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Walden Bello - 1998
Walden Bello is a member of the House of Representatives of the Republic of the Philippines and president of the Freedom from Debt Coalition. A retired professor of sociology at the University of the Philippines, he is currently a senior analyst at the Bangkok-based analysis and advocacy institute Focus on the Global South. He is the author of 15 books, the most recent of which is The Food Wars.
The End of the Asian Miracle (12 January 1998)
The IMF recipe is no cure for Asia's collapsed economies, says Walden Bello. Instead, a people's strategy is emerging that looks to self-reliance and democratic control over capital.
For its swiftness and confounding of experts, the evaporation of the Asian economic 'miracle' probably ranks second only to the unraveling of Soviet socialism as the greatest surprise of the last half-century. All at once convention has been turned on its head, as South Korea, Thailand and Indonesia line up for a multibillion-dollar bailout from the International Monetary Fund, and many of the same institutions and people who recently celebrated the Asian 'tigers' as the engine of world growth into the twenty-first century now speak of them as a source of financial contagion, even as the trigger for global deflation. How did this happen? Why were these economies so fragile after all? And what might a program of radical reform - distinct from the discredited policies of the past and from the free-trade nostrums being pushed by the United States - look like? With events still unfolding, there is a risk in advancing full-blown theories about the collapse. Nevertheless, it is useful to understand the crisis in relation to the different patterns of economic development in Southeast and Northeast Asia. Foreign capital In Southeast Asia, where most countries' GNP grew between 6 and 10 percent from 1985 to 1995, the crisis stemmed from a development process sustained not principally by domestic savings and investment but by huge infusions of foreign capital. In the late 1980s the region's growth was heavily dependent on Japanese direct investment. When this began to taper off in the early nineties, alternate sources of capital had to be tapped, particularly international banks looking for higher yields on their loans and mutual funds, and other speculative institutions searching for more profitable investments than were available elsewhere. Thailand's technocrats pioneered a three-pronged strategy for attracting them: liberalisation of the financial sector; maintenance of high domestic interest rates to suck in portfolio investment and bank capital; and pegging of the currency to the dollar to reassure foreign investors against currency risk. Widely regarded as the bedrock of Thailand's rise to tigerhood, this formula was soon copied by finance ministries and central banks in Manila, Kuala Lumpur and Jakarta. All received the blessings of the IMF and the World Bank, which saw any move to eliminate barriers between the domestic and global financial markets as a step in the right direction. Indeed, as recently as late 1996, when it was clear that the Thai economy was headed for trouble, the IMF was still praising the government's 'consistent record of sound macroeconomic management policies.' In retrospect, Thailand exemplified the perils of 'fast-track capitalism'. Net portfolio investment totaled some US$24 billion in the past three to four years, while another US$50 billion entered as loans to Thai banks and enterprises. This capital never found its way into the domestic manufacturing sector or agriculture - low-yield sectors that would provide a decent rate of return only after a long gestation period. The high-yield sectors with a quick turnaround time to which foreign money gravitated were the stock market, consumer financing and, in particular, real estate. Monuments to folly Not surprisingly, a real estate glut developed rapidly. By 1996 some US$20 billion in new property was unsold. Monuments to folly were everywhere - the Bangkok Land Company's desolate 'residential complex' near the airport, the empty thirty-story towers in the city's Bangna-trat area. The rest of the pieces fell quickly. Commercial banks and finance companies were horribly overexposed in real estate. Foreign portfolio investors and banks that had loaned to Thai entities discovered that their customers were carrying a load of nonperforming loans. With a worsening balance of trade, the country's capacity to repay the debts incurred by the private sector became very cloudy. That the current account (or balance of trade in goods and services) was in deficit to the tune of 8.2% of GDP in 1996 struck fear in the hearts of investors, who recognised this figure as about equal to that of Mexico when it suffered its financial meltdown in 1994. By early 1997 many investors concluded it was time to get out and get out fast. With over US$20 billion in baht parked in Thai stocks or paper or nonresident bank accounts the stampede was potentially disastrous, for it meant unloading trillions of baht for dollars. With too many baht chasing too few dollars, there was huge pressure for devaluation. The scent of panic attracted currency speculators, among them George Soros. The Bank of Thailand initially sought to defend the baht by dumping its dollar reserves on the market, but by July 2, after losing at least US$9 billion of its US$39 billion in reserves, it had to throw in the towel. Speculators spotted similar skittish behavior among foreign investors in Manila, Kuala Lumpur and Jakarta, where the same conjunction of commercial bank overexposure in real estate, weak export growth and a widening current account deficit was stoking fears of a currency devaluation that could devastate their investment. As in Thailand, speculators rode on the exit of foreign investors. By late October 1997, the Philippine peso, the Malaysian ringgit and the Indonesian rupiah were still on a downspin as capital continued to exit, resulting in a catastrophic combination of skyrocketing import bills, spiralling costs of servicing the foreign debt of the private sector, heightened interest rates spiking economic activity, and a chain reaction of bankruptcies. The Southeast Asian miracle had come to a screeching stop. Savings Meanwhile, things were disintegrating in Korea, where over the past year seven of the country's mighty chaebol, or conglomerates, had come crashing. Unlike Southeast Asia, Korea built its strength principally on domestic savings, generated partly through equity-enhancing policies such as land reform in the 1950s. Foreign capital had played an important part, but local financial resources extracted through a rigorous system of taxation plus profits derived from the sale of goods to a protected domestic market and to foreign markets opened by an aggressive mercantilist strategy constituted the main source of capital accumulation. The private sector flourished under a regimen in which the state had the commanding role. By picking winners, providing subsidised credit and protecting them from transnational competition in the domestic market, the state nurtured companies that it later pushed out into the international market. In the early 1980s, the state-chaebol combine appeared unstoppable, as the deep pockets of commercial banks, extremely responsive to government wishes, provided the wherewithal for Hyundai, Samsung and other conglomerates to carve out international markets. By the early nineties, however, the tide had turned. Failure to invest significantly in research and development translated into continued dependence on Japan for basic machinery, manufacturing inputs and technology, worsening Korea's trade deficit with that country. Also, a bruising US counteroffensive, which included forcing the currency up to raise the price of Korean exports and threatening trade sanctions, reversed its balance of trade with the United States from a US$6 billion surplus in 1988 to a US$11 billion deficit by 1996. To maintain shrinking profits, business pushed legislation in late 1996 to expand its rights to slough off 'excess labour' and make the surviving work force more productive, on the American model. This was essentially a return to the formula of the early years of the miracle, when the primitive accumulation of capital was derived from harsh exploitation of unskilled labor. When fierce street opposition arose in response to this move, many chaebol had no choice but to rely on the government and the banks to keep money-losing operations alive. That lifeline could not be maintained, though, without the banks themselves being run to the ground. By October 1997 nonperforming loans were estimated at more than US$50 billion. Foreign banks, which already had about US$200 billion worth of investments and loans in Korea, became reluctant to release new funds. By late November, Seoul, saddled with having to repay some US$72 billion out of a total foreign debt of US$110 billion in one year, joined the IMF queue. US corporations Recession is certain, as direct investors follow the example of portfolio investors in reducing their profile in Southeast Asia. Already, nearly all the key Japanese vehicle manufacturers - Toyota, Mitsubishi, Isuzu and Hino - have either shut down or reduced operations in Thailand. The future is likely to be one of prolonged deflation rather than quick recovery. One reason is that intra-Asian trade, which accounted for 53% of all Asian trade in 1995, will cease to be the main motor of regional growth. Japan has been unable to shake off its six-year recession, and unlike the early nineties, when its weakness was offset by the boom in Southeast Asia and steady growth in Korea, today all three sources of regional demand have been doused, while a fourth, China, remains highly protectionist. This leaves Europe and the United States as significant mass markets. But low growth and high unemployment continue to dampen demand in Europe; and in America, East Asian exporters will encounter an uphill battle for market share against China and newly competitive Latin American countries. How the United States will respond politically to the crisis is, of course, a matter of great concern to the Asian elites, and it is unlikely that Washington will desist from exploiting the situation to achieve what it has been aiming at for over the past decade: the free-market transformation of economic systems that are best described as state-assisted capitalist formations. Since the late 1980s Washington has relentlessly sought to 'level the playing field' for US corporations via liberalisation, deregulation and privatisation of Asian economies. It has used IMF and World Bank 'structural adjustment' programs; a harsh trade campaign threatening retaliation so as to open markets and stop unauthorised use of US technologies; a drive to create an Asian-Pacific free-trade area; and a push to implement GATT agreements eliminating trade quotas, reducing tariffs, banning the use of trade policy for industrialisation purposes and opening agricultural markets. Golden opportunity Prior to the crisis, these efforts had brought meager results, except perhaps in the case of Korea - though even its trade surplus-turned-deficit has not changed the US Trade Representative's assessment of it as one of the world's most protected economies. The financial crisis is thus a golden opportunity for Washington. Indeed, the rollback of protectionism and activist state intervention is already incorporated into the 'stabilisation' programs being negotiated by the IMF. American officials, who effectively vetoed the creation of an Asian Regional Fund independent of the IMF and therefore of Washington, have also made it known - most recently in the case of Korea - that no US direct aid will be forthcoming until the ailing countries acquiesce to IMF demands. So far, Thai authorities have agreed to remove all limits on foreign ownership of financial firms and are pushing ahead with legislation to allow foreigners to own land, long a taboo. Even before it sought help from the IMF, Jakarta abolished its restrictions on foreign ownership of publicly traded stock, a move replicated by Seoul when it granted foreign investors access to the US$64 billion long-term, guaranteed corporate bond market, access they had been seeking for years. In Indonesia the final agreement is expected to include the abandonment of attempts at industrial policy, such as the national car project and an effort to manufacture passenger jets. Disturbing Washington's free-market agenda is not without partisans among the political elite of Asia. In their view, the US corporate sector's embrace of downsizing and other ruthless measures in the early 1990s accounts for America's marked edge over Japan and Europe. According to this school, state-assisted capitalism may have worked in achieving high growth in the early phases of industrialisation but is dysfunctional in an era of globalised markets. Moreover, they argue, state management has spawned corrupt government-business relationships that deprive both local and foreign investors of accurate data on which to make sound decisions, adding to the costs of doing business. Others, though, are keenly aware of the disturbing side of resurgent US capitalism: the most unequal distribution of income among advanced industrial countries, spreading poverty and deep alienation among the lower classes. Asia's economic chiefs are understandably hesitant about dismantling the institutions of Asian capitalism - for example, lifetime employment of the core industrial labour force, a pillar of Japan, Inc. - if the price is volatile discontent. An equally significant objection is that radical free-market reform may lead not to the transformation of Asian capitalism but to its unravelling, since policies that re-create the international economy in the image of the US economy do nothing to build on the strengths of the existing economies but simply establish an arena in which the economic actors that followed one particular historical road to advanced capitalism - the free- market/ minimal-state road - will have an unparalleled competitive edge. Solution In this view, the solution is not to throw out the activist-state baby with the bathwater but to redraw the state-private sector relationship along the lines of more transparency, more accountability to the public and more democratic oversight of both government and corporations. Also along the lines of greater government discipline of the private sector, since one of the key lessons of the crisis is that there was not too much state intervention but too little. In Korea, for instance, the loosening of state regulation in the 1980s encouraged the chaebol to pour their profits into speculative investment. Similarly, in Southeast Asia, it was lack of state intervention in financial markets the allowed overinvestment in real estate. From this perspective, the crying need is for more effective regulation of the private sector and, in particular, the breaking up of corrupt patronage networks linking the public and private sectors. In other words, clean up government so it can serve capital as a more effective partner. Beyond all the foregoing advocates for reform, however, diverse voices in the region, from labour leaders to academics to environmentalists, are beginning to call for a sharper break with both old-style state-assisted capitalism and free-market zealotry. Although not yet 'operationalised' in hardheaded fashion, their agenda is getting an increasingly sympathetic hearing from the public, particularly in Thailand, 'ground zero' of the collapse. Selective globalisation It might be characterised as a program of negotiated and selective integration into the global economy. Among its themes: 1. Globalisation of financial markets has gone too far. Controls are badly needed on the inflow and outflow of foreign capital. Even the deputy managing director of the IMF has recognised this, telling an IMF-World Bank meeting in September: 'Markets are not always right. Sometimes inflows are excessive, and sometimes they may be sustained too long. Markets tend to react late; but then they tend to react fast, sometimes excessively'. Capital controls are needed not just for stability, though, but for managing the development process in a healthy direction. Very popular among reformers in the region today is the idea of a transactions tax on all cross-border flows of capital that are not clearly earmarked as productive investment. That, along with a measure currently being used by the Chileans - requiring portfolio investors to make an interest-free deposit equal to 30% of their investment that cannot be withdrawn for one or more years - aims to slow the frenzied movements of finance capital. Such measures would create a strong disincentive for speculative capital to enter and exit arbitrarily, with all the destabilising consequences, but would not penalise direct investors that are making more strategic commitments of their money. 2. While foreign investment of the right kind is important, growth must be financed principally from domestic savings and investment. That means good progressive taxation systems. One of the key reasons Southeast Asian elites relied on foreign capital for development was that they did not want to tax themselves. Regressive taxation is the norm in the region, where levies that cut deeply into the incomes of people on the low end of the scale are the chief source of government revenue. Meanwhile, only a tiny minority pays income tax. But progressive taxation would just be a start. Democratic management of national investment policies is also essential if local savings - which in East Asia remain high relative to other countries - are not to be hijacked by financial elites and channeled to speculative gambles. 3. Development must be reoriented around the domestic market as the main stimulus of development. The tremendous dependence on exports has made the region extremely vulnerable to the vagaries of the global market and sparked a race to the bottom that has beggared significant sectors of the labour force while benefiting only foreign investors and domestic manufacturing elites. A Keynesian strategy of enlarging the domestic market to generate growth must include a more comprehensive program of asset and income reform, including effective land reform. There is in this, of course, the unfinished social justice agenda of the progressive movement in Asia - an agenda marginalised by the regnant ideology of growth during the 'miracle'. Vast numbers of people remain marginalised because of grinding poverty, particularly in the countryside. Land and assets reform would simultaneously bring them into the market, empower them economically and politically, and create the conditions for social and political stability. Achieving economic sustainability based on a dynamic domestic market can no longer be divorced from issues of equity. 4. While the fundamental mechanism of production, distribution and exchange will have to be something more sensible and rational than the 'invisible hand' of the market, neither the interventionist hand of the East Asian state nor the heavy hand of the socialist state is a good substitute. Certainly, the state is essential to curb the market for the common good, but in East Asia the state and the private sector have traditionally worked in nontransparent fashion to advance the interests of the upper classes and foreign capital. While not denying that market and state can play an important and subsidiary role in the allocation of resources, the emerging view is that the fundamental economic mechanism must be democratic decision making by communities, civic organisations and people's movements. The challenge is how to operationalise such institutions of economic democracy. 5. The centrality of ecological sustainability is also one of the hard lessons of the crisis. As any visitor to Bangkok could testify, twelve years of fast-track capitalism has left an industrial infrastructure that will be antiquated in a few years, hundreds of unoccupied high-rises, a horrendous traffic problem only slightly mitigated by the repossession of thousands of late- model cars from bankrupt owners, a rapid rundown of natural resources, and an environment severely, if not mortally, impaired. Instead of 8-10% growth rates, many environmentalists prefer rates of 3-4%. This links the social and environmental agendas, since the elites' addiction to high growth is at least partly explained by their desire to take the lion's share of wealth while still allowing some to trickle down to the lower classes for the sake of social peace. The alternative - redistribution of wealth - is clearly less acceptable to the ruling groups, but is the key to a pattern of development that combines economic growth, political stability and ecological sustainability. These ideas and others remain to be welded into a coherent strategy, and that strategy in turn awaits a mass movement to carry it. The emergence of such a movement must not be underestimated. One clear lesson of the crisis is that the region's elites are anachronistic. They will fight their displacement, but the drastic loss of legitimacy stemming from their economic mismanagement provides a window of opportunity for progressive movements, like Thailand's increasingly influential Forum of the Poor - a unique alliance of environmentalists, farmers and workers - to translate these ides into effective political strategies for change. Frozen during the years of the long boom, mass politics with a class edge is about to return to centre stage. What's the IMF's Agenda for Asia? (27 January 1998)
The International Monetary Fund (IMF) has been getting a much worse press than usual these days. It has certainly stepped into the role of the institution-you-love-to-hate-most that was once filled, during the Cold War, by the US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).
Even some of its old allies appear to have deserted it. Harvard's Jeffrey Sachs, who had an image of trying to out-IMF the IMF when he advocated free-market shock therapy for Eastern Europe in the early 1990's, is now singing a different tune. Joining Sachs in questioning the Fund's prescriptions for the Asian financial crisis are said to be key officers of the World Bank, including, reportedly, its chief economist, Joseph Steiglitz. Wrong Cure? Sachs and other critics point out that the IMF program of squeezing government budgets is the wrong prescription at the wrong time. The financial crisis, they say, has not been brought about by government profligacy. In fact, governments in Southeast Asia have been running either budget surpluses or small budget deficits. It is the private sector that has gone off the edge with massive overborrowing and irresponsible investments. Indeed, not only would squeezing government be prescribing the wrong cure. It would also worsen the situation by killing off the remaining active stimulus in these economies: government capital expenditures. Promoting "Socialism for the Rich?" Other critics of the IMF are upset that tax money is being used to bail out big banks and financial institutions in the North that had loaned to private banks and enterprises in East Asia. To them, what is happening now in East Asia is a replay of the debt crisis of the 1980's, when the Fund recycled public funds through indebted Southern governments to the coffers of Citibank, Chase Manhattan, and other heavily exposed Northern banks, then squeezed the peoples of the South to repay the Fund. In an interesting coincidence of otherwise different agenda, both the political right and political left in the US Congress argue that the big banks should take the market's penalties for making the wrong decisions and the two are moving toward a tactical alliance to stop "socialism for the rich" by refusing to grant President Bill Clinton's request for a bigger US contribution to the Fund. Both critiques of the IMF are right, but they miss the more important point about the Fund, say a third group of critics. Jeffrey Sachs is naive if he thinks he can get the Fund to agree to an appropriate cure to Asia's illness, they say, for IMF programs were, in fact, never meant to restore "sick economies" to health. And while the Funds programs have certainly bailed out the big Northern banks time and again, they have a strategic goal that goes beyond this. The IMF and the US Agenda In this view, with which this commentator agrees, the Fund's current approach toward East Asia is merely a continuation of its policies since the early eighties, when, together with the World Bank, it imposed programs of "structural adjustment" on over 70 Third World countries. Taking advantage of the tremendous indebtedness of these countries to Northern commercial banks, the Fund released money to allow these countries to service their debts only on condition that they accepted programs of radical liberalization, deregulation, and privatization. Running structural adjustment through finance ministries that became its virtual appendages, the Fund substantially transformed the economies in Latin America and Africa in a free-market direction, but it also presided over a decade of economic stagnation from which these countries have never really snapped out of. Central to the approach of the IMF have been the interests of its most powerful member, the United States. Ever since the advent of the Reagan administration in the mid-eighties, the foreign economic policy of the United States has been to aggressively promote US trade and investment globally. And the main thrust of this process was to remove those obstacles, such as protectionism, government regulation, and subsidisation of local producers, that made the globe an "uneven playing field" that handicapped market-oriented US enterprises. A zone of special concern for US firms was East Asia, where nearly two decades of rapid growth had created prosperous middle class markets which American goods found difficult to penetrate even as cheap, subsidised Asian goods flooded the US. In the early eighties, however, as in Latin America, the conjunction of the debt crisis and global recession created the same opportunity for the US and the IMF to impose structural adjustment of the East Asian economies. From Korea to Indonesia, governments reluctantly agreed to structural adjustment programs that sought not only to stabilise the external accounts of these countries in the short term but also to transform them in the long term along free-market lines. By the late eighties, however, IMF and World Bank-imposed structural adjustment had ground to a halt in most of Southeast Asia. The reason: the Plaza Accord of 1985, which drastically raised the value of the yen relative to the dollar in order to relieve the US' trade deficit with Japan. By forcing Japanese corporations to relocate many of their manufacturing operations to cheap-labor areas in Southeast Asia, this agreement promoted a massive inflow of Japanese capital into the region during the same period-the late eighties-that Latin America and Africa were being boycotted by northern capital. Seeing that they did not need IMF approval to gain access to global capital, Asian governments maintained their structures of trade and investment protectionism and state-assisted capitalism, though they did liberalise their financial sectors to attract footloose portfolio investments. The US, however, stepped up its campaign to open up the Asian economies in the late eighties and early 1990s. But with structural adjustment programs becoming ineffective, Washington relied on other mechanisms, foremost of which were a harsh unilateralist trade campaign employing the threat of trade retaliation to open up markets and stop unauthorised use of US high technologies; a drive to create an APEC free trade area with a comprehensive liberalization program leading to borderless trade among 18 countries; and a strong push on the Asian countries to implement the GATT Uruguay Round agreements that eliminated trade quotas, reduced tariffs, banned the use of trade policy for industrialisation purposes, and opened up agricultural markets. Prior to the onset of the financial crisis in mid-1997, however, the liberalization drive had brought meagre results, except perhaps in the case of Korea, whose trade surplus with the US had been turned into a deficit by a harsh many-sided offensive that bordered on trade war. But even this development did not change the US Trade Representative's Office assessment of Korea as one of the world's most protected economies in terms of trade and investment. As for the Southeast Asian countries, the assessment in Washington was that while they might have liberalised their capital accounts and financial sectors, they remained highly protected when it came to trade and were dangerously flirting with "trade distorting" exercises in industrial policy like Malaysia's national car project, the Proton Saga, or Indonesia's drive to set up a passenger aircraft industry. Thus, with the onset of the financial crisis in mid-July of last year, a golden opportunity to complete the program of radical free market transformation that stalled ten years ago has opened up, and Washington has turned once more to the IMF as the main instrument of its design for the region. From this perspective, the central element of the IMF programs for Thailand, Indonesia, and Korea is not the cutback in government spending nor the bailout of the banks but the drastic rollback of the trade and investment protectionism and activist state intervention that were the key ingredients of the "Asian miracle." The IMF, for instance, has gotten Thai authorities to agree to the removal of all limitations on foreign ownership of Thai financial firms and is pushing the government hard to enact even more liberal foreign investment legislation that would allow foreigners to own land, a practice that has long been taboo in that country. Even before it sought the help of the IMF in August, Jakarta abolished a 49 per cent on shares in publicly listed companies owned by foreigners. Moreover, in the most recent renegotiation of the IMF Accord with Indonesia, the most prominent feature is the virtual abandonment of Indonesia's attempts at strategic industrial policy: The "national car project" that has upset Detroit and Tokyo and the plan to manufacture indigenously designed passenger jets that has worried Boeing. In Korea, the centrepiece of the agreement with the Fund is Seoul's assenting to the IMF demand that foreign investors be allowed to own up to 55 per cent of the equity of Korean firms-a figure that some advisers to recently elected President Kim Dae-Jung are now said to favour raising to 100 per cent. The IMF has always been an unpopular figure in the Third World. But never has its connection to its principal "stockholder" been displayed as prominently as it is today, when the words of wisdom coming from US Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin and IMF Managing Director Michel Camdessus have become virtually indistinguishable. There is a belief going around industrial and government circles throughout Asia that Washington and the IMF conspired with the banks and speculators to bring about the region's financial meltdown. The alleged reason: to derail Asia from its march to become America's strategic economic and political rival in the 21st century. This is, of course, classic conspiracy theory, but it is a sign of the times that it now has the status of fact among economic and political elites that once served as Washington's staunchest backers in Asia. Asian Financial Crisis: The Movie (November 1998)
After seeing Steven Spielberg's syrupy tribute to Yankee patriotism, Saving Private Ryan, I told myself that, surely, I could manage something better on the Asian financial crisis. Anyway, here's the screenplay for a movie tentatively titled Asian Financial Crisis: The Movie-Heroes, Villains, and Accomplices.
First of all, there are no heroes. The Japanese could have played the role of knight in shining armour nearly a year ago, when they had the chance to reverse the descent into depression via the proposed Asian Monetary Fund (AMF) - a mechanism capitalised to the tune of $100 billion that was designed to defend the region's currencies from speculative attacks. But, in typical fashion, they shelved their proposal when Washington opposed it. Though the AMF is now resurrected as the Miyazawa Plan that would give the troubled Asian economies $30 billion in financial aid, it is too little and too late. Villain of the Piece: Crony Capitalists or Foreign Speculative Investors? On the other hand, there are a number of candidates for the role of principal villain. Taking the cue from the western press, one might begin with the practices and institutions that are usually presented to the public as the villains of the piece-that is, aside from Prime Minister Mohamad Mahathir of Malaysia, who has become the US media's favourite whipping boy-at the same time, it must be noted, that they are in the process of elevating Philippine Actor-President Joseph Estrada to the status of Asia's new hero. One might begin by quoting a person that has come to be the chief screenwriter of one version of the crisis, US Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin. In assigning the blame for the financial crisis, Mr. Rubin assigned pride of place to lack of information on the part of investors. In a speech he gave at the Brookings Institution in April 1998, Rubin said: There are obstacles to getting good information about economic and financial matters. One is the temptation-in the private sector and in government-to avoid disclosing problems. But sooner or later, as we have seen in Asia, the problems will make themselves known. In many cases, lack of data meant that no one had a true understanding of this build-up or of these economies vulnerabilities (1). This lack of transparency on the part of financial institutions went hand-in-hand with distorted incentives, lack of supervision, and the absence of so-called prudential regulation. All this is, in turn, part of a witches' brew of unsound and corrupt practices known as crony capitalism, which Larry Summers, the famous economist who is Rubin's Undersecretary, says is at the heart of the crisis (2). Interestingly, it might be pointed out, Summers and others picked up a term-crony capitalism-that we Filipinos coined during the Marcos period. Before going on, one might also briefly note here that this is a massive reversal of the view that held sway at the World Bank when Summers, who now plays an overweight, over-the-hill Sundance Kid to Rubin's Butch Cassidy on CNN, was that institution's chief economist in the late eighties and early nineties. For those too young to remember what the orthodoxy was then, one might cite the Bank's famous East Asian Miracle published in 1993: In each HPAE [high performing Asian economy], a technocratic elite insulated to a degree from excessive political pressure supervised macroeconomic management. The insulation mechanisms ranged from legislation, such as balanced budget laws in Indonesia, Singapore, and Thailand, to custom and practice in Japan and Korea. All protected essentially conservative macroeconomic policies by limiting the scope for politicians and interest groups to derail those policies (3). To repeat, economic policy making by Asian technocrats was largely insulated from political and business pressures, and this was a large part of the explanation for the so-called Asian miracle. Every mortal is, of course, entitled to an about face. But the problem with the latest intellectual fashion from the Summers' salon is that the practices of crony capitalism were very much part of economic life in the three decades that East Asian countries led the world in the rate of growth of GNP. If, indeed crony capitalism was the chief cause of the Asian collapse, why did it not bring it about much, much sooner? How could economies dominated by these practices of rent-seeking that supposedly suffocate the dynamism of the market-including Japan and South Korea-even take off in the first place? Moreover, crony capitalism has, in recent months, become so elastic in its connotations-which range from corruption to any kind of government activism in economic policy making-as to become useless as an explanatory construct. It is one thing to say that corruption has pervaded relations between government and business in East Asia. It has, as it has in Italy or in the United States, where it is legalised through such mechanisms as political action committees (PACs) that make politicians' electoral fortunes dependent on favourable treatment of corporate interests. It is quite another thing to say that corruption and its companions, lack of regulation and lack of transparency, constitute the principal reason for the downfall of the East Asian economies. Now, in the light of the developments of the last two months, criticising the crony capitalist thesis might strike those who have followed recent events closely as beating a dead horse. It is, but this dead horse deserves to be beaten and buried because it has a way of resurrecting in Dracula fashion periodically. In any event, after the Russian crash two months ago and the collapse, the bail-out of the hedge fund Long-Term Capital by the US Federal Reserve a few weeks ago, and Brazil's teetering on the edge, there is now little doubt that the central cause of the financial crisis was the quick, massive flow of global speculative capital and bank capital into East Asia in the early 1990s and its even more massive and even swifter exit in 1997. And there seems to be little doubt as well that the multilateral institutions, in particular, the International Monetary Fund, played a key facilitating role by pressing the Asian governments incessantly to liberalise their capital accounts, in order precisely to encourage massive foreign capital inflows into their economies in the belief that foreign capital was the strategic factor in development. Indeed, one can say that the IMF has been the cutting edge of globalization in the region, since it is financial liberalization that is the cutting edge of the integration of these national economies into the global economy. Now, Northern speculative funds came to Asia not because they were conned by crafty and dishonest Asian financial operators. Don't get us wrong: Asia was swarming with crooked financial operators. But that these western investors were conned or fooled? Come on. No, speculative investors came into Asia because they perceived the opportunities to gain greater margins of profit on financial investments here to be greater than in the northern money centers in the early 1990s, owing to the much higher interest rates, the low stock prices, and - not to be underestimated - the incredible hype created around the so-called Asian economic miracle. The fact is, money was very eager to get into Asian capital markets in the early nineties, and whether or not the information was available, investors and fund managers were quite non-discriminating in their moves into these markets. As Rubin himself admitted in a speech at Chulalongkorn University five months ago: One of the things that has most struck us about the Asian crisis, is that after the problems began to develop and we spoke to the institutions that had extended credit or invested in the region, so often we found these institutions had engaged in relatively little analysis and relatively little weighting of the risks that were appropriate to the decisions (4). The fund managers were going to see what they wanted to see. Not only did many not assess their investments and local partners or borrowers, but they actually made their moves mainly by keeping an eagle eye on the moves of other investors-especially those with great reputations for canny investing like George Soros or Long-Term Capital's John Merriwether. But if there was little room or desire for serious analysis of markets in the entry phase, there was even less in the exit phase, as the rush of investment leaders communicated panic to one and all. Indeed, in the first months of the crisis, Stanley Fischer, the American deputy managing director of the IMF, was attributing the crisis, not to politicians or to lack of transparency or to crony capitalism but to the investors' herd behaviour: [Markets are not always right, he said. Sometimes inflows are excessive, and sometimes they may be sustained too long. Markets tend to react late; but they tend to react fast, sometimes excessively (5). Bangkok, for instance, was a debtor's rather than a creditor's market in the early 1990s, with so many foreign banks and funds falling over themselves to lend to Thai enterprises, banks, and finance companies, and they were willing to forego the rigorous checks on borrowers that western banks and financial institutions are supposedly famous for. The bad-indeed, shady financial history of the Thai finance companies-was not a secret (6). In the 1970s and 1980s, many finance companies resorted to questionable business practices to raise capital, including widespread speculation and manipulation of stock prices, leading to the closure of some of them. Any neophyte in Bangkok's financial club knew this history. Yet, the finance companies were flush with foreign cash, oftentimes urged on to them by foreign lenders unwilling to forego what could turn out to be a goldmine. Throughout Asia, American Chambers of Commerce, foreign correspondents' clubs and expatriate circles were replete with stories of rigged bids, double-sometimes triple - accounting, false statistics, cronyism in high places, but everyone accepted that these were the risks of doing business in Asia - you had to live with them if you were going to have your share of the bonanza. In the end, what really served as the ultimate collateral or guarantee for the investments foreign operators made in Asian enterprises and banks was the 6-10 per cent growth rates that they expected to go on far into the future. Now you might end up with some duds, but if you spread your investments around in this region of limitless growth, you were likely to come out a winner. Supporting Cast This brings up the role of strategic expectations and the role of certain players and institutions that encouraged and maintained those expectations. In other words, there was a whole set of actors that played a supporting but critical role, and the speculative investors were operating in a context where they were locked into mutually reinforcing psychology of permanent boom with these other players. A key player here is much of the business press. Business publications proliferated in the region beginning in the mid-eighties. But proliferation alone is not adequate to convey the dynamics of the business press, since there was a also a process of monopolisation at work. The Asian prosperity started attracting the big players from the West, and among the more momentous deals was the purchase of the famous Far Eastern Economic Review by Dow Jones, of Asiaweek by Times-Warner, and of Star Television in Hong Kong by Rubert Murdoch. CNN, another Time Warner subsidiary, and CNBC also moved in, with much their programming devoted to business news. These news agents became critical interpreters of the news in Asia to investors located all over the world and served as a vital supplement to the electronic linkages that made real-time transactions possible among the key stock exchanges of Singapore, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Osaka, New York, London, and Frankfurt a reality (7). Now, for the most part, these publications and media, whether they were independent or part of the big chains, highlighted the boom, glorified the high growth rates, and reported uncritically on so called success stories, mainly because their own success as publications was tied to the perpetuation of the psychology of boom. A number of writers writing critical stories on questionable business practices, alarming developments, or failed enterprises complained that they could not place their stories, or that their editors told them to accentuate the positive. Parachute journalism, a phrase applied to writers who flew in, became instant experts on the Vietnam War or the Philippines under Marcos, then left after filing their big stories, became a practice as well in economic journalism in the 1990s, with Fortune, Business Week, Newsweek, and Time setting the pace. It was, for instance, Dorinda Elliot of the Newsweek airborne brigade, who, more than anybody else, sanctified the Philippines' status as Asia's newest tiger during the Subic APEC Summit of November 1996 - a status that lasted less than eight months, until the collapse of the peso in July 1997. Many of these business publications, in turn, developed an unwholesome reliance on a character type that proliferated in the region in the early nineties, the investment adviser or strategist - an expert connected with the research arms of banks, investment houses, brokerage houses, mutual funds, and hedge funds. Indeed, in many instances, notes Philip Bowring, former editor of Far Eastern Economic Review, economic journalism degenerated into just stringing along quotes from different investment authorities (8). Interestingly enough, many of these people were expatriates or expats, to use a Bangkok term, some of them refugees from the collapse of stock markets in New York and London in the late 1980s. Some of them were Generation X or pre-Generation X types who had been too young to participate in the junk bond frenzy in Wall Street in the Reagan years but discovered similar highs in the East. Many of these people were as young as Nick Leeson, the 26 year old broker who brought down the venerable Baring Brothers, but to the reporters in the business press, their advice on going underweight or overweight in certain countries or taking short or long positions in dollars or moving into equities and out of bonds and vice versa were dispensed to readers as gospel truth. Now, this is not to say that all of these actors dispensed uniformly optimistic advice to investors playing the region. It did mean, however, that they could not afford to paint too pessimistic picture of any country in the region since after all their bread and butter came from bringing global capital into Asia. A good illustration of the modus operandi of these operators is provided by a prominent Singapore-based expat expert, who was widely cited in the Economist, Far Eastern Economic Review, Financial Times, Reuters, and the Asian Wall Street Journal as the last word on the Southeast Asian investment scene. This is how this expert assessed Thailand in December 1996, when it was becoming clear to the rest of us mortals in Bangkok that the economy was in real deep trouble: We believe that current pessimism about the Thai economy is based on a number of key misconceptions. We do not believe any of the following:
- Thailand is entering a recession.
Economic prospects for 1997: expect a rebound (9). Now, the reason for focusing Neil Saker of Singapore's SocGen Crosby Securities is that he is one of the best examples of the way markets operate in East Asia. One would have expected that after such a massive misreading of the situation, he would have been run out of Asia by irate investors. But lo and behold, Saker was able to transform himself from the prophet of permanent boom into the prophet of doom after the financial collapse of 1997, this time issuing statements about how investors would be wise to go underweight in their investments in the region for a long time to come. Lately, he has again reinvented himself, this time as the prophet of the Asian recovery, advising investors to go overweight in Thailand and Singapore, which so happened to move into recession on the day he issued his recommendation (10). And, worse, he is quoted just as frequently today in the Financial Times, the Far Eastern Economic Review, Asiaweek, and the Asian Wall Street Journal. The market has such a short memory that it rewards charlatans instead of punishing them. Academics: Bystanders or Accomplices? But to lay the blame only on the business press and the investment advisers for the creation of an atmosphere of inflated expectations would not be fair. For the academic world played a key role. Indeed, it was economists and political scientists in the West, who when seeking to explain the high growth rates of the Asian countries from the 1960s on, formulated the interrelated propositions that an economic miracle had come about in Asia, that high growth was likely to mark the region in the foreseeable future, and that Asia would be the engine of the world economy far into the 21st century. What is even more amazing is that there was a remarkable consensus between the left and the right in the academic world that Asian growth was exceptional-though for diametrically opposite reasons. The right insisted that it was because of free markets, the left because of the role of the interventionist state (11). Writing on why and how the tigers evolved and why Asia would be the center of the world economy in the coming century became big business, and here the most thriving business were those books that sought to equip American businessmen and politicians with insights on how to deal with those formidable Asians, like James Fallows' Looking at the Sun. Not to be left out of the boom, the security experts sought to cash in on the Asian miracle mania by writing on how Asian prosperity could produce either peace or war, with crass pop analysts writing on the coming war with Japan or the coming war with China, or, like Harvard guru Samuel Huntington, expatiating on the long twilight struggle against the Islamic Confucian Connection. But whether they liked Asia or saw it as a threat, most academics and policy analysts believed in the long Asian boom. The few of us who dissented from this consensus were attacked by both sides. Our critique of the increasing stresses of the NIC growth model on account of collateral damage in the form of environmental devastation, the subjugation of agriculture to industry, the growing income disparities, and the growing technological dependency that was behind the creation of structurally determined trade deficits was dismissed by the right as well as the academic liberals center of as a case of leftist pessimism. But we were also dismissed by the academic left, who saw us as adhering to old-fashioned dependency theory or to obsolete variants of Marxism. Indeed, the most savage criticisms sometimes came from the left. To cite one example, a reviewer of Dragons in Distress in a progressive journal said that our suggestion in 1990 that Korea's problem in a few years' time would not be how to enter the First World but how to avoid being hurled back into the Third World was simply laughable. In any event, the World Bank stepped in to serve as arbiter between the left and right interpretations in the early 1990s and found merit on both sides of the argument - though more merits, it said, resided on the right than on the left. But what is particularly significant for this discussion is that the Bank declared that, despite slight deviations here and there, the Asian tigers had the economic fundamentals right and were thus geared to enter a period of even greater prosperity. Since the World Bank is the equivalent in development circles of the papacy in the Roman Catholic Church, the World Bank book The East Asian Miracle, which came out in 1993, became a kind of bible, not only in the academic world but in financial and corporate circles, and the rush into Asia of speculative capital in the next few years must certainly be at least partly tied to its thesis of Asian exceptionalism, to Asia as the land of the never ending bonanza. To recapitulate the main points of this drama: Crony capitalist practices pervaded Asian capitalism, but they were definitely not the cause of the financial collapse. Northern finance capital was not conned into coming into investing in the region by dishonest Asian banks and enterprises that concealed the actual state of their finances. That is, they cooked their books but they fooled nobody. Portfolio investors and banks moved vast quantities in and out of the region, oftentimes without any real effort to arrive at an assessment of local conditions and borrowers and largely as a result of herd behaviour. The fundamentals of borrowers were often ignored in favour of what many investors and lenders saw as the real collateral or guarantee that they would eventually get a high rate of return from their investments, which was the 8-10 per cent growth rate of the country and the that was expected to extend far into the future. Now with such a perspective, you should expect to end up with some bad eggs among your debtors, but if you spread your investment around in this region of everlasting prosperity, you were likely to come out ahead in the end. Also playing a critical role as accomplices in the Asian financial crisis were three institutional actors: the business press, the investment analysts, and, last but not least, the majority of academic specialists on the East Asian economies and political systems. To reiterate: a global network of investors, journalists, investment analysts, and academics were locked into a psychology of boom, where growth rates, expectations, analysis, advice, and reporting interacted in a mutually reinforcing inflationary fashion characteristic of manic situations. Just as in the case of the Cold War lobby in the US, there was a whole set of actors that - perhaps half consciously, one must concede - developed an institutional interest in the maintenance of the illusion of a never-ending Asian bonanza so that, whether in the press, in the boardroom, or in the academy, alternative viewpoints were given short shrift. But not to worry, many of the prophets of boom quickly adjusted and became prophets of doom or sanctimonious exponents of the crony capitalist explanation for Asia's problems. Many are coming through with their reputations intact and some are realising that books on why Asia collapsed can be just as profitable as books on why Asia was going to be the driver of the 21st century during the boom. But wait a minute: this only brings the story to July 1997, the day the floating of the Thai baht triggered the crisis. The screenplay to the sequel, from July 1997 up till today, still needs to be written, but for this part the story line is much clearer, with the IMF and the US Treasury, Japan, and Prime Minister Mahathir serving as chief protagonists, with brief walk-in performances by China, Hong Kong, and the World Bank. And how will this film end? That part of the story remains to be written by the peoples of East and Southeast Asia. In this connection, one might note that in the script for the first part, quite a number of characters-indeed, hundreds of millions of ordinary Asians-have not been brought in. This is because they were largely passive participants in this drama. Rather than acting, they were acted on. That may no longer be the case, judging from events in the streets of Jakarta, Kuala Lumpur, and Bangkok. In the coming period, the region is likely to see the emergence of movements motivated by resistance not only to indiscriminate financial and economic globalization but to its cultural and political aspects as well. Within the region, we are likely to see a move away from dependence on foreign financial flows and foreign markets toward economic strategies based principally on domestic financial resources and the local market. That means greater pressure on governments for redistribution of assets and income in order to create the dynamic domestic market which can serve as the engine of growth in place of the roller-coaster global economy. Elements of the domestic alternative are already being discussed actively throughout the region. What is still unclear, though, is how these elements will hang together. The new political economy may be embedded in religious or secular discourse and language. And its coherence is likely to rest less on considerations of narrow efficiency than on a stated ethical priority given to community solidarity and security. Moreover, the new economic order is unlikely to be imposed from above in Keynesian technocratic style, but is likely to be forged in social and political struggles. For one thing is certain: Mass politics with a class edge-frozen by the superficial prosperity before the crash of 1997 is about to return to center stage in Asia. In short, Asian Financial Crisis III is likely to end with a bang, not a whimper. References
The Malaysian Enigma (November 1998)
The realities of contemporary Malaysia were driven home to me when I opened the New Straits Times, the country's leading newspaper, a few days ago. On page 2 , with a photo no less, was a long account of a talk I gave the previous day in downtown KL, where I was quoted as praising Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad's capital controls. There was, however, no mention of my denunciation in the very same speech of the current trial of Mahathir's erstwhile deputy Anwar Ibrahim as a kangaroo court. Nor of my urging the prime minister to retire, so the political system could open up. Interestingly, however, the article ended by citing my opposition to the use of public funds to bail out severely indebted private enterprises-no doubt, the writer's way of registering his opposition to the government's controversial use of public money to bail out conglomerates linked to the ruling party, UMNO.
Clear on Politics, Ambivalent on Economics The local press is no guide to people's sentiments. So, to get the lay of the land, one must talk to as many Malaysians as possible. Fortunately, Malaysians are loquacious these days, though most would prefer not to be quoted. After a few days of meeting with a variety of people here, it is clear that there are very few Malaysians who support Mahathir's treatment of Anwar. Indeed, one poll conducted for UMNO is said to have shown that 80 per cent of party members do not believe Mahathir's charges against Anwar. The kindest comment for Mahathir came from one analyst who likened him to a vengeful father venting his wrath on a son who is in a hurry to push him into retirement in order to inherit the realm. It is quite a different case with Mahathir's economic policies. There is hardly anybody that condemns them outright, with most people lining up on a spectrum from those who see more good than bad in them to those who see more bad than good. Unlike the passionate condemnations evoked by Anwar's trial, there is uncertainty and ambiguity when the discussion shifts to economics. Mahathir stunned the world when, on September 1, he did the unthinkable in a world that appeared to be running on fifth gear toward globalised financial markets. He imposed capital controls. These included fixing the value of the Malaysian currency, the ringgit, at 3.8 to the US dollar; setting a 30-day deadline for ringgit held abroad to re-enter Malaysia, after which they would be considered worthless; and locking in speculative capital playing the stock market for one year before allowing it to leave the country. Capital Controls: Surprisingly Non-Controversial Surprisingly, except for condemnation by diehard free-market ideologues like US Treasury Undersecretary Larry Summers and Philippine Central Bank Governor Gabriel Singson, the international response, even from business, has parallelled the ambiguous domestic reaction to these measures. Massachusetts Institute of Technology Professor Paul Krugman gave them guarded endorsement, while the Financial Times encouraged its readers to keep an open mind. As one Malaysian financial expert put it, Most businesses outside seem to be saying, 'We don't like them, but then we realise you folks had no other option. So we'll wait and see'. What most Malaysian analysts we spoke to seemed to agree on is that the controls have stopped overseas speculation in the ringgit, which had been carried out by hedge funds based in Singapore. Where there is disagreement is how much of the 25 billion ringgit held in overseas accounts has really flowed back into the country, with estimates ranging from the official 20 billion to 3 billion. There is also some scepticism on whether the locking in of speculative investment for a year has really made a difference, since, as one academic put it, Most portfolio investment had already left, so this was like locking the barn door after the horse had escaped. Some people who support the withdrawal of the ringgit from international circulation nevertheless have their doubts as to whether the fixing of the ringgit is a positive move, though fears that the currency would be overvalued and encourage a black market have receded. Government sources, in fact, claim that the ringgit is not only stable but undervalued. Its true level, they assert, is 3.5 to the dollar rather than 3.8, but say they will keep it at 3.8 to make Malaysia's exports competitive. Perhaps the key point of consensus is that, while necessary, capital and currency controls have to be temporary, to gain a breathing space during which reforms can be implemented. And it is precisely those fiscal and monetary measures in the National Economic Recovery Program (NREP) that have accompanied the capital controls which have elicited controversy. The most important of these moves are the adoption of an expansionary budget whose deficit runs to over three per cent of GDP; the government's buying up of the banks' non-performing loans coupled with a directive to them to increase their lending; and the government's bailing out of key corporations on the grounds of their 'strategic character'. Sustainable Growth? Deficit spending, coupled with the return of significant amounts of ringgit from overseas and the push on banks to increase their lending by eight per cent by the end of 1998, is introducing a lot of liquidity into the economy. It may even grow by more than the one per cent projected by the government for 1999, concedes one critic. The question is, is this growth sustainable in the medium term? The government's focusing on infrastructure spending, on the grounds that this has a multiplier effect on the rest of the economy, draws little opposition. It is the accompanying measure of jump-starting the stagnant property sector by pushing banks to raise their lending while eliminating the rule limiting their proportion of their portfolio in real estate loans to 20 percent that is drawing fire. Banks are calling up developers and asking if they want a loan, says one analyst. Sure, construction on real estate projects will resume, but who will buy them once they are completed in two to three years' time. You're simply postponing the day of reckoning. There is also fear that while the stimulus package will place ringgit in the hands of local consumers, they may decide, like Japanese consumers, not to spend it, saving it instead owing to fears for the future. This would defeat the purpose of the economic package and lead to a descent back to stagnation after a brief recovery. Controversial Bailouts Where objections are greatest though are in the bailouts of the banks and key corporations. In the case of the banks, a government agency, Danaharta, has been set up to buy up, at a significant discount, an estimated 57 per cent of the non-performing loans of 11 key financial institutions through the issue of government-guaranteed bonds. Similar government mechanisms have been used to bail out enterprises such as the Konsortium Perkapalan Berhad (KPB), which is owned by Mahathir's eldest son, Mirzan, and the giant conglomerate Renong, which belongs to people very close to UMNO. Public money-be it in the form of cash transfers or as the guarantee for government-issued bonds-is the main instrument of the bailouts of the banks and conglomerates. These public funds are either drawn from tax revenues or from the EPF, the employees' retirement fund. Much public attention has centred on Renong, the conglomerate that built the famous North-South Highway extending from Penang to Singapore. Renong has been billed as too big to fail, accounting as it does for 8 per cent of the outstanding loans in the financial system. Indeed, the government has compared it to the recent bailout of Long-Term Capital at the direction of the US Federal Reserve owing to fears of the global consequences should this New York-based hedge fund go under. The bailout of Renong and other UMNO-linked enterprises and banks is also said to be necessary to prevent a social backlash from the dominant Malay community. The tottering Malay-owned firms are seen as the epitome of the New Economic Policy (NEP) of the 1970's and 1980's, which sought to transfer control of the bulk of the country's real and financial resources to Malays from foreigners and the Chinese minority. To allow these enterprises to fail, the government warns, would mean a regression to the pre-NEP days. Economics in the Service of Politics However, for economist Subramanian Pillay, the problem is not the government bailout of strategic firms like Renong per se but the fact that their managements and shareholders are not being made to take the consequences for making the wrong decisions. At a minimum, he insisted, their managements should be replaced and their shareholders should live with depreciated assets. As in the case of the capital controls, this stance of approving in principle the bailing out of strategic firms but disapproving its actual implementation is common. At the end of the day, said Subramanian, the real issue for Malaysians is: Do they believe the government is sincere, that it's working for the population at large? Or is it working just for the interests of a few. This government has a credibility problem. Indeed, cynicism about Mahathir is the order of the day, and most share the view that economics now is in the service of politics. Mahathir is said to be really worried by the erosion of his base of support within UMNO. The only way of recapturing this is by engineering an economic recovery, according to another expert. And once you see things seeming to pick up, you call elections. Whatever happens to the economy after the elections is something else-the important thing is that Mahathir would have won another electoral mandate from the Malays. But can he pull it off? Never underestimate the old man, said our informant, before he excused himself to attend a pro-Anwar meeting. Time to Give APEC a Well-Deserved Burial (November 1998)
A friend of mine recently compared the Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) to a horse that is desperately flailing about after breaking its leg, waiting for the merciful bullet that would put it out of misery. My colleagues metaphor is probably overly grim, probably even incongruous, but it does drive home the point that, as the annual APEC summit approaches, it's time to seriously think about phasing the organisation out of existence.
Now, surely, one might object, a grouping that now sponsors scores of ministerial, sub-ministerial, and working-group meetings every year, from one end of the Great Ocean to the other, cannot be dismissed as irrelevant. Of course, as a social club, APEC is a great success, providing a good excuse for bureaucrats to spend taxpayers' dollars to subsidise tourist junkets that mask as exercises in economic diplomacy, where it is not uncommon for the negotiation of affairs of state to provide the perfect cover for the pursuit of affairs of the less cerebral kind. But let's face it: none of these events-from the meetings of environmental bureaucrats to clean up the Pacific, to business-government conferences on how to support small and medium businesses, to the recent government-NGO meeting in Manila to advance gender equity in APEC-has produced anything beyond nice-sounding declarations. No other regional association - not even ASEAN - has generated so much heat yet yielded so little in terms of real impact. APEC came into being in the late eighties when Tokyo proposed the formation of a region-wide consultative group that would provide technical cooperation on trade and investment matters along the lines of the OECD in the trans-Atlantic area. Australia took the initiative in the early 1990s, when it seemed that the world might break up into regional blocs that would leave Canberra with no one to form a trade partnership with but New Zealand and Antarctica. The Australians, however, took the nascent grouping on a different tack from Tokyo's original thrust, that is, from a loose consultative body to a formal free trade area. Seeking a bargaining chip to deploy against the Europeans in the stalled GATT negotiations, the US took over the leadership of the effort to turn the grouping into a free trade area in 1993. Prior to the Seattle Summit of that year, Washington's academic pointsman in trade affairs, C. Fred Bergsten, brought together several free-trade ideologues from the other countries, designated himself and them as Eminent Persons, and proceeded to draft a blueprint for mandatory, comprehensive, and simultaneous trade and investment liberalization. Bill Clinton lobbied hard for its endorsement in Seattle, but failed to secure it from Asian leaders who were jolted into passive resistance by Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir's boycott of the meeting. By that time, APEC was dividing into what Australian commentator Kenneth Davidson called a Anglo-Saxon free traders led by the US and Asian governments that continued to be committed in practice to an activist state role in the economy, expressed in, among other things, preferential trade and investment arrangements for local firms. But Washington and its stalking horse, the Eminent Persons' Group, were undeterred. After winning over the host, President Suharto, they were able to pressure the Asian bloc into endorsing the EPG's vision of borderless trans-Pacific trade by the year 2020 during the 1994 summit in Bogor, Indonesia. This triggered a whole year of media-hype about the birth of a new free trade area a la NAFTA. But Washington's cheerleaders forgot one thing: Osaka was going to be the site of the 1995 summit, and in APEC it is a truism that whoever hosts the summit exercises a preponderant influence on its outcome. In an impressive exercise of one-on-one, behind-the-scenes diplomacy, the Japanese, in the year leading up to the summit, were able to line up most of the Asian countries behind a declaration that whatever trade liberalization would take place would be voluntary, flexible, and non-binding. The Bogor vision of a concerted, mandatory, and comprehensive process leading to free trade was effectively derailed. Events were anti-climactic after the Osaka shootout. The Subic Summit in November 1996 is mainly remembered for anointing the Philippines as Asia's latest tiger - a status that lasted less than a year, up to the collapse of the peso in July 1997. As for Vancouver last year, who now remembers the vague agreement on early voluntary liberalization in nine industrial sectors that few governments had any intention of taking seriously? Vancouver will be remembered instead as the summit when the humbled Asians, like the Gauls of old, came on their knees into Anglo-Saxon territory to be lectured by Clinton and the US Treasury duet of Robert Rubin and Larry Summers on how to put their huts in order along the lines demanded by the IMF. APEC is effectively stalemated, and all the players know it. ASEAN sees it as a rival to the ASEAN Free Trade Area (AFTA) that must be emasculated. The Japanese, in typical fashion, know it is toothless but behave as if it mattered. The Americans now prefer to employ their arm-twisting on trade and investment in other arenas, in other ways, through threats of unilateral trade action or by attaching trade and investment conditionalities to the IMF programs imposed on the battered Asian economies. However, no one dares leave the grouping for fear that in their absence, some other faction might gain the advantage and ram through its vision for Asia-Pacific trade relations. With his usual acute gift for sniffing out opportunities to promote the interests of both self and country, Fred Bergsten recently came up with a new raison d'etre for APEC, and that is to serve as the mechanism for formulating an expansionary program to spend the $30 billion Japan recently offered the troubled Asian economies. To which, of course, the Japanese, who are tired of having Washington direct economic programs for which they put up the bulk of the funds, are likely to say, thanks, but no thanks. Which brings us to Mr. Mahathir, the old nemesis of the APEC free-trade scheme. Mahathir ought to read the handwriting on the wall and go. But before he goes into that good night, one cannot resist the temptation of asking one last favour from the grand old warhorse. In the midst of all the talk about boycotting the APEC Summit because of the Anwar affair, he might do us all a favour by calling the bluff and withdrawing Malaysia's offer to host the event. Even if this gesture does not drive this useless grouping into oblivion, it would spare the rest of us, at least for a year, another photo of eighteen males linking arms in yet another memorable moment of trans-Pacific cooperation. |