This diverse demography makes Pulai an intriguing case study. Furthermore, the constituency has a very interesting voting history.

Pulai was one of a number of urban parliamentary seats with a significant Chinese majority that remained staunchly with Barisan Nasional (BN) in the 2008 elections. Pulai thus provides an apt context in which to examine the effectiveness of money politics, defined here as the attempt to woo votes through handouts and particularistic promises across diverse population segments. Its experience suggests differences in the vulnerability to such lures of two distinct blocs of voters: the urban/rural Malay poor and the well-to-do urban Chinese.

Progress of the campaign

It was a hot and humid afternoon when I made my way into one of the local kedai kopi (coffee houses) in Kampung Pasir, a village in the southwest corner of the Pengkalan Rinting state seat, after searching for the DAP candidate who was said to be visiting.

Introduction

In Malaysia's 13th general election on 5 May 2013, voters denied the ruling Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition the two-thirds majority of seats it sought in the parliament. Although states across Peninsular Malaysia contributed seats to Pakatan Rakyat, Sabah proved its value overall as a ‘fixed deposit’ to the BN, contributing twenty-two federal seats to ensure the ruling coalition's return to power with a simple majority. Among the federal seats won was Beaufort. Considered one of the ‘hottest’ seats in Sabah, Beaufort saw a three-cornered fight among the Barisan Nasional, represented by Azizah Mohd Dun; Lajim bin Haji Ukin, a former incumbent and ex-United Malays National Organisation (UMNO) member, for Parti Keadilan Rakyat (PKR); and Guan Dee bin Koh Hoi on the State Reform Party's (STAR) ticket.

Given Lajim's popularity as well as his reputation for benevolence among the constituents here, the campaign in Beaufort really centred around him and the intense fight between the Barisan Nasional and PKR. Lajim has been long a prominent politician, albeit labelled as a ‘frog’ since he jumped from Parti Bersatu Sabah (PBS) in 1994 to join UMNO. His and several other PBS defectors' betrayal led to the downfall of PBS and the rise of UMNO in Sabah. However, Lajim maintained his ability to defend his seats in every election he has contested since then – in 1999, 2004 and 2008 – under UMNO. This time, running under PKR, he won the state seat of Klias but very narrowly lost to his main rival from Barisan Nasional, Azizah, for the parliamentary seat.

The micro-politics of the campaign in Beaufort constituency, and specifically of Lajim's partial win, sheds light on intertwined factors such as clientelism, the ‘3 Ms’ (money, media and machinery) said to benefit the BN, the politics of development and the role of personality. Ultimately, though, the results suggest that the majority of voters voted on the basis of party and not individual; convincing promises of development outweighed the influence of even a strong and enduring clientelist network.