Stratfor
Sixteen years after the Cold War ended, East Asia is beginning to look like a grade school playground. The big kids are still roaming around trying to call the shots, but the place has matured just enough that they have other interests competing for their attention. Meanwhile, the smaller ones are starting to jell in an attempt to carve out a corner for themselves.
The United States is still the biggest boy on the block, but second-tier powers are beginning to shape the region, while the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) -- comprised of those smaller kids -- is hoping to use spit and string to lash together a completely new system that bends the larger powers to its desires, instead of vice versa.
Its first try was the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), formed in 1993. But aside from serving up some great karaoke (seriously, you have not lived until you have seen Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer in a leisure suit singing his own version of "Mambo No. 5," or former Thai Foreign Minister Surin Pitsuwan in drag), the ARF was really just a talk shop.
In the minds of some ASEAN states, the problem was U.S. participation. After all, if you want to talk about the big kid, you cannot do it while U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice is playing the piano in the same room. The solution was the East Asia Forum (EAF), which explicitly excluded the United States.
But that is faltering as well, for two reasons. First, U.S. allies Japan, Thailand, Singapore, Australia and New Zealand were all invited, allowing the United States to influence developments by proxy. Second, the United States is not the only entity that seeks to harness ASEAN's efforts for its own designs.
The country that has been most successful at this is China, which has now engaged ASEAN on everything from security talks to free trade negotiations. But even this partial success is threatening to be undermined by yet another actor looking to jump into the Pacific playground: Russia. The Russian government on Thursday called on ASEAN to increase cooperation with one of Russia's pet projects: the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO).
While Russia's grip on its Far East is weak, Moscow is well aware that a country that does not act aggressively in the region risks losing what access it has. Moscow's interests also are not primarily in Asia; they are in Europe. So anything the Kremlin can do to tie up potential adversaries halfway around the world fits neatly into Russia's strategy. In part, Russia hopes to strengthen its hand with a limited naval buildup in the Pacific, but just as critical are Moscow's diplomatic efforts. Russia understands that when an organization is either dysfunctional or beyond one's grasp, it is best to pack it with as many anti-American players as possible and at least turn it into a loudspeaker for Kremlin propaganda.
With these thoughts in mind, Russia is hoping to lash the SCO, a onetime security group that now is shopping for a new raison d'etre, to as many countries that look askew at the United States as possible. Iran, of course, is high on the docket, with India and now the ARF and EAF bringing up the rear. It does not much matter to Moscow whether this makes these organizations more efficient (it will not), so long as the SCO can function as a platform for Russian political goals. To that end, the cash-rich Russian state is buying up Cambodia's debt and planning a presidential visit to Indonesia in September. (Both are ASEAN members.)
For the Chinese, who prefer a more functional and subtle arrangement, as well as the ASEAN states who formed these organizations so they could call the shots, Russia's manipulation of the situation is downright rude. But telling the Russians to stick it in their ear -- to say the least -- would violate not only the mild anti-American sentiment that has propelled their efforts thus far, but also the sense of inclusion to which most of the Asian groups aspire.
The result is becoming a mishmash of a half dozen organizations, ostensibly formed for similar purposes, with strikingly similar member lists. If the groups keep growing, soon there will be only two that have any meaning.
First is ASEAN itself, which -- while essentially a school of minnows -- has managed to implement some real economic integration that should not be scoffed at. The only other organization that shows much promise is the awkwardly named Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC), a trade-oriented group that has begun to dabble in security issues. Originally mooted by the Japanese and Australians, APEC now has become Washington's preferred vehicle for bending the region to its will. Unlike ASEAN -- which works by consensus -- or the World Trade Organization (WTO) -- in which every member has a veto -- APEC is voluntary. Any collection of countries can implement any economic deal without having to first appease objecting members, resulting in a race to liberalization instead of marathon negotiations with troublemakers.
It might not have karaoke, but considering the weaknesses of the WTO, the increasing politicization of the other groups and Asia's perennial interest in trade, APEC could soon be the only forum left worth attending.
The United States is still the biggest boy on the block, but second-tier powers are beginning to shape the region, while the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) -- comprised of those smaller kids -- is hoping to use spit and string to lash together a completely new system that bends the larger powers to its desires, instead of vice versa.
Its first try was the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), formed in 1993. But aside from serving up some great karaoke (seriously, you have not lived until you have seen Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer in a leisure suit singing his own version of "Mambo No. 5," or former Thai Foreign Minister Surin Pitsuwan in drag), the ARF was really just a talk shop.
In the minds of some ASEAN states, the problem was U.S. participation. After all, if you want to talk about the big kid, you cannot do it while U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice is playing the piano in the same room. The solution was the East Asia Forum (EAF), which explicitly excluded the United States.
But that is faltering as well, for two reasons. First, U.S. allies Japan, Thailand, Singapore, Australia and New Zealand were all invited, allowing the United States to influence developments by proxy. Second, the United States is not the only entity that seeks to harness ASEAN's efforts for its own designs.
The country that has been most successful at this is China, which has now engaged ASEAN on everything from security talks to free trade negotiations. But even this partial success is threatening to be undermined by yet another actor looking to jump into the Pacific playground: Russia. The Russian government on Thursday called on ASEAN to increase cooperation with one of Russia's pet projects: the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO).
While Russia's grip on its Far East is weak, Moscow is well aware that a country that does not act aggressively in the region risks losing what access it has. Moscow's interests also are not primarily in Asia; they are in Europe. So anything the Kremlin can do to tie up potential adversaries halfway around the world fits neatly into Russia's strategy. In part, Russia hopes to strengthen its hand with a limited naval buildup in the Pacific, but just as critical are Moscow's diplomatic efforts. Russia understands that when an organization is either dysfunctional or beyond one's grasp, it is best to pack it with as many anti-American players as possible and at least turn it into a loudspeaker for Kremlin propaganda.
With these thoughts in mind, Russia is hoping to lash the SCO, a onetime security group that now is shopping for a new raison d'etre, to as many countries that look askew at the United States as possible. Iran, of course, is high on the docket, with India and now the ARF and EAF bringing up the rear. It does not much matter to Moscow whether this makes these organizations more efficient (it will not), so long as the SCO can function as a platform for Russian political goals. To that end, the cash-rich Russian state is buying up Cambodia's debt and planning a presidential visit to Indonesia in September. (Both are ASEAN members.)
For the Chinese, who prefer a more functional and subtle arrangement, as well as the ASEAN states who formed these organizations so they could call the shots, Russia's manipulation of the situation is downright rude. But telling the Russians to stick it in their ear -- to say the least -- would violate not only the mild anti-American sentiment that has propelled their efforts thus far, but also the sense of inclusion to which most of the Asian groups aspire.
The result is becoming a mishmash of a half dozen organizations, ostensibly formed for similar purposes, with strikingly similar member lists. If the groups keep growing, soon there will be only two that have any meaning.
First is ASEAN itself, which -- while essentially a school of minnows -- has managed to implement some real economic integration that should not be scoffed at. The only other organization that shows much promise is the awkwardly named Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC), a trade-oriented group that has begun to dabble in security issues. Originally mooted by the Japanese and Australians, APEC now has become Washington's preferred vehicle for bending the region to its will. Unlike ASEAN -- which works by consensus -- or the World Trade Organization (WTO) -- in which every member has a veto -- APEC is voluntary. Any collection of countries can implement any economic deal without having to first appease objecting members, resulting in a race to liberalization instead of marathon negotiations with troublemakers.
It might not have karaoke, but considering the weaknesses of the WTO, the increasing politicization of the other groups and Asia's perennial interest in trade, APEC could soon be the only forum left worth attending.
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